Paris Letters (25 page)

70. Water, not wine.

71. Cheap wine…it’s a process.

72. Posted a donate button on my blog. Some people even donated.

73. Sent them thank-you cards from the stashes I found in my art supplies.

74. Stopped believing in storage solutions. The solution is to clean out closets.

75. Wrote lists in my journal nearly each day about what I could do to save up and pare down. I didn’t finish these lists each day but I flipped back eventually to cross everything off.

76. What I didn’t cross off wasn’t important anyway, and because of this, I crossed it off.

77. Hiking, not shopping.

78. Cleaned out closets like I was looking for loot. Sometimes I found some.

79. Imagined the possibility of being able to save up enough to quit my job.

80. Took the investment advice from rich old men at my coffee shop.

81. Took care of unfinished business instead of ignoring it and going shopping instead.

82. Started acting like an adult with my finances.

83. Wrote about my plan on my blog so I felt accountable to someone.

84. Went to the beach often.

85. Declined invitations for weekends away. I figured I’d have plenty of weekend getaways in my future life.

86. Declined a few out-of-state weddings of people I wasn’t really close to. Sending them a more generous cash gift was more cost-effective financially and energetically.

87. Went to the gym at lunch instead of to the mall.

88. Eventually canceled my gym membership.

89. Hosted meditation classes at my house. The leader gave me the class free.

90. Spent all my coins. The bigger your coin jar, the bigger your coin collection.

91. Cashed in all my free coffees from loyalty cards.

92. Made plans to visit gardens around the city with friends. Walk and talk is gratuit.

93. Listened to all the music I already had in my collection. There was so much I didn’t know I already had.

94. Stayed close to home on weekends, thereby saving on gas.

95. Switched from having house parties to going to TV-viewing parties at other people’s houses.

96. Popcorn popped on the stove.

97. Used up all the half-filled journals I already had around my house.

98. Babysat my godson. I didn’t get paid but it kept me from going to the mall. Plus it was fun.

99. Convinced my family to not get each other big Christmas gifts. Instead we got each other a small stocking stuffer. It was delightful, and no one missed the lack of presents.

100. Prayed that this nutty plan would work.

Thank You

Many thanks go to my blog readers, especially to Jeff Gelberg, Melissa Maris, and Bethoney Imbeault who have read and commented on nearly every single blog entry since Day 1. To Bruce Springsteen for writing the opening lines of Thunder Road. It was the spark that made me a writer.

To Laura Yorke, my literary agent, who instinctively knows where to be strong where I am weak.

To the team at Sourcebooks. Your support not only makes better books, but better authors. To my editor Shana Drehs who helped me rearrange mountains of text and tell a better, more cohesive story. And thank you also to sharp-eyed editors Anna Klenke and Sabrina Baskey-East.

To Melanie Brown who is my little focus group and gives me her honest opinion on each Paris Letter. To the rest of my team in Paris: Alison Abbott, Carole Le Roux, Simon Gallagher, Julie Legg, and Shannon Hindmarch. To my team in Rome: Claudio Dentale, Marco Giancarli, and Sandro Pierantoni. To my team in Canada: Patricia and Allan Markin and the entire FitzGerald clan in Calgary, Scott Cornfoot, Áine Magennis, and especially Karen VanOoteghem and Rob Sale for introducing me to the works of Percy Kelly. And to my California Team: Ron and Mary Hulnick and the University of Santa Monica, Sharon Yamamoto, James Lee Stern, and the infinitely talented musician and advice giver Paul Freeman. To my team in Poland: Jarek, Jola, Łukasz, Conrad, and Milena Lik.

And to my mom, Agnes MacLeod, for always reminding me that I can come home. You are my roots. To my dad, Bob MacLeod, for pinning up maps all over the house. You are my wings. To my sisters Julie and Carla for the small acts of kindness and extra loads you carry beyond always fetching me at airports.

To my grandmother, Betty Brown, for your lovely letters. You made me laugh.

To Mary Caldwell, for your lovely letters. You made me dream.

To all the subscribers of my painted letters from Paris. Infinite thanks for your kind words and support.

And to the lovely Krzysztof Lik. Je t’aime. Kocham Ci. I love you. You are my sunshine.

About the Author

Photo credit: David Bacher

Janice MacLeod is an artist. She is the creator of the Paris Letters. This is her third book. She is married to the lovely Krzysztof Lik. They live in Paris…for now.