Home Economics

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A few weeks ago, the Husband and I had the brilliant idea to have the kids do extra jobs around the house and earn money to buy each other presents for Christmas. Since we knew we'd be shelling out the cash anyway, it seemed so much smarter to get three little slaves helpers out of the deal as a bonus.

Seemed being the operative word here.

Day one of their bondage helping began. I wanted them to really feel that they earned the money. I wanted to instill in them the joy of giving, as well as the pride in doing a job well done. I started assigning little tasks for them to do. After each one was completed, they would come to me and ask how much that job had been worth. I started out very low - one job was worth ten cents. Another was only a quarter. A really big gross job (like cleaning their bathroom) was worth a mere fifty cents.

It took them all about two hours each to earn their three dollars per person (which was the goal for each day).

The translation of that last sentence is really this: They were constantly up in my face, bugging and nagging, for two hours each, while I had to wrack my brain and come up with new jobs for them to do. It got annoying. Real fast.

I'm a cleaner, people! There isn't that much to do around here in the first place.

Over the next few days, the value of the jobs increased exponentially. What was once worth ten cents was now a whopping one dollar. The unpleasant chores became easier for them as the value attached to that chore increased. I found myself paying them to brush their teeth and make their bed. Anything, ANYTHING that was quick, easy, and required no thinking on my part.

And just yesterday, when one child was at my side once again, asking what job could she do, I told her to think of one herself and tell me once she had done it.

She skipped off very excited, naturally.

I am not sure that the lessons they've gleaned from this plan are the ones that the Husband and I had originally dreamed of.

[I fully blame my poor management style, and lack of motivation for the project.]

Essentially what happened in our little experiment was this: The workers in this warehouse are really doing the job of the manager. The actual manager is hiding out in her office shopping online and blogging, praying that no one in her factory needs a thing from her, while writing out paychecks for work she is not sure was actually completed. She has no quality control department and does not want to take on the responsibility of that herself, so all work remains unchecked at this point. The chairman of the board (aka The Husband) is not told what's really happening in his company, and there is an unspoken agreement between all the employees to keep it that way for as long as possible.

I'd say I've taught them about corporate America quite well.

God bless capitalism.

Inspiring others through my greatness

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My brother Dan left a few comments on my post yesterday, which you really ought to click over and read (I think they're his best yet). He was greatly touched and inspired by the photo of the iPod resting gently in the sunshine. He said he could almost hear the soft music coming from the ear buds. He felt the human emotion that emanated from such a simple, profound work of art.

[Trying not to gag on my self-proclaimed importance here.]

In honor of that, I present you with a little iPod photo series. Shot and edited today just for my dear brother Dan. I felt that if the iPod was inspiring to him in such a simple presentation, then seeing the more complex life of an iPod would only lift him higher and higher.

And that is what I do, people. I inspire greatness.

Without further adieu, I give you the many faces of iPod. May it help to inspire you, as you set your own iPod down on the kitchen table of your life.












There. Wasn't that something?

You're welcome.

A conversation from last week that still makes me laugh

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HIM: Now tell me again where you're going?

ME: I'm going to a cookie exchange.

HIM: What exactly is a cookie exchange?

ME: Well, dear, as the name implies, everyone shows up with cookies, and we exchange them with each other. You know, a cookie EXCHANGE?

HIM: So, does that mean you'll be bringing other people's cookies home with you?

ME: That is the general idea.

HIM: Why would I want to eat anyone else's cookies? That's like having an affair with a really ugly woman.
_______________________

[By the way, he did end up eating other people's cookies. Should I be on the lookout for an ugly girlfriend now?]

In which his words come back to haunt him, beat him, and kick him where it counts

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Today we were driving to church, and the familiar banter between siblings filled the air. Elbows were dug jovially into rib cages. Treasures were held out just slightly farther than little hands could reach. Shoving ensued, and was promptly followed by the unavoidable, yet completely annoying, tattle.

"MMMOOOOOMMMMMM!!!!!!"

All this before we were even out of our neighborhood.

So, in an attempt to find a little peace in my heart on the sabbath, I put on a CD, and declared that the car was now a talking-free zone. The Husband raised his eyebrows quizzically when the opening number of Joseph filled the air.

I shrugged my shoulders, and proceeded to lose myself in Donny's melodic, "Any Dream Will Do."

Then, in a flash of brilliance, I announced that we would be watching Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat tonight for family night.

Groans immediately filled the air.

[And they all came from the Husband.]

His protests were naturally matched by those of his boys. I was preparing to dig in my heels for battle, when suddenly, from the back seat, a tiny little girl voice spoke up.

"But, Dad, aren't we supposed to be flexible and try new things?"

His very words to them less than 12 hours before, when a plate of foreign-looking food was placed in front of them, had now come back to haunt him. I smiled sweetly, awaiting his reply.

I'm pretty sure that grunt and roll of the eyes was his surrender.

And so tonight we all watched Joseph. Two of us loved it; three of us didn't. Any guesses who loved it?

Although, how anyone could not love this is beyond me:



[Note to self: Must stop posting pictures of half-nekkid men on the blog. Eh, maybe tomorrow. This is just too delicious. And it's about the Bible, after all. How wrong can that be?]

Having my cake and eating it, too

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On a post I wrote a few days ago, Calibosmom left me a comment that really got me thinking.

She wondered if it would be possible to have James Bond AND the chocolate cake together in one place.

I figured that was the epitome of having your cake and eating it, too. Which I am most fond of in any way, shape, or form.

So, I rolled over and asked James what he thought. This was his response:

Which we did.

After we burned down a hotel in the desert, and saved the water supply for Bolivian villages everywhere, of course. We spent a lovely few weeks on his yacht and private island together. He had called in sick to his boss, M, which basically left the entire world unprotected.

I didn't mind, though.

Because, as James said, I was looking a little too thin. What with four days of thanksgiving food fully packed with butter and sugar. I needed some tending to, you know, me practically wasting away and all.

But, alas, I had to leave James and go on a series of press junkets for my other movie.

Yes, it's been a busy year for the little Stie.
I know a lot of you didn't like it. But hopefully the next ones will be better for you. We're hoping to have a lot more money this time, and actually be able to pay someone to do our makeup. We had to do a bit of it ourselves, as you can see. But it's been great to be here with Edward. He doesn't like to let me leave his side for a moment. If I'm not right there with him, he sneaks into my bedroom at night and watches me sleep.

Which is not at all creepy. Or stalkerish.

Finally, after all my press conferences, interviews, and parties were over, I flew home to be with my one and only true love:

He missed me a lot.

Don't we make a handsome couple?

We get that all the time.

I know you're totally jealous. Don't be stealing my imaginary boyfriends now. As you can clearly see, they belong to me.