A Brighter Fiscal Future

Our annual property taxes arrived. I hesitated to open the envelope because I didn't want to see the total. Yes, it's a beautiful area where we live, but it's also one of the most expensive places to live in the U.S., for four years running, primarily due to housing costs (whether you purchase or rent). However, property taxes fund essential community services and public infrastructure, just like taxes at all levels of government are supposed to do.

When I opened the envelope, Beatrice stood near me and asked me what it was. So, I told her and showed her. She literally gasped. "That's a lot of money," she said.

"It is," I said. "But we're grateful to have this house." Because there was a time when we almost let it go. We haven't told them that story yet. 

She understands the value of money and finances better than she ever has for a young adult and even has a required personal finance course in her high school this semester (now required in California). We've started an investment account for her and her sibling Bryce. Beatrice has added to it with her own summer camp money she's earned the past few years. Bryce will to when they get a part-time job next year, we hope. 

Bryce has a much different relationship with money than Beatrice has, even though we've tried to instill a savings and a live-within-your-means mentality in both. Beatrice saves more while Bryce likes to spend more. We'll have to keep working on that one. 

The reality is that both kids are moving into the adulting zone. Bryce still has two and half more years of high school, but Beatrice is graduating high school this year and then will be off to college. Which will mean leaving on her own, with roommates, buying and cooking her own food (because going out will break the bank), and paying more of her own bills. Yes, we'll help both kids in college, but there are still financial responsibilities they'll have to manage. Financial aid and student loans, for example. If they open up their own credit card, they'll have to learn to not run a monthly balance, to pay it off each month. 

In college, I started a bad habit of running up credit cards and paying only the minimum payments, which barely touched the principal. That culminated in a disastrous financial reset 10 years later. Lots of lessons learned then that we want to impart on our kids when they're out doing their adulting. And even if they were to come back and live with us for a period of time, something that's quite common for young people these days in the current job market and economic uncertainty. 

It wasn't until I met Amy that I got myself back on track financially. We've both worked hard to save for retirement and for college as many families do. Yes, the markets have been crazy high with returns, but, with the backdrop of high inflation, high healthcare, high everything, combined with so much grift and corruption around us in big business and government, and the U.S. debt hitting 40 trillion and a debt-to-GDP ratio of 126%, I'm not sure what the future holds for our children. Or, their children if they choose to have them. 

We'll keep plugging away and instilling financial responsibility in our kids no matter what because we still believe in endless possibilities and manifesting a brighter fiscal future. The scarcity alternative just won't pay the bills. 

Dinner and a Show

It was the best anniversary yet. On the eve of 29 years from one day at the beach when we met, both of us still recovering from the flu, Amy and I had dinner at one of our favorite local taquerias and then went to a show.

Not just any show -- our kids' closing performance of This Murder Was Staged, a hilarious whodunnit with over-the-top characters and plot twists throughout.

Our oldest Beatrice directed from the balcony during the show. Our youngest Bryce co-starred and delivered some funny and acerbic lines. 

And there was nowhere else on Earth we'd rather be. 

Early on in our relationship, Amy and her mother surprised me with dinner and a show in Half Moon Bay. We saw It's a Wonderful Life, one of my favorites. It's about a man reminded how loved and supported he is by his family and friends, and why he's the "richest" man in town. Makes me cry every time.

That's something I've more than related to over the years, thankfully having many more highs than lows, especially after I met Amy. Early on in our relationship, I was far from soul-centered, but I knew I was on the right path with Amy. Like in Dante's The Divine Comedy, I traveled through hell and purgatory to find my muse at the beach during El Niño '97. She's been guiding me through paradise ever since.

Our vows include why we celebrate the miracle of our choices (a version of which was from the cover of a journal Amy had given to me early on) and the fact that we always choose "us". Us now including our children, part of our choice miracles of the past 18 years. 

I've written many times about the fact that each night at dinner we all share what we're grateful for. It doesn't matter what it is. And even if one of us is not feeling grateful in that moment for whatever reason, we give them the grace to find something. Because there's always something. Always. 

Again, on the eve of our anniversary, and before our kids' last performance, Amy and I went to one of our favorite local taquerias. During dinner we shared how grateful we were for all of "us". After the performance concluded, we waited for our kids to come out into the auditorium lobby so we could celebrate them. 

We're grateful for 29 years of dinner and a show. Our show. Encore!

Brilliantly Staged

Moving the hands of the clock back and forth was a nice touch. There were multiple flashbacks and flash-forwards in the play, so this old-school entertainment time-travel mechanism worked well. Both my wife Amy and I were tickled each time one of the cast members moved the clock hands in between scenes.

This was the fall high school play that our oldest Beatrice directed and her sibling Bryce co-starred in. This one was accelerated, though. Usually, auditions and rehearsals start in late August and run until late October. But due to some scheduling conflicts with other school activities, the play had to open in early October, which was my birthday weekend.

The play is called This Murder Was Staged and is a murder-mystery comedy that was first published in 2024. Beatrice was on the high school theater committee that selected the play and then volunteered to direct, something she had never done before. Both our kids have been involved in theater for years, but this was something else to direct the play. Bryce was really stressed during auditions because they wanted a bigger role, which in turn put a lot of stress on Beatrice when it came to selecting the cast. There is a teacher theater advisor who helps with each semester's production, but these plays (in the fall) and the musicals (in the spring) are all student-run. Thankfully the cast selection worked out in the end.

So, when opening night came, we were all excited. And Beatrice, Amy, and I were all sick (not Bryce, though). The flu, covid, or a bad cold, we didn't know. We just knew we were sick.

[clock moving backward in time]

The week before opening night is called tech week when there are complete run-throughs of the play with lights, music, and more. Beatrice got sick the weekend before and it made for a miserable tech week. I had to leave on a work trip on that Tuesday of tech week and would be back midday Friday. 

She didn't miss one tech week rehearsal, though. She wasn't the only kid who got sick that week, but she was the director and needed to be there. 

On the Wednesday before, Beatrice and I had a call, and she shared something that true leaders live and breathe: "Dad, I need to be there for my team."

That was the day I started to feel sick. Amy was already feeling sick before I left on my trip. 

[clock moving forward in time]

The play's opening scene included a lot of Bryce's character and they were amazing! Yes, we're the parents and we love our kids no matter what and are proud of them no matter what. But mercy me, Bryce was so good. They were worried about not projecting loudly enough without yelling since there aren't stage mics. That wasn't an issue because Bryce (and the rest of the cast) projected loudly and clearly enough all the way through. 

Thank goodness Amy and I were hopped up on cold medicine, because the sick would've sucked the enjoyment right out of us. 

And enjoy it we did. Plus, there was a seemingly random segue to an all-Peanut's cast performing The Crucible (about the Salem witch trials) was super funny. Nicely done!

[clock moving backward in time]

I started feeling crappy on that Wednesday and then when I went to the event I was speaking at on Thursday, I definitely knew I was getting sick. I made it through the event without any outward symptoms, but your body remembers what it feels when it's sick, and those memories hit me hard that night. 

My flight back early Friday morning was on time, but I couldn't get home soon enough. That's when Amy and I loaded up on cold medicine. We also brought masks with us in case we started sneezing and/or coughing. 

We weren't going to miss this for the world. 

[clock moving forward in time]

The cold medicine kept Amy and I relaxed and focused so we could enjoy the play, a hilarious whodunnit with over-the-top characters and plot twists throughout. High school student directors don't make many friends during a production, usually being accused of favoritism, and/or being too stern, and/or worse. But Beatrice's leadership has been well-respected the entire time, something we beam proudly about. 

All the characters were delightful including our Bryce. So good! Afterwards we talked with both kids about how they thought it went and both were delighted with the performance, even though Beatrice was still pretty sick (as were we). I told Beatrice we loved it all and the moving of the clock hands backward and forward between scenes was an especially fun touch. She said it was her idea.

Of course it was. Well done. The play was brilliantly staged and we couldn't be prouder.