Target vs. Walmart. The Ultimate Showdown!

You know you couldn't resist clicking on this link. Everyone knows that Target is far superior to Walmart, but let's face it, we all love reading about why! 

Well read on, dear Targeters. And if by chance you're on Team WallyWorld, you're going to lose. Might as well starting wadding up those panties now. 

A couple weekends ago, I left my brand new pooch at home alone to embark on the ultimate Target vs. Walmart challenge: price comparison.



As I explain in my previous post, I've put myself of a fancy-pansty budget for the next few months (or maybe forever...we'll see) which includes spending as little money as possible on food. I've always wondered where the cheapest groceries are, but I've never known how to really find out. Sure all those couponing website are easy to read, but let's be honest, I don't have the patience or time to cut and organize coupons. And since I live directly across the street from Target, I was really just looking for validation that my dollars were being well spent.

So this is what I did:

I planned my meals for a whole week. I wrote down what I was going to make for breakfast, lunch, and dinner Monday-Friday (the weekends generally end up as leftovers for me, whether I plan it or not). I made my grocery list, and then I set out.

I first went to Walmart, where I "shopped" for everything on my list. Instead of filling a basket, I filled a note on my iPhone with how much everything would cost. For items that had various sizes, I wrote down the weight so I could make sure to grab the same size box at Target. 

After completing this info-grab, I ventured back to my side of town and entered the beautiful world of Target. (SIDE NOTE: Has anyone else noticed the subtleties that make Target so much nicer? I mean, do you ever feel clean when you're in a Walmart? No. You don't. I've recently decided this is because of the floor colors. Walmart's floors are grey--dingy, dark, sad. I feel like I'm walking through the far end of a trash can and can no longer see the light. Target's floors, on the other hand, are white, making the whole store look brighter, cleaner, and more organized. Even the brown floors at the grocery end give the feel of an upscale grocer). This time, I filled my canvas bags ($0.05 off your bill per bag) with all my groceries and whipped out my RedCard at the register. It was time to see if saving 5% was making any difference in my grocery bill. 

And ya know what?

It did!

It made a whole $0.69 of a difference!

Here's the breakdown:

Please don't judge my terrible photography skills. I'm not good at this because my brother stole all the artistic genes in the family. 

As you can see, before my RedCard savings, Walmart had actually been winning. $48.44 vs. $50.26. However, once I got my 5% savings, Target came out on top by $0.69 (no pun intended)! 

Add to this the cost of gas that I won't be spending to get there since I can walk, and that's even more savings! 

BONUS! hauling all my groceries by foot means burning extra calories! #eatmorecookies. 

So there you have it. In the Ultimate Target vs. Walmart showdown, Target came out as our winner! Duh.

*Please note that this grocery total is way higher than my average grocery bill. Since I recently moved, I had to buy a lot of items that I generally have stocked--like noodles and frozen chicken. My average weekly grocery bill runs $20-$25.

It's not what you know; it's who you know.

I have started to budget. Like, a for-real budget.

Ok, not a real, REAL budget, just one of those spreadsheets, inspired by this girl where you write down every penny you spend and set goals and keep up with them, blah blah blah so annoying. Also, my spreadsheets aren't as pretty.

On Saturday afternoon, I spent roughly 30 minutes planning my meals for this week, as every budget-conscious girl does (according to all blogs and pinteresters). From breakfast to dinner, I made a grocery list and compared prices in the circulars I had just picked up from the mail. I carefully counted my pennies and made my grocery purchase, filling my refrigerator with this week's supply. (I even price compared Wal-Mart vs. Target so see which store cost less. I ended up saving $0.69 by shopping at Target and using my RedCard to save 5%! But that's for another blog post.)

On Monday afternoon I was just about to defrost that evening's chicken when I received this text:

"We're gonna have extra pot roast if you want me to bring you some."

YES! Free pot roast!

And there went my perfectly planned meal list.

For those who know me, you know that my mother is quite famous. Not in a real-life-celebrity kind of way, just in a I-can-totally-hear-your-mom-saying-that kind of way. She has a few *catch phrases, and I often find myself mimicking her voice to earn a few chuckles from my friends (no offense, Mom!).

I'm here today to tell you about one of her catch phrases that is dead-on.

It's not what you know; it's who you know.

And it's true. I am not famous. I am not wealthy. I have not made any impact on the world that will land me in history books (will those exist in a hundred years?). And therefore I have no reason to enjoy spectacular events other than by pure luck. Except that I know some people. 

For example: I have had the lucky pleasure to travel to quite a few places around the world in my short twenty-five years. And that's mostly because I know my grandparents. 

Mt. McKinley, Alaska. Been there, seen that.

(Source: Wikipedia)

In America's Most Beautiful Place, I know several families who let me sleep/eat/boat with them all summer long.

Sleeping Bear Dunes, Lake Michigan

(Source: me)

I have been inside Michael Irvin's house, met his wife (who was making banana pudding at the time), and hung out with his mother and aunt. (His aunt, Fanny, even came to one of my high school football games to watch me perform at half time many years ago).

Michael Irvin, Cowboys #88

(Source: here)

What do I know? I'm not a world travel expert. I don't own a beautiful lake house and a boat. I don't play professional football. 

But I know people who do. It's not about what you know, it's about who.

But the best part is, you don't even need to know anyone famous or wealthy. I went nearly two years buying little more than bread and milk because I worked out a deal with a friend who would buy me groceries as long as I cooked. WIN.

And now, despite my careful preparation to plan each of every meal, I'm given free food.

All because I know someone.

Who do you know? 

What cool experiences have you gotten to enjoy because of someone you know?
What do people gain by knowing you?
Leave your answers in the comments!

*For more on Mom's catch phrases, please refer to my childhood.

"You may all go to hell, and I will go to Texas."

Alternative title: "On Being a Big Girl and Moving Like an Adult."

In 2011 I accepted my first big girl job and moved to Oklahoma. I packed my car with all my belongings and trekked north. I pulled up to my new apartment (which I was going to be paying for ALL BY MYSELF) and unpacked my car. 

Here's a picture of me in a box on move-in day, January 12, 2011.

Three days later, my parents arrived with a U-Haul truck full of hand-me-down furniture we had bought off a family friend for pennies. It wasn't my style, but it was there, so I sat on it. 

The next day I bought a bed. 

Cue panic attack.

I hadn't thought about the furniture. The big stuff. The stuff that my friends had to move in for me 'cause I couldn't do it myself. The stuff that makes life feel more permanent.  I owned it. I knew The Next Time I moved would be intense. Like, Big Girl intense. 

Fast forward two and a half years and The Time arrived. I accepted a new job in a different state.

This Time, I was ready. I didn't even think twice about moving all my crap. I hired some professionals, let them pack the truck, and moseyed my way down the highway. Pulling up in front of my new apartment, I didn't feel any anxiety. Nothing that made me feel like this was a Big Step. 

Hunky men doing work for me, June 16, 2013.

I added a washer and a dryer to my stash of furniture, and it didn't phase me.

I'm A Big Kid Now.

You're doin' fine, Oklahoma.

Photo curtesy of Hillary Atkinson

"The south will rise again, man!" --Joey, Friends

Identity Crisis

I am now officially a writer.


Like, professionally.


Like, it's my job.


Like, I'll get paid to go into an office, sit at a desk, and write stuff.


I don't really know how it happened. One minute I was sitting at my current job watching The Office on Netflix, and the next I was signing a lease for a new apartment in another state with a new job offer in my purse.

The Unwriter is now a Writer.

If you need me, I'll be in the W section of the dictionary; I gotta figure out what this writing business is all about.

Before and After: Thoughts after the Moore Tornado

There may come a time in your life when something changes. 

Deep within you. 

A fundamental shift.

Unlike so many writers, I am not a huge reader. I always read the required reading for school, and I have read the Harry Potter/Twilight/Hunger Games series more times than I can count, but I don't relish books the way so many writers do--or at least they way I perceive they do. I have editor friends who challenge themselves to read fifty-two books a year (that's once a week, if you do the math)! But that's just not me.

That being said, I am in a book club and have enjoyed many good books in the last year and a half that I would not have otherwise picked up. One of those has stuck with me in the way that all English teachers dream of.

Title: Looking for Alaska
Author: John Green

It's a story of the Before. And then it's a story of the After.

As I closed the book following my first reading of it, I knew immediately what my Before and After was. Those who know me, know I hold a particular grudge against a certain European country.

My dorm room in France was tiny. The curtains smelled of rotten egg. It snowed my second day. I didn't make many friends. But the food was wonderful, the view of the Puy de Dome was spectacular, and the traveling was cheap. I still get lost in memories as I look through my souvenir post cards.

I didn't hate France. But it will forever be the setting of my ultimate shift.

Before 

Good friends. Busy schedule. Easy class load. A plan. 

After 

The plan fell to pieces. 

And so did I.

Returning from France, I realized I had been subconsciously nixing my whole plan for the past six months. I didn't want to go back and live in France. I didn't want to work in International Something. I didn't want to keep studying the French language. Although I had finally figured out what I did want to study, I didn't have a plan to go with it.

And time was running out.

Thus began my After. The questions, the panics, the insecurities, the deadlines. I never saw them coming. It all weighed on me heavier than a cement block. It took a long time to learn how to plow through, finding a new stride that worked and taking the new changes with grace. I'm not done yet; it's shifted my whole self.

On Monday, I watched in horror as an F5 tornado ripped through my town. I live seven miles from houses that look like they've been processed through a blender, ready to be sprinkled over the world's largest salad. I personally know three sets of families who lost their homes. I lay awake at night now, still hearing the sirens that blared.


Maybe, there is more than one Before and After in a lifetime.  

Before 

Brunch at Jimmy's Egg. Errands at Target. Date at the Warren. Graduation party in a back yard. Christmas movies at friends' house. Siren test at noon every Saturday.

After

  

I Knew This Would Happen.

And that's why I hesitated starting one for so long.

It's Murphy's Law or something, right?

As soon as I committed to starting a blog, I'd get too busy* to keep it up.


I've already skipped a week. I had decided to make this a post-once-a-week ordeal, but here I am, two weeks since my last post, without anything decisive to say. Here are some topics I thought about writing about:

A#1: The Abercrombie and Fitch fiasco (yes, I still have some tank tops from high school in my closet with the little moose on them, and yes, I still wear them often enough. Do I care...eh?).

B#2:How I washed my bike gear while showering (kinda like this lady**: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z68tH-lnK60).

C#3: My face-to-face dilemma of the feminist issues of career vs. family (if I go back to get my PhD, I'll be 31 when I graduate. THIRTY-ONE! That's like, far older than I plan on becoming) and chivalry vs. girl power (wearing a Cheetah-print, belted work dress to a bike shop sparked this one).

D#4: My Twitter war on CVS and why you should boycott them too.

Each of these could have been an insightful, witty, maybe even hilarious essay, and yet here I am: sitting on a friend's couch, quickly hammering out something just so I can say I did, before launching myself into another project with a deadline.

*I have recently started watching The Office on Netflix and CANNOT STOP. So, yeah, I've been busy.
**TOILET PAPER IS ALWAYS WELL STOCKED AT MY HOUSE I HAVE A LEGITIMATE FEAR OF RUNNING OUT I ALMOST CONSIDERED SPENDING AN $80 GIFT CARD ON JUST TP SO I WOULD NEVER RUN OUT YOU CAN ASK HILLARY TO CONFIRM PLEASE DON'T THINK I DON'T WIPE 'CAUSE THAT'S GROSS!