Category archives for: Let Inga Tell You

How the other .02 percent lives

Inga

One of the advantages of living in such an upscale community as La Jolla is that you get to see – and yes, sometimes even ride in — a lot of cars you could never afford.

Allowance futures: An investment vehicle for our times

Inga

At an Easter brunch with friends, we were discussing the difficulty of finding good financial investments at a time when real estate has been problematical and most conservative vehicles are paying less than 1 percent.

In a similar (if less volatile) market some years back, my now-husband, Olof (whom I was dating at the time), concluded after considerable contemplation and, more to the point, a lot of observation during weekends he spent at our house, that the investment of choice was allowance futures.

Solving the family mystery

Inga

I’ve written before about my wonderfully ethnic family — French Catholics, DAR Protestants, Russian Jewish refugees, plus a smattering of Northern European famine flee-ers, all yearning to breathe free. Actually, to be accurate, the French contingent were more yearning to breathe rich. Already a well-regarded textile expert in France, my great-grandfather was recruited to come to the U.S. Northeast in 1901 to manage a woolen mill which he ultimately ended up owning; numerous expansions later, the mill became the largest tax payer in the state.

Using the good stuff

Inga

I simply refuse to be defeated by sterling silverware. But so far the tally is flatware 3, Inga 0.

An ode to the neighborhood hardware store

Inga

This is an ode to our two local hardware stores, Meanley’s and Hammer & Nails, along with my fervent hope that they stay in business forever. Big-box hardware stores like Home Depot certainly excel at range of merchandise, but there is no substitute for humans who a) you don’t have to flat-out tackle in the aisle to get them to help you and b) actually know something.

Yoga for the maimed and feeble

Inga

One of my first columns was about finding a yoga class for someone of my age and auto accident decrepitude. There’s practically a yoga studio on every corner in downtown La Jolla so one wouldn’t think this was such a problem, especially when one factors in the large demographic of locals who are, well, old. But La Jolla is nothing if not a competitive community and I have flunked out of more yoga classes than you can count.

No hope of finding a Knowledgeable Human

Inga

By my calculations, I spend a third of my time sleeping, a third enjoying retirement, and most of the rest on hold waiting for the next available agent. I don’t think anyone would argue that automated phone systems are the Techno-Ebola of our time. But I wouldn’t even mind that much if at the end of it was a Knowledgeable Human Being.

New Year’s health tips that I don’t intend to follow

Inga

I always think of January as The Attack of the Skinny People, the folks who were posing for their cover shots on every major women’s magazine while the rest of us were scarfing down pumpkin pie, Christmas cookies and potato latkes. Their results are to be commended, of course, but let me just say that you can save yourself the trouble of buying these post-holiday magazines because despite the glowing write-ups and the before-and-after photos, their success can all be summed in two words: Eat less.

Attack of the toddler terrors

Inga

Over the holidays, it is always our hope to have the company of our four preschool grandchildren. And after they leave, it is always our hope to someday get all of our electronics working again.

Looking for Mr. Calm

Inga

I think I can sum up my husband, Olof’s, and my different styles by the funeral instructions our estate attorney had us write when he set up our trusts. Mine went on for three pages. Olof’s were all of six words: “I don’t care. I’ll be dead.”

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