There’s a bird feeder I dread refilling with seed. Not because it’s difficult to take down and fill, but because it is almost impossible to replace the top. It’s pretty. There’s no denying it. And it was on sale. That’s the most appealing part.

It’s hard — no, almost impossible — for me to resist those alluring words, 50 percent off, when they’re printed on a big, square yellow sticker on an item, I’ve wanted but hesitated to buy because after agonizing over it, I’ve decided it is, “Too expensive.”

Habits of economy are strictly engrained into my DNA. It’s that McBride ancestry on Mama’s side.

That’s the side that saves everything, reuses everything and repurposes everything.

Grandmama didn’t buy lunch bags to pack our lunches in. She drew

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