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Sharon Olson

December Money Experiment, Season 1, Episode 1

“I’d like to propose a grocery budget of $200 a month.” His tone is faith and resolve. After all, our oldest spent the last year traveling with a team of 21. They made the best of meager resources. They sacrificed, he says. And they learned to be creative. 


He’s confident our team of six has seriously underestimated what we’re capable of in the areas of meals, nutrition and budgets. No worries, he assures us, trust him and he’ll show us what can be achieved.


“I second that.” Our third born, all logic and data, says he’s in. His frugality has paid him huge dividends. So he’s backing the idea in wholehearted agreement. And he agrees with his oldest brother, that we’ve probably been overspending on groceries. 


Our second oldest listens from the sidelines. And our daughter? She looks on, both bemused and curious. Unaffected. 


The proposal came about during a team meeting. “Regarding finances, I’d like to renegotiate some terms.” All eyes turned toward Ezekiel. He shared a few goals and then, Eli, (inspired by Ezekiel’s ambition?), pitched his idea.  

How did LeRoy and I respond to this proposal? Well, I laughed as I retrieved the finance notebook. 

Tracking income and expenses — to the penny, it’s a hobby. Accounting for checks and balances.  Making financial strategies and predictions. Creating margin. Organizing outgo, crunching numbers, and moving us toward financial freedom is fun. Romantic, even. 

I casually flipped pages, reporting each month’s numbers, each one hovering significantly above the new proposed amount. 

No matter. I smiled. “I’m in.” 

LeRoy (very) reluctantly agreed. It’s for a short time and we’ll chock it up to an experiment, I told him. Who knows, I shrugged, maybe we’ll discover something we wouldn’t have otherwise. 

So here we are. I’m a little behind on the documentation of this experiment, but so far, so good. Each of us agreed to contribute $50 toward the grocery budget along with meal planning and preparation, with LeRoy and I taking the first week. 

ohmygosh. I love it! There’s nothing quite like boundaries and limits to spark creativity. Each day I perused the contents of our refrigerator, freezer and pantry with the question, “What can I make with what we have on hand?” 

Cream of broccoli soup paired with garlic bread, a chicken casserole, breakfast burritos (made in an extra-large batch and frozen for quick lunches later). I regret that I didn’t track the meals better, but the ratings were five out of five.

Ezekiel took the second week, slightly leaner, yet nonetheless delicious. Pasta drizzled with olive oil and garlic? A second round of breakfast burritos, (this time with sausage, less veggies), enchiladas, and tacos.

Heading into our third week of this experiment. Will keep you posted on the intrigue and suspense, the creativity and imagination sparked by this challenge.

Counting blessings…(continued from this post)

297. Presence.

298. Moments.

299. Time.

300. Creativity.

301. The way Eli passionately suggested that our family shake things up, take more risks, make sacrifices and try new things. 

302. Being on a team of good sports who know how to both go for the win and still keep things lighthearted and fun.

“You Are The Average Of…”

You know the saying. You are the average of the five people you surround yourself with.

Last night, we spent the evening with an extraordinary family. Before they arrived, we were mere acquaintances. Yet, from the moment their coats were hung and the salad and side dish they brought were set on the table, the conversation volleyed creativity and ideas and possibilities.

Although dinner time was early in the evening, our conversation went late. These people cultivate a no excuses culture in their marriage and in their home. (Yes, please. Surround me with more of that.)

Encounters like these are oxygen for when the journey is long and our creative brain starts to get a little foggy. Here’s a bit of motivation . . . at one point in the conversation, the husband said, “My work doesn’t bring its’ own reward, so I need to find ways to bring the intensity.”

Bring the intensity. I smiled. I told him I hadn’t heard that term used in at least three weeks, ever since Isaiah moved back to the States.

People who look for ways to bring the intensity are typically people who also take extreme ownership for their lives. They’re always upping the ante, for themselves and whoever has the privilege of sharing their space. It’s refreshing.

Later in the evening, we got on the topic of our personal websites. I told them about the website I’ve had for three years — which only four or five people know about. His response was classic.

“Wait. You have a website no one visits? You don’t share it?”

I cringed. Without an ounce of shaming, his question challenged me to face my pride and ego and move forward.

So, here it is. My website: www.sharonannolson.com

One of the ongoing projects in my life.

And thanks to our new friends, (they’re brave, daring, audacious folks who foster undaunted faith and passionate mindsets), I’m rolling out the red carpet and inviting you in.

Please excuse the dust, the mess, and the noise. Hardhat recommended. We’re in the process of figuring out what it means to bring the intensity.

How about you?

Do you have any projects right now which might be challenging you to take a daring step of faith?

To bring the intensity espanalibido.com?

Who are the people in your life who energize and infuse intensity into your dreams? (Have you told them thank you?)

My Maverick Ivy League Education and Addiction

Knowing a bunch of stuff isn’t that valuable. Knowing what you need to know to solve a problem, reach a goal, or become a better version of yourself is hugely valuable.
— Isaac Morehouse, www.discoverpraxis.com

 

Here’s a financial truth: Over the last decade, I’ve invested tens of thousands of dollars in my education and personal development.

(Deeper financial truth: it’s actually my husband who’s invested tens of thousands of dollars in my education.)

Fully customized, I’ve followed a meandering path, immersing myself in studies which fit the present season.

Learning for the sake of learning is exhilarating.

Except. . .

Hi. My name is Sharon. And I’m a hoarder.

Concepts, ideas, stories, and theories give me a constant supply of dopamine.

Information? Does that come with a drip line?

I’m a knowledge junkie. Though, anytime now, my family is bound to hold an intervention.

Please understand, I don’t mean to make light of addiction. I know it’s serious. It’s that I feel convicted about my incessant consumption with a disproportionate amount of contribution.

My proposed solution? To take more risks. To renounce perfectionism. (A friend once told me the “i-s-m” at the end of a word such as alcoholism stands for I-Self-Me. Yes, I can see that. If I’m trying to attain perfection, I’m really hoping you’ll be impressed with me.)

I could spend the rest of my life learning how to make a difference for good in the world. Or, I could take a step of faith, and risk that I might actually make an impact.

Instead of hoarding education, what if I practiced generosity? What if I loved people by listening better? And what if I used my knowledge to ask better questions?

What if I invested tens of thousands of hours sharing my ongoing projects, work, and ideas with others? So that we might be a whole community invested in becoming better versions of ourselves?

Now, that would be exhilarating.

What to Do When You’re Inspired

Micro memory cards fill a small baggie. The contents on each one revealed by scrunched handwriting across the front: “Nepal,” “London,” “Switzerland,” “Garmisch-Partenkirchen.” I sift through them like so many diamonds slipping between fingers. These treasures — memories captured in bytes — waiting to be transferred to a sacred space where they can be displayed, the stories told.

Five years spent globetrotting and our journeys have barely begun. Sequels are waiting to be written, photos waiting to be taken. There are people to meet, conversations to have, and ideas to share.

Today I’m living in two worlds. Part of me is reminiscent as I go through boxes and papers and photos, sorting items into their appropriate places. The other part of me is daydreaming. Envisioning the journey ahead of us. I am passionate and I dream of sharing this passion… as well as our adventures.

…this. To go exploring. To go in search of more stories, both the ones we experience ourselves, but also the ones we get to hear or be a part of along the journey! Everything in me whispers, “This… this is what you’re wired for!”

I am inspired. And this inspiration, it isn’t mine for hoarding, to keep stashed away in two and four gigabyte memory discs. I know it’s to give away. To share.

And inspiration is never scarce. It’s there in your story, too. I look forward to hearing it.

Perhaps I’ll meet up with you? Perhaps you’ll share your story with me as we linger in Tangier over a sweet cup of mint tea?