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Let me check….
A few days ago, I asked a coworker if she wanted to go out for lunch. She said she’d have to check her bank account before she decided.
What?
If you have to check your bank balance to know if you can afford something, you can’t afford it. It really is that simple.
Now, strict budgets aren’t for everyone, but everyone should know how much money they have available to spend. If you don’t know what you have to spare, you need to set up a budget.
Period.
After you’ve done that, you can ignore it, with the exception of knowing how much you have available to blow on groceries, entertainment, and other discretionary purchases.
If you don’t know where your money needs to go, how can you determine how much you can spend on the things you want?
Playing For Blood
Kris at Every Tips and Thoughts wrote a post about games and letting her kids win feeling bad about winning. I disagree. This post is an expansion of my comment there.
When we play games in my house, we play for blood. I’ve never let my kids win and they know it. From the first time the kids attempt Memory, they know they’ve got to earn a win against Mom and Dad. They know if they lose, they must do so gracefully. If they pout or cry, they lose game privileges for a while. I demand good sportsmanship, win or lose.
To be clear, my kids are 3, 4, and 11 and they are all held to the same standards of sportsmanship. Win or lose, they will do so gracefully. There will be no temper tantrums when they are Sorry’d and no pouting when the Queen is captured.
It took my son almost 3 years to beat me at chess. When it finally happened, he was almost as proud as I was and still talks about it 5 years later.
It’s not much fun playing games with his friends. They were coddled and expect to win everything. I have to take away game privileges just like I do for my 3 year old. They hate that because we have the coolest board games. Nobody else has games that involve zombies or disembodied brains.
What has the result been?
My kids love playing games. This week, my oldest has been teaching his sisters how to play Life. When he visits his friends, he’s as likely to bring a board game as an electronic game. He’s got a good mind for strategy, and I can’t remember the last time he pouted when I tromped him.
My 4 year old hasn’t mastered gamesmanship yet, but she will. When I threaten to put the game away, she wipes her eyes, and keeps playing, even if her jaw is chattering. She knows what is expected and works to live up to it.
Both of the older kids are competitive. They’ve never had a win handed to them, and they have each had wins they had to work for, and they know how it feels to win and earn it.
The youngest doesn’t care if she wins, she’s just happy to play. In my experience, the competitive gameplay gene doesn’t activate until 4.
In my mind, the real world won’t hand them any wins, so I might as well start teaching them how to work for it now.
How about you? Do you let your kids win, or do you teach them that all games are bloodsports?
Expensive Cheese
Saturday morning, I woke up to a room-temperature refrigerator. I dislike drinking milk that’s 40 degrees warmer than I’m used to.
We called the repairman who showed up at 9PM and poked around in the fridge for a bit before announcing that he didn’t have the needed parts in his truck.
The parts came Monday. The next repairman got there Tuesday afternoon. For those of you keeping track at home, that’s nearly 4 days without a refrigerator.
That poor bacon.
Tuesday’s repairman didn’t think highly of Saturday’s. Apparently, the two parts Saturday ordered never go bad at the same time, so he was guessing.
He also didn’t notice the slice of individually wrapped American cheese that had slipped between a shelf and one of the cold-air vents, preventing any air flow at all.
Grr.
I wish I would have noticed that on Saturday. I now own the most expensive cheese in the world. It’s not Pule, which comes in at $616 per pound. This lowly slice of American cheese cost me nearly $200. At one ounce per slice, that’s $3200 per pound. Of course, I’m counting the lost food. My hamburger, eggs, bacon, milk, and mayonnaise are gone, along with every other perishable bit of food we had on hand.
I don’t know how much the repairs cost. Saturday’s visit, minus the parts, was billed at $95. I didn’t see the total for Tuesday’s visit.
We pay for a repair plan through our gas company. For around $15 per month, we get a list of appliances protected. We don’t have to worry about our washer, dryer, water softener, stove, refrigerator, or our sewer main. Assuming Tuesday’s visit was billed the same as Saturday’s, this one repair paid for the plan for an entire year. When you count our sewer main–which backs up with tree roots once a year and costs at least $200 to fix–the repair plan is definitely worth it for us.
When we get tenants in my mother-in-law’s house, we’ll have the repair plan set up there, too.
Do you use any kind of repair plan? How is it working out for you?
The High Cost of Keeping Richard Ramirez in Prison
Serial killers in the United States often gain cult status due to their strange courtroom antics and dramatic personalities. Recently deceased death row inmate Richard Ramirez was definitely one of the most famous serial killers of all time before he passed away of liver failure in California’s San Quentin State Prison.
After a dramatic arrest in 1985 in East Los Angeles by residents who recognized Ramirez from photographs displayed all over the news, Ramirez would sit in jail for years while awaiting a trial that finally began in 1989. There would be no more expensive trial in the history of Los Angeles County except for the O.J. Simpson trial that occurred a few years later.
At a cost of $1.8 million dollars, Los Angelinos would pay dearly for the privilege of trying Ramirez in a court of law. Incredibly, however, this massive sum wasn’t the only cost associated with this vicious serial killer. Because he was sentenced to death and due to the incredibly long appeals process associated with death row inmates, Ramirez sat in jail for over two decades without any fear of actually being put to death by the state of California.
Over the past hundred years, the number of individuals incarcerated in the United States has ballooned from a few hundred thousand people to almost 2.5 million prisoners. The most expensive people to incarcerate are death row inmates, who sit in a type of solitary confinement for decades. A moratorium on future executions in California has ensured that inmates like Ramirez have been costing taxpayers millions of dollars for housing and appeals with no likelihood of being put to death.
According to the American Civil Liberties Union, there are around 700 people sitting on death row in California, which require a massive investment of tax dollars. The state’s ongoing budget crisis and inability to balance its budget has put great strain on the prison system to house so many death row inmates at such an incredible cost.
Richard Ramirez’s untimely death at the age of 53 and his decades-long residency within a state prison brings to light a disturbing fact: more inmates die of natural causes while on death row than are actually put to death. Whether support for the death penalty exists or not, the billions of dollars spent by the state to keep inmates on death row has resulted in just 13 executions since the late 1970s.
A study in 2011 that was conducted by a judge and professor in the state suggested that California has spent over $4 billion since the death penalty was reinstituted. Out of those funds spent, at least a billion dollars was used for housing and incarceration of the inmates, including serial killers like Richard Ramirez.
A further study presented by the Commission on the Fair Administration of Justice in 2008 suggested that keeping the system intact with inmates on death row would cost around $137 million dollars a year. On the other hand, if California was to commute those death sentences to life in prison and abolish the death penalty, the yearly cost would drop to $11.5 million a year.
Offering the families of victims of death penalty-worthy crimes the chance to see a killer or other criminal experience the ultimate punishment may offer some sort of closure. Unfortunately, with the expectation that individuals on death row are more likely to die of natural causes than be put to death in California, the implementation of the death penalty in the state must be reexamined.
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Stealing Motivation
We go a bit overboard on Halloween.
Maybe more than a bit. The yard in the video is mine. As I write this, I’ve got 40 tombstones, more than 200 skulls, and half a dozen life-size props in my yard. The coffin leaning against the tree was bought used on the secondhand coffin market.
I have a motion-activated monster whose eyes light up as his head turns to watch you as you walk past. He just happens to be the exact size in all dimensions as my son was 4 years ago.
A few years ago, I built a beautiful zombie who–not so coincidentally–had the exact height and proportions as my wife.
Last year, a few days before Halloween, somebody came into my yard and stole my bride. They also tried stealing the small coffin, but only managed to get away with the lid, leaving the coffin itself behind.
I hate thieves.
This year, I was at the Financial Bloggers Conference the weekend I traditionally set up for Halloween, so I was getting a late start.
Every time I’ve tried to get out and set up my yard, I just keep thinking about the irreplaceable pieces that were stolen. Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a child-sized coffin lid dating back to 1863? Or how impossible it is to get the 100 hours of my life I put into my zombie?
I think about how hurt I would be if somebody stole my son-sized animatronic ghoul or the demon who shares my measurements, but is two feet shorter. I’ve spent hundreds of hours per year, over 10 years building my yard full of one-of-a-kind props, and someone felt it was acceptable to tear down a section of my skull fence, come into my yard, and steal a little piece of my life.
Motivation has been difficult this year.
Last night, while I was out arranging my much-reduced yard haunt, a neighbor came by to let me know that he was disappointed with the smaller production. He wasn’t upset, but he–like the entire neighborhood–love watching the gore grow in my yard while anticipating the evening full of screams as the kids wander through every Halloween.
I can’t do it.
The thieving punks stole not just two of my favorite props, but a huge piece of my desire to scare the neighborhood kids.
Maybe I just need a year off, so I can come back with better ideas and a security plan more detailed than “my neighbors love this, none of them would steal anything!”
I would love to find the thieves. Post-beating, I’d explain how stealing from anyone is stealing a small and irreplaceable part of their lives. Stealing their handcrafted treasure is ripping out a piece of their soul. Stealing their motivation is stealing the memories for every visitor who would ever benefit from their craft, if the motivation is dead enough to kill the production.
I hope I’m not to that point, yet, but I can’t promise anything. Maybe next year.
