Why Not a Metered Internet?

The headline of the Globe and Mail article asks the question, Why Not a Metered Internet?

The argument that follows defends the big telecoms in terms of market forces: for example, the cost of infrastructure building.

Here's a different answer to the question: with a metered Internet we would have another case of them that haves and them that don't.

We already have a growing economic inequality gap. With Internet metering, we would have an associated inequality gap in terms of fundamental communications access.

An inequality gap already exists with respect to telephony. The lowest income households haven't room in their budgets to acquire that all-important telephone number. They've not a telephone or cell phone or other mobile device to which such a number could be attached. For those households that have a desktop computer with Skype installed, they cannot make full use of the VOIP provider's services or those offered by similar providers. Such services would provide them with an online number (just like a phone number), thus allowing them to receive incoming telephone calls to their computer.

Why can customers in Canada - unlike those in most of the developed world - not obtain online numbers?

Again, a CRTC decision lies at the heart of the matter.

Access to incoming phone calls. Access to the full services the Internet can provide. In both cases, it's about communication with one's friends, family and community; access to one's regional district, provincial or territorial government and services; access to the federal government and services; access to information regarding elections, parties and candidates; access to news and information.... It's about access to democracy.

[Cross-posted at Challenging the Commonplace]

Raw Foodie, eh?

So ya may (or may not) wanna know about my eating habits lately... I'm right into a RAW VEGAN DIET which began in July 2009, moving along from vegan to raw vegan. Not such a leap as I thought, initially. The recipes took some getting used to. I shopped at Church Bazaars, garage sales and second hand stores to find 'new' appliances needed in my kitchen. At first, I was gritting my teeth with worry about 'getting it right' in meeting all my nutritional requirements but have found that raw vegan is not much different from vegan, in that regard.

The benefits from this diet are many. I've lost the craving for sweets; have stopped looking for snacks to eat in the evenings; notice an increase in mental clarity; am far less tired during the day; the bloating I was suffering from has disappeared; there has been a slow but steady weight loss and an overall feeling of delightful well-being.

However, I am not eating everything raw. I indulge in the occasional baked potato/yam or I may steam some broccoli. The raw foodies would say I was about '97% raw' (now THAT sounds a little weird!)

I'm saving a wee bit of money, too: on the hydro bill, as the electric stove-top isn't used as often and there are fewer dishes to wash up. Also, the overall grocery bill is lower, as I'm definitely eating less.

Someone asked me if I feel the cold more because none of the food is heated. No, actually, I don't and some of the food IS warmed up. I use a dehydrator when called for and the entrees I make are often warm at time of serving. Like a dish called Canadian Neatsticks... yummy!

I admit this style of eating is not for everyone, but I'm pleased to say it is working for me.

Five Points of Personal Power

It's the time for reflection of the past twelve months and contemplation of the year ahead. I try and live up to the following five Points of Personal Power.

#1) Pay Attention:

Pay attention to my loved ones, friends, neighbours, community and those I come in contact with daily.
Pay attention to the details in my life ~ the garden where I live, the wild forest that surrounds me and the animals that live within.
Pay attention to my health and the health of those closest to me.
Pay careful attention to how much stuff I acquire and what I consume.

#2) Ask For What You Want:

Ask for world peace.
Ask for just enough to sustain myself, my family and others.
Ask for some quiet time to reflect.
Ask for time to create and share my art.

#3) Take Responsibility For Your Experiences.

(which is, sometimes, not an easy thing for me to do).

#4) Speak the Truth:

Speak the truth even when the fallout from that may be not what I expect.
Speak Truth to Power.
Speak the truth when asked for an honest answer.
Speak the truth when my emotional and intellectual mind is challenged.

#5) Keep Your Agreements:

Keep my agreements in all aspects of my life.
Ensure the agreements I make are something I can follow through on.
Keep the agreements I make with others.
Keep my agreement to continue to follow the five Points of Personal Power.

Blessings and Peace.

So Terribly Sad

According to Ian Tostenson, head of the BC Restaurant and Food Service Association, people who dine out are paying more for their meals.

Tostenson blames it all on the HST.

I don't doubt that he is right.

Paying more than you would for a meal you or your companions made yourselves is the cost of dining out. Whether you pay extra in tax for your meal or not, you pay for your consumption.

That is the beauty of taxation policies that emphasize consumption taxes over taxes on earnings. Lower taxes on income and investments encourage rather than discourage enterprising activity; and applied intelligently, carrot-and-stick taxes guide consumer behaviour and are among the best tools to drive that enterprising activity toward greening the economy.

The people who can pay for their over consumption will, among them those who continue to dine out.

Besides, whatever happened to the packed lunch?

The Relativity of Small Things

Alternative title: Go through your cupboards; improve another's quality of life.

...I am fresh out of having a bubble bath; sprinkled myself with body splash; treated my feet and hands with lotion; and dressed myself in my stay-at-home flannel pants, a blouse and a sweater.

At 7:30 this morning, I ate a homemade mix of oatmeal, sesame seeds, almonds, (barley?), and other goodies I can't identify. After cooking (nuking) it, I topped the mix with brown sugar. Just now, I had a banana. A pear sits in the fruit bowl for later.

Yesterday, as I prepared to go out for a walk, I considered my footwear options. Would it be the winter hiking boots? The Doc Martens? Or the Sauconys? I went for the boots, having previously chosen and slipped on one of several pairs of warm thick socks. (How lovely to have options! And how wonderful to put years of aching cold wet feet behind me!)

Then I donned a black wool London Fog coat, the second of two London Fog coats now in my wardrobe. I completed my outdoor outfit with a hat, scarf and glove set.

Every one of the items italicized above were given to me by friends; in one case, my son.

The list goes on of course. My kitchen today is unrecognizable from that of one year ago. Thanks to Cowichan Valley Recycle/ReUseIt and the friends I've met through that wonderful online group (1156 members!), my kitchen has pots, a cast iron frying pan, an egg poacher, a steamer, a small food processor, an electric can opener, a wooden block of high quality knives, a coffee bean grinder and a lovely red apron for the 'cook'. There's likely more I can't remember.

Then as recently as last Friday, my kitchen cupboards acquired spices. Since spices tend not to be a nutritional requirement, I'd been going without them. As I remarked to the friend who delivered the spices and so many other items that day, all with my special needs in mind: at least if your food is bland you've less incentive to eat much!

The point of this post is to drive home the importance of the small stuff. What may seem insignificant to one person can make a significant difference to the life of another. Because of the generosity of friends, new and old, and a wonderful online community, the quality of my life has steadily improved despite my significantly low income.

What a difference a little money makes!

Received my first SAFER payment on October 29th, which was a lump sum covering August, September and October. That same day, I walked to town pulling my little shopping cart behind me.* The plan: to buy myself at least one pair of pants or jeans to replace the ones that were literally falling off me.

When you've lived frugally - OK, admit it, CHEAPLY - for so long, it's hard to start spending again. I'd tried many times before to buy myself new, 'new', or definitely used clothing before. Ninety-nine times out of 100, I have returned home empty-handed. This time I was determined to get something, to buy NEW, to ignore the price, and to consider only the fit and whether I liked how the new duds fit and looked on me.

My first stop was Winners.

Tried on four pairs of jeans, in petite sizes. (All my clothes should be in petite, not regular sizes, which aren't designed for women under 5'3". It's not just about shortening hems; the whole styling is thrown off if an article was designed for someone several inches taller than oneself. Unfortunately, petite sizes rarely appear in thrift stores or through other means.)

Since I was shopping alone, I asked the Winners fitting room attendant to help me decide. We agreed on one pair in particular, which were in medium faded blue denim. Although these jeans had the inevitable gap (for me) at the back of the waist/hip, they still looked great on and because they fit so well, for the first time in what seemed forever, I felt good in a pair of pants. So I bought them, knowing I'd have to get a belt to deal with the gap problem. (Bought a nice belt today - 1" wide, navy blue, in a weaved leather pattern, for $2.75 at a local thrift shop.)

I left Winners with more than a pair of jeans. The fitting-room attendant had suggested I try Reitmans, said their new store had greatly expanded its petite section and most of the bottoms they sell have a wide band around the hip/waist which markedly reduces the gap. She should know. She has the same problem and buys all her bottoms there.

Next stop Reitmans, where I bought a second pair of jeans, in black and gap-free! 

Today was the first full day I'd worn either of my new jeans. (When at home, I wear the falling-apart apparel.) I chose the medium blue denims because I planned to get a belt to go with them.

It felt wonderful to walk into town and back with high quality, soft breathable fabric against my skin, without having to hitch my damn pants up all the time and to know that, as well as feeling good, I looked good. 

Today I also bought new reading glasses. I can see!!! And am sitting before a new 21.5" LG flatscreen monitor. No more fuzzy greyed-out images!!! Also made an appointment to see my doctor, something I always avoid; perhaps she can prescribe something that will help me better deal with the pain. Am also starting to think about seeing a dentist. That's not at all certain due to the likely cost, but at least am thinking about it.

* Reminder to self: Check out alternatives to the shopping cart. Pulling it, especially when laden with groceries, is further straining the back. For flat walking, a walker would be good and would also solve the problem of standing in line-ups. But would I be able to pull a walker up three flights of stairs, as I do presently with my little cart?

Thank You Very Much

Have you ever wondered what it is like to be on the receiving end of others' goodwill?

A personal example: Someone I did not know in my neighbourhood somehow knew I and my small family were without all the trimmings for a Christmas dinner. They arrive at my door on December 25th, brimming with good intent, goodies in hand to give us. I ought to have been grateful; in awe of their kind thoughtfulness and to thank them profusely for thinking of us. But, for me, this was demeaning, soul destroying and downright embarrassing. I took everything and thanked them but didn't eat the turkey as we were/are vegans.

If this were a gift economy, the matter would never come up, because gift economies are essentially giving circles, not chains from giver to givee. But in cultures where charity is preferred over government programs that universally fill in the gaps, there must always be someone who needs. How else can 'Christian charity' be exercised and thus through such selfless acts the givers receive additional blessing? (So how 'selfless' is it? Charity is a requirement of the Christian faith.)

Yea, Ocean and I get that giving feels good. We'd like to help a whole lot more than we already do (yes, we help one another). Where and when it's welcome. Where and when it preserves the dignity and autonomy of the recipient. Not for our own damn sakes, because it feels so good or because our 'souls' will receive a bonus benediction.

When Values and Wants Collide

Over the past while, as I've written on this blog of going from one crisis to another, someone has occasionally contacted me to offer help.

Each time, I've felt conflicted about accepting that offer.

Daphne and I began economicus ridiculous for the primary purpose¹ of enlightening people about what life looks like when viewed from the bottom of the poverty well. Our purpose was never to gain sympathy or help for ourselves.

Through our work with WISE, we saw how effective the deeply personal could be in changing people's minds or waking them from apathy. The stark brutal facts of our stories and those of the other women of WISE angered readers to the point of moving some to action. While WISE folded in late 2006 due to lack of funding through Status of Women Canada (thank you, Stephen Harper), Daphne and I didn't fold. Our lives continued as they were, with one difference: our anger was deeper, stronger, and stoked a furious determination not to allow our voices to be silenced. We would continue advocating for change, but now on our own.

On this blog and in our other writings, Daphne and I press on in the same style. We continue to be as brutally honest with our readers, and with ourselves, as we were when we told our stories for the first time through WISE.

Yours truly does not always succeed. I'm the quintessential introvert and baring all leaves me feeling terribly vulnerable and usually shaking until the writing is many hours or days in the past. Still, I expose the deeply personal in order to slam home the message that living like this is brutal and nasty. My writing is always about getting that message out.

When readers respond with offers of help, I reflexively feel that my voice has been diminished or the larger point somehow missed. I know intellectually this hasn't happened with the women whose offers I did accept (and, make no mistake, I've been grateful for the items provided); but I can't help but be apprehensive of the danger of economicus ridiculous no longer being taken seriously because one or both of its writers occasionally gets help from a reader.

I don't know if I've explained this conflict well and fear unintentionally offending people I don't want to offend. But I've decided against accepting help in the future from people who know me only through my writing or online contact.

I understand how people could be moved by some of my recent posts to the point of wanting to help. But I would rather they took what I have written and used it as their impetus to help, perhaps in a similar way, someone they already know or a stranger who lives nearby²; and/or to advocate, or advocate more, for change in all the ways they can imagine.

--

¹A secondary purpose behind the blog was to share tips on getting by on next to nothing.
²Always ask if help is wanted before giving it and what type of help is desired. Accept the response without judgement or argument. Many of the desperately poor have the most basic of wants, often unrelated to physical need. A cup of coffee and conversation, for example, could make someone's week, precisely because the coffee is a treat not a necessity, and the conversation validates their humanity. Regardless, you're not obliged, simply in the asking, to follow through and provide the requested item or service.

Waiting, Waiting, Waiting...

Waiting is the biggest stressor* for me.

It hasn't helped that what I'm waiting for has meant my being unable to buy desperately needed things.

My remaining pants and jeans are falling off me, literally. As I walk to and from the grocery store, I'm having to keep hitching them up. When I go out, I look poor and that embarrasses me.

Recently, my fallen-apart comforter and last top sheet, plus the t-shirts I'd been wearing for nightwear had become so threadbare they were good for nothing but the dumpster. What bedding remains is a single fitted sheet to cover the mattress. I've been spending my nights trying to sleep with a single, light throw over me. It's no bigger than a bath towel.

The nights are getting colder; the heat hasn't been turned on yet. I'm so cold.

Then there's the reading glasses and the LCD/LED monitor that's needed to replace this ancient CRT one. The brightness levels of my monitor have so decayed that a person with good eyesight said everything looks blurry. Using this monitor has worsened my eyesight.

Why don't I get the things I need? What's the wait about?

I'm waiting for approval of my application to the BC government's Shelter Aid for Elderly Renters (SAFER), a rental subsidy program for low-income seniors.

The SAFER office received my application on July 19th.

In anticipation over the last two years of applying for SAFER when I turned 60, I'd calculated and apportioned my savings to last until I would begin receiving the subsidy. This meant living on no more than $700 per month.

In my calculations, I assumed the processing of SAFER applications would take up to six weeks. Nothing on the BC Housing website suggested otherwise.

Six weeks didn't seem like such a bad assumption. There was, after all, the customary advisement of "up to six weeks" that I'd been told or read whenever I'd dealt with federal or provincial government services in the past.

Silly me. I was going by experiences back in the days of yore. Back in the halcyon days prior to the BC election in 2001, before the large budget and public service cuts done by the Campbell government.

The middle of August came and went and I'd still had no word from SAFER, not even acknowledgement of receipt of my application. So I called their office using Skype and was told to expect to receive my first payment at the end of September. By that time SAFER would owe me three months' worth of payments, which would total approximately $1,000.

Panic set in, but I eventually coped. I began visiting the food bank more frequently and cutting even further on my 'discretionary' spending - to about $80 per month. By 'discretionary', I mean everything else other than rent, hydro and cable (internet only).

With three weeks having passed since I'd checked with SAFER, I called again on September 3rd. Now I was told that they were about "four weeks behind in processing" and were still working on the applications from the middle of June. Ergo, I should not expect to receive payment until "at least [the last working day of] October." I asked if 'at least' really meant 'not until the end of November'. The man restated "the end of October," without the qualifier.

So now I'm scared and I don't trust that I'll see a SAFER payment the end of October either.

All my best-laid plans - to make my savings last not just until the SAFER payments would begin, but to stretch them until I turned 65 and qualified for Old Age Security and the Guaranteed Income Supplement - look to have been for nought. With the punishingly low interest rates, (especially punishing for people dependent on their savings), my savings over the past while have been earning very little. In June, I did what I could and put most of my money into two non-redeemable term deposits. The rest, $2,700, went into a redeemable (after 90 days) term deposit; starting the 15th of this month, it's to be divvied out in 10 monthly payments of $270.

You do the math:

* CPP payment: $295.55
* Savings: $270.00
* Total monthly: $565.55

Rent just went up: $501. Shaw internet service just went up: $52.64.

Forget about hydro, food, monitors, reading glasses, warm bedding, sleep wear, pants that fit.

No matter what I do, no matter how hard I try to make things work, it never seems to be enough.

When you live so close to the edge, there's no room to accommodate government 'service delays'.

Thank you, Gordon Campbell, for approving all those cutbacks to BC's public service.

*On Saturday I bought more St. John's Wort. It's an expense I can ill afford; but I also cannot afford the toll this stress is taking on my body and my mind. I've been too ready to erupt lately. Kiltie and Brodie are affected by the tension. Time to do something about it.

To Vegan

In a previous post, I said I would talk about how I came to embrace a vegan diet.

When I left home, in my late teens, eating 'red' meat was a once a week occurrence, if that. Eggs, chicken and cheese were the regular fare. Often our meals were vegetables only. Fine by me.

When I married, I found that my partner wanted pork, almost unheard of in my nuclear family. I learned to fry chops or purchased 'cured ham' for the dinner table. This was not what I wanted to eat.

So began my quest for an alternative.

Why? Health. Economics. Ethical. Environmental. And spiritual.

For years, I continued to consume meat, all the while loathing what I was doing to my body and to animals raised for food. Eventually, after much research, I decided that a 'vegetarian' diet was as close as I could come and still stay healthy. Dairy and seafood were often on the table in those days.

Not until I met my current room-mate, did I know about a vegan diet. Switching from vegetarian to vegan took two years. Two years to stop the imagined craving for sardines, cheese, eggs and butter. That was well over twelve years ago. I've never looked back.

Last summer, I began leaning toward an all raw vegan diet. It's been easier than I anticipated, perhaps because I was already content as a vegan.

Almost immediately I noticed positive differences. I've lost a few pounds, feel brighter, have fewer troubles with the dreaded 'change of life' symptoms, reduced the grocery bill and am enjoying new un-cooking experiences in the kitchen.

I value the choices I've made concerning my diet.

UPDATE: Status of Women Minister Buys $880K Ottawa House

On Helena Guergis' husband Rahim Jaffer, see this outstanding investigative report that appeared on the front page of today's Toronto Star. If you don't get the Star in your area, you might want to take a look at this PDF capture of the Star's front page.

I wonder if the Liberals' request for the ethics commissioner to review Guergis' mortgage deal, which was arranged in her husband's former Edmonton riding, might not now be granted? Alternatively, she could resign, as she should have done after her airport tantrum.

What is 'Healthy' Food'?

Just what is 'healthy' food, anyway? And how does someone living below the economic edge acquire 'healthy' food on a consistent basis?

As consumers, we are deluged with messages that promote healthy lifestyles, attainable when you choose 'healthy' food. In most cases, this leads to persuading us to buy the commercially sanctioned 'health' food, which is about corporate profit, not personal health.

Healthy food means whole food. Whole food is a fresh apple, bread made at home, a pot full of reconstituted lentils, simmering in a spicy vegetable broth. It is not necessarily certified organically grown fruits and vegetables. It does not come in pre-packaged items adorned with lovely pictures. It is not clustered in expensive vitamins from the local 'health food' store. Nor is it found in animal muscle, an udder product or a chicken's ova.

Replacing convenience foods with whole food; eliminating animal and animal by-products from your diet; eating less; shopping for local produce whenever possible will all aid in the quest for 'healthy' food.

I consume 90% whole raw food, do not eat anything animal related, am healthy and my daily budget spent on food is $3.40.

Not for you, you say? Fair enough. Changing lifelong eating habits is not easy but it can be done. More later on how to make the switch. Hint: it took me two years to acquire vegan status from a vegetarian diet and have been changing to a raw vegan cuisine since August 2009.

Bargains Scarce in High Poverty Areas

It's a well-known phenomenon, driven by market savvy (and corporate greed), that areas of high poverty have the least access to low prices for necessary goods, including food. More often than not the places where the deals are require more than mere foot travel. In some cases, not even public transportation goes to these places. And when it does, there's still the problem of being able to carry back enough of sale-priced goods to justify paying the bus fare.

In essence, the people of lowest income, those with the least choices, are a trapped market. (Whatever would corporations do without us? Maintaining an underclass appears essential to the single bottom line: profit.)

It's also the case that unless you've a car, you can't properly capitalize on bulk deals.

All of which further limits choice for people who are already desperate.

Previously I'd written about how our food bank culture limits choice. One example I gave was the discontinued practice of local grocers to sell day-old bread; hence, their reducing the choices for bread from three to two for people of low income: either go to the food bank, or go without.

In response to that post, I received an offer from a friend of Daphne's.

Teri wrote that she regularly gets day-old bread at a Cobble Hill bakery that produces fantastic organic, multi-grain breads. The day-olds usually sell for $0.50 each, but sometimes even for less.

I can't get to Cobble Hill, of course, but Teri can and that's what she was writing about. She said that when she goes to buy bread for herself, she'd be happy to pick up some loaves for me too. She'd put them in the freezer, then next time she's in Duncan, drop them off.

Now that's a choice I prefer than the two I'd been left with.

Teri contacted me a few days later to say she'd picked up TWENTY loaves of bread, some for herself, some for others and as many as eight for me, subject to room in my freezer. The price: $0.25 per loaf.

Just got my first delivery: six loaves of wholesome bread for a total cost of $1.50. I tried to give Teri $1.50 more, to help pay for the gas expense in getting to my place, but she wouldn't accept it.

Necessities: Housing

I moved into this 400-square foot bachelor apartment on October 19, 2002. It suits me just fine and is quite a nice, bright bachelor apartment, as such units go. It's also in a neighbourhood and community I've become used to. So I'd choose to stay here, except for three considerations.

First, it's on the third floor of a three-floor walk-up.

Pulling my shopping cart up 36 stairs, having already pulled it up a steep hill on the way home from getting groceries, is increasingly harder to do given my hip and back problems.

I would choose and have requested to move one floor down. Moving to the second floor would be almost as good as moving to the first floor. The latter doesn't have bachelor apartments anyway and I can't afford more than I'm paying now (which is already 80% of my income). The first floor is sub-basement, so you still have to navigate stairs. To reach the front door of the building, you walk up nine stairs. The first or second floor is another nine stairs, down or up. The advantage of the first floor is the back entrance; it has only five shallow stairs going down to the sub-basement entry.

All this is moot. My landlord won't allow me to move to another unit while keeping my rent the same. I'm currently paying $486 per month; new renters are paying $575 per month for bachelor units. That's what he insists I pay if I should move. It doesn't matter that I've been an ideal tenant, never late with my payments and so quiet people have said they didn't know my unit was occupied. In fact, the clear message from my landlord is that he'd rather take his chances on a troublesome, higher-paying tenant than keep tenants known to be reliable and trouble-free.

That brings up the second concern. How secure is this place for me, in terms of continued occupancy? Might my landlord try to jack up the rent anyway? What might he do otherwise to 'persuade' me to move out?

A third consideration is the absence of a place to keep an electric bicycle or scooter, two-wheeled or four-wheeled. There's nothing outside or on the ground floor, secure or otherwise, or with plug-in access. I anticipate needing something like that in the future in order to get around.

I'd not be so anxious to find a subsidized unit in a more accessible, secure building - not with SAFER, in another few months, starting to help me with the rent here - if the extra stairs weren't causing me problems and this building offered secure, ground-floor storage and plug-in options.

I don't really want to move. Regardless, I may have no choice but to stay. Private subsidized or public housing projects in BC are rare, which is another housing issue for people with special needs. Since I'll always need an animal companion, my housing options are thus even further limited.

Two subsidized housing places that allow pets came to my notice over the past year; one, thanks to a reader. I've applied to both but have heard back from only one of them, confirming receipt of my application and advising I'm on their list. Both would be nice places to live, so that's where my hopes lie now.

Necessities: Laundry

I've two challenges to keeping my clothes, linen and towels clean: affordability and back pain from scoliosis that developed from a childhood injury. Regarding affordability, recall that I've $783.24 left, annually, to pay for everything else after shelter costs.

To save the most amount of money, hand washing my laundry would be the obvious, ideal choice. It would save the $1.50 for the automatic washer that is three floors below me. If I could hand wash my clothes daily, then the fact I've little room for drying things - one drying rack and a shower rail - would also save the $1.50 for the dryer.

The condition of my back makes that most economical choice unfeasible. Washing underwear might be done at the bathroom sink, in small stints so the pain in my back from standing could be avoided. Alternatively, I might wash my underwear in the tub when I take my baths.

That is precisely what I used to do. Alas, I don't take baths anymore because I can't afford the smelly, water-softening, skin-softening stuff I used to use. Baths without that lovely stuff (which soothed my starved senses too) dry out my already dry skin. Ergo, it's nix on baths and nix on washing my underwear when I bathe.

Larger clothing and other items would have to be washed in the tub. Nix on that too.

Leaning over for any length of time, not to mention scrubbing while in that position, is extremely painful and to be avoided. (It's bad enough when I clean the tub.) The same can be said for folding laundry, of all the silly things. When folding laundry, one leans slightly forward. For the average load, folding can take several minutes. For me, that translates into a lot of pain.

Next choice after hand washing is reducing the number of times I use the washing machine and dryer. My mother used to do laundry once a week and there were three of us. Back then, one wasn't expected to change one's outer clothing or linen or towels everyday, just one's underwear. (I was taught to wear the same bra for one week.) So conceivably, I could go three weeks if I had enough clothes, etc. to last me that long.

It took me awhile but now I've enough underwear and towels (not bed linen) to do that and I continue the tradition of wearing the same outer clothing for several days.

That still isn't good enough, though. I can't afford to spend $3.00 every three weeks for the machines, plus the cost of detergent, not unless I cut back on my food intake even more, which I'm not willing to do.

So what choices are left to me?

• hand wash underwear everyday in the bathroom sink;
• wear the same outer clothing and use the same towels and linen until they fail the sniff test;
• do one washing load - whites or colours - no more than once every six weeks;
• use my shower rail and drying rack whenever possible to avoid having to use the dryer;
• 'order' a new-old drying rack from my local ReUseIt and hope to get one or more positive responses so I can eliminate the dryer altogether.

Shall update this post should the latter happen. As for bed linen, I've begun to entertain the possibility of eliminating it entirely. I simply can't keep up.

Necessities: Personal grooming

What were once deemed necessities are no more.

The changes described below originally occurred because my finances forced them. The original adjustment to cutting back on modern grooming and hygiene techniques, together with their associated over-hyped products, was painful. However, having finally adapted I doubt I'd return to my previous habits, even if money did come my way... At least... I think so... There is that issue of changing values I've mentioned before, a phenomenon that can be essential to personal survival.

Professional hair cut: Last time I went to a hair salon was in 2001. Ever since, I've cut my own hair - evidence of which you can see here. At first, it was a difficult adjustment - I'd bought into the notion of professional hair cutting as a basic need -, but one does get used to it. I just grab chunks of hair in my fingers, usually with a twist; then cut. I go by the principle that as long as there's enough hair to grab, it's too long. (My hair IS very forgiving.)

I apply the same technique to the back of my head: simply grab chunks of hair and cut. I don't bother trying to see what I'm doing back there. I'd need three hands; one to hold the mirror, one to grab, the other to do the cutting. My cutting implements are the scissors I formerly used to cut fabric to make dance costumes. (I'd be thrilled to have proper hair scissors!)

It also helps in the adjustment that I no longer care what I look like - part of the new lesson being the not caring itself. There have been times this has been a most needful thing. Like those occasions when I've given myself a lopsided haircut and, in trying to fix it, have ended up shorn to within half an inch of my scalp.

I adore the feeling of someone washing and massaging my scalp. Alas, I can't afford it and am on my own here in this wee abode. 

Shaving: No more razors, no more shaving cream, no wax or other goop. And no visits to a beauty salon to have the hair removal done for me.

The adjustment was difficult, particularly exposing my hairy legs during the warm months. I like to wear summer dresses (unfortunately, I've only one). My legs do appear to be less hairy than before I stopped shaving, or perhaps the hair has turned grey, like it has almost everywhere else. The hair is also less coarse, therefore again perhaps less visible for that reason.

Hairy armpits was an easier adjustment, especially since I no longer wear anything sleeveless. Again, the hair is more fine since I stopped shaving it.

Oral hygiene: I brush my teeth at least twice a day.

Long ago, I had one of those electric toothbrushes. Forget the brand, but the instructions for the device advised not to use toothpaste, that the brushing and one's own saliva were all that are needed for proper cleaning.

Still, it's nice to have toothpaste, so I do try to have it around. I use it very sparingly, though, a tiny bead on my toothbrush. When my supply gets low, there's no room in the budget to buy more and no free samples are handy, I've gone without toothpaste.

Toothbrushes I buy only when on sale.

I do floss - and rinse and reuse the floss over and over again. (We use our toothbrushes for ages. Why not floss?)

I have a strong, store brand, antibacterial mouthwash on standby. It's not for daily use or to freshen my breath. Every few applications I will dip my floss into it, but its primary purpose is for when I suspect there's something starting to go wrong in my mouth, like a burgeoning abscess or other sores. Then I swish that burning stuff around my mouth for 30 seconds every two hours. I do this at the first sign of trouble. The mouthwash trick does the job every time.

Washing: I spot clean - face, underarms, feet and nether regions - everyday at the bathroom sink and shower every third day.

I use soap only for underarms and - more sparingly - for my feet. The skin on my feet is very dry, hence why I use less soap on them. For some unaccountable reason, I've LOADS of soap. Can't imagine having to buy it ever again.

I've a skin condition that affects only my face. To avoid painful red spots appearing, I wash it using SpectroJel or the equivalent store brand and must apply, sparingly, a medicated cream. I also use the SpectroJel for my nether regions because I find soap to be too harsh.

In the shower, I use a scrubber for my entire body. And I do one heck of a job, too, scrubbing over and over again. Rather than coating my skin with a soapy film, the scrubbing removes dead skin cells and leaves my skin feeling soft and smooth as a baby's bottom.

I wash my hair every third day, when I shower. I use shampoo sparingly and never buy conditioner or other hair treatments. However, if I've conditioner on hand - say, a sample - I'll use a wee bit maybe once a month.

Lotions & Potions: No lotions. For dry skin I use what was recommended to a friend by her dermatologist: petroleum jelly. Either the Vaseline or store brand will do. (Not the lotion Vaseline Intensive Care; it's totally ineffective.) For extra stubborn areas, such as elbows or feet, apply the jelly liberally before bedtime, cover with something - like a tensor bandage or socks. In the morning you'll notice a substantial difference.

I use unscented deodorant, but sparingly.

No perfume.

No scented or unscented bath oils, beads or foam.

I miss those the most. My senses are keener than those of the average person and my mood is very responsive to colour, texture, scent and sound. My yearning for varied and exotic tastes I've learned to ignore. But I still pine to have candlelit baths in water softened and scented with natural oils, and for this place to be coloured 'me'.

Kiltie Goes to SPCA

I've thought about not writing this.

Our intention when starting this blog was to share our day-to-day lives in the poverty well, to put two human faces on it. It means sharing the decisions we make, the barriers we confront, the silly things we do, our talents, our faults, even certain toilet habits.

The point was to bring home the reality of two lives in poverty and their struggles to maintain dignity and a sense of self-worth. If readers have been following this blog since it launched January 1st, they'll have already detected the inner conflicts, the desire and determination to maintain X and not do Y while ultimately having to do Y anyway, and then the struggle to adjust to the new reality. For life in the poverty well, it's forever a struggle to adjust.

The following I began yesterday, at 2:30 in the afternoon, as I waited for Daphne to arrive with a car to transport Kiltie and I to the SPCA.

--

I'm crying as I write this.

Kiltie got sick again, was vomiting the past two days. An hour ago, she vomited blood. This condition is new and unlike the two urinary tract infections she had previously. Those appear to have cleared up entirely, thanks to a special diet paid for by a kind benefactor and several hit-and-miss series of antibiotics.

Kiltie and I have been together for ten years, ever since I rescued her when she was about eight weeks old.

Today, I can't keep doing it anymore. There's no money to have Kiltie go back to the vet, again, be examined, again, get x-rays and likely go to surgery. So I must do what I've dreaded having to do these past three years, since she first developed FLUTD. I've phoned Daphne and she's coming over. Together, we're going to the SPCA. They will take care of Kiltie in a way I can't. It's a no-kill, clean, caring shelter with lots of volunteers. I'm bringing the blanket Brodie uses so Kiltie will feel a sense of home; and a full prescription of Cipro that I've had standing by, just in case.

--

Last night was the first night without Kiltie. Emotionally exhausted, I slept 11 hours. Brodie and I cuddled more than usual, last night and again this morning.

Tonight or tomorrow night we may have Kiltie back. The lady at the SPCA - manager Sandi Trent, it turns out - said they'd prefer to keep Kiltie with me ... if it's possible; that they'd likely not be able to find Kiltie a new home, given her age and maybe needing special care.

Sandi said to leave Kiltie with them for a day or two and for me to call her later today. They'll get Kiltie vet-checked, monitor her condition and see what they can do to support her staying with me... And I'm crying all over again, dammit.

People who make the blanket declaration that poor people shouldn't have pets have no clue.

Did you pick up above that I rescued Kiltie? She's had ten years of life, a good life in a home where she has been much loved. Those ten years she likely wouldn't have had.

Kiltie and Brodie (I rescued him too*) have also been my lifeline. Too many times to count, their presence prevented my suicide. As a mother would feel about her children, I couldn't, wouldn't, leave my two furry companions without someone to care for them. They needed me, someone, to make sure they were alright. I'd wonder what would happen if I died and feared no one would take the two cats in; or if they did, it wouldn't be a good home and then they'd be abused or die.

Kiltie and Brodie are the only reasons I kept going through some terrible years, including the years I was doing the WISE project.

I will always need an animal companion. They help me maintain my humanity....

Which brings up the point of BC's anti-pets tenancy act. Rarely in this province can one find a rental unit - private, subsidized or public - that permits animal companions.

*Foolishly, in late 2000 I expected to become employed. Didn't want Kiltie to be alone all day, hence I got a second cat. Never did get anything but brief, contract or part-time employment.

ETA: It's 1:40pm and I've just spoken with Sandi at the SPCA using SkypeOut (as I did to contact Daphne - I haven't a phone). Kiltie's vet hasn't returned Sandi's call yet. Kiltie hasn't eaten since she arrived but there's also been no vomiting. Sandi will keep her there another day. We're both thinking Kiltie may not be eating due to stress (as her human). If she still hasn't eaten by tomorrow afternoon, Sandi may take her home to her place and put her in a room of her own so she might settle down. Either way, there's two of us now concerned with Kiltie's health and I feel relieved Kiltie is in good, caring hands.

See also this and this follow-up.

Skinny Savings Slowly Sinking

As with Ocean, I have applied for CPP at the age of 60, which comes, for me, in December of this year. The CPP income will be $261 a month.

Since I retired from paid work in June of 2009, my skinny savings have been sinking.

Last year my total income was $2,646.00 which came from two part-time jobs. This year I am relying on GST rebates at $760 for the year and a meager savings account that is around $2,500. I also have the same amount in investments which dwindles as the world market continues it's nose dive.

Currently, I receive $500 a month from my roommate/friend which covers the basics to run the house. This includes hydro, water, recycling, telephone/internet, house insurance/property taxes and the wood that is burned for heat. There is even $77 left over for general household maintenance. Some repairs, such as the gutters which were torn off during 2008/09's snowy season, have been let go, as I cannot gather enough to cover the expense.

While working, I had a modicum of financial security, but that has since dissolved. As I'm an expert on making ends meet I will continue the challenge to feed, clothe, shelter myself and live with a dignity that only a person hanging on by a thread can do.

Budgeting: On approaching age 60

Having given the finer details of the why, how, and how much of my annual income, it's time to consider the future.

As I fell deeper and deeper into the poverty well in the early 2000s, all I could think of, between bouts of depression so bad all I wanted to do was pack it in, was trying to survive long enough to be eligible for CPP and BC's Supplementary Assistance For Elderly Renters (SAFER).

I turn 60 in July.

My CPP payments will begin late August and likely be around $265. I assume my rent will go to $510 or slightly more starting in July, so my SAFER supplement will be about $387. Assuming these figures to be right, my monthly income from these two sources will be $652. It's not enough, despite it being about the same amount I've been living on the past several years. It's not enough, because costs keep going up.

All along, I've known I'd have to keep some of my savings aside to bolster the income during those 60 months between age 60, when I'm eligible for CPP and SAFER and age 65, when I can start Old Age Security, the Guaranteed Income Supplement and BC's senior supplement.

I don't know how I'm going to do it. I've wondered out loud to a friend whether it wouldn't be better to go homeless now, at age 59, rather than be so at 63 or 64. Am I naive to hope that something will 'give' in the interim and by that time I'll be OK?

Because as I look at things now, it's either do that, go homeless now for a year or two and so save what's left or in fact, become homeless just as I turn 64 ... if I can make my savings last even that long.

A Day in the Life: Visiting the Food Bank

A week ago, I described one of the ways in which the food bank culture limits choice.

Almost two years ago, in a post on Challenging the Commonplace, I wondered how much thinner I could slice my bread. Since then, of course, bread prices have shot up even further, as have the prices of flour, yeast, molasses, honey and oil - all ingredients for making whole wheat bread in a bread-making machine.

I acquired one of those machines not long after writing that post, thanks to friend Daphne. And for almost a year I did make my own bread. Then those prices went up and up and up and I couldn't do that anymore either.

All of which is a roundabout way of telling you why I visited the food bank today. It was to get bread.

It was my third visit in as many months. Only to get bread, you understand, not to stop for a meal or to sign up for a hamper once a month. I don't do well in social situations and asking for help is a non-starter, so I would go in, get my bread, and quickly exit.

Each time I've been to the food bank, I couldn't help but notice the brightly-coloured food laid out on the table directly behind me, opposite the bread shelves; with plates and utensils alongside, inviting anyone who wanted to, to sit down and dig in.

So, yes, today I went to the food bank, to do my grab-bread-and-run errand.

But it was not quite run. It was more like a slow inch-by-inch exit with eyeballs glued in the opposite direction to that of my body.

Having exited, I headed off to Sears to pick up two camisoles I'd purchased on a gift card - thanks to the reward points I'd earned from having made wise use of my credit card. All the while I thought of those cold salad dishes at the food bank: wild rice mixed with tomato and what looked like currants, seeds and onion and a great bowl of mixed leafy greens. There was more, but those were the two dishes I'd had my eyes on.

Still thinking of the food, from Sears I went to the pet store to get some canned stuff for Kiltie, who needs a special diet. She eats better than the human, natch.

I returned home by way of the street that has the food bank. And walked into the building. Went directly to that table, grabbed a small plate and fork, put a scoop of wild rice mix and another of greens on the plate, sat down and ate.

Oh. My. Goodness. It felt like my damn veins were flowing like a spring river, the food was that good; and I hadn't realized how much I'd missed the different textures either.

We are fortunate in the Cowichan Valley. Over the past two years or so, our local community gardens have set aside a place for growing food for the food bank. That explains why the spreads at the no-longer-just-soup kitchen include fresh fruit and veggies over our long growing season. But how our food bank is managing it in the off-season I don't know. Regardless, this is one very grateful recipient.

Today was my first meal at the food bank. I may eat some more meals there.

Thank you to the people who run the Cowichan Valley Basket Society, including Dave the cook, and the driving force that is Betty Anne Devitt. Thank you to the grocers and the people of the Valley who make such nutritious food available.