In this time where everywhere we look is another credit card pitfall waiting to grab us, I have one more for you. WATCH YOUR RESTAURANT RECEIPTS!!! My friend went to Roadhouse Grill on Rosedale last month. She had ordered a drive-up dinner for her family. You know, that deal where you order ahead by phone and someone runs it out to your car without your ever having to get out. No waiter service is involved in this.  My friend eats out often, and she is usually a generous tipper, but she did not see the need to tip for a drive-in pick-up. Her bill was $48.23, and she paid with a credit card. Luckily, my friend is the type who keeps receipts, and she's fastidious about reconciling them with her statements. Imagine her surprise when she found that her card had been charged $54.23 for her dinner from Roadhouse. Upon researching, it was discovered that the person who had brought her food to the car had added a six-dollar tip to the bill after my friend had left! She had even written a zero with a line through it where the tip amount is meant to be added; this audacious and self-serving person had written OVER the zero! This is not the first time this has happened to her. She experienced a similar incident at another restaurant in here in Bakersfield a couple years ago.

This makes me wonder; how often has this happened to me? This is a question that we all should ask ourselves. I must admit that I do not keep those receipts, and I have no idea if it has happened to me or not. But it has happened to her twice in the last two years! I would be a fool to think that this is an isolated incident, or aimed only at her.

From now on, I am going to watch this very carefully. When I write a tip amount, I plan on writing it in words also, beneath the numbers. If I am not leaving a tip for some reason, I will write "NO TIP" in big, bold letters in that space.

To the credit of Roadhouse and their manager, he has been very helpful to my friend in resolving this issue. Not only are they refunding the "tip" to her, but they are refunding the amount of the bill as well. My personal opinion is that they should follow up this positive action with a boot in the butt of that waitress. An example needs to be set.

Watch your receipts, people. You never know how much you are REALLY tipping!

For a long time now, gas prices have soared to ridiculous levels with no relief in sight. We were told that there was no help for it due to the high price of oil. Still, oil companies and investors reported record profits, and the Bush administration shrugged its collective shoulders and basically said "oh, well, get used to it". Well, now oil prices are lower than they have been in a long time. So gas prices should go down, right? WRONG! They are going up again! This time the powers that be are saying it is because of the hurricane season. Horse hockey! I believe it is because the oil companies have decided that the public has resigned itself to paying astronomical gas prices, and so they can just keep charging us and continue to rake in the dough. And once again, the Bush administration says "oh, well...."
Two questions: why are we continuing to pay through the nose for gas when oil prices have dropped, and why do I seem to be the only one asking that question? The ones who should be asking are too busy either trying to save their legacies before leaving office or trying to get elected. It seems none of our so-called leaders are looking out for us; they are only interested in themselves. Nothing new there.
 

When I was a child, one of the things that I loved about my birthday was that it meant that there were exactly three months until Christmas. That was when my family started planning and preparing. My mom and I would start shopping and baking and making gifts; my dad would begin planning and building decorations. Although my family has never been "religious", Christmas was always a big deal in our house. The family aspect was emphasized, and as both my parents were (and still are) wonderfully talented and creative, our house drew crowds every year, and even merited photos in the newspaper and was listed as a key spot for the Christmas Light tour bus at the local retirement home. It became so popular that my parents began holding an open house every Christmas Eve, when they would open their house to anyone who wanted to see it. It was wonderful. However, until I became an adult, I never realized how bloody expensive this wonderful tradition could be! 

Now, whereas I looked forward to both my birthday and Christmas as a child, I utterly dread both. I dread my birthday for reasons obvious to most people in their forties. But I also dread it because it means that Christmas is coming. I still love the decorations, but especially now, when the economy is so bad, we are even more broke than in previous years. Our kids are already talking about what they want for Christmas, and all I can think of is, how in blazes are we going to pay for it? And what makes things worse is that my husband and my father have something in common...they both love those Christmas decorations! My husband is already talking about what he wants to get for the house this year, and all I can think about is the gasoline bill and the electric bill. And with the recent mishaps with two of our cars and my son's engine problems, I truly believe that I am putting our mechanic's children through college.  I'm turning into a regular Scrooge...at the very mention of the holidays I cringe, grimace and grumble.

I recently found out that I am not alone in this. On the dry erase calendar in my office, I wrote in red and green letters in the block for September 25th Three more months until Christmas! My co-workers all seem to respond the same way: Oh, no, not that again, or Did you have to remind me?

Maybe the answer lies in my parents' house. They still have all those great decorations, although my dad is often away on business and my mother is in poor health, so they do not go whole-hog as they did before. Maybe we should just pack up and move back in with them. That way, we'd have all the wonderful trimmings and spend less money to boot! My mom really should have someone there at the house to look after her while my dad is gone, and their house is spectacular, even without the Christmas stuff! I was really beginning to like this idea, until my husband reminded me of one crucial point. Yeah, your parents' place is huge, babe, but it still only has one kitchen.

Oops. That won't work. I can barely stand it when my husband walks through the kitchen when I am cooking, which, when I am at home, is all the time. Two women plus one kitchen equals someone getting hurt or killed. But I got an idea for that, too. My dad built most of their house. Maybe if we move in, he'd build me another kitchen, one with a downdraft range and a Subzero fridge and two sinks! I'm not asking for too much, am I? 

Okay, okay...I'll supply the Christmas decorations. And free cookies and baklava for life.

larger view

I killed a dog on my way to work last Friday. No, I am not bragging, I am confessing. In truth, the death of this unknown dog haunts me so terribly that it has taken a week for me to be able to write about it. I have never hit a dog or cat on the road before. I used to think that was because I am a good driver, but now I know that I was only lucky. I hope I never do it again.

I have made the commute from Tehachapi to Bako and back on the 58 freeway for years without incident, and I guess I have come to expect only the expected. The dog was decidedly unexpected, especially since it seemed to appear in a remote area, far from the city. It was a golden-sandy color, medium sized. I could not ascertain the breed, but I suspect it was just a doggy-dog, which is my name for a mixed breed or "mutt". The only thing I really know about it is that it was a really fast runner, it was lucky once, and then unlucky forever. Oh, yeah...I also know that it is dead.

The guy in the car ahead of me and to my left missed the dog by milliseconds, but the reason that I hit it is because the other guy missed it. Since the dog was in front of the other car, I never saw it until I watched it go under the front of my brand new car. Almost immediately my car began steaming and producing a horrid banging sound, indicative that the fan and the radiatior had just made contact with each other. I did not really notice, though; my eyes were glued to the rear-view mirror in horror and remorse. I finally pulled over about a mile down the road, and by the time I called my husband, I was nearly hysterical. My mind was filled with the image of the poor dog in my rear-view; I could not stop replaying that awful vision. But by the time my car was being towed to the shop, I was no longer crying; I was livid. What-ifs played over and again in my head; first, it was "what if I hadn't stopped at the bakery on the way to work?" Then, it was "what if I had been watching the other car more closely?" But what I finally ended with, and still stick to, is "what if some moron had not allowed that poor dog to run loose?" and "what if a nameless jerk had not abandoned their pet to the fields?" By the time I heard from my mechanic that my new car needed major front end repair, I was ready to string up the stupid, thoughtless idiot who had left that dog to his own devices. While I feel terrible about being the one to hit the dog in the road, it was only a matter of time. If not I, then someone else would have killed it, and all because of someone else's callous treatment of an innocent pet.

One good thing happened just after I hit the dog. As I sat weeping in my car on the shoulder of the road, a CHP officer pulled up next to me. Usually, CHP's on the freeway are an unwelcome sight, but I was glad to see this one. He asked me if I was okay; I tearfully told him about the dog. He asked again if I was okay, and I told him about my car, and that I was waiting for a tow truck. And then, I finally told him that I was fine, but I asked if he had seen the dog. He hadn't, but he promised to take care of it, and advised that I keep my car doors locked until the truck arrived. He said that he would make a few passes in the area to make sure I was alright. Then he pulled away and made an immediate u-turn in the median, returning to the place where the dog's life had ended. The officer was as good as his word; I saw him four times before the tow truck arrived. Less than ten minutes after he stopped next to me, I saw an Animal Control van heading east on the 58. When I finally went home later that day, I looked for the dog, just in case. It was gone.I felt better knowing that, thanks to the thoughtful officer, the poor animal would not end up as road pizza.

What will it take for people to care for their pets properly, humanely and kindly? What can be done to stop those who decide that a pet is too much of a burden and dump it on the roadside or in a field somewhere? How can we pound home the realization that letting a pet run amok is neglect, and that neglect is a form of abuse? Pets are happiest and healthiest if they are kept in a safe environment; they are not wild animals that "have a need to run free". When we adopt a pet, we have a responsibility to that animal for it's life and health. Pets are not disposable.

I still don't have my car back. I will, however, get it back eventually. The dog will never get its life back. He will live on in my memory, however. I wish we had met under different circumstances. Maybe we'd have been friends.