The Theological Implications of Donuts and Dollars

Three Sundays ago, my kids had to serve the 8:30.  With the exception of when I'm feeling extraordinarily ambitious, these sorts of mornings, we do a split squad for mass.  I had some folders to drop off for people who would be working the Fall Festival so I took the early shift.  Unfortunately, in waking the three required children, another five got up.  I wasn't worried,  I knew some would hang back and opt to have breakfast with Dad.  Then I heard those little words that send chills down any Catholic's spine.  "I'm bringing my money to buy donuts." 

My six year old's conception of money is not yet fully formed.  He knows money is needed to buy things, he knows how to count money, he knows to save money for certain desired items.  However, he does not fully comprehend that once the money is spent, it doesn't exist anymore.  He also frequently loses his money by removing it for repeated viewing and counting.  Thus when he came bounding down the stairs announcing he would buy six donuts and a drink (I guessed roughly eight dollars worth from his talk), and his pocket jingled loudly, I sought to do damage control by pairing him with his oldest brother in the back seat.  "He can hold your money for you."  I explained.   He refused.

We loaded the car and not five minutes into the drive, there was a wail from the back seat.  "I've lost two dollars."  He began throwing the blanket, umbrella, and various miscellaneous bags of stuff around, searching madly.  His brother was trying to calm him down and pitching everything to the trunk as it was being tossed.  The rest of the ride to the church was not restful.  I tried reason. "The money is still here, it's just hidden."  No dice.  I tried chiding.  "I told you to put your coins in a wallet or let your brother or me hold it or..." but stopped because it only was making things worse.  I was right but so what?   I pointed out that we didn't NEED to buy six donuts and a drink, that he could still get his own drink and donut with what was left. 

None of this rational thinking did any good.  I parked and the altar servers disembarked.  I hoped the walk to mass would allow all of us to get into good working order for the morning.   But there was a low grumbling rumble from my six year old repeated over and over again like a mantra.  "I want my money.  I want my money. I want my money."  I told him he sounded like a bill collector.   He glared at me.  I didn't like pulling out the big guns but, "If you don't stop, we won't go downstairs for donuts."  

So then he squeezed my hand, "We should have kept looking.  We should have kept looking. We should have kept looking."

We got to mass.  I prayed things would settle down.  My son is usually pretty attentive or at least quiet during the times when silence is preferred.  The gospel talked about the woman losing one coin and sweeping her house until it was found.  "See?"  my son is looking at me with the "You-should-have-let-me-look-until-I found-it" justification in his eyes.   Vindicated by the readings, he settled for the moral victory of being able to boast after mass, "Mom should have listened to me." as he munched on a sprinkled donut and hot chocolate.  His siblings chipped in for the donuts for those left behind with Dad.

When we got home, he went to put his remaining change away and came back joyful, "Guess what?  I guess I forgot I didn't take all my money.  I found the other two dollars on my bed."   I made a mental note; no children bringing money to mass...ever...or at the very least, I'm going to crib the day's liturgy of the word before we get into the church.

The Fired Tooth Fairy

The tooth fairy was just offered a golden denture retirement package. She currently resides in Key West sipping frozen salted drinks and learning the words to every Jimmy Buffett song ever written, even the one about the mandolin. Her reason for quitting? Overwork.

My newly six year old daughter began losing her front first tooth about a week ago. At the announcement of the impending loss, I felt a surge of panic. She had been outside falling off her bike when her brother’s four year old head met her chin on the way down.

I know there are mothers out there with baby books where there is a drawing of the inside of a mouth with lines pointing to each tooth, and the date of emergence and date of departure have been dutifully marked. I am not one of them.

I racked my brain for the GPS of prior teeth she had lost without successful recall. Was this a baby tooth that had been loosened? All I knew for certain, was if I failed to get this checked, the tooth was a permanent one that could have been saved if only I had acted quickly. My motherhood neurotic tendencies run towards ruing the sins of omission.

We went to the dentist. My old dentist had moved to North Carolina that year, and as such the new one in the same office did not have records of my daughter’s mouth. So we took x-rays and I scheduled appointments for the top five for cleanings and check-ups. The receptionist nearly quit in the process. Meanwhile, my daughter played with the sink and enjoyed riding up and down in the chair. "I like the dentist." she said brightly. Relief came, it was a baby tooth. We just had to wait.

In the back of my head, a little nag that I often fail to listen to, suggested that a bit of preparation, maybe a visit to the bank or post office for some shiny coins might be prudent. Then it was time to fix dinner and I forgot all about such things. Meanwhile, my daughter worried that it would hurt, and gummed her food to allow her left central incisor to enjoy its final days of residence in relative leisure.

Six days later, my daughter came down the stairs early, bright eyed and announcing proudly her tooth had fallen out. She wanted everyone to see. We praised her bravery and placed the honored free ranging front tooth in a plastic bag. I put the bag over the microwave, a spot I would be sure to see in the evening and thus remember to put it under her pillow.

It was a rough day, full of long drawn out errands. My husband was overnight in another state for a business retreat. As such, I had collapsed on the sofa prematurely, visions of dental magical entities entirely out of my brain. My daughter had crashed early too, without so much as a bed time story.

When I woke her the next morning, she immediately checked under her pillow and began to sob. Desperation led to inspiration. I suggested she get washed up. I mentioned that I had fallen asleep on the couch WITH her tooth in the bag in my hand on the sofa. Perhaps we might find the tooth fairy’s gift under my pillow. My older daughter is very quick on the uptake and raced downstairs to check, assuring the six year old with uncharacteristic morning generosity that she could use the bathroom first that morning.

The sofa proved profitable for our kindergartener. Four shiny quarters in a baggie with a note. “Your mother left this under her pillow. She’s a bit old to be losing teeth. Love, T.F.” “Silly Mommy,” my gap tooth daughter grinned. “Yes,” my ten year old echoed, “Teeth are for kids.”

My substitute T.F. then later approached me privately about reimbursing her for the services with a slight gratuity for the trouble. I readily parted with an additional fifty cents and decided to subcontract out permanently.

Now, where’s my margarita?

*Originally run 4/11/2008 --as close as my kids are going to get to a scrapbook.  Run in honor of now six year old son who lost his first tooth yesterday while eating an apple.

Too Much Perspective

Comedy is stress with perspective.

A few weeks ago, we paid our quarterly taxes using a credit card so we could save the prerequisite amount of funds owed to Uncle Sam. Due to various fiscal issues, we found we would need a loan to cover the difference and immediately set about at that point filing the paperwork to get a loan from ourselves via our 401k. One would think that securing a secure amount of money from a secure place where the bank would be taking no risk would take almost no time. Not so. With four days left, we were feeling rather nervous about getting hit with the high interest rate for not paying our bill but the check arrived and off we went to the bank.

It was after five, so I used the ATM. No biggie right?

Wrong.

Biggie.

BIGGIE.

You see, if you deposit a check at a teller, the funds even if they are large, are available sooner. If you deposit a check via an ATM, the funds are held until the check is verified and scanned. Meaning, A deposit on Friday is not looked at until Monday and possibly not scanned until Wednesday. Bill due Monday. Check arrived Friday. We didn’t know this, but we weren’t worried as I intended just to wait for Monday and pay by phone.

Monday, I called my card billing number. I explain that I’d like to pay by phone and give the necessary information to “SET IT UP.”

Thinking about the check, I paused and said, “Wait a minute, let me call my bank on the other line to make sure the check has cleared before we authorize the full amount.” I’d already begun pushing buttons on my home phone. It was then the man said, “I’m sorry, you can’t change the amount. The charge goes through at midnight and once you gave me the information it cannot be rescinded, altered or denied.” and I began to gain perspective.

“But I didn’t say “Yes, that’s my final answer.” Shouldn’t you guys have a “Are you sure you want to do this before you give a warning shot that things can’t be changed?” “When you give the account information, that is tacit approval.” “What about explicit disapproval?” No answer.

“So basically, I’m going to get popped for the overdraft I didn’t yet authorize by you on money I do have which the bank doesn’t want to acknowledge, which will also get me popped by the bank.”

“Yes. But we're not unsympathetic, we’ll wave the late fee.”

After an hour of going round and round including an unpleasant point when I lost it completely and then wondered if the call being recorded would be broadcast on the news. "Woman sobs insanely on the phone for hours..." I finally persuaded him say he'd send an email to the banking department requesting a change. He suggested I call my bank to see if they would release the funds so all would be well. Not seeing an alternative solution, I hung up and called the bank.

Two years ago, I could have gotten a 100K home equity loan from a five minute phone call. Today, I cannot get the bank to link my credit card which THEY issued me to my account without a five day waiting period. It takes longer to get a loan than to gain approval to buy a gun. Meaning if I held them up, I’d get access to my money faster. I also decided spending too much time on hold is not healthy for one's moral compass.

The absurdity of not having access to actual money I had loaned myself so I could pay a bill which as a result would have me overdraft at midnight on funds the bank refused to acknowledge but which I actually had was making my head spin. I finally asked over the phone if the woman could see the absurdity of the situation. Instead of answering, she suggested I call back the credit card place.

Calling the credit card place again, the woman immediately said she’d file a report with the banking department for review. I decided not to complicate matters by saying that had already been done. Instead I asked to speak to the banking department. She said there wasn’t an actual banking department but that my request would be reviewed. I asked who would be the reviewer. She said she didn’t know but she’d filed a report. I asked who got the report she filed. She said she didn’t know but they’d look at it within 48 hours. I said could I talk to one of the people who looks at the reports but isn’t part of the banking department because it doesn’t exist but does the reviewing of the email reports for review because I only had 8 hours with which to work. She said no again. I asked for the supervisor. She said there wasn’t any but I could call back in a few hours to see if my request had been reviewed.

At this point I needed perspective. I called Mom.

She suggested going to the bank where I had a friend. Lugging three children into a place that likes business attire did not sound like fun but it was now 2 o’clock, I’d been at this since 10 and wouldn’t sleep that night if this wasn’t resolved in a way where I felt our assets were secure. The bank has all these signs that say “We’re here to help. To solve problems. Money at the touch of a button, at the end of a phone line.” I signed in to talk to the bank representative.

Clearly shaken by the pre-school set in his office, the man listened to my story and suggested I take my credit card to the teller, take out a cash loan from my card and use that to secure the necessary funds to prevent an overdraft that evening if the credit card made good on its promise. The interest would be 19.9% with a 4% transaction fee on top of that, meaning I could take out another loan on myself for a usury agreement to cover money I actually had until the bank agreed to let it go. “You don’t use a gun but…” I thought to myself and the tiny vindictive part of me was glad that my two girls had gone through three lollipops each and left the wrappers on their carpet. I privately hoped one of the suckers would get stuck to a wall or something. I left the bank and decided to call back the credit card company again.

This time, I got another woman and she said, “There have been several reports about your account. The change was put through.” And just like that, tragedy became comedy. Getting to the school for pick up, I visited with another mother telling her the whole story. She said, “You know, you made my day.” She’d in a hurry to get to her daughter’s pre-school because they charge 5 dollars a minute after the first ten minutes for pick up time and took a corner too quickly. My guess is they’re frustrated bankers. She showed me the side of her mini-van.

“I was worried about 25$.” She said.

The side of her door was crushed in at the bottom and unable to open. “Now, I have about a $2000.00 repair.”

“Did the pre-school still hit you with the fee?”

“No. And so I don’t mind the door as much.”

And I thought about all of it and how laughter is a state of profound grace that allows us to tolerate the intollerable, to endure suffering and struggling, minutia and big things with a poise that otherwise would not be possible.

Next time I'm going to laugh first. It's cheaper and way less stress.

Just a Second, Please.

The New York Post did a piece that explained how the current congress and our fearless leader have spent one billion an hour in the first fifty days. And all with no waste whatsoever! I know because the President and the government said so, so it must be true. Owning a calculator, I decided to figure out how much that translates to a minute and then a second.

At 277,777.77 per single second, 1,200,000,000,000 have vanished in less than two months. At current course and speed, if we survive the next four years and we still have 33,840 hours to go, we’ll pony up 33,840,000,000,000. What comes after a trillion? A Quadrillion. We’ll be talking about 33 Quadrillion. That’s….insane.

Now I know there are people out there saying “Pshaw.”
Of course we won’t get to a quadrillion.

We’ll be bankrupt first.

Our country is home to 350 million people. Using only what we have already spent, we could have given everyone $3,428.57 regardless of age, gender or immigrant status. Talk about a stimulus package! This home would have reaped $37,714.28 under that plan. I know it isn’t popular to say such things, but this President has spent more than any previous president…ever.

Maybe we could save time and some money by just asking the government “How much are we allowed to keep?” The argument has been put forth that while some people will suffer from these tax increases like small businesses and the like, these demands for money by the government are “for the greater good.”

Why doesn’t anyone ever admit these sorts of things are “for the lesser evil?” We’ll be unjust to you but it squares out because we’re being more than fair to more people than we are unfair. It’s just that since you had good things now, it’s okay if you take a bigger hit.

So, I’m worried for this country and I’m worried about fiscal responsibility. Saying, “The republicans were bad before me…” does not equal a defense. It's never worked in my house if one of my kids said, but my brother/sister was doing it first. That just means they're both in trouble. Memo to Democrats and the President: It’s part of why they were voted OUT of office. We wanted people to be fiscally responsible, like we have no choice but to be in our daily lives.

However, since we must suffer the reality that elections are not for another two years, I’d like to have just a second of the government’s time.

That will be two hundred seventy seven thousand seven hundred and seventy seven dollars and seventy seven cents please.

Here in Spamelot...X Marks the Spot

By the number of spam letters I get a week, I am quite certain the human population of Abidjab is -45,327. Nearly all of them died under horrific tragic and highly suspicious conditions. The remaining heirs to the residents of this woe be stricken province are bogged down in Probate court because none of these folks had the good sense to create wills.

From all the reports, it seems Abidjab is awash in diamonds, oil, Swiss bank accounts, mansions and unclaimed checks for six+figures waiting to be distributed. By my calculations, and I could be off by a few billion, there's enough surplus to eliminate this Nation's national debt, fund social security for the next seven eons, and eliminate taxes entirely.

These same fated unfortunately deceased exotic people left behind detailed instructions on how to reclaim their many magnificent sources of wealth. It is interesting to note that they knew ahead of time, the government of Abidjab would unjustly seize their assets. It's a bad evil, highly legalistic place that oddly enough, I haven't been able to find on Google Earth or Middle Earth for that matter.

Thankfully, the good souls, Mr. George Davies, Jennifer and Don Simpson, Mr. Adul, and Sir Nigel Righly, some of them lawyers for the dead, others the long lost seventh cousins twice removed or estranged family heirs, have taken upon themselves, to selflessly fight the power. With help, they'll see to it that the executives at the treasury, banks and other corrupt and unfeeling institutions that did these dasterdly deeds and probably bumped them off, do not get to keep their illegal ill gotten windfalls.

And all they need is help from someone caring.

How did they know I was such a kind and understanding person?

Sniff, sniff…It’s so true.

They knew they could trust me with this special secret because my name was whispered on the dying person’s lips. Apparently my family tree has some forks I didn’t know about.

Sure we never met, but he/she, it, they,… were a fan of my blog and knew my kind and understanding heart would leap at the chance to right a wrong and rid the world of a grave injustice while netting a tidy tax free 100K or more on the side.

All I need do is put myself out just a little bit, by providing a bank account, social security number, credit card and a mere handling fee of 10-55K per transaction.

Think of the Good I could Do!

If only I weren’t such a cynical creature.