"The philosophy of the school room in one generation will be the philosophy of the government in the next." - Abraham Lincoln

In medical non-news, my biopsy results did not arrive today, as I was told they would ("might be Friday, certainly by Monday") so I did not get on the plastic surgeon's Monday schedule. Now my hope is that they show up early tomorrow and that he can put me on his Wednesday log. He only does surgeries M,W,F, and I really don't want to wait until the end of the week! In addition to all the obvious reasons I have the Goodguys car show on my calendar for Friday.

That's a big show put on in about six different cities throughout the year, and this weekend it's in Scottsdale. Huge show with hundreds of cars, a swap meet, and a large vendor area. One of those vendors, located in Nevada, sells parts for restoring Chevy trucks and I ordered new bumpers from them last month. I save shipping costs because I arranged to pick those bumpers up at the show where they'll have a booth. We're talking a little over $100 in savings. So I gotta go!

It doesn't happen very often, especially considering the amount of time we spend together, but every once in awhile the boys recount a story that gives Pam and me a fresh glimpse from the other side into the parenting we did decades ago. The stories usually reveal us as the clueless parents we were, but occasionally as having stumbled into an approach that, if it were intentional, could almost pass for wisdom.

I'm not sure which side of the ledger Sunday's stories go. Josh said that the first time he took Aubri out for dinner...at this point she interrupted to say it was the first FIVE times...he didn't leave a tip. The last time the waitress followed them out to ask if she'd done something wrong, and Aubri couldn't figure out what his problem was.

The explanation was simple: he knew nothing about tipping. His parents had never taken him and his brother to a restaurant where tips were part of the process. When you order at the counter off the menu overhead and get your food on a plastic tray there's no tipping. He had no idea; never seen tipping.
#PoorPreachers #FastFoodFinances

Steve then told his clueless restaurant story. His very first date was with Shellie (who shall remain otherwise anonymous because I think she reads this blog. I know her sis does) and when they were done he got up and headed out. Never mind no tip, he didn't even pay. Thankfully, Shellie stopped him and asked if he really planned on skipping on the bill.

Again, the explanation was simple, if perhaps a bit more difficult to understand: Steve had never paid for a meal. When he went to a restaurant (see above) it was with his parents, and his dad always paid at the register. He went with his mom and brother to sit down and wait for dad and the tray of food. So that step wasn't part of his mindset.

Thank you, Shellie, for teaching him what we foolishly thought the kid would have figured out on his own.

Two take-aways.

1. I can't figure out how two boys so ill-prepared for life managed to turn out like they did. 
2. I still can't get used to going out with Pam to a restaurant with real menus, waiters, and even tablecloths, and seeing parents with three or four young kids with them. I wonder, how they can afford that?