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LuxuriesMay 24, 2006 I'm wallowing in new CDs. I've been wallowing all month, starting when four Pete Mortons arrived all at once. Earlier this week Bob Franke's newest, The Other Night in Chicago (2005), showed up. It didn't get pushed out of the boom box till about half an hour ago, and that's just because the new Capitol Steps, I'm So Indicted, was waiting for me at the p.o. this afternoon. My deal with the Capitol Steps is that whenever a new one comes out I buy both it and one from the backlist. I'm currently working my way back through the Clinton administration. Eventually I'll find out what really happened when Reagan was the Titular Head, but don't worry; when I get there, I'll be able to handle it. The IRS might be raising a skeptical eyebrow right about now: Excuse me? You're splurging on CDs when you haven't managed to make your first quarterly estimated tax payment? To which I reply: Do you have any idea how many CDs I'd have to not buy before I'd have enough for my first quarterly? I do -- about a hundred. I'm not sure I buy that many CDs in five years. Believe me, four Pete Mortons, one Bob Franke, and three Capitol Steps is barely a dent. Besides, feds, I've got yer dough. The check will be in the mail before I get on the boat tomorrow morning. Years ago, hand-stamped velvet hats and scarves by island artist Michele Ratté were all the rage on Martha's Vineyard. The originals were pricey by my standards (which you, regular readers, realize by now are, to put it mildly, cheap), and true, after a while they got to be a bit overexposed, but when Michele threw a "seconds" sale at her workshop, I went. Much to my surprise I bought two hats: a black floppy-brimmed number stamped in silver, and a burgundy and gold beret that would have done credit to Henry VIII. (Total cost: more than eight CDs.) Something Michele said has stuck with me ever since: that her hats and scarves made their wearers feel luxurious, but as luxuries went, they weren't very expensive. You could indulge yourself, in other words, without breaking the bank. This is important when you're living on a shoestring. Indiscriminate self-denial makes Jill a surly girl. Worse, it's not sustainable. Jill decides that ice cream is bad for her, makes her fat, etc., and she's never going to eat it again. Almost immediately she starts obsessing about ice cream 24/7 and it's only a matter of time before she buys a half gallon of choc-van-straw and eats most of it at one sitting. So I have my hats. And my CDs. And my Gore-tex rain paints. And so on. True, some of my friends won't tell me to my face, but they think that when I committed horse I went way too far. If I didn't have a horse, I could drive a bigger truck, afford an apartment with a kitchen, and maybe even get my cataracts removed, but I'd also have a much harder time getting up in the morning and putting one foot in front of the other all day long. I may be shoestringing it, but deprived I am not.
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