This is going to hopefully be a chronicle of my expedition into the unfamiliar territory of The Bon Bon Club. You might be wondering what, exactly, is The Bon Bon Club. Housewifery, my friends. That foreign concept left back in the 50's alongside the discarded bras of the 60's, which heralded the emasculation of the modern male and ushered in an era of microwaved dinners, children raised by strangers, and a devolving society with no sense of self, no sense of personal responsibility, no identity, and few morals.
I've been working since I was 13. I've always prided myself on never having to be taken care of, on always paying my debts, and on being a very independent woman. You could say I'm independent to a fault. I don't ever like to admit I can't do something on my own. But I recently married a soldier. He'll be coming home from Afghanistan soon, and his duty station is about 1000 miles from where I live. I had two, options: go with him, or get left behind. I don't see two options there. There's no way in the world I'm staying behind. So, at least temporarily, I'm a member of The Bon Bon Club (an affectionate play on an inside joke between a couple I'm growing to love dearly).
There won't be any bon bons, I can tell you that. There will be every attempt made to be thrifty and frugal to ease the financial burden that is going to fall on my husband. I'm going to revisit a lot of the things my Gramma taught me, and hopefully learn new tricks along the way. June 18th is my final day in the working world, so wish me luck! Wish US luck!