Springing forward.

Its funny -- there must be something about March. Spring is in the air, families are gardening again, baby birds are hatching, and Lori's thoughts turn to ... blogging. It's been on my mind of late to give it another go, so I pulled Blogger up on my laptop, wondering if I could still find the old blog that I began on impulse (then abandoned just as quickly) so long ago. And, there it was... staring back at me from the screen, blinking quietly, whispering, "I was wondering whether and when you were going to show your fingers around here again". The second (and final!) post, was about one year ago, almost exactly to the date. There must be something about March... the short span of my brain's vitality between the slow thaw from the New England winter freeze, and the rapid rot from Boston's summer sun.

Today I will blog with a specific purpose. A very close friend has inspired me to give of myself. I try to give where I can, but this new effort is focused, and specific. It is in the spirit of a (hopefully) growing movement called 29 Gifts. You can read about here:

http://www.29gifts.org/

Yesterday began my 29 days. Last night I took my 13 year old son out to dinner. Just the two of us, to Legal Seafood. The boy loves him some lobster. We waited a very long time for our table, but passed the time roaming the mall that housed the restaurant. We fought the crowd at the hostess stand a couple of times to check on our status, and as time passed, he grew increasingly hungry and a felt bit ill, but insisted still that he preferred to wait rather than opt for a different choice.

We were relieved when we were at last led to our table, and we looked forward to the famous Legal Seafood clam chowder (which, incidentally, should probably be ILlegal, like other substances that feel so good but are so bad for you ... ). Unfortunately, service was slow. Even more unfortunately, halfway through his bowl of chowder, the son pulled a long, cream-covered hair from his mouth. Not his. Not mine. I don't need to detail it further. We were both a little upset.

I hated to raise it with the waitress, because she looked like she was having a hard night. She must have been around my age. She looked tired, and had been apologetic for the long wait and slow service. She seemed to be trying hard to make sure we had what we needed. Still. The hair. It needed to be addressed, despite protests from my son, who is generally mortified by the slightest bit of attention, and certainly not inclined to draw any attention to himself while out to dinner, with his mother, on a Saturday night. Still. Hair. In the chowder. Ew.

After numerous apologies from the waitress and a visit from the manager and an accommodation on our check, somehow my son was still talking to me and we managed to eat and truly enjoy the rest of our dinner.

My first of 29 gifts was a large tip for our server. Thirty percent, based on the check we would have received sans hair, not based on the actual check. It felt great to walk away knowing that she probably looked for her tip after we left, maybe expecting that we'd forgotten to tip based on what the check should have been, and maybe anticipating a poor tip anyway, based on the challenging experience we'd had. I hope I brought her a pleasant surprise, and maybe added some joy to an evening that looked like it was a difficult one for her.

I can't wait to see what today will bring. Thank you friend, for getting me involved, and for inspiring me with your own generosity. I can't wait to receive the book in the mail and read it (I read your blog, and I know that I'm on the receiving end of some of that generosity. I feel incredibly touched and honored). Today, my gift will be to try to spread the word, and the joy, of giving. That may not be the sort of "direct benefit" contemplated by the initiative. I'll know more, I suppose, when I read the book. In the meantime, it feels right, and good.

Maybe I'll manage to keep this blog alive, too. At least into April.