I'm not sure whether my wife has a valuable talent or a problem.  She has the ability to reach into random pockets of her clothing and come out with money.  She is surprised every time she does it.  My typical response is, "Do it again!."  No one knows where the money comes from.  This happens often.

Yesterday she was cleaning off her dresser and found $32 that was supposed to be tithing from her piano teaching.  I gave her a tithing envelope and tithing slip.  She put the money in the envelope, and left it on the kitchen counter where we would see it today and take it to church.

A few minutes after discovering the tithing money, Marjorie came out of the bedroom waving a $100 bill.

"Where did you get that," I asked?

"It was in my coat pocket!"

"Where did it come from?"

"I have no idea."

This morning I made out the tithing slip for Marjorie, and asked, "Is this money supposed to be all tithing?"

"Yes," she said.  "The $100 bill isn't there is it?"

"No," I answered.  "Do you know where it is?"

"No, but it will turn up!"

Does she have a talent, or does she have a problem?

Ten minutes later Marjorie announced, "I've already found the $100.  I'm going to put it here in this box of nylons where no one will think to look for it."

"Marjorie!  You won't think to look there, either."

"That's the point!"

"You'll die one of these days, and your kids will just throw that box away."

"It's all right.  I don't plan to die anytime soon."

I foresee a pleasant surprise sometime in her future when she goes looking for a pair of nylons.

Later:

"I can't find my coat."

"It's hanging just inside the front door.  Let's go.  We're late."

"Wait.  I need to get the list of hymns that I'm to play."

"It's in my pocket," I said.

As we went out the door, Marjorie reached into a coat pocket.  (I'm not making this up.  It really happened).  On her face was a look of surprise, and in her hand was more money.

"How much is there," I asked?

"I don't know.  It's just a wad."

In the car she counted out $12.

"Why don't you give that to me, and I'll see to it that it makes it into your purse."

She relinquished the money.

"Wait, I forgot my glasses."

"I have them here in my pocket with your hymn list and your tithing."

(Tongue in cheek), "No wonder I couldn't find them."

"How many pockets do you have in that coat," I asked?

"Well, there's two here," she said as she began exploring.  "And here's an inside pocket, and a place to put my cell phone."  Then she pulled something out of another pocket.

"What's that," I asked?

"It's a rolled up bread sack."

"Is there money in it?"

"No."

"This is hilarious.  Do you know that I just wrote about you, your pockets, and your ability to find money."

"I'm going to take your pen away from you.  People are going to get misconceptions about me."

I'd already done a lot of laughing, but that comment made it uncontrollable.

"Here's some bias tape," Marjorie said, holding up a dark blue roll, "right where I can find it when I need it."

A roll of bias tape, a mysterious empty bread sack, and three caches of money totaling $144 in just 24 hours.  Not bad.

"You have your mother's genes."

"Why is that?"

"She was always hiding her money.  She sewed some into the hem of the drapes in the living room, and kept some in a mayonnaise jar in the refrigerator."

"She liked to use the vegetable crisper in the refrigerator, too," Marjorie added.  "It was a good system.  No robber would ever think of looking there."

"There's no telling how much we missed when we sold her house after she died.  I must remember to instruct our kids to go through all of your pockets and nylons before they throw our things out."

"I'm not going to give any more piano lessons outside of the family.  This is my retirement."

I like being married to a rich wife.