Buy, buy, buy

I’ve been cut off. John says I can’t buy anything that’s not a necessity, online or offline, for a month.

Credit card and money in Jean pocket
How do I get him to lift the moritorium?

I’ve got nobody but myself to blame. No wait, I can blame the “kids,” too.

For my part, I stay up all night on pharmacy days, and inevitably, usually about 3 or 4 in the morning, something happens as I’m innocently surfing cat memes, stories to read, and those sarcastic humor thingies to stick on the Pinterest board I’ve labeled “my life.”

I click on an ad.

Those little bastards are deceptive.

“America’s favorite vet saves Fluffy from certain death,” I’ll read, so I click on the story.

It turns into a harrowing tale of Fluffy’s inability to process food properly, thus slowly starving him to death.

Riveting stuff.

Then, by the end of the story when America’s favorite vet is now your favorite vet, the story segues smoothly into the part where you learn of the special food additive that Mr. America’s favorite vet had to invent to save Fluffy and others like Fluffy.

This additive does everything for the dog but feed him by hand (being a powder, it has no hands, but you and your opposable thumb do, so that’s your job should you so please).

Among a host of many other good things, it increases immune function, relieves joint pain, makes for a shinier coat, helps with digestion, yada, yada, yada…plus it makes their breath and even their poop smell better.

Did I mention it could also increase your pet’s life span?

That’s when I whipped out my debit card.

Those of you who have been faithfully reading my blog (bless you, my children), know that I just recently (June 28th, 2018 RIP) lost Blizzard to the ravages of old age at 19 years old. He was a Maltipoo, which made him a small dog, and small dogs live longer than big dogs, but that didn’t stop the pain of my having to put him to sleep because his little body wore out and he got very sick.

Now, Tsuki is a big dog (although she’s down to a svelte 91 lbs), and big dogs have a life expectancy of 10-14 years.

Tsuki is already nine years old.

The possibility that she could lead a healthier, longer life had me keying in numbers on their sales page as fast as I could see them and still get them in the right order.

And that’s why I have three bottles of “Thryve” hidden in my pantry so John won’t see it and have a conniption fit that I bought nutritional powder that’s supposed to taste good mixed in dog food for Tsuki. She seems to like it. (He reads this blog, though, so the facade won’t last long).

I’m expecting the lecture, so I’m braced for it. Come at me bro’.

To be fair to me, though, I bought the supplements before the buying ban edict was announced.

And before Tsuki’s yearly dental cleaning was done.

The dental cleaning was supposed to be included free in her wellness plan, and it was, but she also had a small mass removal done while under sedation, so $400 later she’s mass free, high on painkillers and is sporting a nifty new bandage around her middle.

John very patiently, through clenched teeth, explained to me the difference between “free,” and $400, although how was I supposed to know the mass removal was going to be so much extra?

They charged me for every suture, piece of gauze, pill, and any other extraneous medical supplies up to and including gloves and surgical gowns they could possibly think of, I’m sure of it.

But maybe the Thryve will help her stay healthier and keep our vet bills down. That’s the story I’m going with after John reads this. He calls her our “lemon dog” because there’s always something going on with her.

So anyway, once the debit card comes out of my wallet, all bets are off.

I get lost in a land full of bright, shiny links to click.

And I mean, who doesn’t need a suitcase that will fold down to fit under the seat in front of you?

Am I right?

Traveling for me is highly stressful, and I broke my travel satchel at my sister’s house the last time I went to visit her in NC. That’s how I ended up with the Biaggi.

I don’t like to take carry on luggage. Not only does it cost more, I’m not strong enough to put it in the overhead bin, and then get it back down at the end of the flight. And apparently (on Allegiant anyway), if you can’t lift it up there, you should have checked it because they’re not allowed to help you.

Finding a big enough bag to hold all my medications, various electronic components (lightening cords, adapters, ear buds, wireless earbuds, one small lipstick charger, one bigger external battery, plus their assorted wires, an iPad, an iPhone, and at least three styluses) is challenging enough.

Now add my wallet and a minimum of two sets of reading glasses WITH the cleaning cloths, of course.

You can clearly see why I needed this miracle bag that fit under the seat. I can carry it on like a purse – but it has wheels for carrying it through the airport.

That’s the kind of technology I like.

Look, I already travel wearing sweatpants with pockets to hold my I.D. and phone, and slides (easy off, easy on) with socks on my feet to ease the tension filled mess that is TSA. It’s bad enough I gotta take my iPad out and put it in a separate bucket.

If the Biaggi lives up to its advertising, it will be money well spent, in my opinion.

I bought the bag before the spending freeze was in effect, too. It was hidden in the closet, but as I said, John reads my blogs, soooo…Surprise! I love you 🍯 honey!

That’s it, my ❤️ love. Now you know almost all my secret spending. Oh, and there was the Jenu Microcellular Infuser I hid in the nightstand drawer, but I bought that at least six months ago so that doesn’t count anymore.

I blame the children (all adults now) and John’s overinflated reactions to unexpected expenditures for hiding my purchases on these occasional binges of mine.

For instance, John nearly had a cardiac event when Ryan (the oldest at 34) asked via Facebook messenger for us to contribute to our Grandson Nehemiah’s efforts to win a knife for selling the most popcorn in his troop, and I bought some, and it came to close to $50 for the tin.

He can’t be winning a knife, though, can he? He’s only five… I gotta find out what it is we’re helping him win.

Then, my daughter, Greyson, and her boyfriend Ben, both 22, evacuated to our house during Florence because they both go to UNCW in Wilmington, NC, which got totally flooded at all points of ingress and egress into and out of Wilmington. They couldn’t go back if they wanted to.

So, they stayed a week during which many Florida touristy type things were done, and many dinners eaten out (five adults at The Cheesecake Factory can really put a dent in your wallet), we footed the bill for most of that, plus groceries (not that we minded, we loved having them here).

Then there’s my 26-year-son, Matthew, who is living with us for a while whilst he finds a job.

He works in computer science.

Yeah, I know, the world’s most tech stupid woman lives with a Computer Science graduate. Irony.

If I ask him, or any of the other kids for tech help I’m told to “Google it, mom.”

I’m here to tell you, Google is often wrong. More often, the answer is too technical for me to understand. But honestly, Google has taken me to a different subject matter altogether before.

Matthew plays lots of video games upstairs in his man cave; formerly my office.

He’s almost totally nocturnal right now. It’s 8:20 am and he just went to bed. Because I was up all night, I saw him three times: when he came down to eat.

The first time he told me my chair wasn’t ergonomically positioned right, and he’s right. I just sit slumped in my overstuffed reading chair with a pillow at my back, occasionally putting my feet and legs up on the ottoman so I can cover them when I get too cold in this icebox we call home.

His computer chair is an ergonomic masterpiece. It’s completely top of the line. When he had a job, he spent his money on that and the best desktop computer money 💰could buy. He has two monitors.

The second time he came down, he waxed poetic about God knows what. I’m sure it wasn’t important or I’da remembered it by now. I know, I know, mother of the year, that’s me.

This last time, we spoke a bit on his nocturnalness (and yes I just made that word up), I then asked him to support Nehemiah’s efforts on the popcorn drive 🍿 since I know Matthew has his own credit card, but when told the price, he said “Oh God No,” and went upstairs to sleep.

Love that boy/manchild. He keeps it real.

To be fair, there are cheaper boxes.  http://popcorn code=2117076146

His key code is already in the link, so he’ll get credit automatically if you decide you want to help the cause. His name is Nehemia Masters, and I wish I could show you his sales-pitch video. Cuteness!

Nothing like a little good old fashioned plugola for my grandson.

So anyway, mainly because of the kids and the above situations (and John just this week had to pay Grey’s rent, credit cards, utilities, other things involved with being a college student at UNCW, and send her extra money for food), we’re living frugally for the next month.

It’s so not fair.

What if I absolutely have to have that backpack with the USB port I’ve been eyeing on Facebook?

And “Crepe Erase”? My crepey skin could use some erasing in many key areas. What of that?

If you cut me, do I not bleed?

BUT we love our kids to death, and John has this thing about paying for everything when they’re around. He  bought Ben a new pair of Nikes, and Ben doesn’t even belong to us, though we love him.

Now that I’ve come clean about my impulsive late-night online buying sprees, do you have anything you want to get off your chest? I’m a good listener.

Go to my Facebook Page: Vicky Poutas-Freelance Blogger/Writer. It’s mostly there to promote this blog, but you can message me there if you need to talk.

You are wondrous works of art. Don’t let anyone tell you anything different.

Stay Strong.

Keep fighting.

You Are Worth It.

September was national suicide prevention month, but it’s important all the time. If you or a friend need help – talk to someone. tel:18002738255 Help/Chat to someone

Don’t keep your mouth shut.

You’ve got a lot of great things to say.



I am a freelance writer who makes words beautiful, exciting, persuasive, concise and alive, if a little loopy sometimes. I was born in S. Korea on an army base, and traveled the world from the age of 10 months into the present day, so I know a lot about many different topics. I've spent the last 22 years (and counting) raising three children into responsible young adults, and that is no mean feat. I've been writing for as long as I can remember: fiction, non-fiction, creative writing, poetry, creative non-fiction and all that falls in between. I'm a great researcher. I am also easy to work with. If you've got a topic that needs to be written about, I can write it. I've been married for 26 years to the same man, and that's a whole topic unto itself! If you need a freelance blogger or writer, hire me. I won't let you down. Contact:,, Instagram: @vickypoutas,, Facebook:

3 thoughts to “Buy, buy, buy”

  1. I apologise to the other wonderful lady, Connie, who saw my post and commented on it. For some reason, my blog is only publishing one comment per post. I did reply to you… welcome to the family! I look forward to seeing further comments from you.
    Now, I’m going to email Arthur at OutStandingSetups and ask him to fix the comment problem for me. They’re my server host, but they’re wonderful about fixing easy things for me that I can’t figure out because I’m technically challenged.

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