It was early December when my mom called from Florida questioning whether we would like a brand new pair of Ugg boots. She explained she spotted the boots earlier in the day, still in their original wrapping displayed at a neighborhood garage sale. She cautioned us to their "sparkly," nature, perhaps not our fashion flavor, but believed the size was right. She kindly offered to return to the home and see if by chance, they were still available for $40. Auburn and I would never decline a pair of Uggs...in fact we dreamed of owning a pair. (We were willing to share!) Sparkles or not...sure, we welcomed them as a Christmas gift. When Auburn opened the boots Christmas morning in Florida, with Grandmommy beaming her pleasure at her unusual South Florida treasure, we could not help but giggle. These boots were loud, strong and vocal...rather than glitter or sequins, gold and brass darts detailed the boots from top to bottom. I noted the box was not an Uggs box but rather had "Choo," printed on the exterior. For a minute I considered informing my mom that the shoes were probably not Uggs but rather than disappoint, I kept the info silent.
Soon after returning to Wisconsin, unable to find my usual snow boots and in a rush to be on time for a TRX class, I pulled on my brazen Christmas gift and marched into the gym. The boots immediately elicited a fit of laughter and comments from my friends...my boots require so much space members have no place to dock their own. In addition, I couldn't help but notice a rugged, worn "Ukala" boot that had been sitting dejectedly and owner-less in the gym since before we went to Florida. It then occurred to me (yes, I am slow), these boots, the ones I snickered and thought, "Boy, someone needs an upgrade," were my own well-worn comfy snow shoes.
Moments after entering the gym, a close, knowledgeable fashion-savvy friend inspected my small-pox, bedazzled, boots closely. She wisely, and with a rather startled expression, alerted me to the label of Uggs Choo, informing me my shoes were potentially worth exponentially more than the traditional Uggs. Undoubtedly more than the combined cost of the entire Larson "collection." Once home I notified my daughter that the shoes we thought edged on the brink of hideous and ostentatious may very likely be our ticket to spring break. Sure enough, Auburn googled the brand and found a headline, "Would You Pay $800 for Uggs?" with a similar picture of my Ugg Choo shoe at Neiman Marcus Department Store.
Jimmy Choo Short Studded UGG Boot Original:$795.00 NOW: $357.00 OC112_X0X04
It was a situation which required a Facebook alert...a $40 gift purchased from a South Florida garage sale had become my winning lottery ticket. Friends celebrated my success while I deliberated the prudence of trudging through dirty snow covered Walmart lots in my Jimmy Choos. I have a small case of the nerves to begin with, a fringe of anxiety accompanies most of my errands, for no particular reason except for the fact it's how I was born. Would wearing $800 boots contribute to further anxiety? Would the slightest scuff or scratch make my stomach wretch? Already I was gently trying to erase any evidence of my one day of wear to the gym. I knew my best option was to sell the boots as quickly as possible. I considered a myriad of ways to spend the money as spring break flights to Florida appeared attractive but too costly considering our December travel debts. I photographed the shoes and attached them to our Ebay account with a $450 pricetag. Within 24 hours I was emailed a notice that licensing agreements prohibited the selling of these shoes. Following a discussion with a customer service rep I placed the ad again with additional pictures targeting the Ugg Choo label and more angles of these prized shoes. Again, my ad was removed.
A little research clarified that my Ugg Choos are one of the most frequent counterfeit shoes on the market; similar to a fake Rolex, my Uggs had no authenticity without the original wrapping, certificates, and receipt. The purchase of the item from a garage sale only increased the "red flag" of the shoes being fake. My husband emailed me, "Just keep the shoes!" Without a doubt they are the warmest, most decorated shoe, I have ever owned. They are also quite practical for the Wisconsin conditions and easily identified in a crowd. Most importantly they are a shoe I can wear with ease as my feet do not need shoes equivalent to the cost of kitchen appliances. In addition, the darts are falling off at an alarming Choo rate...I doubt Choo adheres darts with superglue.
All this leads me to the purpose of this post...to share with you a book that is leaving me excited, confused, and enlightened...Jen Hatmaker's book 7 An Experimental Mutiny Against Excess. After a few years of being the most lame book club member in history, (some still question whether I know how to read), I am actually hosting for the month of January. After a season of binge and excess, a month of spending, gifting, eating, drinking, shopping in the name of Christmas, Jen Hatmaker reels me in and calls my attention to the irony of our culture. We know how to celebrate, we know how to be festive and merry, we indulge ourselves in abundance. At the same time we offer thanks to God for our blessings yet seldom do we acknowledge the price. What we miss within all this practice of feasting, is that from the spiritual perspective, this celebration of abundance has a partner in the bible. It's partner is fasting. Jen illuminates this idea with her family in Austin, Texas as they begin a cultural "fast." A limit on food, clothes, spending, media, possessions, waste and stress. They spend 30 days on each topic, boiling it down to the number seven. Only eat seven foods, wear seven articles of clothing and spend money in only seven places. Eliminate use of seven types of media, give away seven things each day for a month, adopt seven green habits and observe "seven sacred pauses." It's by having less, buying less, eating less, stressing less that their spiritual wealth takes the forefront to their material wealth. Only when we let go of what we physically believe that we need (cell phones, XBox, cable, Panera, sushi) do we become aware of fullness which exists apart from "stuff."
My idea of sacrifice is electing to put in Formica counter-tops in lieu of granite. My perception of humility is to keep our old black kitchen appliances rather than purchase stainless steel. I don't have a clue of what "going without" feels like. I have never had to choose between a hot meal or a warm bed. If my kids clothes get holes in them it doesn't cross my mind to patch them...we just buy new clothes. I don't have to consider whether to buy gas or get new tires...if it needs to be done we do it, essentially without much sacrifice.
This is my sister's fault...the same way she changed my life (and yours for the 25+ who joined me) by introducing me to The Conscious Cleanse (refer to July 20, 2013 post) she again has gently recommended a book that offers long-lasting reverberations. I can't keep a good thing to myself. When I am dazed, confused, bedazzled (like my fake Choos) by an author's interpretation of my stereo-typical middle-class Christian lifestyle I don't want to be alone. I want others to raise their eye-brows and let their souls' ask and answer the poignant questions. I think you will fall in love with Jen Hatmaker. Many people not in Aspen Book Club have commented that they have started reading the book or passed it along to their spouse.
We are an informal group meeting under the guise of "reading" for many years. We started the group when our children were babies, toddlers, or early elementary school. Now the kids are driving and babysitting yet we still feel the need to get out of the house, visit and share. Through the years we have read great literature (and not so great:) and tackled many conflicting issues, primarily in fiction novels. This is a change for us to read a spiritual book. On the publisher's page under the Dewey Decimal Classification and subject heading in capital letters: "MATERIALISM/ CHRISTIAN LIFE/COST AND STANDARD OF LIVING. Not our typical book and yet the author could be any one of us. Hatmaker is a hilarious, real, sometimes frazzled sometimes grounded, woman/wife/mother who has a gift for discernment, expression, and action.
Five minutes ago I checked my Facebook account and one of the book club readers had posted, "I am loving the book "7"--just had to tell someone." (I know the feeling!) Please join us!
A little research clarified that my Ugg Choos are one of the most frequent counterfeit shoes on the market; similar to a fake Rolex, my Uggs had no authenticity without the original wrapping, certificates, and receipt. The purchase of the item from a garage sale only increased the "red flag" of the shoes being fake. My husband emailed me, "Just keep the shoes!" Without a doubt they are the warmest, most decorated shoe, I have ever owned. They are also quite practical for the Wisconsin conditions and easily identified in a crowd. Most importantly they are a shoe I can wear with ease as my feet do not need shoes equivalent to the cost of kitchen appliances. In addition, the darts are falling off at an alarming Choo rate...I doubt Choo adheres darts with superglue.
All this leads me to the purpose of this post...to share with you a book that is leaving me excited, confused, and enlightened...Jen Hatmaker's book 7 An Experimental Mutiny Against Excess. After a few years of being the most lame book club member in history, (some still question whether I know how to read), I am actually hosting for the month of January. After a season of binge and excess, a month of spending, gifting, eating, drinking, shopping in the name of Christmas, Jen Hatmaker reels me in and calls my attention to the irony of our culture. We know how to celebrate, we know how to be festive and merry, we indulge ourselves in abundance. At the same time we offer thanks to God for our blessings yet seldom do we acknowledge the price. What we miss within all this practice of feasting, is that from the spiritual perspective, this celebration of abundance has a partner in the bible. It's partner is fasting. Jen illuminates this idea with her family in Austin, Texas as they begin a cultural "fast." A limit on food, clothes, spending, media, possessions, waste and stress. They spend 30 days on each topic, boiling it down to the number seven. Only eat seven foods, wear seven articles of clothing and spend money in only seven places. Eliminate use of seven types of media, give away seven things each day for a month, adopt seven green habits and observe "seven sacred pauses." It's by having less, buying less, eating less, stressing less that their spiritual wealth takes the forefront to their material wealth. Only when we let go of what we physically believe that we need (cell phones, XBox, cable, Panera, sushi) do we become aware of fullness which exists apart from "stuff."
My idea of sacrifice is electing to put in Formica counter-tops in lieu of granite. My perception of humility is to keep our old black kitchen appliances rather than purchase stainless steel. I don't have a clue of what "going without" feels like. I have never had to choose between a hot meal or a warm bed. If my kids clothes get holes in them it doesn't cross my mind to patch them...we just buy new clothes. I don't have to consider whether to buy gas or get new tires...if it needs to be done we do it, essentially without much sacrifice.
This is my sister's fault...the same way she changed my life (and yours for the 25+ who joined me) by introducing me to The Conscious Cleanse (refer to July 20, 2013 post) she again has gently recommended a book that offers long-lasting reverberations. I can't keep a good thing to myself. When I am dazed, confused, bedazzled (like my fake Choos) by an author's interpretation of my stereo-typical middle-class Christian lifestyle I don't want to be alone. I want others to raise their eye-brows and let their souls' ask and answer the poignant questions. I think you will fall in love with Jen Hatmaker. Many people not in Aspen Book Club have commented that they have started reading the book or passed it along to their spouse.
We are an informal group meeting under the guise of "reading" for many years. We started the group when our children were babies, toddlers, or early elementary school. Now the kids are driving and babysitting yet we still feel the need to get out of the house, visit and share. Through the years we have read great literature (and not so great:) and tackled many conflicting issues, primarily in fiction novels. This is a change for us to read a spiritual book. On the publisher's page under the Dewey Decimal Classification and subject heading in capital letters: "MATERIALISM/ CHRISTIAN LIFE/COST AND STANDARD OF LIVING. Not our typical book and yet the author could be any one of us. Hatmaker is a hilarious, real, sometimes frazzled sometimes grounded, woman/wife/mother who has a gift for discernment, expression, and action.
Five minutes ago I checked my Facebook account and one of the book club readers had posted, "I am loving the book "7"--just had to tell someone." (I know the feeling!) Please join us!
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