Starting Over

Ryan and I had been together six months when we broke up for a week.

Saying it like that makes it sound so trivial, when really it was one of the hardest emotional journeys I've gone through to date.  It wasn't just the breakup or the fights or the fact that I wasn't over S.  I was finally forced to face myself and figure out what I wanted.  

And despite everything I'd convinced myself of, I didn't want S.  I wanted Ryan.

Our second first date was so awkward and painful and sweet.  It remains in my heart as one of the happiest days of my life.  And not just because of the dog.

You see, for the last seven years, Bear's been the main man in my life.  I grew up in a rocky home situation, had a lot of crappy boyfriends, but Bear was always there for me.

Needless to say, he's a pretty spoiled dog.  And for a long time, I think Ryan kind of resented him.

So when we went out on our second first date and brought Bear along, I knew this was some kind of turning point.  We took Bear to our favorite walking path.  It's a nice walk through the woods, and dead-ends at the reservoir.  I don't have to keep Bear on his leash and he's always rewarded with a swim.  But as usual, I'm getting all caught up in my dog when I'm supposed to be talking about Ryan.  

After seeing S and how things were so broken between us, I was afraid it would be like that with Ryan and I.  And I'll admit, there were a couple cracks.  Ryan tread so softly around me, like he was afraid I would break.  I kept my guard up, because I wasn't ready to trust him yet.  We were so familiar to each other, yet everything also seemed so new.  It was a strange feeling.

Ryan asked me if he could hold my hand.  I said yes.  He couldn't stop staring at me and smiling at me.  If it weren't for the fact I was so nervous, I probably would have thought he was a little creepy. ;)

We just walked and walked and walked.  We didn't talk about heavy stuff.  We didn't talk about our old problems.  We agreed to start over.  He wanted the chance to show me the person he could be.  I didn't want our old issues and misconceptions to taint the chance we had at a fresh start.  

After our walk, we had ice cream.  I think I joked that I felt like I was back in high school, going on walks and eating ice cream.  It was so nice.

At the end of the night, Ryan didn't try to kiss me.  He just held me really tight.  I've never felt so safe and accepted as I do when he wraps his arms around me.  It's the best place in the world.  He told me he understood that I wasn't ready to just jump back in to the way things were with us physically.  He never pressured me.  There were times, over the next several weeks, when I was outright mean to him.  I had given up fighting back with him and instead just bottled up a lot of my hurt and anger and now I was letting it out.  And Ryan just stood there and took it.  He knew I was testing him, even if I myself didn't know.  

I felt a little shell-shocked after the emotional rollercoaster I had put myself through.  But after that second first date, I was absolutely sure of something: that Ryan was the person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.

Whenever we fight or get on each other's nerves or I start freaking about about the future, I just think about his shy, sweet smile that day in the woods.  And suddenly there's nothing to be mad at or afraid of.  And I wouldn't trade that for anything in the world.

The Breakup: Part 2

Hey friends, sorry for the absence!

Things have been insane over here with work/life/projects.

And I get so distracted reading blogs that I forget to write my own posts.  Womp.

But let's pick up where we left off, shall we?

About a year ago, Ryan and I had just gone through a mini-breakup.

We decided to get back on track.

Sorta didn't happen.

Ryan and I were still fighting a lot.  He had this big emotional wall up between us and I also started to close myself off.  That's when S came back into the picture.  He told me he'd made a mistake and that he still loved me.

He's really good at dropping emotional bombs on my life.

I felt confused and afraid and torn between two people.  Ryan gave me stability, but our relationship was floundering emotionally.  And S still had this crazy hold on me.  So I ended it with Ryan.  Again.

I told him I didn't love him, that I never had.  He begged and pleaded with me to stay, but it just didn't feel right anymore.

I felt like I was with someone I barely knew.

We split up for a week.  At first I felt strangely liberated.  I saw S twice in that time, and it was so awful. I had all these high expectations that I would see him and we would just rekindle and everything would be like a cheesy romantic movie.  

Yeah, that's why those are called movies and not real life.

The truth is we couldn't even look each other in the eye.  We had nothing left to talk about.  What we had was so broken that there was no way we could ever put it back together.  

We, too, had become strangers.

A few days into our breakup Ryan asked if he could come over and talk to me.  He told me he just needed to get some things off his chest.  He told me he'd put up that emotional wall intentionally - he never planned on getting into a serious relationship while he was in the Navy.  He was going to travel and see the world and just generally sleep around.  He went out during our breakup too.  He realized that he didn't want to be in a bar, chasing girls.  He wanted to be at home, with me.  He told me he realized that he'd basically treated me like crap and that wasn't fair to me and he was sorry.

He told me how much he loved me, that he was willing to do anything to save our relationship and he just wanted a second chance to prove that he could be what I needed.

He said everything I said to S when he left me.

And then he hugged me and told me he understood if I never wanted to talk to him again and he walked out of my apartment.

A few more days went by.  A week after Ryan and I split, I was supposed to hang out with S.  And he blew me off.

I sat on my couch sobbing.  Here, almost a year later, and I was still a wreck over a guy who clearly didn't give a damn about me.  I felt like such a fool.  I sent him a text (I know, the digital age makes us all so overwhelmingly mature) telling him I was tired of chasing him.  I've never heard from him since.

I sat there, miserable, and the only person I wanted to talk to about it was Ryan.  I called him and told him everything.  I knew it would break his heart to hear that I had been harboring all these feelings for S, but he'd laid everything bare to me, and it was only fair that I do the same.

I told him that when S left, the only thing I'd wanted was a second chance, and I never got it.  I told him it would make me a hypocrite if I didn't give him one.

He asked me if we could hang out the next day.

I said yes.

Meeting Ryan

The Breakup: Part 1

The Breakup: Part 1

So in Friday's post I told you that when Ryan kissed me, I didn't cry.  You thought it was going to be all rainbows and butterflies from here on out, didn't you?

Well, you thought wrong.

Where do I even begin?  Don't get me wrong, I really liked Ryan and he really like me.  But we had so, so, so many underlying issues that were always causing moments of discontent.  Remember when I said I was originally biding time until S came back?  Well, it's really hard to start a new relationship when you're still in contact (and trying to get back) with your ex.  Ryan and I had a million fights about it, but I just couldn't cut him out of my life.

Ryan also had this big emotional wall up between us.  He told me on an almost daily basis that he never wanted a serious girlfriend.  He told me on an almost daily basis that I could leave whenever I wanted and go find someone else, but I kept hanging on.  The more he pushed me away, the tighter I clung.  There were times I felt like I didn't know him at all.  But at the same time, there were things that Ryan told me that he's never told anyone, and vice versa.  It's a really weird feeling, putting all your trust in someone when you're so closed off from them emotionally.

Finally in January I confessed to a mutual friend between S and I that I was still so in love with S that it was interfering with my relationship with Ryan.  My friend told me that if I were single, S would come around.  And bam, I broke up with Ryan on the spot.  This coming on the coattails of a huge fight between Ryan and I (it's funny, I can never remember what we fight about).  

I feel so bad for Ryan in hindsight.  I didn't really give him a reason why I wanted to break up, I just sort of did it.  Much like S did to me.

I came home and cried and cried and wondered what the hell I was doing.

The next day, I went to get my stuff out of Ryan's apartment.  We had a three-hour long conversation about all of those underlying issues.  We decided to give it another go.  We both promised to try harder.

A little piece of our wall came down.  Little did we know, we were chiseling away at it with butter knives when we needed a wrecking ball.

Meeting Ryan

Sorry for the lack of "Thursday Threads" yesterday.  I forgot to take any pictures.  Womp.  Instead I'm going to write about Ryan and I.  This is going to be kind of a long post, and it lacks in pretty pictures, so if you want to jump off this ride at any time, feel free.

It's always a little awkward when people ask how I met Ryan, because the answer is a pretty simple one: "In a bar."

For the record, as a twenty-something who refuses to date coworkers, doesn't go to church, and rarely shows up for class, there are only so many venues to meet dudes.  I guess I could tell you the short story: he was a friend of a friend and we were all there for my friend's birthday.  But that is just so not interesting and doesn't even begin to describe the craziness and intensity of the last seventeen months.  That's right, we had only been together for a little over a year when we got married.

But this story started long before that.  This story starts in June of 2010, when I've just had my heart stomped on into a thousand tiny little pieces.

You see, Ryan's not the first guy I've ever loved, and I'm not the first girl he ever loved, but that's his own story and he doesn't have a blog so I guess you'll just have to ask him about it if you really want to know.  Two years before I met Ryan (it's really creepy how dates are going to start lining up in this story), I met a guy.  Let's call him S.  I met this guy, you guessed it! At a bar.  I wandered in after work one evening to get some grub (I was in the "I only know how to make PB&J phase" of my life) and plopped my rear down in the only empty seat, next to some dude. 

 If you've never been a girl, in a bar, by herself, then let me fill you in on a little something: it's really, really awkward.  Usually guys hit on you because you're clearly pathetic and miserable and in desperate need of some misguided and poorly placed chivalry.  I am not any of those things.  I hate being hit on.  It just makes me feel... cheap?  Well, I'm also a huge hypocrite because I don't want to go somewhere by myself and have no one to talk to, because I'm a social person.  So I attempt to make conversation with "some dude" sitting next to me.  He wasn't really all that verbose (turns out he was really nervous), but then his snarky, chatty friend turns up and "some dude" decides to set me up with "snarky friend."  Somehow they both end up with my number.

I politely wing my way out of going on a date with "snarky friend" but "some dude" asks me to hang out.  And I do.  Let's get something straight: I was NOT attracted to "some dude."  I was NOT looking for a relationship.  He just seemed like a cool guy, and he was really, really funny.  So we started hanging out.  A lot.  When it got to the point that he hadn't tried to make a move, I decided he didn't like me so therefore I liked him (I'm a sucker for unrequited romance).  That night he kissed me.  And "some dude" became S.  

About a week into our relationship, I swear to God I had this fleeting premonition that S and I were going to grow old together.  A week into our relationship, I was head-over-heels in love.  We were crazy about each other from the get-go.  I'd never been so happy in my life.

Let me just say this: underneath all the sunshine and roses, there was something really, really wrong.  You see, not only was I in love, I was obsessed.  I was unhealthily fixated.  I'm pretty sure I was co-dependent.  But none of that mattered.  Because S was my dream guy and I loved him and he loved me and that's all that mattered.  Even though I was working and in school full-time and S had TWO full-time jobs and we never saw each other and we argued and I started questioning the relationship and whether or not this was what I wanted and whether or not I could keep doing this.  We were in love, man!  And love conquers all, right?

And then the bomb dropped.

Nine months after that first kiss, S and I came home from a night out with friends and he told me he couldn't do it anymore.

My earth shattered.  It didn't matter that I was having doubts.  That 24 hours before, I was thinking about ending our relationship.  Anyone who's ever been dumped can tell you that not only is it humiliating, it turns you into a completely irrational person.

There were days I didn't get out of bed.  I couldn't pay my rent because I drank away all my money every night after work.  I threw myself at any guy who glanced my way.  I cried and cried and cried.  I'm amazed my friends put up with me.  I seriously thought about killing myself.  I wondered if I'd ever stop hurting.  I was sure S and I would get back together, because of that damn "premonition."

We stayed in relative contact.  I'd send him a pathetic text message, he'd (maybe) respond.  It was just enough to keep stringing me along.  He'd tell me he missed me, he couldn't explain why he ended it, maybe things would work out.  It was torture.  He was all I thought about.

We broke up on June 6, 2010.  It's weird that date sticks out in my mind.  Exactly a year and a half later, on December 6, 2011, I married Ryan.  But I'm jumping ahead of myself.

Fast forward three months to September 16, 2010.  I'm at a well-known college bar/club for my friend Caitlin's birthday.  She's dating a guy in the Navy, so there are a bunch of his sailor buddies there.  I'm kind of wandering around, talking to Navy guy's friends, most of which I know by now.  I'll be honest, I was on the prowl.  Then there was this guy I didn't know.  And he was cute!  We ended up chatting beside a very large, loud speaker.  I think it was my idea to go sit at a table so we could chat more.

We sat and talked for THREE HOURS!  Ryan told me later that the first night we met, he could tell we had some kind of connection.  He walked me to my car.  He asked me for my number, and of course I gave it to him.  He said his phone was dead but when he got ready to leave, he'd put it on the car charger and text me.  I'd been fed a lot of bullshit by guys that summer, and figured I'd never talk to him again.  Me, setting myself up for failure.

He kissed me.

I got in my car and left.  Now, here's the kicker: I'd done a lot of drinking and slumming around that summer.  And I felt so ashamed.  I had this huge hole in me that S ripped out, and I was trying to fill it with another guy.  I'm pretty sure one guy told me, to my face, that I was "emotionally damaged."  Every time I kissed a new guy, I cried.  "Sobbed" would probably be more appropriate.  

When Ryan kissed me, I didn't cry.

And he texted me, even though I thought he wouldn't.

The next night, we went on our first "real" date.  We walked along the beach and he held my hand and told me about his family.  

I really liked this guy.  Neither of us expected for this to be a long-term relationship.  I was just biding time until S came around, he wasn't looking for a girlfriend.

Well, S did come around.  Ryan did get a girlfriend, and I generally made a mess of things.

Ooooh, the suspense!  Stay tuned for "The Breakup: Part 1"

InstaFriday

My week via InstaGram

Blue Hair!

Bear's new girlfriend, Leila.  And a gratuitous up-the-shorts shot of Chris.  Nice.

Mint Chocolate Bailey's on a girls night in.

Lunch with Matt before he moves away.  He gets really excited about IHOP.

Valentine's Day garland from Michelle!

Shorts and tights!

Have a great weekend lovers!

You Never Know

Where you're going to find a little inspiration.

Who knew my place of employment could give such sage advice? Embrace some happiness today. :-)

Jack-elopes and Rhinoviruses

So I meant to post yesterday but got completely laid on my ass with what I'm assuming was some kind of Spiderman version of the common cold. I couldn't even get out of bed. Fortunately today I feel a lot better.

Ryan and I went to sign our lease today! We move in on Wednesday and we couldn't be more excited.

But Tuesday was our really big day. We went down to the courthouse and Ryan made an honest woman out iof me.

That's right. We're married. Get it? Jack-elope? I know, I'm a riot. We're shooting at having a ceremony next spring so I still get to go through the exciting/stressful wedding planning.

I'm cool with that. 'Cause I'm stuck with my best friend with the rest of my life. :-)

Hello, Friends!

Let's ketchup.

I can't believe I've let two weeks slip by without a post!  Actually, I can, because it was kind of intentional. I personally hate to be blown off, so I'm truly sorry I did that to you guys, but it was all in the name of spending some much-needed quality time with my family.

And that was just week one.  Week two has consisted of doing a bunch of grown-up type things.

For instance.... WE FOUND A HOUSE! After months of hunting and creeping around back yards, we finally got a place and it is P-E-R-F-E-C-T for us! There are spare bedrooms! A garage! A fenced-in back yard! THERE'S A FIREPLACE FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!

We move in on the 14th and Ryan and I are both super excited. Now if only we could stop arguing about TV stands. ;)

We have a reaaaalllly big day tomorrow.  Can you guess what's gonna happen!?

I'll leave you in suspense until then. ;)

Happy Monday, friends!

Haircut!

After a couple months of hemming and hawing, I got a hair cut yesterday!

About two years ago, I thought it would be a really cool idea to grow my hair reaaaally long.  You see, I'd always had pretty short hair.  Like... Kate Gosselin short (but way more classy and a lot less porcupine-y).  And then I fell through the mirror into blog land and found out that "boob hair" is super cool.  And I had boob hair!  Such a fulfilling moment of my life, I tell ya.

Things were going well, and then we went on vacation.  And my hair asplode.  I guess it was the mixture of Gulf water and chlorine, because all my ends decided to just freak out and split all at once.  I tried to ignore it, I really did.  But the hair at the nape of my neck kept getting all dreadlock-y and all I could do was braid it.

I couldn't even style it anymore because it would just get all tangled and crazy.  I had to cut out more than one knot.  Eventually I just had this weird, frizzy, wavy matted thing living on top of my head.  It kind of reminded me of a shaggy sloth.

Those split ends were mocking me.  And I had way surpassed boob hair.  I could use my hair as a scarf.  Or a slutty shirt.  Once your hair starts doubling as bad clothing, it's time for a trim.

Now dammit if that ain't the most attractive thing you've seen all day!  I had a major case of triangle hair... pyramid hair...

So anyway, I booked an appointment with an apprentice at a local salon and this girl for real worked wonders.  Wonders, I tell you!

I haven't had a different hair style in four years.  And man, sometimes change is good.  Like when you change your underwear.  Or your haircut.  Or the channel when reality TV comes on.  But I digress...

Ta da!  I didn't know my hair could get that curly!  I'm so excited.  I had this big shit-eating grin all day yesterday and couldn't stop looking in the mirror.  My hair bounces, people!

Don't judge me.  It's the only way I could figure out how to take a picture of the back of my head.

And I'm not sure why, but I feel like a bonafide grownup with this haircut.  Not a semi-grownup, a real grownup!  Oh, and the best part?  My cut was free! F-R-E-E!  Because my stylist is still an apprentice her cuts are free and her colors are only thirty bucks!  I know, right!?  I'll give you a minute to pick your jaw up off the floor.

If any of you are in the Virginia Peninsula area and want to know the name of the stylist and salon, just shoot me an email!

Have a happy weekend!

A Perfect Day

So the other day I said I was going to wake up early and go jogging.  That totally didn't happen.  But what did happen was way better.  I brought Bear to one of our favorite trails with the full intention of jogging but I forgot how much running hurts.  I am many things, but a glutton for punishment isn't one of them.  I also brought my camera and kept stopping to take pictures.  So what was supposed to be a 20-minute jog turned into an hour-long walk with just Bear and I.  And it was perfect.  I'll let the pictures do the talking.

It was so quiet and peaceful.  It was like walking in a cathedral.  Only better.  I'm not a very religious person, but sights like this remind me that there has to be something greater out there.

Bear was not impressed by my need to stop and take pictures every ten feet.

I love the fact that this trail is never packed with people.  It's the only place Bear can run free off his leash and I don't have to worry about being screamed at by park rangers.  One end of the trail dead-ends at the reservoir, and Bear always gets to swim around and make a mess.  Unfortunately he didn't get to today because he just got a bath yesterday.  He was NOT happy about his lack of a swim.  Oh well, you win some, you lose some.

Dang it if that ain't the most handsome mutt you've ever seen.

Bear kept sticking his tail in the shot.  He was getting pretty antsy at that point.  He doesn't understand why his human wants to just sit around and take pictures when there are so many things to sniff and pee on.

Did I mention that it's a perfect 70 degrees out right now?  Autumn in Virginia is probably the most perfect thing ever.

P.S.  Have you ever tried Picnik?  It's probably the best thing ever.  I edit all my photos on there and it just turns them into magic.  AND it's free.  Doesn't get any better than that.

Have you been having any fall adventures lately?

Debt

Before I graduated from high school, I really wish someone would have sat me down, smacked me across the face, and said "Listen up, 'cause this shit is important" and then proceeded to tell me the following things:

1. Go to community college for two years and get all the stupid core classes out of the way, and then transfer to a real university.  Because if you don't, you'll be in college an extra 3+ years because you can't manage to show up to Sophomore English.

2. Don't get a credit card, because you're going to be way too broke to make the payments, and then lawyers and creditors are going to start calling and harassing your 80-year old grandma.

3. Don't be a Music Major!  Get a real major so you can get a real damn job when you finally graduate.

4. Start exercising, because you're going to be too broke to buy real groceries and your main form of sustenance will be something off the McDonald's dollar menu. Every. Day. And fat ain't cute and you can't afford to buy new jeans every time you gain or lose a pound.

5. Live at home until you're 30.  Yeah, living with Mom sucks and you hate her rules, but having roommates with alcohol/drug problems who do things like beat your dog, file false police reports on you, and bail two days before $1100 of rent is due are WAY worse than being home by midnight.

6. Just don't date. Boys will ruin your grades and the bad sex is way overrated.  Just make sure you make it to a certain bar on September 16, 2010, 'cause that guy is actually worth keeping around.

7. You can't raise your brother, make good decisions for your mom, or repair the relationship with your dad, so quit stressing out over it. All that crying you do while driving is probably going to cause you to wreck (again) and you can't afford to total another car.

That being said, I think it's pretty apparent I'm under a LOT of stress right now, most of it being caused by financial burdens.  I wish just a few short years ago I'd really understood what living above your means actually meant.  More importantly, I wish I had understood the consequences.

I've been feeling really overwhelmed lately, and when that happens I tend to just hide from everything so I don't end up having a giant panic attack (been there, done that, ain't fun).  Seriously, I didn't get out of bed until 2 pm today.

When I get like this, I remember what my friend Jamie told me, and it's some of the best advice I've ever gotten: "You can't do everything all at once.  You need to break things down and take care of one thing at a time."  So that's what I'm going to try to do.

Here's what needs to happen in the next month:

Tomorrow I'm going to wake my ass up sometime before noon.  I'm going to take Bear and go for a jog. Because like I said before, McDonald's is making my ass bigger than it already is and I don't need that extra stress.

Tomorrow I'm also going to apply for Federal Student Aid for next semester.

On Friday I'm going to send off the check to make the first payment on my student loans.  It's due on Monday and I can't afford to deal with any late charges.

On Monday I'm going to pay off the $140 hold on my student account and attempt to get registered for the last two classes I need in order to graduate.

On December 1 I'm going to pay my rent.

Through December, I'm going to save up for all the money that moving requires (damn you, security and pet deposits!).

Once Ryan and I move in January I'm going to call those pesky debt collectors and set up some kind of payment plan.

I've got to get a handle on my money, I can't keep living life hiding from my bank statements.  And I'm pretty sure my family is going to disown me if those lawyers don't stop calling.  

On the up side, my car will be paid off in May, and that means that not only do I not have to worry about car payments, I can also drop my car insurance down to liability and that will save me a little money too.

Breaking things down I just realized that I only need $250 by Monday to make sure my immediate concerns are taken care of, and that has alleviated the stress a little.

Am I the only 20-something that feels like they've been thrown out on the wind with no sort of idea how to be a grown-up?  You'd think they'd have some kind of class or handbook for this sort of thing.

I wish I was rich enough to just have some kind of financial advisor.  But then, if I were rich, I guess I wouldn't worry so much about my car being repossessed. 

Tipping: It's Not a City in China

Before I start this post I know that some asshole is going to post an anonymous comment talking about how whiny I'm being.  And to that, I say: shut up and go somewhere else.

A Little Background:

Now, on with the show.  If you don't already know, I'm a server/bartender at a fairly upscale restaurant in my area.  I've been there for almost four years and, for the most part, I love my job.  I grew up with a single mom who was a bartender for years, and I remember seeing how difficult it was for her to support us, and now I'm finding myself in her shoes.  (Seriously, when was the last time you had to make the choice between buying groceries and paying rent?  If you've ever been there, you know how terrible that feels.)

Seriously, I didn't buy groceries for six months one time.  I lived off of leftovers from my mom's house and free meals my friend in the kitchen provided because he felt bad for me.  Oh, and peanut butter sandwiches.

August - October are notoriously slow in the restaurant industry.  My manager gives us the same spiel every year- "Save your money, turn as many tables as you can, etc."  I get it.  I have a daily budget.  I'm not an idiot.

But when I work five days a week and consistently make 10% tips, avoiding homelessness gets pretty difficult.

I'm Good at This:

Now, let me just say that I am awesome at what I do.  I'm one of four certified trainers for my job.  That means that every server we hire is trained by me.  It took me three years to work up to a bartender's position, because we only promote from within.  In my manager's words the bartenders "are the cream of the crop."  I've been employee of the month.  I'm good with people.  I'm NOT one of those jerk waitresses who doesn't give a damn about you.

I understand that your tips pay my bills.  More importantly, I generally like you (unless you're rude).  I honest-to-God want you to have a good time while I'm waiting on you.

Cutting Corners the Wrong Way:

But these last couple months I've noticed a really disturbing trend: people are still coming out to eat, still spending the same amount on their bill, and are tipping less.  Um.... what?  If you can't afford to tip, you can't afford to go out to eat!

Salary?  What's a Salary?

In case you didn't know, I DO NOT make minimum wage.  In fact, I make $2.13 an hour.  Yes, you read that right.  Two freaking bucks an hour.  AND I tip out 3% of my total sales to the bartenders/bussers/hostesses.  AND I pay taxes on those sales.

So when you come out to eat and have a $75 check, don't leave me $5!  How is anyone supposed to live off of $5?  Where I used to average $500/week, I'm now averaging less than $250.  That's over a fifty percent pay cut.  Imagine your life if your salary were cut in half, without notice.

Wednesdays are one of the busiest days of the week in my restaurant.  With my sales, I should have made around $100- $120 last night.  I made $39.  Last Sunday,  I made $18.  Eighteen.  Dollars.  I sat in my car and cried when I got off work.  

I don't know how many times in the last four years I've gotten the "Thank you so much for your service!  You were wonderful!,"  followed by a tip like the one below.  Hint: A verbal compliment (or what we in the biz like to call a "verbal tip"), while very much appreciated, DOES NOT pay my bills.

Not my finger.

This is just unacceptable.  Trust me, if I could find a full-time day job, I would.  But I'm putting myself through college, with classes during the day, so I can't.  I have rent.  I have bills.  I have a grownup life I'm trying to live and pay for. 

The "Standard":

I'm sure at some point you've heard that the tipping standard is 15 - 20%.  What exactly does that mean?  That means that 15 - 20% of the total bill is what you should leave as a tip.  Now let's get real: 20% is actually the standard these days.  Living is expensive.  I give great service, and I'm disappointed when I get a tip that's less than 20%.

I Suck at Math!  Help!:

Now, the easy way to figure out 20%: Take your total.  For an example we'll use the one from the picture above - $89.00. 

Now move the decimal to the left by one place.  That gives you $8.90; that's 10%.  

Now multiply that by two.  That gives you $17.80. 

Now go out there and start leaving 20%.  And for the love of God, if you get terrible service, TALK TO A MANAGER about it!  I've left two bad tips in my entire life, and trust me, they were warranted.  However, the problem was brought up to a manager beforehand.

If you've stuck through the rant this far, thanks.  Sometimes you need to get something off your chest before you're forced to start pouring bleach into people's sweet teas.  Totally kidding.  I don't poison people because that's illegal. 

Hometown Tourist

Last week Ryan's dad and stepmom came down to visit for the weekend.  On Monday Ryan had duty, so I took them up to see Colonial Williamsburg.  I've lived smack dab in the middle of what is called "The Historic Triangle" for most of my life, and I've kind of taken for granted that I grew up amidst so much history.

I mean seriously, every year until high school we took a field trip to the Jamestown Settlement.  Every.  Year.  I've planted corn at Great Hopes Plantation.  I lost my glasses in the James River trying to use a fishing net like the colonists.  My one "field trip" sophomore year involved walking out the back door of my school, across the soccer field, hopping a ditch, and ending up at Surrender Field.  What is Surrender Field, you ask?  Well, that's where Gen. Cornwallis surrendered to Gen. George Washington on October 19, 1781 - ending the Revolutionary War (You history buffs will argue that the white hankie was officially waved on the 17th- and it was- but the Articles of Capitulation were signed on the 19th).  See?  Told you I grew up in the middle of history.  But I digress.

It was a lot of fun being a hometown tourist for the day, and it was even more fun getting to be a mini tour guide (I was amazed at all the semi-useless information on Colonial America I managed to call up).  I probably talked Ryan's parents' ears off, but they were good sports about it.

Close-up of the lectern in Bruton Parish Church

Gulf Shores Roundup

As I sit looking out the window into the shitstorm rain, all I can think about is the perfect weather I left behind in Gulf Shores, AL.  Remember that post where I promised I was taking all kinds of pictures?  Well, I got distracted by LOTS of food, the beach, and...the beach.

But here are the photos that Ryan and I DID manage to take!

One Year!

A year ago today I met my best friend, my favorite person ever, and the guy I want to spend the rest of my life with.  I love you, babe.  Happy Anniversary.

Knee-Deep in the Water Somewhere...

I so suck at posting regularly.  Sorry, friends.  As soon as I get back I swear I'm going to go to blogger rehab and learn how to treat you right.  But until Saturday I'll be chasing my nieces and nephews through the surf, enjoying the most beautiful sunsets I've ever seen, drinking Crown on the balcony and enjoying my wonderful family.

I promise I'm taking pictures and buying all sorts of tacky souvenirs.

Until then...

A Day in D.C.

Growing up in Virginia, I've always taken for granted how close I live to our nation's capital.

I have family in that area, so the Washington Monument has always been a familiar sight, and I was a little surprised when Ryan said he'd never been.

So on Saturday morning when he suggested we go, I jumped at the chance!

Well, what was supposed to only be a two-and-a-half hour drive took nearly five hours!

I don't even want to talk about Virginia drivers.

So, after much swearing and braking and talking about turning around, we finally made it to D.C. right around 5 PM, which turned out to be pretty lucky, because we got there right after a nasty rain storm cleared up.