We had a lot of snow and winter weather. I've always loved the snow; and always hated the ice. When we moved to CA, I didn't miss the ice but I hated the dismal chilly drizzles. We got down to freezing once or twice. I remember seeing snow topped foothills, far above us.
For flatlanders like my family, we thought they were mountains. Here's a nice example:
That's one regret: I WISH Ron and I had done more hiking before his accident. As it is, we only went hiking once. He kept teasing me about my water consumption, which led to one of his endearments for me: "My little camel".
I know, sounds horrible. But he says it so sweetly.
I was so happy when we moved to Houston. In CA, we had a pretty severe temperature drop pretty much every night, say about 20 degrees. That doesn't sound too bad, but what if you only got up in the 60's? We even determined the absolute worst temperature and named it: 48 degrees. Anything below that was miserable. When we'd ride the bus home from his job in San Francisco, I'd read off the bank sign as we passed. It was usually 55 and below. We had one or two hot days which was funny because no one had air conditioning, except the stores.
The fog would roll in over the coast, but it didn't hit us where we lived. We just got the chill. I hated to see the sun set.
When I was 10, my grandmother brought me to Houston. I loved it. I was so excited when I found a lizard in the backyard. It was the highlight of my visit, even more than the circus. I put down roots, and wanted to come back.
We came back a few times to visit Ron's family. It just strengthened my resolve. Ron's family didn't seem to excited about it, though. [things to come] But, reading the papers, I saw the jobs were plentiful and the pay comprable to what I made in CA.
I nagged and nagged, trying to get Ron to move. He dug in and refused. I turned it over to God. Ron decided to move!
That's the closest I've ever come to leaving him. I told him, I'll go first, and get set up. Then you can come. When we fought, Ron was always telling me he could get a roomate who'd "contribute" more than I ever did. I figured he could do just that once I got to Houston. I had it all set up, how I'd call him a couple weeks in and tell him to stay.
Ron had other ideas. I think, on some level, he knew what I had planned. He knows me pretty well. He quit his job - which basically ensured he had to move with me.
I only had a couple hundred dollars. Ron found a one-way plane ticket on Southwest, but we didn't have enough money for two tickets. Ron left days before I did, on a Greyhound. They didn't help him at all. Ron had to rely on a Deaf woman also traveling to Houston. He said it was pretty comical. I flew out days later, and we arrived on the same day. I found a nice Nigerian man (I soon found out many Nigerian immigrants get into the Taxi business) and he made a nice little sum taking me to my new apartment.
I moved to Houston in 2000. I don't regret it. I didn't get to do a lot of things, like graduate high school or college. I didn't get my driver's license. I never owned a car.
On the plus side, I never had student loans. I never had a hangover. I never had to pay car insurance or gas (paying for someone else's gas nonwithstanding).
I always wanted to own a home. I can do that here. Our mortgage is $450, about what we would pay for a basic one bedroom apartment near work (in a terrible area). It's on a bus line. I'm good to go.
It's in the paratransit area: Ron's good to go.
We started our business in 2001. It was apparent the job I'd moved for featured a sociopathic boss. I should have known something was up: when I told my old boss where I was going, he laughed. I endured as long as possible, while frantically interviewing for other jobs. I made it six weeks before quitting.
I finally got a job working at a chain restaurant. I'd worn a revealing top, only to realize my interviewer was gay. He looked sadly at my chest and said "You're really desperate, aren't you?" I agreed. He hired me.
I am not a very good waitress. I got confused. I wasn't paced for it. I kept interviewing.
I applied for a steady government job working for the transit company. It "only" paid $14K a year, about double what I make now. My application worked it's way down the line. I had a couple of interviews.
In the meantime, a "good" job arose at a local CPA firm. My office had a real cherry wood desk and a leather chair. Oh, I wanted them so much. And I got them, starting at $25K a year.
When the transit company called to offer the job, I declined. AGH.
The CPA partnership dissolved 6 weeks later. What is it with me, 6 week jobs, in Houston? A frantic scramble for more jobs ensued.
Ron was already going to the blind vendor training program. They couldn't wait for him to take over the Post Office location. He'd be gone for months; months I'd be living on my own for the first time ever.
I had a nice, 1-bedroom, all-bills-paid apartment. I didn't have any furniture, other than a table and some chairs. I slept on an inflatable mattress. I was pretty happy.
Except, I was pretty sure I'd had a miscarriage in November 2000. My child, if there was one (pretty sure - almost 2 months since my last cycle, I'm very regular - also a very different presentation than my usual) would be 13. Yike. God can handle that one. I had 2 other ones that I know of. One in about 1994-6, and one a few years ago.
Ever since (the one in 2000), I'd had problems. It hurt to sleep on my right side and my cycle was very erratic. I'd seen the treatment Ron got at the county hospital when he went in for severe pain. It was an all-day horror.
I didn't want that. Finally, I found a job. It seemed like everything went right. When I told them I would only work 7 months, they said "Oh, good! Cheaper than a temp!" And I had benefits, which resulted in the removal of a 5 mm hemmoragic ovarian cyst. I haven't had any more problems.
Ron liked the job, because it was 7-3. I'd be home before dark. Ron begged me to stay home after dark, and I agreed, which meant I pretty much went home after work. I got interested in soapmaking and spent a lot of time online.
I paid for the all-bills-paid, and Ron paid the phone bill. Every Friday afternoon, I'd travel downtown to the Greyhound and buy a ticket to Austin. Then I'd ride the 'hound to Austin. Ron would meet me and we'd take a cab to his residential motel. We'd eat and go to sleep. Saturday we'd have some fun, going to the mall. Ron used to like the Yankee Candles and burned them in the room to eliminate the stale odor.
Sunday morning, we'd get breakfast and go back to the station, where I'd ride home. I'd get home in the afternoon and come home before dinner.
Once Ron got back (and I recovered from my surgery) we moved across town and got to work. We both worked 16 hour days for about 2 years, until the accident.
The deli operation lost money - thousands a month. It was horrific. If we could barely do it with Ron intact how could we do it now?
That's one of those take-it-to-Jesus things. We pleaded to be relieved - if the host said we could close it, we could. We were told we were not allowed to tell the population (our customers) we needed it closed; and in fact would have to resign if it were kept open. The host came back saying, and I'll never forget this: For the safety of our employees, we want the deli to remain open. Oh, I cried so bitterly over that, Ron's good arm wrapped around me.
Well, God worked on everyone and the deli was closed for good, not a month after we opened it again. Thank God. Our sole employee told us she'd never quit her day job (it was open nights) and she'd be fine. I met her again recently and she's doing great.
We bought the house in 2004. We had an unethical agent but we still have the house. Ron fired the first mortgage company "You'll never get the house!" and found another one. We got a decent fixed rate mortgage and finalized the purchase in June. The day we bought the house, I was stricken with a horrible case of Salmonella (bad eggs at a resturant). I was sick for over a week, and it was 2 weeks before we could finally move. Then my poor cat was poisoned by a former neighbor and died the night we moved in. I still love the house.
Now we were a vending operation, only.
I began suffering suicidal depressions in 2006. I thought I was done with this, I'd had so much pain growing up. I went for help and God laid it on me to reveal all my symptoms, which completely freaked out my doctor. She tried to have me committed but I wouldn't say I had a plan to commit suicide (I didn't have a plan, I had several). I was eventually released and diagnosed with bipolar disorder. Once I got the meds, I took them, and will until I die. Happy ending.
Things were good until 2009. The economy crashed, and about a quarter of our customers elected to take early retirement. Some of them were our best customers. Ouch.
Over the next few years, we laid off a couple of vendors, and transitioned to buying our merchandise from the wholesale warehouse. We were actually fired by the Hostess company because we "only" spent $50 a week. They went under shortly afterward.
Last year, we were told we'd lose our business. We didn't, they moved some of the machines. The rest went away, but we should get them back.
We're looking at our new location coming in maybe 2-3 months. God only knows what will come!
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