Let your geek flag fly.

thMy friend Linda B. is a major genre fangirl. There was a time when she could be spotted at MediaWest conferences, dressed as a middle-aged Corellian spice trader* and participating in blaster battles all over the conference hotels.

She and other fellow geeks would see plays and skits, admire others’ costumes, buy fan fiction (including some rather startling “slash” fiction) and, yeah, shoot at one another.

She and several other middle-aged women would share hotel rooms and at some point conduct readings of abysmally written fan fiction. A particular “Star Wars” story always brought the house down with the line, “Han spurted into the room.”

Good times, despite the expense of traveling from Alaska to Lansing and the “con crud” that she always seemed to catch.

These days she’s staying closer to home – working, writing plays, making jewelry and doing free-form bead weaving – but she’s still a geek. Or maybe she’s a nerd. Probably both.

Either way she’s a fangirl, which is how she came to send me the link to this Wil Wheaton video, “Why it’s awesome to be a nerd.” This is the kind of thing that slips over her transom on a regular basis, along with things like song parodies based on characters from “The X-Files” or news about the latest Doctor to play “Dr. Who.”

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Say what needs saying, before it’s too late.

thYesterday DF’s father died. I am so, so glad that it happened after DF’s recent trip down south to take care of business. Now his father’s widow, who’s 95, won’t have to stress out over death-related details or to face her late husband’s very disorganized papers.

No, DF did that for her – with complete transparency – because she was too busy coping with the impending loss. I’m glad he did that. I’m gladder still that he was able to say some things that needed saying, while his father was still able to hear and to respond.

Please, please do the same – before you miss your chance. If something needs saying, then say it.

Their relationship was not ideal, but DF made a conscious choice to put aside rancor and say, “I love you unconditionally.” As in, no conditions attached to his statement:

  • No recriminations.
  • No asking “why?”
  • No demand for closure.

That last is counter to pop-psychology tenets, but not everyone needs or wants it. A therapist I know once said, “Closure is overrated.” I think I know what she meant: Those openness-and-healing talks aren’t necessarily a panacea.

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Let us now praise customer service.

Over on my daughter’s website is a post that I wish would go viral. The theme of “Don’t just complain” is simple: When you encounter good service, say so.

That can be in person or via e-mail or letter. Not the calculated-to-get-something kind of letter, mind you: I don’t know I ever survived without Product X! It’s miraculous! (And will you please send me some freebies or at least some high-value coupons?)

No, I’m talking about that true rarity: a note that says “you got it right – thanks.”

 

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I hate shopping.

th-1I’m beginning to understand why people have things delivered. Today I drove DF to work so that I could use the vehicle for the day. I figured I’d do a couple of errands and maybe meet a friend for lunch.

Somehow the errands took over, shaving off slabs of time like a knife on a shawarma spit. It felt as though I spent two hours just getting out of the car and into the stores.

I’d forgotten how much I hate shopping. Real shopping, that is, not the kind I did in Seattle.

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A graveyard of reading.

th-2I went dumpster wading again today at the recycling center. In the mixed paper bin I spied half a dozen like-new comic books sitting atop magazines and flattened cereal boxes.

Although melting snow was dripping down from the top of the bin, these books were dry and clean. Of course I took them, and gave them to my nephew.

He doesn’t care where I got them. In fact, he’s still stoked about the 1,000-piece jigsaw puzzle I found earlier this week in the same bin.

Guess where I’m doing my Christmas shopping? (Kidding! Maybe.)

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What I learned from de-cluttering: The sequel.

th-2Just before moving to Anchorage I wrote an MSN Money piece called “What I learned from de-cluttering.” But that was before I’d finished packing.

What I’ve learned since then? That I didn’t de-clutter enough.

It was shocking to see how many boxes I wound up putting in the moving van. As a result, I have half a dozen suggestions for your own future moves.

Here’s hoping these tips help you avoid merely paying lip service to de-cluttering.

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Hey! I didn’t win the Mega Millions!

By Robert Donovan

You probably didn’t, either. Although winning tickets were sold in several states, odds are they weren’t yours.

The odds really do stink, you know. That’s why some wags call the lottery “a tax on people who are bad at math.”

Going out on a fiscal limb here, but…I don’t think the lottery is so bad.

It’s not that I think the lottery is “good,” i.e., an important part of a balanced financial portfolio. I just think it’s not-so-bad in the way that potato chips are not-so-bad. An occasional handful won’t kill you. If you focus on chips to the exclusion of anything healthy, then you’ve got a problem.

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What will love cost you?

Cupid wears a diaper, with no place to put a wallet – but if you’re looking for love there better be pockets on your garments. Deep ones: U.S. residents spent $928 million last year just on dating services.

Love is not only grand, but fiscally prudent. Cohabitation and marriage generally mean two incomes but only one rent/mortgage, fewer nights out on the town, less emphasis on recreational shopping and more focus on shared financial goals.

“There is a real benefit – I call it a financial inoculation against poverty – in being coupled up. You’re better able to withstand tough times,” says Carmen Wong Ulrich, author of “The Real Cost of Living: Making the Best Choices for You, Your Life and Your Money.”

Oh, but the cost of getting to couplehood. Prices for makeup, “manscaping,” marriage vows and mortgages really add up.

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The day I saved Heckboy.

On my way home from the store recently I found nine cents, a My Coke Rewards cap and two ice-cream bars.

About that last: While waiting for the light to change I saw a discarded plastic grocery bag on the ground. As a rule I pick these up for my sister to use when she walks her dog. This bag held one of those Klondike Bar six-packs, with four missing.

The supermarket register receipt indicated they’d been purchased only about 15 minutes earlier, and it was a chilly day. You bet I took them home.

If you feel you must say “eeewww,” go ahead. I’ll wait.

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