Dutch

So, I’m Dutch.

 

Being Dutch doesn’t just mean that I have ancestry from the Netherlands. It doesn’t just mean that there are blue-and-white ceramic clogs, windmills, and children placed randomly throughout my parents house. It doesn’t just mean that I grew up eating things like buttered ham buns at every family gathering and graham crackers boiled in milk for desert (which, by the way, is called Cracker Pop and it is delicious). 

 

It means I’m a little tight with money.

For the true Dutchman/woman, money and value are everything. He/she will avoid waste like it’s the black plague. My grandmother used to wash and re-use tin foil, sandwich baggies, plastic cups/forks….her kitchen was like an organized landfill.

When my dad cleans out our freezer, he hesitates before throwing out horrifically freezer burned meat. Sometimes he still eats it. But even for the worst cases, no–he doesn’t throw it out. He saves it until the next barbecue, where he grills it up alongside of the good meat and then feeds it to the dogs.

If my aunt discovers that a half a gallon of milk has spoiled, she freezes it–apparently Dutch people also suffer from the delusion that frozen, curdled, sour milk should be used later for cooking.

Did something on the farm break? Don’t buy a new one! Just MacGyver it into something that will break again next month! Hey, that shirt is on sale for $2.49…just ignore the fact that it’s because it’s both hideous and made from baby cacti. And really, is $4 cheese really that much better than $3 cheese?

 

I like to think of myself as a reformed Dutchwoman. I don’t save foil, frostbitten meat, or curdled milk. I know when to replace a broken part rather than just duct taping it back together. I splurge for the good cheese (shoutout to you, Tillamook).

But I also don’t like to waste things. I’ll save a pair of shoes I’ve had for ten years because they could probably still go on a walk or two before the entire sole comes off. I patch jeans instead of replacing them. When I was training at Starbucks, my trainer had me make 8 or 9 drinks in a row, said “good job, they’re all perfect” and when she proceeded to pour them all in the sink, I almost screamed.

 

My sister-in-law recently witnessed some of my reformed Dutchness. My brother never really picked up on the whole “waste not” lifestyle, and I think she expected that I would be the same. Last year, we took a trip to Vegas (See? I will spend money. But you bet your buttons I flew coach), where she laughed at me when I wanted to box the leftovers for every meal and lick the last drops out of my margarita glass. I think the final straw for her was watching me pick up a $0.02 voucher and insert it into the penny slot machine.

“Kristen!” She exclaimed. “You can’t waste TWO CENTS?!”

No. No I cannot waste two cents. Because in those two cents lie two opportunities–nay, one opportunity if I bet ‘big’–and I was not about to waste those. I fed the voucher into the slot machine and bet two cents on one line. I pulled the lever.

I lost, of course.

But I mean…what if?

 

 

Behold, a new term: Dutchertunist. A person who takes an opportunity simply because he/she feels it should not be wasted.

 

I never like to miss out on anything. Are my friends all hanging out? I’m there! I might pay for it with a bad test grade but hey, if Daniel is dared to hump the door frame again, I’m going to be there to witness it. Is my favorite band in town? Of course I’m out on the town all night hoping that they will be too, because really, the only reason that me and the lead singer aren’t married yet is because he hasn’t met me! And I’d sacrifice some sleep and some money for a lifetime of bliss with some hottie that will sing me to sleep each night and produce silver-throated angel babies. 

 

I travel. This Dutchertunist screams hey, I’ve got a free week, and she does not sit idle. She pores over ticket prices every night because she wonders if the sand and sun feel different in Australia than in America and if the kangaroos have accents. Besides, what if there’s some Australian hottie singer out there just waiting to meet me?

(Looking at you, Matt Corby.)

 

Stop being afraid to waste money. You’ll never regret that paycheck you dedicated to that night out where you met that person that you now think about constantly. You won’t care that you maxed out your credit card when you spent 6 months in Europe. The price tag on that big, expensive dining room table you bought isn’t visible now that the chairs are filled with your friends and family enjoying a meal together.

As far as I’m concerned, if you end your time on earth with a hefty sum of money but an empty photo album, you never really understood the point of being here in the first place.

 

So raise your glass, Dutchertunist. Here’s to you. Don’t waste life.