A big thanks to my husband, Ryan, for sharing the following guest post.

Some of you will read this and vehemently disagree. Some of you will smash plates and beat your chest in animal fury (you know who you are).

What I’m about to say is sacrilege. Maybe worse.

Still reading?

Budget’s aren’t for everybody.

BAM!

Oh no he didn’t!

Oh. Yes. I. Did.

Are you stunned?

Before you hit the back button and thunder away from your computer with goddess anger, let me reassure you. This is still a frugal blog. Mrs. Moneysaver makes sure that we run our finances tighter than Christmas with Ebenezer Scrooge. But we have a dirty little secret. I don’t think she’s ever revealed it.

We don’t use a budget. Never have.

And I’ve got to confess, I’ve never really been a budget lover. Something about the compartmentalizing. Something about the constraints and the categories. It’s enough to make my tiny type-B mind short circuit and catch fire.

Because when I’m in budget mode, the simple purchases lose their simplicity. My brain becomes polluted with the trivial, and my decision making ability clogs up and shuts down. It leaves me feeling like the Citarum River.

And worse than the debris, budgets have a tendency to degrade my financial sensibility into a Leprechaun madness. I’ll show you what I mean.

(Inside My Head)

Happy! We’ve budgeted $50 a month for Clothes. More than enough, we’ll come in under! Hello perfect budget! Dee dee dee. Tra-la-la-la. (clicking heels) Gah! A pen just exploded in pant pocket and I need a suit. It’s March, so $150 in the clothes budget. But Dana just bought clothes for Sadie. Minus $20 I think? (driving) Ah-ha! Here’s a suit. And on sale for $200, regularly $500. Good brand. (thinking) Hmm. Just $130 in the clothes budget. And wait, do shoes count in Clothes? Cause Dana has new sneakers, they probably count as Clothes. Yeah, they’re Clothes. So now I’ve got $90 to work with? Not enough. Should I hold off? I’ll hold off. Aw, can’t hold off. Business trip coming up. Ok, so I’ll get the suit, but no more clothes for 3 months. Not even underwear. Or I can swap categories! Since we missed dinner out last week there’s extra cash in entertainment. I’ll just use that money…

See what I mean? The crazed Leprechaun forces me into his little funhouse and spins me around and around on his little merry-go-round. The ride stops when I settle for the piece of sweaty fabric that’s the cheaper than the rest–the kind of suit you won’t want to meet in a dark alley, the kind of suit that enjoys showing the world how inadequately a boyish frame can fill it out. Even the mirrors laugh. Ha! Look! A 6-year boy in a prom tux! Cruel mirrors.

But guess what mirrors? This boy got his clothes within BUDGET.

So it’s a win for me, right?

Well, I guess so. The budget kept me closer to my arbitrary dollar category.

But the detail exhausts me. The whole thing is frustrating. Like trying to get all of your money out of a thousand piggy banks at the same time. My life won’t fit into categories. Categories aren’t flexible enough to deal with my pen explosions, and moving violations, and unexpected pregnancies. (Yes, moving violations and unplanned pregnancies. Don’t judge me.)

I need some margins in my life. I need a financial system without hard edges and intense degrees of detail. I need something relaxed. A system that Bob Marley would support if he were frugal.

And of course, the system would need to work too. Relaxed yes, but rigorous and effective.

You’re doubting a system like this is possible, right? It seems a tad undisciplined? It seems against all financial advice you’ve ever heard?

Budgets are like diets.

Both budgets and diets have their dogmatists. And I’m sure you know a few diet zealots (DZ’s).

The DZ’s are the ones who only understand weight loss in terms of dieting. And dieting to them means the classic diet, that regimented, calorie-counting, food-categorizing way to lose weight. And because diets work for them, DZ’s assume diets will work for everybody else. So they talk up their diets as the only way to lose weight. The non-dieters try. Some of them try very hard. But eventually, they return to their old ways. They each have different reasons for quitting, but many people just give up in the detail of all the do’s and dont’s.

The DZ’s don’t understand. They blame it on lack of discipline.

But the DZ’s forget something. They forget that some people don’t run on rigid rules. Some people run on guidelines. Maybe you’re a guideline person.

Are you among those that have tried a budget and quit? Did you stop after getting lost, annoyed, or tired of the detail? Perhaps the problem isn’t you, perhaps the problem is this: the process doesn’t match your personality.

Is there another way?

The short answer is yes. There is another way. But let’s not take this too fast. If you’re a guideline person like me and hate budgets more than SoyJoys this advice could be life-changing. Let’s slow down and let it soak in.

Sounds like we’ll need a Part Two to this post. Next time, I’ll sort through a few guidelines Mrs. Moneysaver and I have formulated into a lightweight financial gameplan. We call our method the “No Budget Budget”.

And for all you budget types, I’m not getting down on you. I truly believe you’re actually the normal ones. Budgets work for most people. And after all, you don’t have the crazed budget Leprechaun in your head. He doesn’t whisper to you in the still of the night when no one else is around. Be thankful.

As my grandma used to say, “Running your house with no budget is a like running around with no clothes.” Indeed grandma, it’s not for everyone. But for some, the No Budget Budget can be a truly liberating experience.

On that note, who wants to hear Part Two?

This post could make you angry. is a post from: Mrs. Moneysaver

Let’s give a warm welcome once again to my husband, Ryan, for the guest post he shares below!

Have you felt the twinge of guilt after someone asks what you’re getting your kids for Christmas? You wonder if you’re spending enough on them. So you talk up the purchases, making them sound better. You buy more. Anything you can’t afford goes on the plastic. More gifts equals a better Christmas, right?

It’s a bit silly, really. Why do we let ourselves believe things like this?

It’s because we’re immersed in a society that has subscribed to five consumer lies. Let’s expose them, and bust them one by one.

The Lies

Lie 1:  Now is better than later.

No down payment. Buy now! Financing available. Let’s call these arrangements what they are: needless liabilities. They’re instantly gratifying at a premium cost in the future. Do the math and you’ll find that financing ‘deals’ usually cost many multiples of the original price.

So why do we finance our purchase? Why can’t we wait? Our impatience is depriving us of the best part of a purchase–the waiting part. I’m serious about that. First, waiting is practical: it gives you time to validate your need for a purchase and to find the best value. But a patient purchase is also intensely gratifying, far more gratifying than an impulse-driven purchase. The patient purchase is well-earned, helpful, and positively contributes to your life. It’s like the difference between a meal of jelly-filled donuts and a trip to the salad bar. The first leaves you with an awful ache in your stomach, the second leaves you satisfied and refreshed.

Counter-truth: The patient purchase is far more gratifying than the impulse buy.

Lie 2: Respect can be bought.

We are a society that likes the glitz and glamor.  In our minds, money and success are bound together like two cords of a rope. And the best way to show our success is to show off our money.  Massive houses, celebrity baby strollers, designer labels, and piles of debt.  Do you know why we do it all?  Insecurity.  We want other to believe we’re special. And we’re a bit afraid of who we are stripped of these middle-class status symbols.

We know deep down that it’s all empty. Respect can’t be bought. It’s earned through integrity, kindness, and sincerity. It’s hard work.

Counter-truth: Long-term respect comes from a worthy character, not costly status symbols.

Lie 3:  Stuff will make you happy.

All the ads and the marketing messages tell us the same thing. Buying this ______ will make you happy.

But where is the evidence? America, the most prosperous country in the history of the world, ranks a paltry 114th in a list of the World’s Happiest Countries. We’re the spoiled kids of our global community–the richest 1% with all the toys. Shouldn’t we be happier? And why do studies reveal time and again that after a certain salary level (something in the $50,000 range) an increase in income has very little to do with an increase in happiness?

Despite compelling evidence to the contrary, we  believe the lie. So we live in an odd little cycle: we buy more stuff, and need bigger houses to hold our stuff, and need new stuff to decorate our houses, and bury the old stuff in a landfill. We repeat this every few years.

And we forget the total cost of an unnecessary purchase. Each new thing we buy requires a little bit of time and attention. It requires a little bit of space, assembly, installation, and maintenance. The true cost is always far more than the purchase price.

Counter-truth: Once you have the basics, more stuff doesn’t equal more happiness.

Lie 4: Everyone’s got one (so should you).

Remember the Jones next door? They just bought an SUV. Suddenly your half-decade old mini-van looks like it doesn’t belong in the neighborhood. Is it time to upgrade?

We tend to pay close attention to these things. A coworker just installed a pool, the boss buys a new 60 inch TV, a friend purchases a new boat, your brother and his wife just come back from a Mediterranean cruise and the kids loved it. You didn’t care about these things before. Now you need them. Do you see the pattern? People around you have something you don’t, and now the pressure is on to keep up in order to fit in.

We have an unhelpful tendency to compare ourselves to people who have more, while forgetting to compare to those who have less. Think about this: almost half the world lives on less then $2.50 a day. I’ve spent more on a latte at Starbucks. If you redefine your ‘Jones’ to include those with less, you’ll find yourself exceptionally wealthy.

Counter-truth: Compare down, not up.

Lie 5: You should expand your lifestyle to fit your paycheck.

Congratulations. You’ve landed that promotion. What’s the first thing to do? Upgrade your lifestyle! The camping trip is upgraded to a vacation in Bermuda. You can buy a car next month, instead of next year. Pretty soon you’re back to living paycheck to paycheck.

When income levels expand, most people also expand their lifestyle.

But why follow the crowd? Knowing that an expanded lifestyle is not equal to expanded happiness, what else could you do with that money? Could you pay off some debt? Keep some padding in your savings account? Give more? Could you start paying off some of your mortgage, contribute to your kids 529 college savings account, max out a Roth IRA?

Just because you have the extra money, doesn’t mean you have to spend it.

Counter-truth: Invest and give generously of (don’t spend) your excess wealth.

It Takes Courage.

Living these counter-truths takes a bit of courage. It’s counter cultural. But sometimes the best way to build muscle is to swim against the current. Start a few strokes at a time.

Mrs. Moneysaver and I are right beside you.

(Photo credit:  Paul Carson)

Busting the 5 Consumer Lies is a post from: Mrs. Moneysaver

My husband, Ryan, is fueled by your comments and the discussion around the blogosphere on his last post, so he decided to write another one for you this week.  If you’re looking for more on this the topic of husbands and coupons, make sure you check out Alyssa’s post.  She and her husband bring up some other great points on the subject.
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It’s been a common theme:  Husbands that aren’t supportive of their frugal wives. If you’re in that situation right now, be patient with him. He’ll come around eventually. And if you’re looking to speed the process I have five things that might do the trick:

1) Buy his creature comforts.

There are certain products he loves–his creature comforts. Find out which ones they are through trial and error. Then stock up! The next time he complains about your frugal techniques, ask him what he’d do without his special products that are purchased only with coupons and sales.

2) Show him the money.

Show him how much your frugality adds up. Even if he’s not into the household finances, he’s knows the value of a dollar. Put sticky notes with your total monthly savings on the fridge. Better yet, throw the savings into an account and print the bank statement each month.

3) Get him involved.

There may ways you can get him involved. Early in my transformation process, I loved the new products my wife brought home. I also loved the mailbox samples. Sign up for these! If the products and samples are good, it should be enough to bring him to the light.

4) Don’t take him (if he’s not ready).

I like sausage. But I don’t like seeing how sausage is made. Your husband might feel the same way about your shopping trips. For you, it’s an adrenaline rush. For him the checkout line is the road to perdition (only slightly more embarrassing). Until he truly gets it, you both might be happier if he hangs out in the car.

5) Send him the Husband Converter!

If that doesn’t work, I’m afraid your husband has a thicker skull than the average male. Not to worry, I have one last solution – a persuasive email from a former thickhead. I call it the husband converter.

Just give me his name and email and I’ll send him a man-to-man letter. Click “Convert My Husband!” after you read the message.

[contact-form 2 "Husband Converter"]

If the Husband Converter doesn’t work at first, send it to him everyday until it does.

Like I said, he’ll come around.

38 Husbands have been converted to frugality as a result of this post.

My Husband Hates Coupons – 5 Ways to Change His Mind is a post from: Mrs. Moneysaver

Please give a warm welcome once again to my husband, Ryan.  If you’ve missed Ryan’s other posts, you can check them out here.  (The post below is a break from his usual humor articles, so make sure you read the others if you need a good laugh!)

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I’m afraid this post might be unpopular among some of you. But like a half-clothed prophet in the wilderness, I feel compelled to preach it. My apologies in advance if it offends.

“So, we’ve gotta know. Do you run your Ziploc bags through the dish washer?” It took me off guard. “Because we had a bet. You guys do, right?” Apparently my wife’s reputation had proceeded me once again. “Are you serious?” I stalled. Heads wagged eagerly.

“No, we absolutely do not reuse our Ziploc bags.” I chucked awkwardly. “Is that what you’re asking?”  The two grinning faces nodded in agreement. “We throw them away and buy new ones like everyone else.”  Their eyebrows rose in surprise. Teasing aside, I could see that there was genuine curiosity in the question.  And neither of them got the answer they expected.

As I walked back to the car, I was both intrigued and confused. Why did they assume we’d be so fastidious with our sandwich bags? It didn’t make sense.

I thought through the numbers: Ziploc sandwich bags cost about $.01 each (after coupons). We go through about 15 every week, at a cost of $8 per year. Say we did reuse our bags. Assuming it takes about 20 seconds to wash, dry, and restock each bag, we’d spend 4 hours and 20 minutes a year doing it. Four hours for less than $10 bucks! That’s a savings of less than $2 per hour, a tiny (and maybe unsanitary) return on investment. The bottom line: we don’t do it, because it’s not frugal.

The average person is surprised by that last part. Why isn’t it frugal to reuse Ziploc bags? It does save money. And every penny counts, right?

Not quite. Like a savvy business person, an experienced Frugal knows that return on investment is far more important than mere money-saving. A Frugal invests her time (that scarce resource) in the things that will save her the most money and give her the highest quality of life in the least amount of time. A Frugal is more than a cost-slasher. A Frugal is an investor. That’s the difference.

And it’s an important difference. I’ve seen too many overzealous money-saving converts stray from the path of frugality to the land of the cheap. They start well, cutting coupons, eliminating credit card debt, thinking through purchases. Then they veer of track. They start reusing Ziploc bags. They start sweating the small stuff. It’s the hard road toward insanity.

Check up on yourself. Evaluate your frugal techniques. Which ones are really worth it?  If you wouldn’t accept $2 per hour as payment for your labor from another, don’t accept it from yourself under the guise of frugality. Valuing your time is the subtle and important difference between being cheap and being frugal.

The frugal experience is about living better on less. If you miss the living better part, you’ve missed it entirely.

Frugal Ain’t Cheap is a post from: Mrs. Moneysaver

Last summer my husband, Ryan, wrote a guest post for Frugal in Virginia titled “I Married a Couponaholic: 5 Ways Life Has Changed”. The post has generated many comments since it first appeared on this site and has resonated with husbands and wives alike. When it originally ran though, I had perhaps 100 visitors per day. On a very good day. Since Frugal in Virginia has welcomed so many more readers since last summer, I thought it would be worthwhile to run the article again for those of you who missed it. Enjoy!

(You can also read other guests posts by Ryan here.)
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Going CVSing, “the deals”, couponing, stockpiling, ECBs, Money Saving Mom- these new phrases have recently become part of my everyday life. Why? I’m the husband of a money-saver.

And I’ve had to adapt.

My wife started showing an interest in cutting our expenses several months ago. Great! I thought. Go for it! We were married young, with a newborn baby, the mortgage bills coming in—you know how it is. Obviously, any added frugality would help us meet our financial goals.

As I look back I pause to smile at my naiveté. I had no idea the new changes that were in store. Over the next few months I have seen my wife transform into a frugal warrior, armed with a new vocabulary, couponing-weapons, and shopping battle strategies. The change was more intense than I could have ever anticipated.

Read on if you’re curious about my brave new world.

1. Strange Products I Get to Try

Apparently product companies test their goods on the families of frugal moms. They give products away for free (through coupons) in an attempt to penetrate the market. The Frugals find these products long before the rest.

Joint Juice is one such product. It’s seeking to gain market traction to an elderly demographic fatigued by joint pain. These days, I drink enough Joint Juice to grease the joints of an entire retirement home. I’m serious. My buddies bring Gatorade to basketball, and as they drink their dollars away, I can’t help but feel lucky. My supply of energy drinks is free. Plus, my joints have never felt better. The stuff’s not so bad.

There’s plenty of products like this for me. Some lead to interesting conversations. When my co-workers found a batch of Go Diego Go Yogurts in the break room they were naturally curious. I explained that yes, adults eat them too. “And actually”, I explained “the yogurts are quite tasty, and they have healthy additives to help you grow.”

I don’t always have positive experiences, (Kashi Vive tastes like dog food) but overall, I’m really starting to enjoy the strange products I get to try now. Perhaps it’s made me a braver, more cultured husband.

2. The Coupon Box

Ah, the coupon box. The primary organizational tool of a Frugal, this mandatory accessory appeared early in the transformation process. There are two things that I’ve learned about the coupon box. First, it goes everywhere. Why? Because, you never know when you’ll need it. Miles into a casual day-trip we’ve turned back upon realizing the box didn’t make it to the car. I now know that where my wife goes, the box goes too.

Second, the box cannot be tampered with. “Don’t touch my box.” My wife doesn’t allow others to mess with her trove of glossy money-paper. I can see why, the organizational process is complex and delicate. A small change could result in catastrophic results in the grocery aisle. Not pretty.

3. CVS Used as a Verb

This one blew my mind. CVS isn’t just a store. It’s a verb. And it turns out, CVSing is the act of snapping up exceptional deals at CVS.

“Did you go CVSing today?” A few months ago, this would have been a nonsensical question. Now, I ask it several times a week as an entry point into further conversation about free diapers and ECBs (extra care bucks). The Frugals love their CVS.

4. Shopping with a Money Saver

It’s not for the faint of heart. Remember, for a Frugal this is the hour they’ve long awaited. The plans are laid far in advance. The grocery store is the battlefield, and my wife becomes the general and infantry. She travels from aisle to aisle with her shopping cart shaped assault vehicle. She’s clearly on a mission. And grocery missions, as you know, often take longer then the haphazard shopping a typical husband relies upon. For the husband of a frugal wife, patience is a virtue.

Then comes checkout. One not used to the process should expect embarrassment. I mean, the sheer volume of coupons is enough to make an amateur blush. But here’s a typical scenario: I look down to check my cell phone and look up to see the clerk dipping into the till to give my wife money. He’s giving her money for purchasing groceries! Holy smokes, what just happened? Was that a transaction or a holdup? Nervously, I rush our family out of the store.

Of course, if you’re looking for more excitement at the grocery store, wait for your Frugal to face up against the distrustful, ornery checkout clerk. It’s a Clash of the Titans!

5. “The Mail Is Here!!”

My wife and I were upstairs yesterday discussing plans for the day and mid-sentence, she stops me. “Shhhh…” I pause thinking Sadie (our baby daughter) must have awoken from her nap. I couldn’t hear a thing. “I think the mail’s here.” Amazed I concentrate on a sound, barely audible. Maybe a plane traveling 10,000 feet above our house. No, it’s getting closer. Perhaps a car. Then it hits me. Incredible! My wife has actually trained her ear to pick up the sound of the mail carrier. Her sense so honed it verges on premonition.

Why the excitement over the mail? A letter from a lost relative? No!

Free samples of course! I’m talking about a pack of Uncle Bens Cajun-Style Rice in neatly packaged orange. The sheer glory, as if Uncle Ben himself descended from heaven and bestowed his ricey goodness to our mailbox. I’ve tasted the newest flavors of Starbucks Coffee, pumped my body full of 6-hour energy, and freshened up my morning shower with Old Spice Shower Gel. Free shipping, free samples, delivered on demand. She’s a genius.

I could go on. I haven’t yet mentioned The Stockpile. (In the event of a nuclear winter, our toothpaste stockpile would ensure clean teeth for the entire neighborhood.) But I think I’ve made the point; there have been a few adjustments in all this money-saving.

But I will say this. I now eat healthier, save more, and am enjoying new and interesting products on a weekly basis. My wife’s frugal living has really helped our family. Thanks to her hard work, we’re living a better life.

I wouldn’t change a thing.

From The Archives: I Married a Couponaholic is a post from: Mrs. Moneysaver

The following post is written by my husband, Ryan. You can read his other Frugal in Virginia articles here.

Others may not know it, but I live the high life. Early on I didn’t see it. But can you blame me? The ways of a Frugal are peculiar to the uninitiated.

There are the startling compulsions. One evening this past winter I found my living room mantle thatched with scores of Healthy Choice soup cans, each balanced triumphantly on the other, a mountainous ritual to some unknown deity of low-sodium broth. Was this a 21st century tribute to the art of Andy Warhol? Had my wife joined a Campbell’s soup cult?


The answer turned out to be far more primal. These cans were the spoils of war—the prized result of a victorious day in the grocery aisles. The metallic pile of non-perishable sustenance stared back at me like a collection of shrunken heads in a witchdoctor hut. They whispered in a voice of extra-chunky sullenness: This is your life now. Enjoy the soup.

I did enjoy the soup and soon came to accept these new behaviors. The post-shopping rituals were odd, but harmless—brand name products in glorious arrangements on couches, beds, countertops, and cupboards. My wife, eyes glowing, would point to an item and call out some pre-Depression era price: the Bounty towels were 10 cents, I got this Bertolli’s sauce for 15 cents a pack, and the Pampers were all free this week! 


Theses moments of festivity were hard earned, and I wasn’t sure they’d last. The Sunday clipping marathons in particular were carpal tunnel-inducing affairs. But by 10pm our carpet was a skating rink of glossy paper scrap—and her coupon book was stuffed like a thanksgiving turkey, prepped for a new month of savings.

She never stopped. And months later, I started to see the benefits.

Let’s leave the bank account out for a moment. I want to talk about product quality. By pedigree, I’m a store-brand kind of guy. I buy Mountain Lion, instead of Mountain Dew because it’s cheap, and so am I. But there’s a subtle difference between Frugal and cheap. Cheap is low cost, low quality. Frugal is low cost, high value. See the difference? My Frugal didn’t just lower our grocery bills; she increased the quality of our intake. That’s her genius. From toilet paper to toothpaste, our family lives a higher quality of life, for less.

So I only eat bagged sauce on my spaghetti now. Snobbery is a luxury for the rich, and yet I’ve become a middle-class snob. Sauce in a jar is so passé. And as I look in our cupboards, I doubt I’ll ever need to lower my standards. I count 23 packs of Bertolli’s premium tomato sauce—should get me through the month.



They say financial issues are the number one cause of marital strife. In our family, they’re unifying, freeing, and fun. Single guys please hear my best advice: find yourself a frugal lady.

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Author of this Guest Post
Ryan Adams is the husband of frugal-mom, Dana Adams, the author of this blog, Frugal In Virginia. Say hi to him on twitter @ryansadams.

I Live the High Life is a post from: Mrs. Moneysaver

Yesterday a surgeon removed my appendix.

I wonder if the surgeon likes his work. Did he spring out of bed in response to the Saturday 12:00am appendectomy call? As he put poured his wake-up coffee and put on his string-tied scrubs and foam-covered crocs, was there a sense of satisfaction? So much depends on his steady hands—a nervous family in the waiting room, the reputation of his hospital, the patient’s organs. Is there a thrill left for him somewhere in the sterile white light of the operating room?

We all love a thrill, don’t we?

Frugals are no different. If you’ve known a Frugal, you’ve known someone with an addiction. Frugals are addicted to the thrill of the deal.

Here’s a list of the top 5 things that thrill my Frugal:

1. The Checkout “Rush”

On triple coupon days, Harris Teeter is like a temple. With pulse racing, face flushed, and hands shaky with excitement, my wife presents her coupon box to the checkout altar. The priestess scans the offerings one-by-one to ensure there are no flaws. A high priest is called upon to validate the questionable. My Frugal leaves the aisle with eyes sparkling in ecstasy.

Ask any honest Frugal, what’s it like going through the checkout line with a stack of deal stealing coupons? Do you feel guilty about the saving? Not at all. Embarrassed? Only the first few times. Do you get excited? Oh yeah. It’s a rush!

A rush? Like an adrenaline rush? Exactly.

We all know what adrenaline is. It’s the chemical courage released by our bodies to help in difficult situations—like fleeing a crime scene or charging into battle. Today people manufacture the adrenaline rush in controlled environments: bungee jumpers, lion tamers, escape artists, and deal shoppers.

2. The Frugal High

As the adrenaline rush fades another chemical takes its place. Endorphins are the pleasure chemical. Laughter, joy, excitement—endorphins.

After a grueling jog, a runner is rewarded by a sense of elation as endorphins are released into the body. The effect is called the runner’s high. After the checkout run, a Frugal strides toward her vehicle with a feeling of intense accomplishment. I call it the frugal high.

The frugal high is the reward of purchase. It’s looking at the receipt and realizing, I beat the system. I saved 83% of this purchase. With a good deal, a frugal high can last an entire day, perhaps prompting a frugal to stack, order, and take pictures of her loot. More often it results in a spontaneous conversation starting with the words, Guess what I just got…If you listen closely, you’ll heard the sound of endorphins in her voice.

3. The Newspaper Inserts

The Washington Post is a Pulitzer Prize winning newspaper. But we don’t get it for the articles. We get it for the coupon inserts.

On Sundays our paper is dropped off at the door. Unless I can stop her, my Frugal leafs through the inserts on the way to church. Some inserts result in more thrills than others. Last week, a coupon insert caused her to dance around our kitchen. Naturally, Sadie and I joined in. Frugal thrills are wonderful when they can be shared.

4. The Frugal Community

Part of the Frugal appeal is the thrill of the interacting in the Frugal community.

Most Frugals are digitally connected. They follow each other’s blogs, stay updated on Twitter, comment, and email. Through the community they find support, instruction, solidarity, and incredible deals.

My Frugal knows people she’s never met in “real life”. She’ll refer to these Frugal mini-celebs by their first name and tell me about their bargain finds. At first I found this alarming. I mistakenly associated internet friend with imaginary friend. Now I find myself inquiring about their lives right along with her. It’s actually fun.

The Frugal community is already powerful. If they were to formally organize, one thing is clear: they’d bring national chain supermarkets to their knees. Power to the Frugals!

5. Adding to the Hoard

Every Frugal has a stockpile. Adding to this hoard of prepackaged, canned, and tubed non-perishables is a subtle thrill for the Frugal. Our diaper hoard is particularly impressive. Judging by the diaper packages, we’re on track to have another 3 kids.

It’s good to be prepared.

Some people collect antiques, the wise Frugal collects toothpaste. In the event of widespread economic depression, which thrill grants cleaner teeth?

Yes, we all live for the thrill. Frugals are luckier than most; their thrills benefit far more than they cost—if they even cost at all.

__________________
Author of this Guest Post
Ryan Adams is the husband of frugal-mom, Dana Adams, the author of this blog, Frugal In Virginia. Ryan has his own blog which he uses as a podium for his ideas about business, technology, jobs, and entrepreneurship. He finds his wife’s blog much more interesting.

The Top 5 Things That Thrill a Frugal is a post from: Mrs. Moneysaver

The following is a guest post from my husband, Ryan. (Thanks, Ryan!) If you haven’t checked out his other posts here, click the “Husbands” tab above.

Ryan and our daughter playing with a Mentos container.

Plenty of people lose money to casinos and stock markets. I have a friend who lost $900 to the interstate.

It’s a sad story. Each dollar had been preserved toward the purchase of a dream. He departed his driveway with directions to the guitar store and an envelop full of cash. With money on the passenger seat, the radio blasting, and two hands drumming on his wheel he cruised down the highway. It was a sunny, windows-down kind of day. I picture him pelting out the lyrics along to an AC/DC track in a state of beguiled contentedness as his envelope escaped unnoticed through the open window. I hope someone found the $900 that landed on the 55 mile stretch of highway, though I’m doubtful it could have been used for as noble a purchase.

If my friend cried after he realized his loss (he’d never tell me), I wouldn’t draw shame to tears. Losing money is an anguishing experience.

My Frugal was on the verge of tears the other day. I know, because I saw the glassy look in her eyes before she averted them. And at that moment I learned something important about the value of a coupon.

It was date night and we were on our way to a trendy little coffee shop in the city. We were discussing Christmas plans maybe.

“Do you want a piece of gum?”

“Yeah sure”, I said.

She passed me a piece of Mentos soft center gum. She took a piece for herself. I was enjoying the strawberry taste and relating prior experiences with Mentos products. I enjoy them far too fast to receive their benefits. But why shouldn’t I? They taste incredible. It’s a clever marketing ploy. Mentos are candy disguised as a breath fresher. They’re down my gullet long before my breath can receive the benefit. I suppose the Mentos gum is an improvement in that respect. It stays in the mouth longer.

We talked about work. The strawberry taste was now rapidly fading with each chew. We stopped at a traffic light. I looked over. My Frugal had finished her gum and was proceeding to remove it.

“Emmmmm”

She was grasping for something. One hand held the used morsel of sticky Mentos gum, the other searched for a scrap of paper tissue to entomb it. As fate would have it, our car was clean that evening. No paper gum coffin available. Panicking, she reached for a remaining option: a stray news cutout in the middle console. I watched as the glossy cutout was ripped, crumbled, and formed into the outer layer of her chewed gum. She tossed it in the cup holder.

Seconds later I heard a brief, guttural moan. My Frugal reached for the deposed gum coffin. She took it between her fingers, and pulled gently at the corners of the glossy paper. She worked delicately, as if performing surgery on some small, yet much-loved pet. Unwrapped, the crumpled piece of grocery marketing lay in her hand, unusable, and sullied with a glob of pink stickiness. Only then did she realize her mistake.

“Ohhhhhhh”

Yes. She had unwittingly murdered a coupon.

“That was my Knorr Lipton Sides coupon!” her voice quivered. “I was going to use that for triple coupons.” Her hands deftly sorted through the survivors. “Oh. That was my only Lipton Sides.” “Ohhhhh.” she added. I was struck by the irony of the situation. When I glimpsed the beginnings of a tear in the corner of her eyes, I repressed my amusement. Apparently, this wasn’t just any coupon. I had to find out more.

This deposed coupon was a rare jewel. It granted the Frugal a discount on the purchase of two packages of an estimable rice product called Knorr Lipton Sides—a tasty side-dish, comparable to Uncle Bens. It was for 75 cents off. “But with triple coupons, that’s $2.25 off of two, which makes them almost free.”

Almost free rice? Yes. And it makes sense.

Because here’s what I’ve come to realize: the average person sees a coupon as a mere advertisement—junk mail and useless inserts. To Frugals, coupons are currency. They’re as real, as monetary, and as bankable, as anything produced by the U.S mint.

My Frugal lost money to a chewed piece of Mentos gum; my friend lost his to a window on the highway. In both cases, hard work was destroyed, and a slice of dream dashed.

Husbands, if you want to understand your Frugal, learn to view coupons through her eyes. A coupon box is actually a treasure box, a coupon insert is a paycheck, and coupon clipping is money-printing.

Frugals are wise. They’ve taught themselves a simple lesson: some money paper is green and some is glossy.

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Author of this Guest Post
Ryan Adams is the husband of frugal-mom, Dana Adams, the author of this blog, Frugal In Virginia. Ryan has his own blog which he uses as a podium for his ideas about business, technology, jobs, and entrepreneurship. He finds his wife’s blog much more interesting.

Guest Post- How I Learned the Value of a Coupon is a post from: Mrs. Moneysaver

This is the first in a series of guest posts by my husband Ryan. I test my freebie products on him. He reviews them. He calls it The Husband Lab. If you missed his last article, check out “I Married a Couponaholic: 5 Ways My Life Has Changed”.

Lab Product Name: SoyJoy

You husbands out there, ever had a SoyJoy? (You’d remember.) It may be the most inappropriately named product in existence. The SoyJoy doesn’t bring Joy at all. It brings sorrow. Deep, profound sorrow. It’s unclear to me who exactly receives Joy from the mass production of SoyJoys. I can think of only three parties: vindictive vegetarians, enemies of America, and Satan.

The SoyJoy snuck up on me like a stealthy ninja. I found it nestled behind my canned soup one Tuesday at lunch. At first glance it looked innocent enough, healthy even. And though I’m not a soy lover, the familiar plastic wrapper lowered my guard further. This might hit the spot, I decided. I reasoned it out further. Dana expresses her love in the form of chewy granola: Quaker bars, fruit and nut bars, and Kudos—excellent 10am snacking. This is close enough, right? I’d pay a toll for my misplaced trust.

As I grabbed the SoyJoy and walked toward my office I investigated the package. Fortified with Optimism I read. My faced beamed with appreciation.

Just then my phone rang. It was my Frugal. We talked about plans for the day, date night, Sadie, the usual. I spun the SoyJoy in tiny circles like a psychopath with a detonator. Before saying our goodbyes, fate provided a final escape route. Oh and thanks for the SoyJoy. Did you like them? I said. Her answer unnerved me. She’d never eaten one. How odd. Earlier in the week I’d seen at least a dozen in the pantry, plenty enough for both of us. Why hadn’t she given them a try? She’s a reforming vegetarian. And vegetarians are supposed to like soy. I thought I’d let you try it first, was the response.

This veiled warning should have given me pause. It didn’t. My suspicion was no match for an irritated belly awaiting its morning snack. I hung up the phone, opened the package, and took a bite. Interesting texture. And…Oh! A dreadful taste invaded my mouth like a horde of marauding Huns. What is this? Am I chewing on a dead animal? Decayed fruit? I wheezed, barely managing to wash the bar down with my lemon-flavored Joint Juice. This can’t be a real product.

Still incredulous after gagging down half a bar, I foisted it on a coworker. Oh man. You gotta try this. I watched him in half-amused disgust as his teeth sunk into a sizable portion. A trash receptacle caught the spewed remains. Gross! What was that? He stared at the gagstick in disbelief. I was silent. I had no answer for him.

I still don’t.

The lab results: It would take a golden pass to the Wonka factory for me to open one again. Even for free, the product is overpriced. If you’re sadistic or enjoy the taste of chalk, you may appreciate the SoyJoy. Otherwise stay away. And please protect your household by destroying the stockpile.

My Frugal Paid: $0
I Would Pay: $-20

Husband Lab Rating: 1 out of 5 stars

______________________
Ryan Adams is the husband of frugal-mom, Dana Adams, the author of this blog, Frugal In Virginia. Ryan has his own blog which he uses as a podium for his ideas about business, technology, jobs, and entrepreneurship. He finds his wife’s blog much more interesting.

The Husband Lab #1: SoyJoy—Fortified with Sorrow is a post from: Mrs. Moneysaver

I have a very special guest blogger posting on Frugal In Virginia today! My husband, Ryan, wrote the following article. I hope you all enjoy it!

Going CVSing, “the deals”, couponing, stockpiling, ECBs, Money Saving Mom- these new phrases have recently become part of my everyday life. Why? I’m the husband of a money-saver.

And I’ve had to adapt.

My wife started showing an interest in cutting our expenses several months ago. Great! I thought. Go for it! We were married young, with a newborn baby, the mortgage bills coming in—you know how it is. Obviously, any added frugality would help us meet our financial goals.

As I look back I pause to smile at my naiveté. I had no idea the new changes that were in store. Over the next few months I have seen my wife transform into a frugal warrior, armed with a new vocabulary, couponing-weapons, and shopping battle strategies. The change was more intense than I could have ever anticipated.

Read on if you’re curious about my brave new world.

1. Strange Products I Get to Try

Apparently product companies test their goods on the families of frugal moms. They give products away for free (through coupons) in an attempt to penetrate the market. The Frugals find these products long before the rest.

Joint Juice is one such product. It’s seeking to gain market traction to an elderly demographic fatigued by joint pain. These days, I drink enough Joint Juice to grease the joints of an entire retirement home. I’m serious. My buddies bring Gatorade to basketball, and as they drink their dollars away, I can’t help but feel lucky. My supply of energy drinks is free. Plus, my joints have never felt better. The stuff’s not so bad.

There’s plenty of products like this for me. Some lead to interesting conversations. When my co-workers found a batch of Go Diego Go Yogurts in the break room they were naturally curious. I explained that yes, adults eat them too. “And actually”, I explained “the yogurts are quite tasty, and they have healthy additives to help you grow.”

I don’t always have positive experiences, (Kashi Vive tastes like dog food) but overall, I’m really starting to enjoy the strange products I get to try now. Perhaps it’s made me a braver, more cultured husband.

2. The Coupon Box

Ah, the coupon box. The primary organizational tool of a Frugal, this mandatory accessory appeared early in the transformation process. There are two things that I’ve learned about the coupon box. First, it goes everywhere. Why? Because, you never know when you’ll need it. Miles into a casual day-trip we’ve turned back upon realizing the box didn’t make it to the car. I now know that where my wife goes, the box goes too.

Second, the box cannot be tampered with. “Don’t touch my box.” My wife doesn’t allow others to mess with her trove of glossy money-paper. I can see why, the organizational process is complex and delicate. A small change could result in catastrophic results in the grocery aisle. Not pretty.

3. CVS Used as a Verb

This one blew my mind. CVS isn’t just a store. It’s a verb. And it turns out, CVSing is the act of snapping up exceptional deals at CVS.

“Did you go CVSing today?” A few months ago, this would have been a nonsensical question. Now, I ask it several times a week as an entry point into further conversation about free diapers and ECBs (extra care bucks). The Frugals love their CVS.

4. Shopping with a Money Saver

It’s not for the faint of heart. Remember, for a Frugal this is the hour they’ve long awaited. The plans are laid far in advance. The grocery store is the battlefield, and my wife becomes the general and infantry. She travels from aisle to aisle with her shopping cart shaped assault vehicle. She’s clearly on a mission. And grocery missions, as you know, often take longer then the haphazard shopping a typical husband relies upon. For the husband of a frugal wife, patience is a virtue.

Then comes checkout. One not used to the process should expect embarrassment. I mean, the sheer volume of coupons is enough to make an amateur blush. But here’s a typical scenario: I look down to check my cell phone and look up to see the clerk dipping into the till to give my wife money. He’s giving her money for purchasing groceries! Holy smokes, what just happened? Was that a transaction or a holdup? Nervously, I rush our family out of the store.

Of course, if you’re looking for more excitement at the grocery store, wait for your Frugal to face up against the distrustful, ornery checkout clerk. It’s a Clash of the Titans!

5. “The Mail Is Here!!”

My wife and I were upstairs yesterday discussing plans for the day and mid-sentence, she stops me. “Shhhh…” I pause thinking Sadie (our baby daughter) must have awoken from her nap. I couldn’t hear a thing. “I think the mail’s here.” Amazed I concentrate on a sound, barely audible. Maybe a plane traveling 10,000 feet above our house. No, it’s getting closer. Perhaps a car. Then it hits me. Incredible! My wife has actually trained her ear to pick up the sound of the mail carrier. Her sense so honed it verges on premonition.

Why the excitement over the mail? A letter from a lost relative? No!

Free samples of course! I’m talking about a pack of Uncle Bens Cajun-Style Rice in neatly packaged orange. The sheer glory, as if Uncle Ben himself descended from heaven and bestowed his ricey goodness to our mailbox. I’ve tasted the newest flavors of Starbucks Coffee, pumped my body full of 6-hour energy, and freshened up my morning shower with Old Spice Shower Gel. Free shipping, free samples, delivered on demand. She’s a genius.

I could go on. I haven’t yet mentioned The Stockpile. (In the event of a nuclear winter, our toothpaste stockpile would ensure clean teeth for the entire neighborhood.) But I think I’ve made the point; there have been a few adjustments in all this money-saving.

But I will say this. I now eat healthier, save more, and am enjoying new and interesting products on a weekly basis. My wife’s frugal living has really helped our family. Thanks to her hard work, we’re living a better life.

I wouldn’t change a thing.

__________________
Author of this Guest Post
Ryan Adams is the husband of frugal-mom, Dana Adams, the author of this blog, Frugal In Virginia. Ryan has his own blog which he uses as a podium for his ideas about business, technology, jobs, and entrepreneurship. He finds his wife’s blog much more interesting.

I Married a Couponaholic: 5 Ways Life Has Changed is a post from: Mrs. Moneysaver