Oh, BIG apologies all ’round for my slacker-tude in posting (not posting actually) lately. Um, I’ve been trying (and I use that word optimistically) to figure out how to SURVIVE in a world gone mad. Yes, mad!

Damn. Is it just me or is everybody scrambling? To wit,

Okay, one newspaper hasn’t paid me yet for a piece they ran in February. It’s not a lot of cash, but still. Hello????

Another magazine hasn’t paid me hundreds and hundreds of dollars (believe me, this is big for a freelancer) that I’m due for magazine articles written and delivered in December and January. This week, I heard they’ve closed up shop and I guess I can kiss that cashola goodbye.

A PR client just suspended my monthly work because they “just can’t afford it” right now.

Another PR client asked me to cut my hourly rate in HALF. HALF. HA/LF. And they did it with a straight face.

My cat, Einstein, decided that this was the moment she needed an urgent visit to say hello (that means hiss, growl, and hiss again) to her vet for an undetermined problem (um, why can’t I speak meow-ese?) that while not solved yet, has nevertheless set me back $191 already!

So, what’s a girl (okay, a WOMAN!) to do? Well, scrimp and scrounge just a little bit harder now, baby. So, follow my survival strategies for the wacky and you can hopefully hang in here with me long enough for Obama to put some tangible junk (cold hard cash into the hands of the common folk) in that metaphorical trunk (it’s the economy, stupid!) he keeps talking about.

Decide to bathe on alternate Fridays à la francaise! Okay, I’m kidding about this one, but I have cut back on my addiction to long, luxurious, lavender-baby-oil infused bath soaks with a book in one hand and a cat watching from atop the closed toilet seat. For the foreseeable future, I’ll faux-bathe before I head out the door by spritzing myself with that lonely (and refreshingly chilled) bottle of Chanel No. 5 that sits in my fridge alongside the equally lonely bottle of Dom that’s been waiting in there for FOUR years for me to “make it big”.

Realize that Cheerios without milk make a perfectly acceptable dinner! I’m not kidding about this one, actually. Look, I could stand to lose a few pounds. Going without a few meals isn’t going to kill me … though it might make me grouchy! At least I’ll be getting my fiber.

Accept that while I waste away to supermodel thin (in my dreams!), my cats will never cease their incessant meowing for snacks and treats and two-course dinners. Grocery list: cat food, cat litter, cat box liner, cat treats, emergency can of tuna fish (for cats, natch), coffee, newspaper, bird food. By the way, you’re all invited to my house for dinner.

Hang an outdoor clothes drying line! Oh, this
is working out great. I put it up yesterday and today … voilà — I’m a lean, green ma-neighborhood pariah! Even in my relatively casual ‘hood, clothes lines aren’t exactly smiled upon. NIMBY, etc. But, WHATEVER, DUDE. As long as I don’t hang out my skivvies, I think it’s perfectly acceptable, in fact, downright NICE to see laundry flapping in the breeze. Today is the first day I hung laundry out to dry, and I quite enjoyed the quiet calm of hanging each piece, my cat Boomerang at my side (on his leash). It felt good to know I wasn’t going to burn energy –or money — drying them. I came back in my house and went back to work and less than two hours later, the towels, socks, etc., were dry and fresh-smelling.

Put the bluejays on a diet. Unlike my pampered felines, the outdoor Jays are going to have to get by on fewer seeds and nuts. As I write, they’re out there screeching because they’ve got me trained to give them a 5:30 p.m., infusion. But nope. I’m resisting. I’m sure there are plenty of bugs around for them to catch. I have asked my Mom to give me a large supply of bird seed for my birthday; I’m sure she’ll come through for them.

Stop dating! Egads. If men only knew how expensive it was for a girl (okay, a woman!) to get ready for a date, they’d quit complaining about having to pay for dinner. Let me break it down for you: leg wax: $50; at-home facial: $11; cost of goopy stuff to put on our faces that make our pupils look dilated — that’s mascara and liner, and our lips look so delicious you can’t wait to kiss us — that’s lip gloss in my book: $25-200 depending on if you shop at Walgreen’s or Saks; highlights in our hair to give us that sun-kissed, Cali-girl effect: $80; a lacy Agent Provacateur peeking out from our décolletage: $65; … and that can of Mace to hit you with when all of the foregoing have actually worked their magic?: $13!

So, gee if a woman can get ready for a dinner date with as little as $244, um, I think it’s reasonable to expect that the guy buy the burger and fries! Except, as I complain about ad nauseum … here in SRQ most (but not all) men expect you to not only look, feel, smell, and be GREAT, they want you to pay your “fair share” too! NO FAIR!

Anyway, if there are any other wacky survivalists out there … feel free to cabbage on to my strategies and adopt them as your own. Let me know how it’s working for you!