Really?

Who told you that $3

Is appropriate tip for a $22 dinner tab?

That smiling girl – who was at our table

over and over again,

filling, checking, toting, fetching.

We sat there for an hour and a half

She filled our drinks 3 times.

$3 -  really?

Why is it that

the kindest most generous men don’t see

that all that work,

is worth more than $3?

1/25/11

tsr

Twice in my recent dating history I have excused myself, pretended to go to the bathroom, and tipped the waitress more than was left with the bill.  The third time I just put cash on the table right in front of my date.  It is a particular hang-up of mine.  The majority of wait staff are women and many of them head single parent households.

It’s a generalization but men seem particularly unaware that the base pay is miniscule.  It’s a very difficult job and I can’t imagine doing it.  Girlfriends and I have discussed this.  We think it's fairly common.


"Tipping is optional" said a young man once.  "Not when you're with me" was my reply.

The thing to ponder is - should bad tipping be added to my list of non-negotiable things?  That list is generally reserved for things like homophobia, racism and the narrow minded.  Should it include devaluing people who serve you?

Hmmmmm . . . .

Shopping for a family . . .

My friend, who was in the Navy, told me that there was time when men who visited the Philippines shopped for women in window storefronts as if they were clothing or electronics.  I remember being appalled.  Now, as I spend time - almost daily - trolling through online profiles, I remember his description of that process.  There are similarities.

I am spending my time . . . shopping for a family.  I’m looking for a man between 38 and 58 who has children.  Preferably, he will be raising children.  Having spent time as a step mother, I am stuck on the idea of nurturing and being nurtured by a family again.

It may be the end of my childbearing years . . . or it may be the beginning of my friend’s grandparental years that is driving this bus.  It's vaguely disturbing to realize that I am as interested in the children as the man.  It makes me question my motivation.

It’s not that I don’t want the man but I would really prefer the family. 

The years I spent planning meals, outings, presents, parenting strategies and logistics for our family seem, in retrospect, like a mix of the sublime and terrifying.  Making bacon with Meghan on Sunday mornings, biking with Brandon down to the railroad tracks and taking Taylor to the Twilight movies are some of the better memories of my life.  Picking blueberries on Saturday and canning jam with them the next day.  The three of them still tell the story of the day I got my foot stuck in the blueberry field and had to get down on my knees and pull my shoe out of mud a foot deep.  Thank goodness you can hose off crocs!

Biking!

Losing the children of your heart is incredibly painful.  As often as they triple timed me, on purpose, to push me to make a parenting mistake (How on earth do women with 3 or more children, all talking at once, not over-promise and under-deliver?) the first Easter that I hid eggs was worth all the tough times that came with the deal.  Christmas . . . just forget about it.  Unbelievable!

So, I am looking for the love of my life . . . but I am shopping for a family.

Snowman Pancakes Christmas Morning