Dad, what's a family budget?

SO, POSH canceled last week's attempt at a ceiling fan installation when she realized it was just a giant, spinning aphrodisiac, and our summer of love ended in the third week of July. Just ahead: a long and lonely winter.

"You OK, Dad?"

Yeah, give me a week to get my breath back. I'll try to forget the way the strap of her nightgown hangs off the shoulder just so, or the way her nostrils flare when she sleeps. Lovely as a Matisse, this mother of four. To me, she is just a very sexy tulip.

"Dad?" the little guy asked the other morning.

"Huh?"

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-five."

"Whew, that's old."

"Tell me about it."

Truth is, I still feel half my age. I bounce out of bed at sunup, lift heavy cups of coffee without complaint, chase the kids around the house, smacking them on the butts with a broom for hours on end.

"Get off the couch!" I scream at them. "Get away from the computer! Run, run, run!"

I seem to have vast reserves of energy most men my age lack. Which is a shame, really, since I have no ceiling fan.

But I've moved on. There are so many more pressing matters. Like the economy, about which I know next to nothing. I know so little, I could almost run for president.

First, a confession: I am the cheapest, most frugal dolt you ever met. I take my lunch to work. I make my own toothpaste. I weave rugs from the leftover lint I find in the clothes dryer. Seriously, I am one buggy whip away from being Amish.

Used to be my frugal ways were enough to help us squeeze by. Not anymore.

So we've adopted a new economic stimulus package in our family, designed to improve our fortunes and broom the entire U.S. economy in the butt, so to speak. I think it's safe to expect a full turnaround in a couple of weeks.

ECONOMIC STIMULUS ACTION PLAN:

1. Limit dining out to five times a week.

We are a ravenous family of unfathomable appetites (see ceiling fan). Sometimes we just wander from restaurant to restaurant in search of food. No more. Occasionally, we will eat at home.

2. Funnel all financial transactions through the tiny nation of Lichtenstein.

This is a tax-saver I picked up from a Beverly Hills mogul. To me, moguls are the best, the brightest, the shrewdest Americans we have left. From what I hear, many don't pay any taxes at all. I say we should get all the moguls in one room, nail the door shut and many of our biggest problems would just solve themselves.