How to Get Your Man to Cook...Every Day of the Week.

My Husband and I spent the better part of the first five years of our relationship fighting.

About chores.

I love to cook, love it... but I hated that the entire burden of nourishing our two bodies was placed squarely on my shoulders.

Literally. He would eat "snack stuff" all day long.

Snack stuff. I still don't know what that actually means. In my head, it means my daughter perched on the chair next to him, while they both pig out on chips and soda.

*sigh....or flat out *curse depending on my mood.

Later on, much later on, it occured to me that he and I...we don't speak the same language. I say, "you need to have lunch before I come home."

He hears, "there are five drive thrus in between where we have to go and home. Sweet!"

The constant nudging made me feel like a control freak. In reality, though, I didn't tell him what was in the kitchen, I expected him to go out, poke around, find something he wanted to eat, and fix it.

The male brain hears "Drive thru! Much easier. Saves five steps."

So, we've compromised. I no longer leave him to plan a meal for himself or the kids, and we cut our drive thru budget by 7/8ths. Now, it's a fun treat, not a panicked stop to fill bellies for lack of better planning.

And, it turns out, he is perfectly willing to cook. I used to joke that meant spaghetti or tacos, but the man is really accomplished at man food.
As in, grilled food.

Therein, lies my rescue. I simply pick up large packages of simple meat, and let him have his way with them on the grill. Usually that just means salt and pepper, which is perfect, because the rest of the week, the leftovers are easy to work with. Yesterday, he fired up the grill and made sausages and corn, and I'll take the leftovers today and make spaghetti, along with a breakfast casserole for tomorrow. (We leave for the beach bright and early.) I make french dips out of leftover steak, and grilled chicken just has so many uses it isn't funny. It doesn't require a lot of supervision from me when I have a stack of grilled meat to work with, and (I think) he enjoys it.

Win, win!

So, I guess he's not technically cooking every day of the week, but it feels that way since I have such a head start on things. Plus fighting with that grill is not my thing, and I've been more than guilty of ordering takeout on hot days to avoid turning the stove on.
Of course, the other option is marry someone who likes to cook all the time

Do you have a strategy to get your man to cook?

What your 8% tip says to my boss

I love my job. I wait for my two shifts a week, and my little foray into the grown up world of employment. I love waiting on tables, as silly as that might sound. It's fun, it's active, and I get to socialize with a crazy amount of people in a pretty limited amount of time.

Personally, *I* don't mind how people tip. (Of course, *I* am not the average server.) I'm good, I know it, and whatever tip you give me is the most you would ever give. I would rather have a 12% table, than an empty table making zero percent. Of course, I would also rather have the table that's going to leave me 25%, as well.

The industry standard for average service right now is 18-20%. Sorry to break it to you in the cheap seats, but there it is. Personally, whatever you leave me, we're good. That's what you wanted to give me, and I'm happy you came in.

However, there is the matter of the credit card slip. It's the kryptonite in my happy go lucky work philosophy. It's the note that you just handed to my boss that says I suck. You see, my company holds me to the industry standard of 20%. Yes, they use those credit card slips to judge how well we take care of you. You had a good time. I know it, because you and laughed a lot, you had everything you asked for as fast as I could possibly acquire it, and then you said so on the way out the door. This is all great. And then you handed my boss a note that says I'm the worst server in the world. I know most people don't think like that, but there it is.

Here's your fix- either tip the industry standard, or carry a couple bucks in cash to give your server. Unless they really did suck, and then go ahead and slip in that permanently documented poor tip. They deserve it.