I have to be frugal, but I don't want to over think it. I long to wander lustily among all the food stands, which will be sending out delicious odors, certain that some of the delicacies are for me. I want to feel I can have anything, any time, if I just wish it so, as I blink at things artisans twinkle in my direction. If I find a Gypsy to read my palm, or if a wizard is offering hot-air balloon rides, I want to tell myself, "Why not?"
The Land of Oz, or any other wonderland, including a fair, is just an illusion - but no more an illusion than money itself, which is useful, but only if we agree to give it value. Not having money, or the fear of not having it can be paralyzing, especially after a long period of deprivation, loss, or during an all-prevailing recession, where even the well-off seem to tighten their belts. I don't want to live in fear.
But I want to be wise.
I want to practice frugality without fear, trusting that there is and always will be enough. As I count out the last of my coins, I want to believe that I've had quite as good a time as those with more left to jingle.