Making Money in the New Economy

Ways to make some extra cash while riding out these tough times:


1. Start a bank but refuse to lend money to anyone. I already do this at home and it's a pretty good business model. When my kids reach for my wallet I just say, "Sorry, the bank is closed for the day." I can't say my profits are that great, but no losses either.


2. Get together with three or four other families and move in together. Share the rent, grocery bill, utilities, lice and pneumonia.


3. Become a TV evangelist. Sort of a dying breed, but hey, you've always done your own thing.


4. 2 words - Potato Farm. If you grew just one really huge potato with 100 eyes, you could then plant the eyes and grow 100 new potatoes. Where else can you get that kind of return? On a related note, does anyone else think it's kind of spooky that potatoes have eyes?


5. Become president of the Human Fund. (That was for you, Connie, as a thank you for being one of my five loyal readers)


6. Turn this blog posting into a spiral bound mini-book and sell it on Craigslist.


7. Go door to door and....oh, wait, there's nobody living in any of those houses anymore.

My Funny Valentine ('s Day)

Ever watch Jon & Kate Plus 8 on TV? Well, if not, it's a reality show that follows a couple who have a set of twins about 5 or 6 years old, and a set of sextuplets who are maybe 3. This is how they celebrated Valentine's Day:

Jon and Kate bought each other lovely, thoughtful gifts. They were beautifully wrapped. Kate took the extra time to cut out and paste little hearts all over her present to Jon.

Kate made heart shaped pancakes for breakfast. Then she made heart shaped sandwiches for lunch. I can't remember what she made for dinner, but I'm guessing it was spaghetti with all the little noodles tied together to make hearts.

The kids all had little backpacks on their chairs when they came down for breakfast. The bags (red and white, of course) were filled with V-Day goodies.

Jon and Kate put together a little treasure hunt for the children. They wrote and hid clues all over the house, with the treasure being this huge (and beautifully wrapped) box full of dollar store toys for them to choose from.

It was a wonderful day for them. Our clan also celebrated Valentine's Day. Here is what we did:

We waited for TLC to get home from his scout campout and then left immediately for his basketball game, where he was given a personal foul for smelling like smoke/day old clothes/dutch oven cobbler.

From there we went to Lynnie's basketball game, where she would have loved to get a foul, but she's still learning that you only stick to your "man" like glue when you're on DEFENSE!

Mom realized she forgot to give AJ any breakfast and that might account for her crankiness at said basketball games, so we all went home for some festive peanut butter sandwiches, not cut into hearts, but made with almost no complaining by mom.

Mom took D-Dawg to buy some running shorts for track. These shorts had to be a particular shade of maroon. VERY particular. In a fit of rage, Mom cut the shorts D-Dawg was wearing into little heart shaped scraps while he was in the changing room.

Mom went to a baptism, where she thought about the shorts incident with regret. Dad forced the kids to do chores while she was gone.

Mom picked up Mexican food, our Valentine's Day tradition, took it home, and served it on a table that she decorated with a little red votive candle left by a concerned visiting teacher, who noted Mom's lack of holiday decorating back at Thanksgiving.

Dad and Mom gave everyone a chocolate bar that said I Love You on it and we all made s'mores in the fireplace, which I've heard can be toxic and maybe even deadly.

I'm really glad no TV crews were following us.

The Dreaded Moment

It comes without fail every weekday, and sometimes on weekends too. The dreaded moment. "Mom, I need help with my math."

I have a little routine I use to deal with this alarming situation. Whenever someone asks me to help with their math, I immediately break into a mournful rendition of "Greensleeves". I don't actually know any of the words to Greensleeves except for, well, greensleeves. So my version goes like this:

"Greensleeves was all she wore,
From head to toe, it was quite a bore."

Although well-rhymed and most likely publishable, I sing this song for one reason and one reason only: to try to distract my hapless child from his appointed task. I'm always hoping he'll get that vacant look in his eyes and suddenly say, "I forgot what I came in here for."

Yes, it's true. I would rather have my children turn in blank math pages than have to reveal to them what a hopeless math-o-phobe I am. It's not even so much about doing the math, it's about remembering math that I learned several to many years ago. I can never remember the difference between Least Common Multiple and Greatest Common Factor, among other things. So in order to help, I either need to read the whole chapter in the math book first, look it up online, or call the homework helpline.

One time I tried the homework helpline. It went a little something like this:

Me: When I multiply fractions, do I multiply straight across or cross across?

Helpful Homework Person (HHP): Huh?

Me: I need to multiply 1 and 7/8 by 2 and 3/4. I'm just wondering if I should add the fractions to themselves first and then multiply in a diagonal way...

HHP: You mean cross multiply?

Me: Ummm....yes?

HHP: Okay, to cross multiply you simply multiply the top of the first fraction with the bottom of the second fraction, and vice versa.

Me: Right. That much I know. But is that what I'm supposed to do here? I'm just not sure if I use the multiplying when I'm adding or if I should skip the adding and go straight to the multiplying across or if I should multiply straight and then add and simplify.

HHP: Could I speak to your child?

Child: Hello?

HHP: I've been on the phone with your mom for the last ten minutes and I still haven't figured out what the question is. Can you help me with that?

Child: That's okay, I figured it out while you guys were on the phone.

The next day I got a letter from the Homework Helpline directing me to call the new Remedial Homework Helpline at 1-800-IMSTUPD next time I had a question. Unfortunately, I'm very good at English and so I was quickly able to decipher that phone number as a cleverly disguised insult. (It's short for I'm Stupid. Don't worry if you didn't get it, a lot of people don't.)

I'll never sink to that level though. I won't call the Remedial Homework Helpline as long as I've got ten good fingers to count on. And the internet.

High Crime

In the interest of self-reliance, I planted a garden in October. It was very easy. I went to Home Depot and bought 5 already half-grown tomato plants and a few packets of seeds, including peas, corn, carrots and lettuce. My garden bed is only about 6x4, so the corn was a bit of a stretch, but you never know.

I also bought one bag of mulch. I'm not really sure what mulch is, but it sounds very healthy for vegetables. After I lugged it home, I read on the back that one bag of mulch only covers 1 sq ft of garden, so only about 3 of my seeds got any benefit from that. I chose which seeds got to go in the mulched section of the garden by playing Bubblegum, Bubblegum, In a Dish with them. That took kind of a long time.

Another thing I got at Home Depot was a tomato cage. When you put your tomato plants inside one of these cages, it's supposed to help them grow tall and straight. Even though I had 5 tomato plants, I only got one cage, because I stand up for freedom when I can. The plant that I put in the cage is tall, but sort of depressed. The rest are short, but free and, I believe, quite happy. Like my short friends.

I planted on a windy day. This was not a problem when I planted the peas and tomatoes, but I guess I didn't realize how small lettuce seeds are. Yesterday I saw a random head of lettuce growing in the retention basin across the street, and I'm pretty sure it's mine. When it gets a little bigger, I'm going to pick it at midnight so nobody will know how careless I was with my seeds.

After a while my peas blossomed and the lettuce seeds that made it into my garden grew. I even had a few tiny green tomatoes. It was shaping up to be just about the best garden ever. Then it got cold. I think my plants didn't like the cold, because their development was suddenly arrested. So I made a super cute quilt to cover my garden bed. Then I forgot about my garden for a few days (or maybe weeks), and when I finally uncovered it again, my plants were all dead.

My sister is a scientist and she says that plants are living organisms. As most of you know, I have a deep fear of going to prison. So let's just keep this incident to ourselves.

Winning is Everything

I really want to win something. And I don’t mean I want to win a big promotion or win the heart of my true love (no offense, honey). I mean I want to win some money, or a new car, or the NCAA bracket picks at work.

I think my urge to win stems from the fact that I am a very competitive person, and yet I have no talents. So, I have spent my whole life wanting to win but never actually doing so. I never win at sports, I wasn’t even close to being my high school valedictorian, and the jokes I submit to Reader’s Digest are repeatedly rejected. And just so you know, their rejection letters aren’t that nice, either. How would you feel if you got a letter that said:

“Sending us the same joke 53 times will not change our answer. It is not a funny joke. It did not make us laugh. Stop sending us jokes. In fact, don’t send us anything. In fact, we are canceling your subscription and purging your entire history from our files.”

I recently decided that if I can’t be good at winning, I can at least be good at entering. With that in mind, I made a New Year’s resolution to practice my contest-entering skills for 10 minutes per day. After only 9 days of practice, I can already see measurable results. For example, I took my redial speed for calling in to radio contests down from 3.9 seconds to 2.7. I also created a Word template that allows me to quickly print out contest-entering postcards in a flash. When I went to my contest-entering support group, I couldn’t stop the tears when I was recognized as the most improved raffle ticket crumpler.

It’s equally important to be prepared with a plan in case you actually do win something. The other day I told my husband that we needed new pajamas. Not to spice up our love life, because really, how much spicier could we get, but in case Publisher’s Clearinghouse rings our doorbell early in the morning before we are dressed. It would never do to be wearing a Hello Kitty t-shirt with paint stains all over it on national TV. And my pajamas aren’t so hot, either.

With all of my obsession for winning something, you may be surprised to learn that I never play the lottery. I just feel that handing a dollar to a corner store clerk lacks the challenge that a true competitor needs. At least with a radio contest you have to remember the phrase of the day, or the last 800 songs they played, or where Beth hid the bottle on the station's website. Plus, I only enter free contests. I mean, come on, I can’t just be throwing dollar bills around willy nilly. I’ve got postcards to buy!

My Older Brother

Once when I was about 10 years old, living in Michigan, I went on a bike ride with my older brother and one of my sisters. To get to our destination we had to cross a two-lane highway that had no median. Since there was nowhere to stop halfway across the road, crossing it required careful timing. We had to watch for cars coming both ways, and dart across when there was a semi-lengthy break in the action.

This particular afternoon my brother and sister were watching the cars, and when there was a break they both yelled, "Okay! Now!" and took off across the highway. I also looked both ways, but hesitated a little because I could see cars in the distance, then finally took off after them. My hesitation cost me, though, because while they made it safely across, by the time I got to the middle of the road the cars were nearly upon me and I couldn't complete the crossing. I could only turn my bike sideways so that I was straddling the middle line, and then I sat, pretty much paralyzed with fear, while the traffic whizzed by me on both sides.

Every time there was a break in the traffic, my siblings would yell, "Cross, Lecia! Come on!" But I was too scared to move, so I just sat there, tears running down my face.

Then, like I knew he would, my brother came for me. He left his bike on the side of the road and ran out to the middle, where he took my handle bars and guided me safely to the other side.

How grateful I was that day to have an older brother to save me. I was hopelessly stuck, unable to move, afraid, crying, but my brother made it all okay again.

Today my older brother is the one hurting, and I would run head-on into ten tons of traffic to save him if I could, but I can't. I just hope he knows how much I love him, and that I'm on the lookout for our Older Brother to come and save him...I'm pretty sure He's on His way, or maybe that He's already here.

In Defense of Saying Yes

I should be in a bubble bath commercial. I know I could pull off the look of the frazzled woman who’s been run ragged all day. The one whose life is chaos until the magic of Calgon blissfully takes her away.

Truly, I’m the poster child for all of those magazine articles you read entitled, “Feeling Overwhelmed? Learn to Take Time for Yourself.” With two jobs, four kids, and involvement with church, school, community and extended family, you could say that I’m busy. Add to that a husband with chronic health issues, which is one way of saying that not only am I chief cook and bottle washer, but also head tree trimmer, spider squasher and pinewood derby car carver - roles I’ve learned to handle, if not well.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m no supermom. I know supermom, she’s my neighbor around the corner, and trust me, I’m not her. My kids pack their own lunches and accept bribes to splash in the tub with the little one so I won’t have to bathe her. Sunday dinner is pancakes and eggs, not roast and potatoes. Would supermom serve breakfast for dinner every Sunday? Not likely.

Still, I do think that putting yourself first is a little overrated. Not because I think I should be alphabetizing my cupboards instead of reading a magazine, but for reasons that are more about old-fashioned values.

You’ve heard the advice that to forget your own troubles you should help someone else? That actually works. When you’re helping others, you get the feeling that what you’re doing in that moment is exactly right. That you’re doing just what you were meant to do that day, which is a wonderful, freeing kind of feeling.

I learned this lesson again early one Saturday morning. My littlest one sometimes sleeps in, but never on Saturday. It drives me crazy! Anyway, one Saturday she’d gotten out of bed around 6:30 a.m. and come into my room. I pulled her up into bed with me and tried to get her to go back to sleep, but she wasn’t interested. I felt myself getting frustrated and upset with her, and finally I decided to quit fighting it and just get up with her.

We went out to the family room and sat together in the rocking chair. She was smiley and happy as we sang quiet songs and talked about things that are important to her, like dolls and cereal. We had the house to ourselves, and that quiet time with her turned out to be a very precious experience. Putting my daughter first turned out to be the best thing for me, way better than a bubble bath, and a tiny bit better than sleeping in.

Not to say I don’t take the occasional sanity break. In fact, I just gave my two-weeks’ notice at my second job, precisely in the name of sanity. You can’t say yes to everything, but when you do, it sometimes works out just right. Does anyone want to put up my Christmas lights for me? (say yes)

I Don't Do Centerpieces

Being a Relief Society teacher can be an intimidating calling. In addition to preparing your lesson, cultivating a spiritual atmosphere, and encouraging the sisters to contribute to the lesson, you are expected to create a breathtaking centerpiece. I have known many women who were born with exceptional centerpiece-making talents. Unfortunately, I am not one of them. Not only do I stink at centerpieces, but I also have questionable cooking skills, my daughter’s pigtails are never symmetrical, and I haven’t volunteered for a Mormon Handicraft project since the great quilting incident of ’98, when I somehow managed to tie my quilt into a figure eight. Apparently a large rectangle is the traditional shape for quilts, and more “creative” shapes are frowned upon.

I think it would help all of us artfully impaired individuals if the Relief Society manual came with centerpiece ideas and instructions to go with each lesson. Instead of Teachings of Presidents of the Church, the manual could be called Teachings and Fabulous Centerpiece Ideas of Presidents of the Church. But since we’ll probably never get such a manual, I’ve put together a few tips of my own, specifically geared to my sisters who don’t know the difference between chiffon and …see, I can’t even think of the name of another fabric to finish that sentence with.

Step One: Begin working on your centerpiece at least a month in advance. If possible, it’s recommended that you sit down and plan out a full year’s worth of centerpieces when you first receive your calling. In fact, consider adding “Centerpieces” to your list of things to accumulate for your year’s supply.

Step Two: Consider the theme of your lesson. The centerpiece MUST match the lesson, or you risk receiving an icy look from the pianist, who planned prelude music that matched the lesson 3 weeks ago. Sometimes this can be harder than others. For example, one lesson is entitled “The Dispensation of the Fullness of Times”. This is a hard one, because you don’t find too many porcelain figurines depicting the fullness of times at the LDS bookstore. So, my suggestion would be to display a photograph of yourself right after you’ve eaten Thanksgiving dinner, because that suggests YOUR dispensation of fullness. Embellish the photo with a decorative swag, of course.

Step Two: Call around to find someone who owns a tablecloth that doesn’t suspiciously resemble the sheet set in your daughter’s bedroom.

Step Three: Figure out what types of flowers are in season. This can be accomplished by reading Martha Stewart magazines, calling your local nursery, or peering over your backyard fence to see what your neighbor has that she wouldn’t miss if a few happened to disappear.

Step Four: Display your wedding photo. I don’t care what the lesson’s about, the wedding photo can always be worked in. For example, the lesson “Journals: Of Far More Worth than Gold,” can easily be turned into a discussion of the time your husband (point to wedding photo here) found your old journal from high school and got upset about the 3 pages filled with "Mrs. Christian Slater". Hey, he was cute back then.

Finally, pull all the pieces together by wearing an outfit that matches your flower arrangement. This will allow you to blend in visually with your centerpiece so that you, and your lesson, won’t take away from the magnificence of your creation.

I Hate Dreams

Why do people think their dreams are interesting to others? People are always telling me about their dreams and, other than the “I ♥ Dreams” bumper sticker on my car, I can’t figure out why.
People always want to know what their dreams mean. So here, I'll tell you, and then you can quit bugging me.
The Dream About Teeth Falling Out: This dream typically means that one day all your teeth are going to fall out, and you should probably marry a dentist. If you are already married and can’t get out of it, you should commit your first born child to an arranged marriage with a dentist.
The Falling Dream: I often dream that I am falling. Dreams about falling indicate that you are a well-rounded, likeable individual whose charming personality and above-average talents mean that you will be a great success in life.
The Naked at School Dream: So-called “experts” in dream interpretation will tell you that dreaming about being naked in public is a sign of insecurity. This theory is, in professional terms, complete doo doo. More often, this type of dream is an indication that you have too many covers on, have started to sweat, and wish you were naked.
The Being Chased By Something Scary Dream: Dreams about being chased are really just repressed memories of 4th grade, when boys used to show that they liked you by chasing you, throwing lit firecrackers at you, beating you up after school and calling you four-eyed weirdo loser face. At least, my mom always told me it meant that they liked me. She was probably right. I mean, why else would the kids have done that?
If I haven't covered your specific type of dream here, then just interpret it yourself. Do this by listening to your gut. In fact, I once had a dream that I solved a world crisis by listening to my gut. See, this scary monster guy was chasing me down a dark alley…(see, right now your gut should be telling you to move on to the next blog.)

The Fight List

We’re all short of time. It’s sad, but the couples I know don’t even have the time to plan any really good fights anymore. They end up fighting over stupid things, like what time Target closes on Thursdays. That’s why I think every couple should have a fight list. A good fight list can help you plan for an organized and efficient life of marital discord. If you, too, are having trouble using your fight time wisely, you can follow this simple fight list:
The Early Years: Who’s The Better Driver - I think it’s important to fight about who’s the better driver early on in a marriage. Because this fight will never truly be resolved, it’s good to get an early start on it. On a personal note, I’d like to add that the spouse with the least amount of tickets is not necessarily the better driver. My spouse has asked that I insert here that getting lost is not a sign of bad driving, but rather the result of having a poor navigator in the passenger seat. See, the variations on this one are endless and will last you a lifetime.
The Early Years Part II: You Weren't Like This When We Were Dating – This one is a classic. As the flaws we so carefully hid during courtship become more glaring, we must take the time to communicate with each other about our feelings on the matter. Here is an example of what a healthy dialogue might sound like:
Her: Why do you always want to hang out at your brother’s on Saturdays? When we were dating you used to want to spend time with ME, remember?
Him: My brother has a cool workshop in his garage. You have toenail clippings on your nightstand. Who would you want to hang out with? By the way, I don’t remember you wearing those barf stained gray sweatpants when we were dating, either.
Her: Well, maybe if you didn’t spend so much money on your disgusting pork rinds habit I’d have some money to buy nice clothes with.
I could go on, but you get the picture.
The Young Children Years: It’s Your Turn to Get up With The Baby – The key to winning this fight is to get really good at pretending to be in such a sound sleep that you don’t even hear the baby crying. Insisting that you need earplugs to get to sleep because of those pesky crickets is also a good tool. Be careful about using the old “I have to get up early” defense though, as it may provoke the next fight in your relationship:
The Middle Years: Who Works Harder – Obviously, I do.
And finally, The Later Years: What Did You Do With My Glasses? – This is the age old question that is usually followed by a sarcastic remark such as, “Have you checked your face?” It’s unfortunate that I have hit this stage of fighting well before my time. The other day, I called hubby on my cell phone while I was walking out of a store, when I suddenly panicked, telling him I had to run back into the store because I couldn’t find my phone anywhere….Yeah, I’m losing this fight.