There's a book I want to write. It exists only in outlines and little snippets in my head. Writing it has been a dream of mine since I first learned to appreciate the English language.
It's sometimes a shock to my system that I'm the grownup now. I mean, seriously? But then things happen that sort of drive home the point
Last night was the culmination of my "career" as your friendly neighborhood server.
I will no longer dress in a white, button-down, collared shirt and tie. I will no longer polish silverware. I will no longer ask if ice water or bottled is preferred. I will no longer watch as everyone around me sips their wonderful red wine or sangria.