Hello Darling Ones,

A voicemail from my Poor People’s insurance company just prompted me to burst into tears.

The message was about connecting me with Second Harvest Heartland in case I needed help securing food. The tears were a mix of gratitude that I don’t need that kind of help and sadness that so many do.

‘Tis the season, ya know.

After Minnesota Octobers and the Boys’ High School Hockey Tournament, Christmas is my favorite season. And the older I get, the more I love it.

In the past I did not have good Christmases. Poverty and an emotionally-volatile dad triggered by Christmas ruined many a holiday as a kid. It took me a long time to figure out I could make Christmas as magical or mundane as a I wanted. Even longer to realize the point is enjoying making the magic and not so much waiting for others to delight in the effort I put forth.

Since I have $0.00 to spend on Christmas this year, I’ve been working my fingers to the bone making all the gifts. Past, more financially-secure me was quite the yarn hoarder. Thanks, you money-wasting ding dong!

I’ve been diligently crocheting tiny owls, chickens, dinosaurs, and more as prizes for the A Very St. Martin Christmas races. This is a game I invented last year whereby my family each pick a wind-up toy to race across the coffee table. The winner of each heat gets to unwrap a prize or steal from someone else.

I told my cousin Billy this year will be even better than last year. I want tears, jealousy, and vows of revenge, I said. He pretended to be excited, because he loves me.

At some point after Christmas Jaycie & Max will get homemade sweaters. On Christmas they’ll get yarn and buttons and the choice of patterns.

I’ve been enjoying the hell out of my magic making time. I work listening to either The Cider House Rules or that new Snocaps record. At night I crochet while watching gameshows from the early 60s and laugh like a goon. Frankly, it’s delightful and seems to be enough to keep my mind off everything I could be anxious about (periodontist appointment (Fri), MRI (Wed), no income, and appointment with the neurologist(Jan).

ALSO, and most importantly, last night I learned that I’m the same age as The Grinch, which feels like vital information to know.

Banging the Gah-Ginker,
Jodi

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Dear Darling Ones,

One of the benefits of being poor is the insurance, or at least it is right now. Who knows what the future holds for poor people insurance? Probably nothing. The only thing America hates more than black people, anyone not generally white passing, LGBTQIA+, and women, is poor people.

This country hates poor people because, like the good capitalist robots we are trained to be, we equate wealth with intelligence, hard work, and moral superiority. Only stupid and lazy people are poor and they deserve to suffer for their stupid laziness. Naturally.

When I was younger people were often surprised to learn I grew up in poverty, a thing I mostly kept a shameful secret, because I was so smart. As if I couldn’t be poor and smart.

Well, here I am again – poor and smart.

Believe it or not, bellyaching about poverty is my point today. My point right now, in this moment, is about how I am content and happy and it’s due to my poor people’s insurance.

My insurance has a bunch of incentive programs to make their clients “healthier.” Through this Healthy Benefits program they’ll “pay” you for doing things like getting a mammogram, getting your A1C checked, and other things I can’t remember because I don’t think they pertain to me.

The more cynical corners of my mind think they offer this program because they think poor people are too dumb to do this. Really, it’s probably a good investment. The healthier their clients are the less they have to pay. It always comes down to the dollars.

As a poor & frugal person I got my mind on the dolla dolla bills too, y’all.

My idea when I first discovered the Healthy Benefits program was to use the money for co-pays and prescriptions. Seemed like a good idea to me. Only thing is that was not allowed. The Benefits had to be used to by “healthy” food at specific stores. Because, of course.

Since I can’t drive anymore this made using my Benefits tricky. In fact, a bunch of my money expired before I could use them. I didn’t have the mental or emotional capacity to deal with it, Not so this year. This year I made it a mission to use that $80 (I got $50 for a mammogram and $30 for my A1C).

After much digging through the shitty Healthy Benefits website and even shittier app I learned I could use Uber Eats and their ridiculously inflated pricing to get groceries delivered. I have been in battle with Uber Eats for weeks because every time I tried to place an order the app said it could not use my S3 Healthy Benefits card right now.

Why? I don’t know. I even called the Healthy Benefits support line to see what I was doing wrong and they were literally like, “we’re here to help people add the card to their Uber Eats wallet.” Not so helpful to those of us who know how to work phone apps.

For someone with zero patience, I am also incredibly stubborn. I have been trying to place that order and get it to charge that stupid card every day for like two weeks. Today it worked. My frugal persistence paid off!

I was able to get all the Thanksgiving food for our tiny Thanksgiving. It’s just me, Sister #4, and our mom. The West Coast fam stays over there for Thanksgiving.

The amount of pride I have right now is incalculable. I’m so happy I get to pay for and prepare dinner for my fam. My mom and Sister #4 do so much for me and never complain about it in front of me. So many appointments (four in December) and checking the mail and taking out the garbage. They’ve never once asked me for gas money or anything like that. And while I cook and bake for them all the time (last week was chicken soup with homemade biscuits and scotcheroos), this is special because it feels like I got all the food for free.

The only thing I love better than paying less for stuff is not having to pay for it at all.

Yay!

Poor but happy,
Jodi

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Hi Darling Ones,

I’ve had a lot on mind. Well, I always do. But lately I’ve been thinking about the two finger-snaps in Dire Straits’ “Romeo & Juliet” and if the are significant in some way, if they are meant to symbolize something.

You’d be surprised by how much I think about this. It is more than a lot.

However, since the federal government shutdown I’ve been thinking about other things. Namely the boundless cruelty of the USA and the people who govern it. Also, the fathomless greed of the wealthy and all those people who could put an end to hunger and poverty and houselessness if they chose to throw their money at that problem.

More selfishly I’ve been thinking my writing and my situation.

It’s clear I love writing here. I’ve been doing it for 25 years, and I continue even though the physical acts of typing and reading are difficult and exhausting after the stroke. You can sorta see what my vision is like in the image at the top of this post. Spoiler: it’s not good.

One of my vague goals for iwilldare.com is to share what it’s like to be a single, 6’5″, white, GenX woman at this moment in time. And by this moment, I mean all the moments in time when I post. Now that I’ve become a single, 6’5″ white, disabled GenX woman during some massively horrifying historic events I feel as though my writing is more navel-gazey than ever.

It feels kinda gross to be so self-focused during the horrors thrust upon us by the government. This is a time where showing up and being a member of the community is important. Instead, all I do is sit in a chair and worry about if I’ll ever get on the dole.

With SNAP and WIC benefits running out because of the government shutdown I thought abut donating to the local food shelf. Food insecurity is one of those issues that really get me in the old ticker. I know what that’s like. I grew up with food insecurity and have gone hugry many times (yes, a hungry food insecure fat girl, it happens).

Sadly, I checked to see how much money I could spare. I can spare exactly $0.00. I’ve got exactly $3,713.41 to last me until, I’m not sure when. They haven’t even scheduled my Social Security hearing yet, and I don’t know how long it takes to get a verdict or money.

Bah!

Now, you can see how my thoughts have been going the past few weeks. It’s becoming a well-worn spiral — horrors, my writing, horrors, my own situation. How do people other people do this? How do you cope with personal tragedies or problems in the midst of bigger, more pressing problems?

Pondering Romeo & Juliet was way more fun and it helped me sleep at night.

Just another one of your deals,
Jodi

P.S.
In 2020 when I donated to my local food shelf I got an email from the Executive Director thanking me because I was the first person to ever use the online donation form. He told me he googled me and because I was a Replacements’ fan he offered me a gig. I built a beautiful website for them that they never used because the new Marketing Director, hired after I started my work, either did not like me or wanted to put her mark on everything. I didn’t get to stick around long enough to find out. I’m sad to report they still have an ugly ass website.

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Hola Darling Ones,

How are you? Is Spring springing where you are? It is here and I’m giving it 90% of the credit for why I keep passing the open windows. The other 10% goes to Valerie June’s “Owls, Omens, and Oracles” record mostly for the song “Joy, Joy!” and a little for that Oxford comma in the title.

It’s not been the best week here at Supergenius HQ. It started with a dental emergency and ended with doing my taxes.

Uffda!

I have a lot of shame about my Play-Doh-like teeth that have not gotten the best care throughout much of my life. While my oral hygiene is A+, my routine dental care by a professional is C- at best, more like D+. Childhood poverty, shame, lack of dental insurance are all reasons I can give for the shoddy state of my mouth. However, I know better and one of my goals for 2025 is to get my mouth in order.

Thanks to some wiggling by my back left molar that goal got started Wednesday. As I dramatically said to Mortimer while he was fucking with the Sadness Garden, “I just had a bone ripped from my face!”

A tall man (UGH, yes, I asked him how tall he was (6’6″) and hated myself for it) pulled the sucker because there was no saving it. I swear I have about six teeth left. I go back at the end of June to get those six teeth cleaned and keep working on my goal. Look at me, being all accountable to myself.

The whole thing was fine and only deemed an emergency by the dentist’s office for insurance purposes.

The tax situation is fine too, I guess? I mean, at least I can afford my tax bill without having to borrow money from my mom, so that’s nice. This year I owe about $650. So, a mortgage payment. What’s gutting is that my adjusted income was only $8,750. I think I made about $10K this year.

Seeing that number made me realize I am, in fact, poor poor. I knew the realization was coming. I’ve been cutting all frivolity from my budget — things like letting domain names expire, cancelling subscriptions, switching from my beloved Peace Coffee to whatever’s on sale, etc. These are not hardships. Domains for fictional characters I made up in my head are not a necessity.

Still. . . seeing that number – 8,750 – was a slap in the face. It makes my stomach hurt and my cheeks burn with shame. I feel like a loser, a slacker, a failure, and I hate that so much of my self-worth is tied to being a good capitalist cog.

Bleh.

I keep reminding myself that I’m ok. I’ll be ok. That I won’t be homeless 10 minutes from now. There’s still a chance I’ll get on the dole. It’ll all work out, right?

Keep passing the open windows,
Jodi

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