In light of the recent economic times, and having a general feeling of wanting to live simply (and because my husband says “If you can’t eat it, don’t buy it”), I am trying to pull back even more in the shopping arena.

But, shopping can be fun, even window shopping, as one looks at an array of beautiful things and imagines what kind of life one might have if a Red Poncho was part of the picture, or what might happen in life if a Pink Chinese Lantern illuminated the living room.

Shopping can be about possibility.  But in an effort not to indulge my fantasies too much, I have added an additional inner conversation to my interior dialogue.  I offer myself a few words, in the form of a question, in order to stop myself from really buying that Red Poncho or that Pink Chinese lantern.

Actually, two questions:  for awhile I would say to myself “Well, I can’t take it with me when I die,” but that basically stopped me from buying anything, even some necessities, so I had to modify that particular line of questioning.

Perhaps because I moved around a lot as a young child, I have a little wanderlust in me and I would love to move somewhere where they don’t speak English, say Mexico (or Austria, anyone?) for example, for a year (or so) while the children are still young.

If that ever becomes possible, I won’t be able to drag all of my stuff with me.   So now, before I take the Pink Chinese Lantern in hand, I ask myself “Can I take this to San Miguel/Vienna when I move there?”  More often than not, the answer is no, and I envision the poor Pink Chinese Lantern, meant to shine and glow, but destined, because of my poor planning, to sit in a storage unit and grow old and dusty.  So I don’t buy it (but isn’t it lovely).

The Red Poncho, on the other hand:  let’s just say, my life as I know it has changed completely.

For other adventures in shopping (or not shopping), check out Judith Levine’s book Not Buying It about her adventures not shopping for a year.