Shame On You, Paul Ryan!

Shame on you, Paul Ryan. You want to curb government expenditures, which will inevitably include social services to the most needy. To make up for it, private donors (including soft-hearted people like me) will have to give more to private charities to pick up the slack. So certainly you must support private philanthropy and give away sizable amounts of your own income, right? You profess Christian values, so certainly you at least tithe, right? Oh. No? You only donated 4% of your income to charity? After making $323,416 in 2011?

At least Romney gives more. But he's a Mormon, and rumor has it that the Mormon church checks your tax returns to make sure you're not shortchanging the church. Well, let's give him some credit, 16.4% is more than the 10% tithe that churches recommend. But when your income is in the millions, perhaps you can afford a few percentages higher than us lowly non-millionaires.

President Obama gave an impressive 14% of his income to charity in 2010. Way to go! But if you look at his giving before his tax returns became public for campaign purposes, his rate was between .4% and 4.6% across the years of 2002 to 2005. Hmmm, he wants bigger government to give more money to more people, but didn't believe in giving much of his own away until he know people were watching.

And how did you do, Joe Biden? Well, 1.6% in 2011 is better than nothing. Um, but you're in the public spotlight. And you still give less than the others.

SHAME ON YOU GUYS!

You all make way more money than the rest of us do, but you don't seem so generous with it. All of you propose policies that will take money from someone - either you're taking money from the middle class to fund social services, or you're taking money from the social services to give more to the middle class. So everyone feels like they're in danger of having to fork over their money to you. And you don't even do a good job of sharing your own?

Didn't you figure it out a few years back that you had the desire to be in public office? Surely you guessed that people would expect to see your income tax reports? And that they'd notice how tight-fisted you are?

Shame on you. And why should I trust any of you to spend my money wisely and compassionately if you don't do the same with your own?

UPDATE:
PS. I'm ruminating on the matter as I pack lunches, and the phrase "brood of vipers" keeps coming to mind...
If you are reading this and considering running for office, know of someone running for office, or just feeling like you need to start more charitable giving, consider giving to Ruth House. They take in homeless teenage girls, make them get an education and job training, and send them out into the world able to support their young families. Certainly this is a cause that gets bipartisan approval? Go out and give.

Time For A New Savings Account

The house is calm and peaceful this Presidents Day - it's just MeToo, the dogs and myself, and they're all napping. Ah, peace and quiet...


BestestHusband decided that today was the day he'd take HeyMama skiing for the first time. This hasn't been a great winter for skiing. It's been great for me - mild with barely any snow. But those aren't great ski conditions.  So they went somewhere close and cheap for a few hours of ski intro, and prayed they'd find something other than rocks on the ground. 


Of course, close and cheap are all relative. 90 minutes away is close for skiing. And I'm not sure what the grand total of the "cheap" is yet. But you don't start skiing to save money. You do it to find a reason to look forward to winter. 


I'm happy to stay home with MeToo. She's too young for skiing. And I'm just too ME for skiing.


Here's the thing: I know how to ski, I just don't like doing it. 


Everyone says, "Oh, if you'd just going skiing with ME, you'd have a good time!" No. No I won't. Lots of people tried. They all failed. BestestHusband is smart enough not to push the issue. He knows how I am about cold. And being physically out of control. And constantly battling gravity and my under-developed sense of balance. 


It's not an issue of not knowing how. Growing up, my father was a chaplain at a large university in Houston. Every year, we'd drive a few van-loads of college students to New Mexico to go skiing. We'd all sleep on the floor at a local church and spend our days on the ski slopes. It was fun. I took lessons. I was pretty good. I did the hard slopes. I just didn't love it. And as I've gotten older, and less-tolerant of cold, and less-tolerant of being out of control and off-balance, I love it less and less. 


Some people say, "Oh, if you just buy the right type of gear, you won't get cold. You'll have more fun." But I haven't yet found the ski bubble that prevents any of my skin from being touched by cold. Or the gloves that distribute a burst of heat to my left middle finger that turns white after 5 minutes in temperatures under 45 degrees. When that technology is reasonably-priced, let me know. I'll reconsider my stance on skiing. 


Until then, I suspect we'll be a skiing family. I'll be happy to have the girls not inherit my dread of winter. Well, BestestHusband and the girls will be the skiing family. I'll be the spa-ing part of the family. Time to start saving those pennies...

My Days as a Trophy Wife

Allright, no one looking at me would confuse me with a true trophy wife. Just LOOK at me! My hair’s pulled back in a pony tail, I’m wearing old yoga pants (J.Crew circa 1999), an old t-shirt from some run I did with a friend in 2002 (thanks Rebecca Salama!), herding children dressed in head-to-toe hand-me-downs (thanks Jen Hartmann!), and driving a “pre-owned” Honda CRV. I’m hardly fit for a season of Real Housewives of Boston.

But a few times a week I FEEL like a trophy wife. I leave my children with the “staff”, go to the gym, watch the Food Network, take an uninterrupted and leisurely shower, and walk out of the gym with a glow and a smile. Hair flowing in the wind… ok, no, that’s just the TV show. My hair’s still drying, and a little frizzy. But I feel like a million bucks. And mildly guilty for being so indulgent…

Living in Boston on one income, we count our pennies. Life is expensive here, even with good jobs. BH got his PhD from a highly geeky and highly regarded local institution. And got a great job right out of grad school with other highly-regarded geeks. You’d think that it would make a difference. But alas, we penny-pinch. So the idea of spending money on a GYM MEMBERSHIP seemed a little extravagant. But the prospect of another dark cold winter drove me to NEED it. I’ll work extra Saturdays. Please, please, please, I just need a little exercise and free babysitting a few days a week!

And so we bit the bullet. And like my friends had insisted all along (yes Jenny, you were right), it really is totally worth it. I’m less cranky with the girls, my ability to push the double stroller up hills has improved, and a few times a week I get to feel like a trophy wife. It still feels a bit extravagant. But every trophy wife deserves a bit of extravagance now and then. Right?