ING Savings Rate and Other Ramblings

ING, Debt, and Savings

Well, ING Direct dropped their rate for their Orange Savings Account yet again. This time to 1.490% APY (1.50% APR). So, my money is now working a lot less hard for me than it was before.

Still, it’s way better than my brick and mortar bank’s rate (currently 0.05%), and our emergency fund money is safe there, so I’ll keep slowly piling up money there every week.

Also, with savings account rates so low right now, it’s a great time to pay off debt. Do it, do it, do it. Make sure you keep a bit of a cash cushion in savings, but don’t be afraid to pound out some debt right now.

We don’t currently carry any debt (aside from the house), but my student loans used to be at a fixed rate of 3.375% APR. When ING Direct was giving me 4.5% APY on my savings, it made sense to put money into savings, rather than pay off debt. Essentially, we made more money on interest on the savings than we paid in interest on the loan. Now, even with the student loan interest tax deduction, it makes more sense to pay off the loan.

If you’re on the fence about paying off some debt, DO IT. I can’t tell you how calming it feels not to have worry about car payments, credit cards, or other debt.


Insurance Coverage

In other news, we’ve finally completed the finalization of our bills from the hospital for our most recent trip. The hospital charged the insurance company over $16K for my wife and over $4K for the baby, but thankfully we were responsible for much, much less. It was interesting to see just how inflated the charges from the hospital were and how much they'd actually accept from the insurance company. Examples? You betcha.

My wife's stay: $16,757.40. Insurance paid just $4,261.84. I paid $1,065.46. So, basically the hospital wanted almost $17K, but only got a little over $5K. Ridiculous.

The epidural: $3,280. Insurance paid just $880. I paid $220.

Baby's stay: $4,261.84. Insurance paid just $1,032.24. I paid $258.06.

It's crazy to me that the hospitals are willing to write off so much money (and charge so much to begin with). I know the reasoning behind it all, but I don't want to get into it right now. Suffice it to say, the way we handle insurance is stupid (and no, universal healthcare would make it worse, not better). Maybe that'll be another post some day.


Friends and Food

Since the birth of our son, we’ve had loads of people over to visit and especially to bring us food. Before Baby was born, I kind of poo-pooed the idea of everyone bringing food to us, thinking that I’m still more than capable of putting together a meal for us every night. But, I’ll definitely admit that it’s pretty nice having something in the refrigerator or freezer that just needs to be heated. I wouldn’t have believed it before, but it’s a little difficult sometimes to find 30-45 uninterrupted minutes to put together a nutritious meal. We’ve been very fortunate to have such wonderful friends and family, especially ones that can cook!

YFNN

I Wanna Be a Mean Parent

When I was a child, my parents were mean. Horribly mean. And, I hope that I will be just as mean as they were.

My parents weren't physically, emotionally, verbally, or psychologically abusive. That's not the kind of "mean" that I'm talking about.

When other kids had Oreos and ice cream for breakfast, we had to have eggs, toast, or cereal. When other kids had Pepsi and chips for lunch, we had sandwiches and carrots. While other kids had pizza and cake for dinner every night, my mean parents gave us healthy meats, potatoes, vegetables, and fruits. My parents were mean when it came to food.

We were required to be clean and wear clean clothes; other kids could wear the same clothes for days. We had to have normal, appropriate haircuts; other kids were allowed to be rebellious with their hair. We had to look “presentable.” Since I'm the oldest of their three children, I didn't have to wear hand-me-down clothes, but my mean parents made my brother and sister wear my old-but-still-good clothes, just to save money for other things like college. Can you imagine?

Our mean parents gave us bedtimes. And we had to stick to them! While other kids got to sleep until noon on the weekends and have no responsibilities, my parents completely disregarded child labor laws and gave us chores to do before we could play. We had to help with the dishes, set the table for meals, and keep our toys picked up. It was like they dreamed up chores for us to do in their sleep! Where did they come with these unreasonable expectations?!

Once we were in school, things got even worse. We had to walk to the bus stop, about a block away, for junior high and high school. Even in the rain and when it was cold. Other kids got to sit in their parents’ fancy car, even on nice days, avoiding the unrestricted socialization with the kids besides us with mean parents.

My brother, sister and I weren't allowed to be "sick" like our friends and miss school. Some other kids could stay home by themselves when they had a headache, hangnail or other critical ailment. Not us. In fact, I can distinctly remember my mother saying "You're not sick, you just have a cold. Get up and go to school." We never got pulled from school to go on vacations. "That's what summers are for," we were told.

They were mean about our grades, too. While other kids celebrated Cs and Ds and just passing classes, my parents accepted nothing less than As and Bs. Somehow they knew that if we got anything less, we weren't really trying. They had us figured out. They were actually involved in our education. They kept tabs on major projects, annoyed us about completing our homework, and constantly asked if we needed help. We were expected to speak properly, and write even better. It was horrible. Come graduation time, none of us were allowed to drop out and we were expected to go to college. Just awful.

Our mean parents made us go to church every week. We couldn't skip and stay home like some other kids. We weren't allowed to wear jeans or shorts and we had to look presentable. We had to pray, participate, and pay attention in our Sunday School classes and during the service. Unlike some of the other kids, we weren't allowed to climb on the pews, make noise, or fall asleep. It was completely unfair.

When we were older, my mean parents insisted on knowing where we were at all times. They had to know where we were going, when we were getting back, and who we were going with. If plans changed, we were required to call. If we were late, we had some explaining to do.

They set rules and boundaries for the three of us. They knew how to say "no" and weren't afraid to do so. Their "no"s were uncompromising and there was no negotiating the standards of behavior that were expected. Even if they didn't totally agree with everything, they worked as an unwavering team to set the bar high and expect the best from us, always.

Somehow, their mean-ness worked. All three of us grew up to be well-adjusted, polite and well-spoken. None of us have been arrested or talk like Valley Girls. We all hold college degrees (one of us, multiple!) and are now successful on our own. They taught us to be tough, smart, and strong. None of us are entitlement-minded or dependent on anyone or anything. We grew up to be honest, God-fearing, and self-motivated. And, we owe it all to our horrendously mean parents.

Now, with a child of my own, I hope to set the same mean standards and expectations. I can only hope to be as mean a parent as they were. I can’t wait to use one of my favorite phrases, “You’re not sick, you just have a cold,” and I can guarantee you that I will be filled with pride when my child finally calls me "mean."

So, if you're reading Mom and Dad, thanks for being so darn mean.

YFNN

Cool Things I Learned About Childbirth

If you've got a thing about blood, poop, or medical stuff, you may want to skip this post. Seriously.

As I stated in the previous post, I was heavily involved in the birth of our son about two weeks ago. I asked lots of questions, got as close as they'd allow, and kept involved as much as possible. I learned a tremendous amount, and had a great time on my little science-y field trip to the labor and delivery room with my wife. Here's just some highlights:

• Contractions are surprisingly consistent and predictable, both in frequency and magnitude. I loved the live data that the monitors were able to acquire regarding heart rate, blood pressure, and the contractions.
• Internal heart rate monitors (for the baby in utero) are actually screwed into his scalp when it's visible through the vagina. Like a tiny fishhook.
• The baby's first poop is actually meconium and is from swallowing amniotic fluid and such.
• Babies can have their first poop in utero. This can cause some problems immediately after birth, so the uterus is flushed out with clean fluid during delivery.
• Once the baby's head is out, things move pretty quickly. No, I take that back. Darn near instantly.
• Babies are sometimes born with splotches of vernix on them, which is a waxy, protective gunk. It kind of looks like soft, white cheese.
• Umbilical cords are much thicker than I thought and when you cut it, it feels like you're cutting rubber tubing.
• After the rest of the umbilical cord and placenta are delivered, you have to inspect the placenta to ensure that all of it made the trip out. Small pieces left inside are dangerous.
• The placenta and umbilical cord pulsate a bit after they're out. Yes, it's as creepy as it sounds.
• If the doctor decides that an episiotomy is needed, they're quick and precise with the scissors. If you blink, you miss it.
• There are different levels of tearing, one to four. Level two isn't bad.
• They put antibacterial gel on the baby's eyes shortly after birth to prevent infection.
• Babies sometimes come out with fine hair on their back and shoulders called lanugo. It falls out after a little while.
• There's a slick little tool that's used to perform the circumcision of newborns. It makes it darn near impossible to mess up. It even comes in different sizes. :)

All in all, it was a very educational trip.

YFNN

My Really Good Reason

It’s been a while since I posted, and I have a really good reason, I promise.

On Monday, February 9th, my lovely wife gave birth to our perfect baby boy. As a first-time father, I can tell you that it was absolutely unbelievable on so many levels.

First, I thought I was prepared mentally and thought that I understood what it would feel like to be a father. I wasn’t. Not even close.

As soon as he was born, I cried. When I held him for the first time, I cried. When I changed his first diaper and held his little hand, I cried. Even now, over a week later, I look into his tiny eyes as I hold him and just cry tears of joy. I was completely unprepared and I don’t think I could have ever fully understood before it happened.

Second, I learned that my wife is probably the strongest woman I have ever met. I had no idea that she had it in her. She was absolutely incredible. To see the anguish and effort that she went through was absolutely amazing. She was a trooper. She was WonderWoman. I will never forget her toughness she showed through 18 hours of labor and over two hours of pushing. She was completely inspiring and now carries an ever greater air of self-confidence and strength. I love what this baby has done to her.

With the touch-feely, decidedly un-manly stuff out of the way, I have to say that from a nerdy point of view, the birth and subsequent few days was awesome. I’m not one to shy away from questions or interactions, so it was like a big science-y, medical vacation for me. I learned about epidurals, meconium, and contractions. I learned how the contraction monitors work, how internal heart rate monitors work, and the whys and hows of the birth of a child. I got to see the first glimpse of my son’s head, and hear his first cries. I got to cut his umbilical cord and help with APGAR scoring. Not being one to turn down a science-y opportunity to learn hands-on, I learned about the afterbirth and the delivery of the placenta (much to my wife’s chagrin).

On the day after my son was born, I asked many questions to the pediatrician, and even got to help with circumcision. While it sounds a little disturbing, it was awesome.

I was lucky that the doctors and nurses we had were so friendly and open to questions. I’m sure they don’t get too many people like me, so I’m glad they were so willing to share their knowledge and allow me to get a little closer than most probably dare.

After being involved every step of the way, I can assuredly say that the birth of a child truly is nothing short of a miracle.

YFNN















(Isn't he cute?)

This Ain't Calculus

My wife is due in less than three weeks. Less than 21 days.

Yikes.

To say that I’m personally unprepared is an understatement. Now, don’t’ get me wrong here. I’m an engineer by trade, so preparation and organization is what I do. Our checklists are completed, items have been purchased and assembled, and the closet is stocked with diapers. I’m confident that our home, nursery, and all the required “stuff” is ready to rock (likely overly-ready-to-rock). Stuff-wise, I feel like we could bring home half a dozen babies and not need to buy a thing, but mentally, that’s a different story.

I’m usually calm, collected, and practical. I plan, I rehearse, and when the time comes for most things, I’m sure I can deliver. I’m the kind of guy that rehearses presentations and buys adequate life insurance. I’m confident. I perform well under pressure. That’s why this baby is beating me up. Sure, I’d like to think that I’m mentally prepared for this kid, and I think I do a pretty good job of convincing my wife that we should feel comfortable and ready (and we should!), but deep down I know that I’m personally not even close. What’s worse is that I know even with infinite planning, I'll never be totally prepared and that scares me. I’m not used to that at all.

It’s just that the consequences seem so extreme to me. If I botch a presentation or mess up at work, it’s fixable. If I bang up the car or burn down the house, they’re replaceable. But with this kid, I get one shot to get it right. No do-overs. No mulligans. If I mess him up, it’s permanent. Not only for my wife and I, but for the rest of his life too. That’s absolutely terrifying.

I’ve got the mechanics down. I know how to change a diaper; I know how to operate the carseat. I know how to carry him and I know what to look for when he’s ill. But, how do I know what to say and when to say it? How do I know what to teach and how to teach it? What if I teach him the wrong thing? What if I’m already out-of-touch with today’s kids? How do I even know if I mess up?

This is way out of my comfort zone. I like well-defined answers. Every calculus problem has one correct answer. One. Every design has one optimum. One. Every manufacturing process has one maximum efficiency. One. With this baby, there isn’t one answer, and that unbelievably frustrating.

I need a single solution. An optimum. A perfect plan of what to do and when to do it. It’s pretty obvious I’m not going to get it.

Maybe this is why I hated all those liberal arts classes in college; I need a right answer.

As always, any and all advice would be appreciated.

YFNN

The Great Closet Adventure, Part Two

I wanted to make sure that the closet I designed was efficient, functional and most importantly, flexible. I wanted the ability to move shelves and rods around as our closet needs changed and evolved. To me, this meant that everything needs to be installed on standards. (standards are the vertical beams that brackets attach to). That would allow anything to moved up and down in approximately 1.5" increments.

Flexible. So, I started installing the standards I had purchased on every stud in the room. All told, I installed 22 seven-foot standards. When I was done, looked a bit like a prison, with white bars even spaced every 16 inches.

Next, I referenced my parts list and double checked some measurements. Then I started cutting my shelves to length. The shelves I purchased were heavy-duty ClosetMaid shelves that were 12 inches deep and had an integrated hanging rod for clothes on hangers. Even though they were available in 4, 6, and 8-foot lengths too, I purchased the 12-foot lengths to reduce cost. I had a cut sheet drawn before I shopped, so I knew exactly how many lengths to get and how much waste I would have. I pulled out my DeWalt sawzall (my favorite power tool) and got to cutting the shelves to the correct length.

As I cut them one-by-one, I wiped them down and installed the plastic end caps to cover the rough ends. Then I moved the upstairs and installed them on the brackets in the standards. Before long, everything was cut and installed. I made some minor adjustments to the shelf heights and lengths, and at the end I was left with a total of only 18" of scrap shelf, in three pieces. Not too bad.

We spent the rest of the day putting the clothes back in and sorting and re-organizing my wife's clothes. When we were finished, we had gained about 7 linear feet of hanging space and another 12 linear feet of shelf space. We were able to get all of her clothes and all of my clothes in, and still space left over. Efficiency is beautiful.

My wife was amazed. Not only was there more room, but everything was still easily reachable and organized. I was referred to as the "closet magician" the rest of the weekend.

All in all, it was a lot of work, but the wife is happy, the baby has a closet, and I don't have to trek to the basement to retrieve my khakis in the morning. Complete success.

YFNN

The Great Closet Adventure, Part One

I lost my closet.

My closet has been taken over by an unborn child. You see, when my wife and I married, I got the closet in the spare bedroom upstairs for my clothes. The large walk-in closet in the master bedroom was inefficient and, um, full. My little closet was tight, but adequate. I even built some shelves to better utilize the top space above the hanging rods. Even though I had to go to a different bedroom to retrieve my clothes in the mornings, all was well and we were happy with our closet space.

However, when we found out that my lovely wife was pregnant, the spare bedroom upstairs was quickly deemed "the nursery'. At first, I thought "No problem. Baby clothes are tiny and don't need hung up anyway. My closet is safe." Boy, was I wrong. Through the nesting process (learn about that bit of fun here), I was firmly informed that baby clothes are indeed hang-able and will take up a lot of space. They even sell baby clothes hangers, which are basically miniature versions of adult hangers at higher prices, but apparently they're very important. Ask me how I know.

Anyway, I was also informed that under no circumstances was I to enter the nursery every morning at 4:30am to retrieve my clothes. So, I was ousted from my closet and had to come up another solution. The basement bedroom was out (too far), the office closet upstairs was out (full of office-y stuff), and the coat closets downstairs already house, well, coats.

So, that left me with reorganizing and increasing the space efficiency of the master bedroom walk-in closet. So this weekend, we set off on that task.

The master bedroom closet is a pretty big space, although oddly-shaped. The existing shelves and rods were installed by the previous owner and were in rough shape. They were the cheapest plastic-coasted wire shelves you could buy, supported by plastic wall hooks and flimsy sheet metal brackets. Nothing was screwed into studs, but used plastic wall anchors in drywall. Many shelves had started to droop and the anchors were starting to pull out of the drywall. To top it off, it was ridiculously inefficient. All the shelves were hung at approximately eye-level, leaving a three-foot space of unused space above them, and another 2 foot space underneath the clothes that hung off them.

Since the closet was already full of my wife's clothes, belts, and shoes, there was absolutely zero space for my items. Add that to the near-dangerous hardware, and it was clear that I needed to rip everything out and start over.

On Friday (I only work four days a week...more about that later, I suppose), we moved all of her clothing to a couple of portable closets and out of the way. Then we spent the remainder of the day removing the existing shelving.

Apparently, the previous owners were not engineers. Nor were they efficiency experts or likely even high school graduates. What they were, however, is lazy. Complete home improvement hacks. They were the type of folks that wire light sockets backwards so you get zapped with you change a lightbulb. Or the kind that add lights to the garage by looping wires over existing wires and just taping them up. Dangerous home improvement hacks.

As I stated, not a single screw in the closet was screwed into a stud. Screws were either screwed directly into the drywall (which means they did essentially nothing) or used plastic wall anchors of varying sizes. What's more, no less than eleven different screw sizes and types were used. Eleven! Apparently whatever they had laying around sufficed. They ranged from 2" deck screws to 4" wood screws and even some machine screws. Some had flat heads, some had round heads. Some required a Phillips screwdriver, some required a flathead. Some of the brackets were even secured with nails pounded into wall anchors.

Yep. Nails.

When we were finished removing the old stuff, I was left with an empty room with 64 holes the drywall ranging from 1/8" (screws directly into drywall) to 1/2" (BIG plastic wall anchors). Did you see that? Sixty-four holes. None of which lined up with a stud. Zero. I can't believe the whole system didn't collapse under the weight of Wifey's stuff.

So, I used an entire small container of putty and patches and got to work. Four hours later, everything was spackled, dry, sanded, and smooth. Since the putty matched the paint, it didn't even look too bad. I took some measurements of the room and grabbed my green engineering grid paper (yep, I'm a dork).

I made scale drawings of the room from all angles and optimized the space available with the parts I knew were available at our local hardware store. Before long, I had six scale drawings of the closet from varying angles with every shelf, rod, bracket and standard in place, along with a complete parts list.

90 minutes, $700, and one scary car trip later, I had every piece of hardware needed laid out in the garage. I set up my WorkMate (which are awesome) as a portable vise and went to bed. The rest would be tackled in the morning.

More later...

YFNN

I Think My Dog is Trying to Kill Me

My dog, cute and wonderful as he is, is trying to kill me. Or at least watch me sprawl on the ground in pain.

You see, he's got this thing where he needs to be precisely where I am at all times (unless he's actively trying to kill my wife by the same means at that moment in time). When groceries are being brought in from the car and put away, he's in the doorway to the kitchen. When dishes are being done, he's between me and the dishwasher. When I'm on the couch, he insists on laying on the floor where my feet will go when I get up. When I get out of the shower, he's there.

[Aside: Personally, I think he likes seeing me naked, but doesn't want to admit it. Every time I catch him looking at me right out of the shower, he does this thing where as soon as we make eye contact, he looks away and pretends he didn't notice me there. ]

Fortunately for me (and him) my cat-like agility (do you smell burning pants?) allows me to maneuver around him most times, avoiding a loud and likely painful trip to floor. My little hop, hop, big step, shuffle usually prevents me from stomping on him as he lays unwavering on the floor. If, by chance, I do happen to clip his tail or leg while dancing around him, he sits up, looks at me all appalled, like I'm the a-hole. Um, you're the one laying under the footrest of the recliner, jerk.

I'm pretty sure his preferred method of attempted murder is the stairs. As I approach the top of the stairs (to go down), he will actually wait behind me until I'm on the second or third step before he tries to rush past in an attempt to send me to my clumsy demise. If I happen to walk down the stairs after him, he'll try too. I'll be going along at a pretty good clip right behind him and he will suddenly stop. Just BAM! Stop. And I have to grab onto the wall to keep from going ass over melon over him and down the stairs.

So, if any of y'all ever find me dead at bottom of the basement stairs and Dempsey with an aloof-yet-guilty look on his face, you'll know really happened.

[Aside #2: Yes, that's him at the top of this post, there. Can you see the demons in his eyes? And yes, as his shirt states, he is indeed "bossy beyond belief".]

YFNN

Third Trimester Thoughts

My lovely wife is in the third trimester of her pregnancy (I won't even attempt to say our pregnancy...I'm not doing anything compared to her). On the general schedule of growing humans from scratch, that means she's just about finished. A couple more months, and we'll have a living, breathing, helpless person relying on us for everything. A bit scary.

The baby inside her apparently isn’t too well-versed on concepts like "day" or "night", so he'll kick whenever he damn well pleases. What this means is that wife never knows when she's going to get a swift kick to the spleen or bladder, usually resulting in a groan, moan, or grunt. Could be during a lovely dinner at a lovely Italian restaurant like Luce, or in the middle of a deep sleep. Baby doesn't care; he just knows he's gotta stretch out a bit.

Alien kicks. What's interesting to me (and uncomfortable to her) is that no longer can you only feel the kicks when you place your hand on her belly, you can actually see them. It not unlike that scene in the alien movie when the guys chest bulges and pulsates right before the alien busts on out. There have been times when I would swear that I saw the outline of a foot pushing on her belly from the inside. It's disturbing actually.
Pee. Every day is all about peeing for her. Before we leave the house, she pees. When we get to the restaurant, she pees. Before we leave, she pees. Getting showered and dressed sometimes requires up to three pee breaks. Even just making it through the night with only two pee breaks is a huge exercise in willpower and endurance. Fortunately, (and maybe I'm assuming too much here) all of the pants she wears now are stretchy and without buttons and zips...even the jeans. I would certainly think that would help drop the events down on the "pain in the rear scale".

Nesting. I had no idea. Seriously, no idea. The instinct to prepare is absolutely unbelievable. Suddenly, walls need painted, furniture needs moved, carpets need cleaned, closets need sorted, and there are constant ambiguous references to "getting ready." She's still got 8 weeks to go, and I'm already getting interrogated about packing for the hospital.

Emotions. It's like someone took her emotion output and amplified it ten fold. When she laughs, she laughs until she has tears in her eyes and her stomach hurts. When she cries, it's for silly reasons, and is as intense as I've ever seen. Certain foods make her dance in her seat, and disappointments crash her for the entire day. A rollercoaster? You betcha.

Words. This is probably the part that has shocked me the most. My wife has completely lost her grasp on the English language. Like a toddler with a 100-word vocabulary, she can never seem to find the right words to convey what she's trying to say. Ridiculous substitutions are common, and I'm usually at a loss to understand what she means. Usually I stare at her blankly as she frustratedly struggles to better define her intent. Examples? No problem.

She recently wanted to know if the basket of dinner rolls was still on the table from dinner, so she asked me "Is the bread-bun-pot still available?" What? Huh? Bread-bun-pot?

Or when she wanted me to put the dirty towels in the hamper last night, I was asked to "Please correctly place them in the roughrider." Yes, the roughrider. If you had an armful of towels and someone asked you to "correctly place them in the roughrider", you'd do what I did: stare blankly at them.

I can't tell you how many times she's been frustrated with me when I don't understand what she's talking about. Any and all paperwork is refered to as "information", regardless if it's a bill or a christmas card. She often refers to "the thing" and makes ambiguous hand gestures. What makes it even more difficult is that I find it so cute and endearing. It's nigh-impossible to keep from giving her a hard time about it.

So what's my role in this whole ordeal? Well, near as I can ascertain, it's my job to perform arbitrary organizational tasks, interpret the language of a crazy person, perform as a helping hand for getting out of cars and sofas, and exercise lots and lots of compassion and patience. And, I'm trying. I know that the frustrations I have to deal with are NOTHING compared to her daily ordeals.

The Latest Dance Craze!

Ultrasounds are funny things. The pictures are great and all, but the real treat is the live video, especially if the little guy is moving around.

It all looks like a pathetic attempt at doing the YMCA dance.

Don't worry though, I'm sure the wife (or maybe my mother-in-law!) will teach him the correct way once he leaves the her belly.

YFNN

Life Insurance is Cheap!

I cannot believe how cheap term life insurance is. Seriously cheap.

With the new baby on the way in a couple of short months, and my lovely bride now at home full-time, we decided that a larger life insurance policy was an absolute necessity. Before, when it was just the two of us, and we were both working, it was acceptable for us to carry minimal life insurance. We both only carried what our employers provided (two year's salary in both cases). That was plenty because neither of us was completely dependant on the other's salary to get by. If I died, she could have carried on with just her salary, and I could have done the same if she died.

But, with a baby coming, life insurance got vitally important. So we searched out some level term policies to make sure my wife and child could live comfortably if I passed, and I could get by if she passed.

There are lots of "rules of thumb" when it comes to the amount of insurance to get. Kiplinger's, CNN's Money magazine, Smart Money, etc., all have some really good guidelines. To get to my number, I used the 8-12 times my annual salary estimate. This way, the house would be paid off, and the wife and child could pay for college and still live comfortably (albeit not without some changes) for a long time. One million dollars covered us more than acceptably for my policy.

For my wife's policy, we elected to get a much smaller amount. When she's working, she makes less than I do, so we're much less dependent on her income than mine. Since she won't be working (for a while, anyway), we won't be dependent on her income at all. So, basically, the amount just had to cover childcare costs so that I could continue to work and get an income. We settled on a $250,000 policy for her.

For terms, we decided on a 30-year term for me and a 20-year term for her. Since this life insurance is so inexpensive for me right now, we felt it made sense to lock in my rate for 30 years. Granted $1,000,000 won't be worth as much in 30 years, but my health likely won't be as good when I'm 60 and getting insurance may be tougher. With a 30-year policy, I'm covered until our son is WELL out of college, and covered farther in case we decide to have more children.

For my wife's policy, since it's mostly about covering childcare costs, a 20-year policy seemed more than adequate. 16-20 year olds don't need day care.

So exactly how cheap were these policies? Well, since we're both fairly young (30-ish) and in good health (her moreso than me), they were really cheap. My 30-year, $1,000,000 policy was only $800 a year, and her 20-year, $250,000 policy was only $140 a year.

Unbelievable.

For more information on insurance policies and such, here's my recommended reading:

The Simple Dollar
Free Money Finance
Free Money Finance Again!

YFNN

Controlling Junk

A few nights ago, my lovely wife and I purged some junk from our living room. Accumulation of meaningless stuff has always been a constant problem. It's incredible how stuff just starts to accumulate. You pick up a brochure here, get a catalog there, and before you know it, you've got a whole trash bag full of things to recycle or throw away.

The major issue with us is paperwork and such. With my wife recently getting laid off, we're getting inundated with paperwork for COBRA, severance payouts, investment rollovers, and unemployment information. And, that's on top of our standard mail of business magazines, political advertisements (thank God that's over), and regular bills and mail. The real problem is that we don't want to deal with it as it comes in. I don't want to file that COBRA paperwork away since I haven't gone through it yet (and don't want to forget about it), but I don't have the time or desire to deal with yet, either. The same thing happens with day care brochures, unread magazines, and other important but not-time-sensitive materials. So, it stacks up. Typically on our dining room table or the small table behind the sofa.

What to do? Well, the real solution is to take care of that junk immediately, as soon as it comes in the house. I do okay with some items. Junk mail and most catalogs quickly meet up with the recycling bin, and vitally important items are dealt with promptly, but dealing with the other stuff immediately is just not realistic for me right now. After getting up at 4:30am and working a 10-hour day (minimum), the last thing I want to do when I walk in the door at night is to read over insurance statements or the latest day-care documentation. So, it stacks up until we get so sick of it that we can't stand it.

I'm going to try to do better with this. I'm going to try to take care of these items immediately. Not only will it help with keeping the house more clutter-free, but it'll help my wife's sanity, too.

YFNN

Reducing Dust on the Cheap

My lovely wife and I got a dog nearly 4 years ago. Shortly after he joined our family, we noticed the dust levels in the house increased dramatically. It's just one of those effects of having a pet I guess. We toughed it out for several months, dusting several times a week just keep things looking good.

We bought some small air purifiers, which helped quite a bit and kept the air in the house moving, but it didn't solve the problem completely.

What did help dramatically was changing our furnace filter once a month rather than the every three months that is sometimes recommended. We also set the thermostat to run the blower on the system 24-hours a day. This provided a constant air exchange throughout the entire house, and the exchanged air was being filtered non-stop. This made a huge difference in the dust levels in the house. We have to dust way less often now, we breath easier (especially during the winter), and don't wake up with sore throats and stuffed up noses.

Are there any drawbacks? Of course; there's no such thing as a free lunch. First, the cost of changing our furnace filters over the 12-month year tripled. But, the filters we use are only $10-12 a piece, so going from $40 a year to $120, wasn't exactly earth-shattering. Also, theoretically, our electric bill should have gone up slightly, and it likely did, but the extra buck or two goes completely unnoticed on a typically $100 bill.

I also chatted with our furnace repair man about the change and asked him about the added run time shortening the life of the blower. He told me that it likely wouldn't hurt it at all. Many times it's dirt and dust that kill blowers, and we're reducing those levels. And, much like a car's engine, it's easier on the motor's bearings to run constantly, rather than starting and stopping several times a day.

Obviously, there's been some trade offs, but the dust levels in our house are now pretty low, considering the size of our dog, and our indoor air quality is improved as well.

So, if you're battling indoor air quality in your home, consider changing your filter more often and running your forced air blower all the time. It certainly helped clean up our house!

YFNN

The Importance of Communication

A short story, illustrating why it is important that each spouse share critical information pertaining to the financial comings and goings of the household:

A man is getting into the shower just as his wife is finishing up her shower when the doorbell rings. The wife quickly wraps herself in a towel and runs downstairs. When she opens the door, there stands Bob, the next door neighbor. Before she says a word, Bob says, “I’ll give you $800 to drop that towel.” After thinking for a moment, the woman drops her towel and stands naked in front of Bob.

After a few seconds, Bob hands her $800 dollars and leaves. The woman wraps back up in the towel and goes back upstairs. When she gets to the bathroom, her husband asks, "Who was that?” “It was Bob the next door neighbor,” she replies. “Great!” the husband says, “Did he say anything about the $800 he owes me?”

See? Communication about marital finances can save headaches AND unnecessary embarrassment.

YFNN

Reason #435 Why I Love My Wife

When I woke up way late for work today at 5:30am instead of the regular 4:30am, I was not the only one to jump out of bed in a hurry. While I was dressing and such, my lovely bride was downstairs, making me a car-friendly breakfast, gathering my work items, and finding my car keys. She even took the dog out, something I usually do as part of my morning routine.

Because of her unselfish act (she could have easily just continued sleeping), I arrived at work just a few unnoticed minutes late, rather than nearly the hour it could have been.

Thanks, honey. I couldn't have made it so quickly without you.

YFNN