- Getting ready to go build a rain gauge at home depot with the kids. #
- RT @hughdeburgh: "Having children makes you no more a parent than having a piano makes you a pianist." ~ Michael Levine #
- RT @wisebread: Wow! Major food recall that touches so many pantry items. Check your cupboards NOW! http://bit.ly/c5wJh6 #
- Baby just said "coffin" for the first time. #feelingaddams #
- @TheLeanTimes I have an awesome recipe for pizza dough…at home. We make it once per week. I'll share later. in reply to TheLeanTimes #
- RT @bargainr: 9 minute, well-reasoned video on why we should repeal marijuana prohibition by Judge Jim Gray http://bit.ly/cKNYkQ plz watch #
- RT @jdroth: Brilliant post from Trent at The Simple Dollar: http://bit.ly/c6BWMs — All about dreams and why we don't pursue them. #
- Pizza dough: add garlic powder and Ital. Seasoning http://tweetphoto.com/13861829 #
- @TheLeanTimes: Pizza dough: add lots of garlic powder and Ital. Seasoning to this: http://tweetphoto.com/13861829 #
- RT @flexo: "Genesis. Exorcist. Leviathan. Deu… The Right Thing…" #
- @TheLeanTimes Once, for at least 3 hours. Knead it hard and use more garlic powder tha you think you need. 🙂 in reply to TheLeanTimes #
- Google is now hosting Popular Science archives. http://su.pr/1bMs77 #
- RT @wisebread 6 Slick Tools to Save Money on Car Repairs http://bit.ly/cUbjZG #
- @BudgetsAreSexy I filed federal last week, haven't bothered filing state, yet. Guess which one is paying me and which one wants more money. in reply to BudgetsAreSexy #
- RT @ChristianPF is giving away a Lifetime Membership to Dave Ramsey’s Financial Peace University! RT to enter to win… http://su.pr/2lEXIT #
- RT @MoneyCrashers: 4 Reasons To Choose Community College Out Of High School. http://ow.ly/16MoNX #
- RT @hughdeburgh:"When it comes to a happy marriage,sex is cornerstone content.Its what separates spouses from friends." SimpleMarriage.net #
- RT @tferriss: So true. "Nearly all men can stand adversity, but if you want to test a man's character, give him power." – Abraham Lincoln #
- RT @hughdeburgh: "The most important thing that parents can teach their children is how to get along without them." ~ Frank A. Clark #
Why I Hate Payday Loans
I hate payday loans and payday lenders.
The way a way a payday loan works is that you go into a payday lender and you sign a check for the amount you want to borrow, plus their fee. They give you money that you don’t have to pay back until payday. It’s generally a two-week loan.
Now, this two week loan comes with a fee, so if you want to borrow $100, they’ll charge you a $25 fee, plus a percent of the total loan, so for that $100 loan, you’ll have to pay back $128.28.
That’s only 28% of actual interest; that’s not terrible. However, if you prorate that to figure the APR, which is what everyone means when they say “I’ve got a 7% interest rate”, it comes out to 737%. That’s nuts.
They are a very bad financial plan.
Those loans may save you from an overdraft fee, but they’ll cost almost as much as an overdraft fee, and the way they are rigged–with high fees, due on payday–you’re more likely to need another one soon. They are structured to keep you from ever getting out from under the payday loan cycle.
For those reasons, I consider payday loan companies to be slimy. Look at any of their sites. Almost none are upfront about the total cost of the loan.
So I don’t take their ads. When an advertiser contacts me, my rate sheet says very clealy that I will not take payday loan ads. The reason for that is–in my mind–when I accept an advertiser, I am–in some form–endorsing that company, or at least, I am agreeing that they are a legitimate business and I am helping them conduct that business.
In all of the time I’ve been taking ads, I’ve made exactly one exception to that rule. On the front page of that advertiser’s website, they had the prorated APR in bright, bold red letters. It was still a really bad deal, but with that level of disclosure, I felt comfortable that nobody would click through and sign up without knowing what they were getting into. That was a payday lender with integrity, as oxymoronic as that sounds.
The Value of Hiding Money From Your Spouse
I have a confession, but it’s probably not going to be a big shocker if you read the title of this post.
I hide money from my wife.
Some of you just started screaming at your monitor that I’m a horrible person.
That’s cool.
You’re wrong, but the fact that I got that reaction out of you makes me smile.
Ok, I might be a little bit horrible, but not because I hide money.
My wife has an admitted shopping problem. If she thinks we’re broke, she shops less. That’s a win and allows me to save up for our long-term goals and provide for our financial security.
I don’t lie about it. If she asks how we’re doing, I tell her. At least in general terms.
But I didn’t tell her about my annual bonus, until we had a bunch of car repairs come up that would have swamped our emergency fund.
I also haven’t told her about the cash I’ve been stockpiling.
A couple of years ago, the power went out here for four days. It wasn’t just our house, it was 75% of everything within 5 miles of our house.
When the power came on in some places after a day or two, the phone lines were still down, which meant gas stations couldn’t process credit cards.
Quick, look in your wallet and tell me how much cash you have on you….
Most people live on their credit or debit cards.
Could you buy food or water if your plastic was gone?
I could that week, but not for long, so I started taking the cash payments from my side hustle and putting it aside. I’d come home, give my wife a little cash, keep a little cash for myself, and put at least 80% of it away. I absolutely refuse to touch that money for anything.
Part of the “set it aside and forget about” means not revealing its existence. It would be too easy to dip into it to pay the pizza guy or when we go to Rennfest.
So I don’t talk about, and it gets to sit all by itself in the safe, comfy and warm. It’s my security blanket, and nobody gets to touch my binky.
Friends and Acquaintances
“Friends help you move. Good friends help you move bodies.”
-unknown
Some people have dozens of friends. I’m not that guy.
I have 6.
Everybody in the world can be divided into 4 categories.
- Strangers. A xenophobe’s nightmare. These are the people you don’t know, whether they are passing you on the sidewalk, or newborns on the opposite side of the world.
- Acquaintances. These are the people you’ve met, mostly in passing. They tend not to have much effect on your life. You may pass a friendly bus ride in conversation, but it’s nothing that sticks. A waitress, the clerk at the store, a friend’s latest date; these are the people you interact with for just a moment and rarely think about further.
- Friendlies. Most people call these folks friends. I don’t. I’m friendly with them, hence the name, but it’s not true friendship. Often, they are either my wife’s friends, or my friends’ wives. Sometimes, they are a friend of a friend that I only see at parties, or a coworker that I get along with, but never see outside of work. We’re friendly, but not obliged. I may help with some things, but it’s not necessarily a priority. I’ll go to a funeral, but probably won’t help plan it.
- Friends. To me, calling someone a friend is a big deal. I’m willing to do a lot for my friends. They are able to command large amounts of my time, and ask any number of favors. If needed, I’ll open my home or help demolish their’s. Loyalty, honesty, trust, respect, and companionship are all a part of my definition of a friend. If a friend needs help, I’ll come running. In return, I expect the same.
Family tends to fall into the same analogous categories.
It sounds cold, but I hesitate to let people graduate into the final category. My wife used to try to “set me up” with people that she thought I’d like to be friends with, thinking I was sad to have so few friends. It took years for her to realize that I was happy. It’s a matter of quality over quantity. Most of the friends I have, I’ve had for 10 years or more. I’ve known each of them for at least 5 years, not that time is a requirement.
Moving people into the “friends” category is a lot like dating. You get along, so you invite the potential friends out for a drink, one on one. You feel them out to see if they are compatible. You meet their families, share some food, build some history. If it all works out, eventually, you consider them a true friend, even if you couldn’t mark the date of the transition.
You wouldn’t marry everyone you date, so why would turn everyone you basically get along with into a friend?
Do you have a lot of friends? What marks friendship for you?
Hunting Trip Stress
Vegans and hippies won’t enjoy this post.
Friday, I went to a cabin in the woods for a weekend hunting trip with my dad, my brother, and a few other people.
My wife didn’t think it’s a good idea. In fact, she was terrified that I’d walk into the woods and come out in a body bag.
Statistically, it’s safe. Out of 12.5 million hunters, there are only around 100 fatal hunting accidents every year. I think I went hunting for the first time when I was 12, and continued to do so until I was 17, then life started interfering.
That doesn’t matter. By definition phobias aren’t rational. She’s worried and stressing hard.
If she’s had such a hard time with it, why did I go?
First, I asked her six months ago if she’d be all right with the trip. I knew she had some phobias, and have–in fact–tried to make the trip before. Six months ago, she said yes. It was a bit late to back out after I’ve committed to a share of the cabin, bought the bright orange gear, and agreed to drive my brother.
The second reason was more important.
This is one of the few things my dad and I both enjoy. I’m a geek, he’s not. I dig horror and sci-fi, he’s into westerns.
But we both enjoy hunting. The first time he treated me like an adult was the first year we went hunting together, 15 years ago.
My dad taught me to be the man I am. Without him, I have no idea who I’d be or what I’d be doing. My integrity, my work ethic, and my moral code can all be traced to the things he taught me.
This is my chance to spend time with him and have a good time with no TV or whiny kids interfering.
Trading this for a few days of stress at home is something I’m willing to do.
Christmas Magic
When I was little, the world was amazing. The first snowfall was among the best days of the year. Everything was worth exploring, in hopes of discovering something new and fascinating, and everything was fascinating.
Stepping on a crack had serious implications. The wishbone in a turkey earned its name. Blowing out all of the candles on a birthday cake could change your life. The idea of some dude half a world away, watching you, then sneaking into your house to dish our rewards and punishments wasn’t pervy and sick, it was wonderful.
Then, one day, it all changes.
Somebody–a classmate, a older brother, a neighbor–let’s it slip that Santa isn’t real, and the implications snowball. That day, the magic dies.
Wishing on a star? Over.
The Easter Bunny? Hasenpfeffer.
Growing up to be Superman? Welcome to the rat race.
It’s a sad day when kids stop believing in magic.
I don’t believe in lying to my children, but I also don’t believe in destroying their magic. It’s a balancing act.
When my son was 6, an older boy at daycare tried to kill Santa for him. He was upset.
“Dad, is Santa real?”
“What do you think?”
“I don’t believe in Santa.”
“Okay, I’ll let him know.”
“Nonononononono! Don’t tell him!”
Was it lying? Probably, but he obviously wasn’t ready to stop believing, so I let him continue. A year later, we had the same conversation, but the results were quite different.
“Dad, you’ve always said that you hate lying, so why did you let me believe in Santa?”
So I told him the truth. Magic is a frail thing that’s nearly impossible to reclaim and I wanted him to have that treasure for as long as possible. And, “Now that you know, you are in on the conspiracy. You’ve been drafted. Don’t kill the magic for anyone else.”
It was weird having him help me stuff stockings.
If you’ve got kids(and celebrate Christmas), how do you handle the Santa problem?