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The Second Third, Week 11: Number-Crunched

/ J. Thorp / 4 Comments

Blogger’s Note: The whole idea behind these “Second Third” posts can be found here.

First, let me say that when I launched this Second Thirds thing, it wasn’t supposed to become the only thing I’m writing here. That’s not the intent, and I will get better about posting more.

On a somewhat related point, ever been so busy you get nauseous if you look more than a few hours ahead? Most of today I couldn’t remember what day of the week it was; I’m still not sure what day of the month it is; and I told people in my noon meetings that we needed to get started so I could get to my 11 o’clock appointment on time.

Which brings me to the point here: I’m terrible with numbers.

I was a good student in school, and math was no exception. Of course, my junior-high math teacher Mr. Thurston pointed out from time to time that my sister did better on timed tests than I did. But that’s no surprise, really: speed has never been a strength of mine, to the point that, when I was firming up my schedule for senior year of high school, I chose Physics over Typing — never mind my writing aspirations.

I’m a Word Guy, but now I fear it’s become a crutch. Jodi balances the checkbook and pays the bills. Jodi manages the calendar and orders the food. What do I do? I write eight-page Christmas letters. I haven’t had an actual math class since high school — I skated by with a couple of lab science courses. I’m a Word Guy.

The thing is, now I’m clueless. It’s not doing math that’s the problem anymore; I can’t remember numbers. Even ballpark numbers. Oh, I’m still the man of the house, and can throw a figure out there like it’s the Gospel, but increasingly my number are not grounded in anything resembling fact.

Case in point: last weekend, a friend asked how many Christmas trees we sold at the KC Christmas Tree Lot. Without hesitation, I said, “We bought 700, and sold all but 10 — we made $5,000 after expenses.”

He’s a math guy. He said, “You sold almost 700 trees, and you only cleared $5,000 profit?” Then he politely added, “Well, with expenses, maybe…”

I thought a moment. I could tell that he could tell the math didn’t work. Where had 700 come from? I racked my brain. No idea. If we had sold 700 trees to make $5,000, we would have made just…not even…not very dang much per tree.

“Uh,” I said, “I’m wrong. We didn’t have 700 trees. I have no idea where that number came from.”

I looked it up later. Closer to 250 trees.

Anyone can forget a number. But I swear, my father-in-law can look at cattle jogging by and estimate the worth of a herd based on the latest price per pound. My dad once solved an engineering problem his mentor was convinced would force him to learn trig, apparently by using arithmetic and common sense. My kids can estimate better than I can, as can Jodi.

I wracked my brain on the way home from work tonight and realized I remember how to do fractions and percents. But it took some doing. I need to exercise my numerical mind. In my Second Third, I should probably take over the checkbook or something. But don’t tell Jodi.

The Second Third, Week 10: The Big Payback

/ J. Thorp / 2 Comments

Blogger’s Note: The whole idea behind these “Second Third” posts can be found here.

When I left home for Yale, my folks left a cushion of money in my checking account. I’m thinking there was $150 of their money, hidden beneath the zero balance, in case I ever was in trouble and needed to come home. I never counted it as mine, so there was always $150 difference between my balance and the bank’s. My folks trusted me not to piddle it away, and I didn’t let them down.

Instead, I collected my suitemates’ empties and turned them in for the deposit, cleaned our bathroom (shared by seven of us) in exchange for pizza at Yorkside, and worked 20 hours a week to pay my bills. When one of my suitemates ran out of spending money and called his mother to yell at her, I was shocked. And when my roommate bought a new stereo, I set my little Sony dual cassette player aside and listened to his music. Even synthpop and show tunes.

I think it was my sophomore year that I “graduated” to a Visa with a strict credit limit — $500, I think, just for emergencies, my folks said. Again, I walked the line: at Thanksgiving, I got a hand-me-down Apple IIsi computer from my sister, and when I needed to crank up the Soundgarden, I could always go next door to our common room. The rest of the time, the little Sony would suffice.

Junior year, however, I roomed with two new guys, both fairly private, with no common room and no common stereo. They were out a lot, and I wasn’t…so the stereo bug bit. I’d been listening to the same little Sony since the Christmas after Ghostbusters II came out — I remember because I got the boombox (I use the term loosely) and Bobby Brown’s Dance!…Ya Know It on cassette, together, as it were. (And as everybody knows, that cassette had remixes of, among other things, the GBII soundtrack single “All On Our Own”…) I had worn out two Soundgarden Badmotorfinger cassettes, and couldn’t get enough volume to startle the squirrels outside my window.

It was an audio emergency. I needed a stereo. I deserved a stereo. And I’d totally pay it off in a matter of a couple of months. J&R Audio catalog and a Visa. Done deal.

I loved that stereo. I still have it, actually — it serves as a makeshift “theater” system in our basement family room. Did I pay it off in a couple months? Probably. Did I demote the Visa back to emergency-only duties? Nope.

The love bug bit next. I met Jodi at Wall Drug one summer, and decided to get engaged the next. Did I have money the ring? Nope. Did I have money for a down payment? A little…

I drove the length of the state to Sioux Falls to buy the ring I knew she liked — and they looked sideways at the fact that I had no permanent address (a student P.O. Box in Connecticut or Wall Drug?) and only seasonal employment. Finally they relented and said they would finance, but I’d need to put more money down.

This was my one shot. I called Citibank. They bumped my credit limit. I left with the ring.

We may still be paying for that ring. We’ve been in debt of some form or another ever since, and although we’re slowly digging out, it’s hard. Our furnace is dying, and it makes sense to replace the A/C at the same time — but that’s a few thousand dollars we don’t have in hand, plus my car’s acting up. What to do, what to do…

When I bought my first car from my dad, I got a loan. It wasn’t a big loan, but it was big enough for me at the time. I remember Dad saying, “They’ll make it easy for you. They want to loan you the money — it’s how they make money. And they want to loan as much as you can possibly pay back, even if it takes awhile.”

Especially if it takes awhile.

We’re trying to be smarter, and we keep chip-chip-chipping away at our debt. I’m looking forward to the big payback here in my Second Third: eliminating bills, saving our money, paying cash whenever possible as we move forward, and letting the kids know in no uncertain terms that there is no such thing as an audio emergency…even if your roommate is rocking to Erasure.

Rose Is Rose

/ J. Thorp / 2 Comments

If you look at the list of blog tags to the right (and down), you’ll see that “Rose” appears only about half as much as “Bren,” “Gabe,” or “Trev.” A number of factors contribute to this discrepancy, including the fact that Brendan and Gabe are both older and have thus had more opportunity to do blogworthy stuff; the Trevor was more recently a toddler and preschooler and thus was more prone to do cute kid stuff than any of the older kids; and that the boys spend more time with me than Emma does. She and Jodi get more one-on-one time by virtue of shared interests, etc.

One thing that hasn’t been a factor, because it simply isn’t true, is that Emma’s not as cute or funny or bloggable as our male children.

Case in point: today our girl-baby and I ran errands together. As we rolled into Elk River, she spotted Chipotle and hatched a plan: “Dad, why don’t we go to Chipotle and not. tell. anyone.“

“Emma!” I said in mock outrage. “That would be incredibly mean and selfish. Besides, I have to go home and make them supper tonight.”

“You have to make supper for them,” she persisted. “Nobody said anything about us.”

“No, Emma, I’m sorry — we can’t go to Chipotle.”

“Oooh! then how ’bout Pizza Hut? I want to toast a tortilla, then wrap it around a slice of cheese pizza and eat it!”*

“If we stopped at either place, that would really toast Mom’s tortilla.”

Emma laughed and laughed. “Next time I get mad, that’s what I’m gonna say: ‘That really toasts my tortilla!'”

“You can do it with other stuff, too.” I said.

And so we did: “That really browns my burger.” “That really fries my bacon.” And so on.

“Toasts my tortilla” and “browns my burger” are Emma’s current faves. I love that girl. And even though I mentioned the other kids in this post, I’m not tagging it that way. She needs to gain some ground!

—–

*This, by the way, was later dubbed the cheese pizzadilla or the quesapizzadilla.

Greetings From the North Pole, Part VIII

/ J. Thorp / 3 Comments

Blogger’s Note: Over Christmas 2003, we became annual pen-pals with an elf named Siberius Quill, and he has again delivered this year! Transcriptions of past letters from Quill can be seen here.

Christmas 2010

My dearest Children!

Another year flown by already—and as I sat down to write you this evening, the Keeper of the Birthday Calendar, Monitor Milestone, reminded me that not only do you have a Teenager in your midst, but also another child in Double Digits, as it were! We track such things carefully, because as you might guess, birthdays and other such Big Events are prime opportunities for Young Ones like yourselves to do good or ill. Happily, you all remain on the Good List again this year—believe me, not all my Families do so well!

But old Monty had a second purpose in mind with his reminder: while a decade is no time at all in the Life of an Elf, it is a Significant Step for the children of Big People and a boy’s role in the celebration of All Things Christmas. Why, it seems no time ago at all that I told Master Brendan he was of an age to take on New Responsibilities in that regard, and now Master Gabriel has joined him! As you’ve no doubt guessed, there are Things You Must Know and Thing You Must Do. In a quiet moment, talk to your Father, Master G.—he remembers his own Tenth Year well!

Master B., we’ve noticed the Shifts in your attention and interests this year from Play Things to stuff of a More Serious Nature. Though your house is not small, you are in Close Quarters with your siblings (at least one of whom is still Quite Small) so you cannot do or have everything you would like. Patience, Eldest! St. Nicholas knows your needs and has done something unusual this year—you will find somewhere in your gifts an opportunity to choose something a bit more Grown-Up. Use it wisely!

As for the lovely Emma Rose and young Master Trevor, it is a joy to watch you grow, in grace and wisdom, as well as stature. Miss Emma, your love of the Arts is apparent in all that you do! You might recall I previously mentioned our elfin Songmaster, Jovial Morales, who provides the music by which we elves do our work? His mother, Choral (who was a Longpiper before she married) has heard you with the Children’s Choir and (I hope you don’t mind!) singing about the house. For nearly a millennia she has conducted our church choir, so you can be sure she speaks the Truth: your voice is sweet and will only get sweeter. Madam Choral says keep practicing, and remember: When you sing, you Pray Twice!

As for you, Master T., as is typical for Boys Your Age (especially those with Big Brothers) you are always trying keep up. You’ll be happy with the gifts old Santa has prepared—but I urge you to Be Patient, as well. Enjoy being young, and do not rush into the games and toys of Older Kids!

Finally—and I will not dwell on Sadness, knowing you are reading this on Christmas Day, which, like no other day, must be a Time of Joy—we know of the loss your family suffered in November. Suffice it to say that our thoughts are with you. The Devout Sisters of Our Lady of Perpetual Winter have joined their prayers to yours, and I have it on good authority (theirs!) that your Dear One is in Good Hands! Master G., your idea of hanging a special stocking was a fine one, but Kris Kringle had a different idea. Each Christmas he will leave a Special Ornament to hang on your Family’s Tree, in remembrance. And this year, he has left Something Else, something from the Wood Shop—he thought it appropriate for your Back Yard, and requested Dorothea Gudwerds of the North Pole Library to track down a Special Poem by one of your Most Famous poets, Emily Dickinson (who, by her language, could have a touch of the fey and elfin in her own blood):

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune—without the words,
And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I’ve heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

Again I’ve run on and made Little Sense, it seems. But you see with the Wisdom of children—I’ve no doubt Some Sense will come of it. Travel safe, my young Friends, and a Very Happy Christmas to you all!

Yours Still and Always,

Quill

Blogger’s Addendum: Bren’s opportunity for something a bit more grown-up was a gift card to Cabelas; he’s had is eye on a variety of hunting knives, as well as an UnderArmor hood/facemask. The special gift from the wood shop was a bird feeder. In the spring we intend to do some landscaping back there, including a fruit tree and statue.