Wednesday, January 11, 2012

The Chipchick and the God of her Mistakes

Alongside our pledge to have and to hold in sickness and in health, the husband and I have made a pact not to buy anything that costs more than a few hundred dollars without thinking about it for a couple of days.

This agreement was born more out of experience than wisdom. We have discovered that our otherwise practical and intelligent natures are easily swayed by smooth-talking salesmen on our doorstep.

In years past, we’ve bought a freezer full of frozen meat from the back of truck that showed up in our driveway (an unexpected surplus from a gourmet restaurant delivery, the driver said), knives that supposedly cut through nails, and vacuum cleaners powerful enough to suck up both bed mites and small children. The college-age Kirby crew who arrived with their Sherman tank cleaner was so convincing we even fed them dinner.

The day I saw my husband’s eyes glaze over as the telemarketer promised him a Caribbean vacation for a small deposit on his credit card, I knew we were in trouble. And so for years, we’ve wisely waited for reason to prevail before purchase.

At least that’s what we did until the man armed with papers to prove the numbers convinced us to invest a small fortune in The Vending Machines. It sounded like a good idea at the time—I could peddle my wares once a week and be free to write the rest of the time; then when we retired we’d have a prosperous little business up and running—a  classic case of Bad Idea dressed up as Good.

Oh the things we do to make a buck. In all fairness, there are many successful vending machine operators— but regardless of my dubious moniker as the Chipchick,  I wasn’t one of them.

After three years of schlepping soda cans, we decided to cut our losses, sell the machines for the proverbial song, and put our best foot forward. We will probably never recoup our losses, but I am not looking back.

Today as the last machine went out the door, I gave thanks, that in spite of my failings, my future is not in the quarter slot of my machines, nor in my decisions, which are not always wise.

 Thank God my future is secure in the hands of the God of my Mistakes.  


  1. God of my mistakes - I love it. So glad He is!

  2. We made a similar pact early on in our marriage. However, that didn't stop me from purchasing a St. Bernard puppy while he was on a business trip in France years ago. Oh my, lesson learned. Thank You, God of my mistakes.

  3. It is heartening to hear stories of other who have made mistakes as well. My husband decided he wanted to spend several years traveling the country. We put everything in storage, bought a luxury RV and set out. Five months later he announced he hated full time RVing and wanted to stop. Well, now I am back at work in order to pay for the RV, which we will be paying on for a long time. At least we have a nice rig to go camping in on weekends and holidays! (On a good note, I will be able to retire, once again, in three years.....)


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