Eighty-six the Sadness, Substitute with Pride

No, I never worked in a diner, nor have I ever been a waitress. I have never used the phrase "Eighty-six the mayo," or "Order up." But here's a little-known fact: At one point, my hometown in Georgia did make room for a restaurant called Vittles. I rejoiced in the day that it would open. At night I laid awake in bed, picturing myself parading around on roller skates, serving breakfast, lunch and dinner to a host of hungry customers. Why I picked Vittles, I have no idea. When it finally did open, the food was terrible and the waitresses didn't wear roller skates. My dreams were crushed. Am I living vicariously through that far-fetched idea? Maybe a little. I know one thing for certain: I tend to live vicariously through most of the ideas I've ever had. This is my blog. This is officially my first entry.

Words cannot describe the way I am feeling. Next week marks a monumental time in my life. My husband is leaving for Iraq. He will be gone for one year. Time has flown to get us to this point. I am praying that time will fly to get us through it.

I never picked this lifestyle. I never laid awake in bed dreaming of roller skating alone (please, I haven't roller skated in fourteen years) or of being a military wife. But this lifestyle picked me. I am honored. I am proud. I am screaming from the top of my lungs that my husband is serving overseas to give YOU the freedom to read this blog, love it or leave it, and to have any feeling imaginable about this country, this president, this government, this opinion of mine.

You have everything, you know that, don't you? You have America to fall back on, have you nothing else. You have this because of people like my husband. I just wanted to remind you of that. Because if you don't like this first entry, you probably won't want to read the rest of them. The great thing about this whole thing? It's America. You can do whatever you want. Thanks, Justin.