My parents have been divorced for 20 years- both remained single. My Dad in Ontario, my Mum in Victoria, Canada. 

One random night I called my Dad to ask his advice on a silly home repair (changing a door knob). He had a different agenda in mind. He said "Sit down baby, I need to talk to you." He then proceeded to beg me to follow my dreams. He said "Do it baby! You'll be an old fart like me before you know it! And Dedette (my nickname) for god sakes let me stop worrying about you girls (I have three sisters) and your money!"

My Dad died without warning the next day. 

My three sisters and I had to become real adults overnight - emotionally, financially, and spiritually. 

And so my very last conversation with my Dad played in my head; over and over. And over.

It occured to me that my Dad had always been my knight in shining armour. If I ever lost my job, my Dad would be the first to financially rescue me. If we EVER needed financial help, Dad was always there.

My Dad was the best carpenter that this world had ever seen. But at 60, he was by no means rich. He should never have been our financial back-up. 

Me, along with my sisters, Mum, ALL of my friends (and, I suspect you cause you're reading this), are super smart! So why the hell aren't we financially on par with our male counterparts? Why-OH-why are our finances in such a crap state, or should I say, just plain less than amazing?!

So, instead of hoping luck will fall in your lap, that one day it will all just come together, that you'll inherit a chateau in France or a millionaire will just happen to have your size of glass slipper, wouldn't you rather KNOW 100% when you're going to retire comfortably? That you can afford that big house in the 'burbs? That you can afford that trip around the world? Or that you can afford that man slave to feed you grapes?   

So I started the Wealthy Wilma Book Club to shout loud and proud: enough is enough! As the movie Good Will Hunting showed us, you can get a perfectly good education at the public library, and for free to boot.

So my little website visitors, my future and existing Wealthy Wilmas, in the wise words of my beloved Dad: "Go get your lumber, measure it twice and bloody CUT it!"

It's time we really, yes really, figured this out for ourselves. Are you ready?

B.