Ok. It's been a little while.
Seems like I'm twice as busy being unemployed as I was when I had a job. Go figure.
But I'm enjoying every moment of my busy-ness because I'm spending it with my favorite people...my friends and family.
It feels so good to be Stress-FREE. Even without a job, I feel like I don't have a care in the world. I know, I know...eventually this unemployment is gonna hit me, but until then...I am content...so very content.
I've been spending a lot of time with my youngest daughter Jordan as she prepares to move away to college this weekend. She's gotten her driver's permit, California ID, opened a bank account, and a slew of other stuff. All things that I wouldn't have had time to help her get done if I were working.
God's timing is ALWAYS right!
I've been able to go to my brother's "gig" and hear him play...on a WEDNESDAY night, and got to actually enjoy the show because I didn't have to rush to go home and crawl into bed.
Life is good right now. Really really good.
Once Jordan gets moved in, I'll start looking for work. But for now, I'm going to just enjoy these next few "mind clearing" days. I'm going to enjoy being a "stay at home mom".
As for the title of today's post...it's been over a month since anyone has commented, which leads me to believe that maybe I only had ONE commenter all along, and when I chose not to have my "numbers" read, I lost that ONE commenter.
That's ok. I greatly enjoyed that person's point of view and pray that one day others with comments just as insightful will come along.
In the meantime, I will continue to do what I do...continue to do what I've been purposed to do...I will continue to write.
Let the DIALOGUE begin! Are you unemployed? If so, how are you handling it?
Talk to me!
Til next time...
Monday, August 22, 2011
Friday, August 12, 2011
WWYD?
Imagine this if you will...
You're at the gas station.
You pull up to the pump, turn off the car, get out and head over to the pay terminal to insert $5.00 for your gas. (Hey times are tough and gas prices are through the roof...for many of us, $5.00 at a time is all that we can afford).
You type in your pump number and get a message saying "Pump #... is in use".
You go back to the pump to make sure that you've got the right number. You do. It's the right number.
You go back to the terminal again. You enter the pump# and get the same message.
You go back to the pump to figure out what's going on.
You lift the nozzle, insert it into the tank and begin to pump. Whaddayaknow...it works...and the gas starts flowing...$5.10 worth of gas to be exact.
Then, you stop.
Let the DIALOGUE begin! What Would YOU Do next?
I know what I did. Just wondering if you'd do the same.
Talk to me!
Til next time...
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Soledad Rose
As most people who know me know...I read my Bible DAILY. Contrary to what "the world" believes, I know and believe with every fiber of my being that God's word is true. And it's just as true today as it was when it was INSPIRED BY HIM.
One of the many things that I find fascinating when reading, are the names of the people and what the names mean. Unlike the names of today (some of which I could easily list but won't, to avoid the risk of offending anyone), back then, your name either told who you were, who you belonged to, who you worshiped, who you'd become, etc.,etc,.etc.
So very meaningful.
Some of the names are even kind of sad. There's one in particular in 1 Chronicles. If you read that book, you'll know which one I'm referring to when you get to it.
Then again, people may say the same about my name, or even your name.
I often wonder if my life would have been different if my mother had named me her first choice instead of the choice that she finally decided on. I was born in the late 60s, during the time of love, peace, and flower-children. So it only seems fitting that my mother considered naming me: Soledad Rose.
Kinda hippy-ish, I know. But you know what else...I like it. I think I am much more a Soledad Rose, than the name that I was actually given.
Don't get me wrong...I like my name. It's very French (which I am NOT), and it sounds very pretty when pronounced correctly. It also has meaning that I may share with you on day, but today...isn't that day.
So...on that note...
Let the DIALOGUE begin! Do you like your name? If not, what would you change it to if you could?
Talk to me!
Til next time...
One of the many things that I find fascinating when reading, are the names of the people and what the names mean. Unlike the names of today (some of which I could easily list but won't, to avoid the risk of offending anyone), back then, your name either told who you were, who you belonged to, who you worshiped, who you'd become, etc.,etc,.etc.
So very meaningful.
Some of the names are even kind of sad. There's one in particular in 1 Chronicles. If you read that book, you'll know which one I'm referring to when you get to it.
Then again, people may say the same about my name, or even your name.
I often wonder if my life would have been different if my mother had named me her first choice instead of the choice that she finally decided on. I was born in the late 60s, during the time of love, peace, and flower-children. So it only seems fitting that my mother considered naming me: Soledad Rose.
Kinda hippy-ish, I know. But you know what else...I like it. I think I am much more a Soledad Rose, than the name that I was actually given.
Don't get me wrong...I like my name. It's very French (which I am NOT), and it sounds very pretty when pronounced correctly. It also has meaning that I may share with you on day, but today...isn't that day.
So...on that note...
Let the DIALOGUE begin! Do you like your name? If not, what would you change it to if you could?
Talk to me!
Til next time...
Monday, August 8, 2011
Curbside Blessing
Yesterday while I was out and about, something wonderful happened.
I was in my friend's car and was about to get out but couldn't because we were too close to the curb and the door wouldn't open.
So I asked her to back the car up, let me out, and then park.
She did, and I got out.
While she was readjusting the car I happened to look into the street next to the curb. Something caught my eye.
I looked closer and sticking out from under a pile of leaves was the end of a $100 bill. I reached down and pinched the corner of the bill and gently pulled. The leaves were wet so the bill was too.
As I pulled, more and more of the bill became visible until I finally had an IN TACT ONE HUNDRED DOLLAR BILL in my hand. WHOA!!!
A ONE HUNDRED DOLLAR BILL!!!
As my friend was parking the car, I'm waving the bill in front of the car.
She finally parks and says, "Tell me that is not what I think it is."
I said, "Oh yeah...it's what you think it is!"
I was amazed, and very quickly thanked God for such a blessing.
As you may recall, I've been unemployed for a week now. Not stressing over it though. Even with our country's less than "AAA" rating, this situation has not phased me one bit.
Did I NEED that $100.00?
Of course I did!
Interestingly though, the moment it came into my possession I knew that it had to go right back to someone else. I offered it to my friend because I owe her $90.00
She wouldn't take it.
I have another friend to whom I owe $60.00
Called her up, and she's in Big Bear, so I couldn't give it to her.
Called up the last person to whom I owe money and finally had a taker. I owed him $300.00, so I was able to lessen the debt by $100.00
So I gave him the money but not without first telling the story of how it came to be. Funny thing about it is that, as soon has he left me, he had to go give the money to someone he owed.
Guess we'll call this "The Circle of Money". Never stays in one place. Just moves from one hand to another.
So, Let the DIALOGUE begin! Have you ever found any money? If so, how much?
Talk to me!
Til next time...
I was in my friend's car and was about to get out but couldn't because we were too close to the curb and the door wouldn't open.
So I asked her to back the car up, let me out, and then park.
She did, and I got out.
While she was readjusting the car I happened to look into the street next to the curb. Something caught my eye.
I looked closer and sticking out from under a pile of leaves was the end of a $100 bill. I reached down and pinched the corner of the bill and gently pulled. The leaves were wet so the bill was too.
As I pulled, more and more of the bill became visible until I finally had an IN TACT ONE HUNDRED DOLLAR BILL in my hand. WHOA!!!
A ONE HUNDRED DOLLAR BILL!!!
As my friend was parking the car, I'm waving the bill in front of the car.
She finally parks and says, "Tell me that is not what I think it is."
I said, "Oh yeah...it's what you think it is!"
I was amazed, and very quickly thanked God for such a blessing.
As you may recall, I've been unemployed for a week now. Not stressing over it though. Even with our country's less than "AAA" rating, this situation has not phased me one bit.
Did I NEED that $100.00?
Of course I did!
Interestingly though, the moment it came into my possession I knew that it had to go right back to someone else. I offered it to my friend because I owe her $90.00
She wouldn't take it.
I have another friend to whom I owe $60.00
Called her up, and she's in Big Bear, so I couldn't give it to her.
Called up the last person to whom I owe money and finally had a taker. I owed him $300.00, so I was able to lessen the debt by $100.00
So I gave him the money but not without first telling the story of how it came to be. Funny thing about it is that, as soon has he left me, he had to go give the money to someone he owed.
Guess we'll call this "The Circle of Money". Never stays in one place. Just moves from one hand to another.
So, Let the DIALOGUE begin! Have you ever found any money? If so, how much?
Talk to me!
Til next time...
Saturday, August 6, 2011
Blessed Assurance
*** This is a long one. Grab a cup of coffee and fluff up the pillows. You're gonna be here a while. ***
Today, I am remembering the woman who was my very best friend for 22 years...my grandmother Martha Janet. 83 years ago today God blessed the world with her beautiful spirit. I loved her so much, and she loved me even more. She taught me how to read, write, and gave me the great love for music that I have today.
So many of my pleasant childhood memories include my grandmother.
She sang beautifully and could play a mean organ. She could play for hours as I would go through her song book and say, "Grammy...play this one". And she would. Then I'd choose another, "Play this one Grammy". And she would. She never said no.
She loved the song Blessed Assurance, and every now and then my grandpa would join in and sing along in his booming James Earl Jones-esque voice. I LOVED those times!
Other times, I would lay underneath my Grammy's organ bench and just watch her feet move across the pedals. Count tell you how many times I fell asleep under there. I know that it sounds odd, but it was just so peaceful under that bench just watch Grammy's feet move while listening to her play.
I could go on and on with the memories of my grandmother. Here are just a few:
She would always save me the last drop of coffee in her cup.
She would send me in the backyard to pick apples so that she and I could make a pie. After her heart attack I stayed with her for the entire summer to be her nurse & get her back to health. I'll never forget the time that she asked me to make her a peanut butter and lettuce sandwich. Gladly, I rushed into the kitchen and prepared the sandwich. I was so proud of myself. Here I was...making lunch for Grammy. What an honor! I take the sandwich to her...she takes a bite...I ask her how it is...she pauses...swallows, and asks me in her loving grandmotherly tone..."Dida (that was what she & my grandpa called me) where did you get the lettuce for the sandwich?"
I replied, "From the refrigerator".
She asks, "Where in the refrigerator?"
So I describe the drawer where I got it from.
I begin to sense that something might be wrong.
So I ask, "What's wrong Grammy? Is your sandwich bad?"
She just looks at me, smiles, and says, "It's really good. I've never had a peanut butter and CABBAGE sandwich before."
OOPS!
We laughed and laughed...and I quickly made my Grammy another sandwich...this time...with LETTUCE.
I remember the daily walks that we'd take in the neighborhood. Trash day was our favorite day to walk because we'd find so much change on the sidewalk on those days. We'd have contests to see who would collect the most change. We had so much fun we didn't even realize how far we had walked most days. Grammy was getting better. She was getting stronger, and I was her nurse.
She would encourage me to write stories and one day when I went to visit, she had a brand new typewriter waiting for me...so that I could type my stories...lots of them.
I remember how I got her to stop smoking. This was a BIG one! She told me that she needed me to help her. We tried many methods but none of them worked, until...one day...
I was so angry with her for smoking because I knew that it was hurting her and making her sick. So I said, "Grammy, I know how to make you stop smoking. Any time I see you with a cigarette, I am going to HIT you."
I don't know where this came from. I don't even think I was 10 years old at the time, but this was the best idea I could come up with. And the catch was...she could NOT hit me back.
Now I don't know how YOU were brought up, but I was brought up not to talk back to adults, and to HIT an adult (without being smacked back) was definitely out of the question.
Grammy looked at me for a minute, considered my proposition and agreed. We had a DEAL!
Well, true to my word...the first next time I saw Grammy with a cigarette in her hand, I PUNCHED her...in the arm I think. She quickly gave me a look that said, "I am about to whip your tail." I looked right back at her and said, "No, no...you said I could, remember?"
I tell you...that was the LAST cigarette Grammy ever attempted to smoke. She never picked one up after that. Mission Accomplished!
I remember how she took care of my brothers while my mom worked. It was always such a treat to get home from school and Grammy was there. I hated to see her go.
I remember when I first got my license and I was driving her to a doctor's appointment. On the way there, I got pulled over, and got a ticket. I was frantic because I didn't want my parents to know that I got a ticket...they might not let me drive again if they knew.
Grammy calmed me down and we made a deal. Since she was at our house everyday, she told me that she would check the mail, and when the ticket arrived, she would take it and pay it so that my parents wouldn't have to know about it. Such a "life saver" she was.
I remember when she came to the hospital to see my brand new baby, Lauren. Grammy held Lauren, admiring her beautiful red hair. She had never seen a baby with such pretty hair. Grammy said, "I'm going to call her Penny". I said, (in my "I'm-grown- now voice"), "No Grammy. Her name is Lauren, not Penny." Grammy said, "Fine...but she looks like a pretty penny to me."
On that same visit, I remember getting snappy once more (it must've been the hormones because I would've never been mean to my grandmother in my right mind). Lauren was skin was (and still is) very very light. For whatever reason, I had her right in the sunlight. Grammy told me that I needed to keep her out of the sun. It wasn't good for her skin, being so light. She told me to make sure that she wore hats out in the sun. I snapped at Grammy and said,"I know what to do with her, she's my baby".
At that moment, someone should have punched ME. Had to be the hormones, just had to be. That is the only bad memory that I have with my grandmother, and it was only bad because of MY stupid behavior.
I greatly wish that all my babies could have had the chance to know Grammy and experience her love as I did. Lauren was the only one that ever got to be held in her loving arms. Sadly, Lauren doesn't remember. She was only 8 months old when Grammy died...waaay too soon.
I could go on and on and on. I had 22 years of wonderful memories and there's just no way to post them all here. For now, I'll leave you with the lyrics to her favorite song, Blessed Assurance by Frances J. Crosby:
Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine!
Oh, what a foretaste of glory divine!
Heir of salvation, purchase of God,
Born of His Spirit, washed in His blood.
Refrain:
This is my story, this is my song,
Praising my Savior all the day long;
This is my story, this is my song,
Praising my Savior all the day long.
Perfect submission, perfect delight,
Visions of rapture now burst on my sight;
Angels, descending, bring from above
Echoes of mercy, whispers of love.
Perfect submission, all is at rest,
I in my Savior am happy and blest,
Watching and waiting, looking above,
Filled with His goodness, lost in His love.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY GRAMMY!
One day, we WILL sing this song together.
Let the DIALOGUE begin! What is your favorite memory with your grandparents?
Talk to me!
Til next time...
Today, I am remembering the woman who was my very best friend for 22 years...my grandmother Martha Janet. 83 years ago today God blessed the world with her beautiful spirit. I loved her so much, and she loved me even more. She taught me how to read, write, and gave me the great love for music that I have today.
So many of my pleasant childhood memories include my grandmother.
She sang beautifully and could play a mean organ. She could play for hours as I would go through her song book and say, "Grammy...play this one". And she would. Then I'd choose another, "Play this one Grammy". And she would. She never said no.
She loved the song Blessed Assurance, and every now and then my grandpa would join in and sing along in his booming James Earl Jones-esque voice. I LOVED those times!
Other times, I would lay underneath my Grammy's organ bench and just watch her feet move across the pedals. Count tell you how many times I fell asleep under there. I know that it sounds odd, but it was just so peaceful under that bench just watch Grammy's feet move while listening to her play.
I could go on and on with the memories of my grandmother. Here are just a few:
She would always save me the last drop of coffee in her cup.
She would send me in the backyard to pick apples so that she and I could make a pie. After her heart attack I stayed with her for the entire summer to be her nurse & get her back to health. I'll never forget the time that she asked me to make her a peanut butter and lettuce sandwich. Gladly, I rushed into the kitchen and prepared the sandwich. I was so proud of myself. Here I was...making lunch for Grammy. What an honor! I take the sandwich to her...she takes a bite...I ask her how it is...she pauses...swallows, and asks me in her loving grandmotherly tone..."Dida (that was what she & my grandpa called me) where did you get the lettuce for the sandwich?"
I replied, "From the refrigerator".
She asks, "Where in the refrigerator?"
So I describe the drawer where I got it from.
I begin to sense that something might be wrong.
So I ask, "What's wrong Grammy? Is your sandwich bad?"
She just looks at me, smiles, and says, "It's really good. I've never had a peanut butter and CABBAGE sandwich before."
OOPS!
We laughed and laughed...and I quickly made my Grammy another sandwich...this time...with LETTUCE.
I remember the daily walks that we'd take in the neighborhood. Trash day was our favorite day to walk because we'd find so much change on the sidewalk on those days. We'd have contests to see who would collect the most change. We had so much fun we didn't even realize how far we had walked most days. Grammy was getting better. She was getting stronger, and I was her nurse.
She would encourage me to write stories and one day when I went to visit, she had a brand new typewriter waiting for me...so that I could type my stories...lots of them.
I remember how I got her to stop smoking. This was a BIG one! She told me that she needed me to help her. We tried many methods but none of them worked, until...one day...
I was so angry with her for smoking because I knew that it was hurting her and making her sick. So I said, "Grammy, I know how to make you stop smoking. Any time I see you with a cigarette, I am going to HIT you."
I don't know where this came from. I don't even think I was 10 years old at the time, but this was the best idea I could come up with. And the catch was...she could NOT hit me back.
Now I don't know how YOU were brought up, but I was brought up not to talk back to adults, and to HIT an adult (without being smacked back) was definitely out of the question.
Grammy looked at me for a minute, considered my proposition and agreed. We had a DEAL!
Well, true to my word...the first next time I saw Grammy with a cigarette in her hand, I PUNCHED her...in the arm I think. She quickly gave me a look that said, "I am about to whip your tail." I looked right back at her and said, "No, no...you said I could, remember?"
I tell you...that was the LAST cigarette Grammy ever attempted to smoke. She never picked one up after that. Mission Accomplished!
I remember how she took care of my brothers while my mom worked. It was always such a treat to get home from school and Grammy was there. I hated to see her go.
I remember when I first got my license and I was driving her to a doctor's appointment. On the way there, I got pulled over, and got a ticket. I was frantic because I didn't want my parents to know that I got a ticket...they might not let me drive again if they knew.
Grammy calmed me down and we made a deal. Since she was at our house everyday, she told me that she would check the mail, and when the ticket arrived, she would take it and pay it so that my parents wouldn't have to know about it. Such a "life saver" she was.
I remember when she came to the hospital to see my brand new baby, Lauren. Grammy held Lauren, admiring her beautiful red hair. She had never seen a baby with such pretty hair. Grammy said, "I'm going to call her Penny". I said, (in my "I'm-grown- now voice"), "No Grammy. Her name is Lauren, not Penny." Grammy said, "Fine...but she looks like a pretty penny to me."
On that same visit, I remember getting snappy once more (it must've been the hormones because I would've never been mean to my grandmother in my right mind). Lauren was skin was (and still is) very very light. For whatever reason, I had her right in the sunlight. Grammy told me that I needed to keep her out of the sun. It wasn't good for her skin, being so light. She told me to make sure that she wore hats out in the sun. I snapped at Grammy and said,"I know what to do with her, she's my baby".
At that moment, someone should have punched ME. Had to be the hormones, just had to be. That is the only bad memory that I have with my grandmother, and it was only bad because of MY stupid behavior.
I greatly wish that all my babies could have had the chance to know Grammy and experience her love as I did. Lauren was the only one that ever got to be held in her loving arms. Sadly, Lauren doesn't remember. She was only 8 months old when Grammy died...waaay too soon.
I could go on and on and on. I had 22 years of wonderful memories and there's just no way to post them all here. For now, I'll leave you with the lyrics to her favorite song, Blessed Assurance by Frances J. Crosby:
Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine!
Oh, what a foretaste of glory divine!
Heir of salvation, purchase of God,
Born of His Spirit, washed in His blood.
Refrain:
This is my story, this is my song,
Praising my Savior all the day long;
This is my story, this is my song,
Praising my Savior all the day long.
Perfect submission, perfect delight,
Visions of rapture now burst on my sight;
Angels, descending, bring from above
Echoes of mercy, whispers of love.
Perfect submission, all is at rest,
I in my Savior am happy and blest,
Watching and waiting, looking above,
Filled with His goodness, lost in His love.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY GRAMMY!
One day, we WILL sing this song together.
Let the DIALOGUE begin! What is your favorite memory with your grandparents?
Talk to me!
Til next time...
Thursday, August 4, 2011
The 3 Faces of Facebook
I've been on Facebook for a couple years now and I've come to the realization that Facebook has its good days, and its bad.
For me, the greatest benefit of Facebook has been reconnecting with old friends. For that, I give it two thumbs up.
I've learned that although I can not control what others post, I can control how much of it I read. Therefore, I only log on once a day. Once...that's it, unless I get a notification. Otherwise, once a day is PLENTY for me.
Sure, I can hide people (and I have hidden people before), but I've stopped doing that because every now & then, even THAT hidden person has something interesting to say. So if I hide people, I might miss the "something interesting".
Another way that I limit what goes in is by only reading what fits in the window on my screen. I never scroll down. So something has to either be in my "top news" or "most recent" in order for me to even see it. That's typically 2-3 posts.
In my observation, I've learned that there are pretty much 3 types when it comes to FB. I like to call them, "The 3 Faces of Facebook".
*Type 1, logs on often, comments and posts often.
*Type 2, logs on once a day and only more if notifications are received (this is ME...that's why it's so specific).
*Type 3, logs on every now & then, maybe once a week, maybe less than that.
And so, I am left to wonder...Am I the ONLY one who has had to alter their approach to Facebook?
When it comes to my posts, I've chosen to take the Matthew 5:16 approach:
"Let your light shine before men in such a way that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father who is in heaven."
If my posts are negative, then where is my light? So I try to keep 'em positive.
Let the DIALOGUE begin! Which of the 3 Faces of Facebook are you?
Talk to me!
Til next time...
For me, the greatest benefit of Facebook has been reconnecting with old friends. For that, I give it two thumbs up.
I've learned that although I can not control what others post, I can control how much of it I read. Therefore, I only log on once a day. Once...that's it, unless I get a notification. Otherwise, once a day is PLENTY for me.
Sure, I can hide people (and I have hidden people before), but I've stopped doing that because every now & then, even THAT hidden person has something interesting to say. So if I hide people, I might miss the "something interesting".
Another way that I limit what goes in is by only reading what fits in the window on my screen. I never scroll down. So something has to either be in my "top news" or "most recent" in order for me to even see it. That's typically 2-3 posts.
In my observation, I've learned that there are pretty much 3 types when it comes to FB. I like to call them, "The 3 Faces of Facebook".
*Type 1, logs on often, comments and posts often.
*Type 2, logs on once a day and only more if notifications are received (this is ME...that's why it's so specific).
*Type 3, logs on every now & then, maybe once a week, maybe less than that.
And so, I am left to wonder...Am I the ONLY one who has had to alter their approach to Facebook?
When it comes to my posts, I've chosen to take the Matthew 5:16 approach:
"Let your light shine before men in such a way that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father who is in heaven."
If my posts are negative, then where is my light? So I try to keep 'em positive.
Let the DIALOGUE begin! Which of the 3 Faces of Facebook are you?
Talk to me!
Til next time...
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
T.I.P.S.
Ok. So I'm having one of those "I don't get it" moments. Maybe you can help.
You go to a restaraunt, and at the END of the meal, you leave a TIP.
Now...from what I understand, TIP or TIPS (to be exact) stands for "To Insure Prompt Service"
If that's the case, shouldn't the TIP come at the BEGINNING of the meal???
I mean, yes...one should work hard and provide the best service with the HOPE that they will be tipped well at the end. But I gotta tell ya...as the mother of someone who works in a restaurant, I am HOT UNDER THE COLLAR over the amount of people who do NOT TIP after my daughter has provided EXCELLENT service.
Yeah...they fill out a "comment card" rating her service as Excellent, but how 'bout rewarding her MONETARILY for her excellent service!!! Those comment cards don't put gas in her car! Your TIPS do!!!
Let the DIALOGUE begin! Do you agree that TIP should come at the BEGINNING of the meal, or does it make sense to leave it at the end (and have people gyp my daughter out of the TIPS that she so greatly deserves?)
Talk to me!
Til next time...
You go to a restaraunt, and at the END of the meal, you leave a TIP.
Now...from what I understand, TIP or TIPS (to be exact) stands for "To Insure Prompt Service"
If that's the case, shouldn't the TIP come at the BEGINNING of the meal???
I mean, yes...one should work hard and provide the best service with the HOPE that they will be tipped well at the end. But I gotta tell ya...as the mother of someone who works in a restaurant, I am HOT UNDER THE COLLAR over the amount of people who do NOT TIP after my daughter has provided EXCELLENT service.
Yeah...they fill out a "comment card" rating her service as Excellent, but how 'bout rewarding her MONETARILY for her excellent service!!! Those comment cards don't put gas in her car! Your TIPS do!!!
Let the DIALOGUE begin! Do you agree that TIP should come at the BEGINNING of the meal, or does it make sense to leave it at the end (and have people gyp my daughter out of the TIPS that she so greatly deserves?)
Talk to me!
Til next time...
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