Spending can be surprisingly easy.
You don’t have to be a victim of constant marketing and ads.
I’m thinking about this because I’ve been eyeing some nice stuff other people have. Temptation is real. Thankfully, after a few years of practicing frugality, I’ve built up a decent defense.
Case in point: last Saturday we went to a regional park’s winter lodge—kids’ play area, tables, a fireplace, snowy views outside. We packed a picnic lunch for a cheap family outing.
We were happily saving money and enjoying our meal after a library run (double frugal points) when a group of skiers came in.
Me: “Wouldn’t it be fun to get skis for the family? Great way to get out in winter.”
Mrs. C: “You do remember how fast kids grow, right? This is why we didn’t do hockey.”
Me: “We could rent?”
Mrs. C: “Better. Stop planning purchases and enjoy your lunch!”
Me: “Probably a trade-in program exists for this stuff.”
So the choices: buy, rent, or buy and replace as the kids grow. Ski gear isn’t cheap—quality stuff for a family of four would run close to a grand.
Before I met my wife (and before I knew what I was doing), I spent over a grand on downhill ski gear. Haven’t been on the slopes since the kids were born. Maybe someday.
Given that, we’ll probably rent if we decide to ski as a family. Or maybe we’ll try snowshoeing. In Minnesota there’s no shortage of cold days for either—remember the Super Bowl? It hit -5°F that day.
I’m recycling a few earlier ideas here. Sue me—I’m tired and could use a vacation to come up with new blog topics.
Still, it’s worth thinking about alternatives to buying books, music, and news. I used to love buying books and savoring that new-book smell. Mmm—new book smell.
CDs were another story—an annoying pain to unpackage, and I broke more than one jewel case. These days I’m fine letting go of collecting CDs and using Pandora or, gasp, FM radio.
I grew up with the daily paper and kept the habit after college—at first mostly Sports, then News and Business. Eventually the news left me feeling pretty gloomy, and I hated getting inky fingers.
Now I get my news from YouTube—Colbert, John Oliver—and I check headlines on my phone. No inky fingers, no guilt over piles of unread papers and circulars.
Some coworkers have to book an exotic flight every year—even with kids in diapers. I don’t get it. I’ve flown with twin infants and it’s rough. Travel does get easier as kids grow, but it’s expensive.
We use points to fly to Nevada each year to see grandparents—a three-hour direct flight that’s about our limit with little kids. It’s nice to have a place to stay and built-in childcare so Mom and Dad can have some adult time. Same deal for summer trips to my parents in Michigan—room and helpful grandparents, and the road trip needs no points.
Travel is great, but it doesn’t have to be Bora Bora every year. There are good deals and you can be savvy with points, but remember the hidden costs: meals, activities, baggage fees, ground transport.
Weekends often mean double dates, happy hour, or bar hopping. I’ll say this: a simple Game Night is where the fun can be—especially in cold states like Minnesota. Invite friends over and make them brave the cold once to get there. They’ll probably appreciate staying in more than hopping from bar to bar in a wind chill.
These examples aren’t meant to be a master list of frugality tips—they’re starting points. When dining out, do you need the filet when the burger is good? Do you need a Tesla when a bike would do? (Yet yes, I still dream of a glossy black Model S.)
Some things aren’t worth substituting: decent, durable clothes and healthy food are non-negotiable—especially where the growing season is short. Don’t get trapped trying to match the neighbors. Simple as that.
Last summer I thought about installing an in-ground pool after seeing a neighbor’s. Then I remembered we live in frozen Minnesota—two months of use isn’t worth the bill.
You spend less so you can invest more and let your money grow. That requires sacrifices. The trick: don’t keep up with the Joneses, but allow yourself the occasional finer thing—frugally.
You’d think reading Mr. Money Mustache twice would turn you into a full-time stoic cyclist—sell the car, move next to work, hitchhike to Costco—but Pete makes solid points. Buying stuff to feel fulfilled is fleeting.
I was guilty in my 20s and 30s: I bought a $1,000 watch weeks before getting laid off. Not smart. I ate “Hollywood lunches” at bars and grills a couple times a week. I shopped the mall every other weekend for brand-name clothes that never went on sale—Polo shirts, Dockers.
Part of that was workplace dress code—dress shirts and ties. A colleague once wore hiking clothes with a knit tie and still met the code. He looked ridiculous, but he made the point.
A perk of working tech support: we got first dibs on decommissioned PCs. That saved me a big expense back when I had a car payment, student loans, and Hollywood lunches.
Now I avoid malls. I live near the Mall of America—millions visit every year, some from overseas just to shop. We take the kids there for Nickelodeon Universe sometimes, but usually on Grandma and Grandpa’s dime. Yep, we’re cheap.
I don’t collect fancy watches or high-end clothes anymore. I shop Marshall’s and the Banana Republic outlet—good value and a better fit for skinny guys like me.
At lunch I heat leftovers at my cube. If I hit the cafeteria, it’s usually for a big, cheap cup of chili. Hollywood lunches are history.
My gadget cravings cooled, too. I keep an older laptop running and use an iPhone 6. Sometimes I still want a 55″ TV for the kids to appreciate Star Wars, but I manage.
So what are the “finer things” to us? They aren’t expensive luxuries. They’re durable or immaterial—minimalism, basically.
For clothes I rotate the same three suits and try to stay in shape to avoid tailoring. I use shoe trees and polish shoes a couple times a year; when heels wear, I get them repaired. I buy dress shirts at Marshall’s and have them tailored so they don’t look like parachutes.
Food-wise, we eat leftovers but focus on whole foods cooked at home by Mrs. Cubert. We do enjoy a nice restaurant meal about once a week—after her hard work in the kitchen, that indulgence is worth it.
Travel is limited by work and school, but we fly to Nevada once a year with points and take road trips to Michigan or Nebraska. When the Mrs. and I take a couple of days away—grandparents stay with the kids—we’ll spend around $1,000. We cover flights and bring the in-laws in with miles; once a year, that’s within budget.
Pop some champagne, eat a little caviar—we’ve still got room for finer things, just picked and paid for carefully.