Whew!
Well, it's been quite a long time since I updated this. I turned 50, Jaye turned 43, we both had great birthday parties, but that's about all that happened worth mentioning between February and August. Oh, and it was hot -- as usual. But things changed.
Let's just start with the biggie: Katrina.
When I was 22, my entire life changed because of one incident. When I was 50, it happened again. When we drove away from New Orleans on August 27th, we had absolutely no idea that the city we were leaving would not be the city we'd left any more, ever again.
Without going into a big blow-by-blow account, we left New Orleans and came to Galveston. Between the television and local contacts (thank the Powers That Be for text messaging and the internet, as they became lifelines for finding one another), we watched our city crumble and drown. It was reported (and shown to us by satellite) that the Quarter was pretty much unaffected by wind or water, but we still had some concerns about our place due to a perpetually leaking wall. (Long story, maybe another day -- involves landlady and repairs and inadequacy and all that stuff...)
Before we could really get our heads wrapped around the idea that we might not be going back to New Orleans any time soon, Hurricane Rita entered the Gulf.
I never thought I'd say that I'd been to a hurricane party in Dallas, but I have now. We headed north to visit meatpie and katiebare, where we met Poppa and Momma Goth, the latest 'pie (Nick. the sweetie 'pie) and enjoyed the company of the illustrious Chuque. We stayed for almost a week, and came back to Galveston for about a week before we could make a foray into New Orleans to retrieve the essentials of our possessions until we could go back to inhabit the Quarter (i.e., until they got the water potable and the air declared fit to breathe without a mask).
We went into the city on October 5th, armed with gloves, masks, bleach, water, all kinds of things we thought we'd need. We found a place that was almost exactly as we'd left it. Many of you know Shoegate -- when we drove up, we thought we'd lost three shoes, but we discovered when we opened the gate that they had just leapt inside for safety. Our suncatchers which dangle from the balcony were all there and intact. The large garbage can we had used as a catch-all for the leaking wall was within half an inch of being full, but not sloshing over as was our fear. The only real damage to the building was that a pair of shutters was ripped out of the frame, but they landed on the balcony neat as you please, as if someone had removed them for painting.
We spent the day there, grabbed our most prized possessions and left before the curfew was called at 6:00 pm. We spent the night with beeg40 (thank you again for making this foray possible), then headed back to Galveston. Of course, as soon as we left, they declared the Quarter inhabitable, so we went back on the 12th to start dealing with things.
Our landlady, less said the better, was making it impossible for us to stay there, and we knew that she would only up the rent on an already overpriced place. Since we had been talking for years now about getting our own house, we kind of took all this together as a sign that it was time to move on. So we proceeded to pack up what we wanted to keep, and tried to find nice homes for the things we didn't need -- and succeeded fairly well, I must say, since most of our "rejects" went to good homes and people in true need.
Through all of this, we were feeling extremely blessed. The disasters and horror stories all belonged to our friends, and the damage and destruction kind of passed over and around us. We have friends who lost their houses, most of their possessions (in some cases, all of their possessions), spent time at both the Superdome and the Convention Center, were evacuated forcibly and in some cases at gunpoint, even one airlifted off his roof (with his mother and grandmother, to boot); we lost nothing except some time and a bunch of things that needed to be somewhere else anyway.
We closed the gate on Shoegate and 430 Burgundy for the last time on November 15th. I have still not really accepted that that is not my home any more -- not that townhouse, not even that town. I cannot help but thinking that I've lost my home, despite the fact that I've been warm, dry and cared for during these events.
And that was making the long story short!
So shortly after leaving New Orleans for the last time (on November 20th, after resting up after Fahy's anniversary party on the 18th), we were back on the road again, headed for Florida for our annual roller-coaster riding, alien-shooting, friend-and-relative-visiting Christmas trip in Orlando. This time, though, our usual frivolity was cut short in the hunt for a house in the area.
We'd already pretty much decided that this was the way to go, rather than come back to Texas, as I had pretty much discovered in the time we had spent in Galveston that I cannot live this close to my sister. (Another long story, one which I'd rather not tell at all, much less now.) Job opportunities in Florida are more plentiful for both of us, and we both had tentative jobs awaiting us in the Orlando area. Jaye's is a bit more firmed up than mine at the moment (at least to start, he'll be working with my cousin in his cabinet business), but once again, I am trying to get a job with Lush.
So off we went, eschewing our morning alien hunt, soul sucking or dragon riding, to look for an acceptable house within an acceptable distance from both Melbourne and Orlando and within an acceptable budget. We did not expect to find anything on this trip, but we did. (I know many of you received our announcement of this news, but another bunch of you did not...)
The town is called St. Cloud, and it's Mayberry. If you have any doubts about this, just go to their website and check it out. (I don't have it marked, but I'm sure you can all find it easily enough.) The house is in the historic district, and believe it or not, I don't think we'll stick out nearly as much as we thought we would -- the squid-billies are more "exotic" than we are... ;)
Offers have been made, inspections and appraisals have been made, and we have a deal as long as the big problems can be cured. The biggest obstacle is the "split" in the main support beam in the substructure, and we have a contractor coming to tell us if it can be repaired (I'm fairly certain it can), how it will be repaired and how much it will cost. The other obstacle is some wood decay noted by the inspector; it's a 70-year-old house, and I would expect that, but if it's termite damage that's been treated and just cosmetically repaired, that won't do. We need a vent in one of the bathrooms, too, and the contractor will be estimating that, too.
The sellers are a lovely lesbian couple with a new baby, and have spent the last two years renovating and repairing this house. Job issues are taking them away from it, and it's obvious that it's been given a lot of loving care in the restoration and that they are very reluctant to leave a place they've put that much of themselves into. I can't imagine that there will be any problems that we can't solve, just from observing the two of them and the state of the house.
Please keep your fingers crossed or whatever it is that you do to keep the positive thoughts coming our way. :)
So we're in limbo, staying in Galveston for the time being, still not sure what we're doing for New Year's Eve, and just drifting. I'm trusting that the Universe will continue to be kind until we get our feet planted again.
And on that note, I hope you all had a good Yule and am wishing you loads of love and all the very best for 2006. :)
{I'm sure my Stoner friends will notice that I mentioned the game not at all. This will tell you just about how much the end of my world as I know it has affected me. 'Nuff said.}
Let's just start with the biggie: Katrina.
When I was 22, my entire life changed because of one incident. When I was 50, it happened again. When we drove away from New Orleans on August 27th, we had absolutely no idea that the city we were leaving would not be the city we'd left any more, ever again.
Without going into a big blow-by-blow account, we left New Orleans and came to Galveston. Between the television and local contacts (thank the Powers That Be for text messaging and the internet, as they became lifelines for finding one another), we watched our city crumble and drown. It was reported (and shown to us by satellite) that the Quarter was pretty much unaffected by wind or water, but we still had some concerns about our place due to a perpetually leaking wall. (Long story, maybe another day -- involves landlady and repairs and inadequacy and all that stuff...)
Before we could really get our heads wrapped around the idea that we might not be going back to New Orleans any time soon, Hurricane Rita entered the Gulf.
I never thought I'd say that I'd been to a hurricane party in Dallas, but I have now. We headed north to visit meatpie and katiebare, where we met Poppa and Momma Goth, the latest 'pie (Nick. the sweetie 'pie) and enjoyed the company of the illustrious Chuque. We stayed for almost a week, and came back to Galveston for about a week before we could make a foray into New Orleans to retrieve the essentials of our possessions until we could go back to inhabit the Quarter (i.e., until they got the water potable and the air declared fit to breathe without a mask).
We went into the city on October 5th, armed with gloves, masks, bleach, water, all kinds of things we thought we'd need. We found a place that was almost exactly as we'd left it. Many of you know Shoegate -- when we drove up, we thought we'd lost three shoes, but we discovered when we opened the gate that they had just leapt inside for safety. Our suncatchers which dangle from the balcony were all there and intact. The large garbage can we had used as a catch-all for the leaking wall was within half an inch of being full, but not sloshing over as was our fear. The only real damage to the building was that a pair of shutters was ripped out of the frame, but they landed on the balcony neat as you please, as if someone had removed them for painting.
We spent the day there, grabbed our most prized possessions and left before the curfew was called at 6:00 pm. We spent the night with beeg40 (thank you again for making this foray possible), then headed back to Galveston. Of course, as soon as we left, they declared the Quarter inhabitable, so we went back on the 12th to start dealing with things.
Our landlady, less said the better, was making it impossible for us to stay there, and we knew that she would only up the rent on an already overpriced place. Since we had been talking for years now about getting our own house, we kind of took all this together as a sign that it was time to move on. So we proceeded to pack up what we wanted to keep, and tried to find nice homes for the things we didn't need -- and succeeded fairly well, I must say, since most of our "rejects" went to good homes and people in true need.
Through all of this, we were feeling extremely blessed. The disasters and horror stories all belonged to our friends, and the damage and destruction kind of passed over and around us. We have friends who lost their houses, most of their possessions (in some cases, all of their possessions), spent time at both the Superdome and the Convention Center, were evacuated forcibly and in some cases at gunpoint, even one airlifted off his roof (with his mother and grandmother, to boot); we lost nothing except some time and a bunch of things that needed to be somewhere else anyway.
We closed the gate on Shoegate and 430 Burgundy for the last time on November 15th. I have still not really accepted that that is not my home any more -- not that townhouse, not even that town. I cannot help but thinking that I've lost my home, despite the fact that I've been warm, dry and cared for during these events.
And that was making the long story short!
So shortly after leaving New Orleans for the last time (on November 20th, after resting up after Fahy's anniversary party on the 18th), we were back on the road again, headed for Florida for our annual roller-coaster riding, alien-shooting, friend-and-relative-visiting Christmas trip in Orlando. This time, though, our usual frivolity was cut short in the hunt for a house in the area.
We'd already pretty much decided that this was the way to go, rather than come back to Texas, as I had pretty much discovered in the time we had spent in Galveston that I cannot live this close to my sister. (Another long story, one which I'd rather not tell at all, much less now.) Job opportunities in Florida are more plentiful for both of us, and we both had tentative jobs awaiting us in the Orlando area. Jaye's is a bit more firmed up than mine at the moment (at least to start, he'll be working with my cousin in his cabinet business), but once again, I am trying to get a job with Lush.
So off we went, eschewing our morning alien hunt, soul sucking or dragon riding, to look for an acceptable house within an acceptable distance from both Melbourne and Orlando and within an acceptable budget. We did not expect to find anything on this trip, but we did. (I know many of you received our announcement of this news, but another bunch of you did not...)
The town is called St. Cloud, and it's Mayberry. If you have any doubts about this, just go to their website and check it out. (I don't have it marked, but I'm sure you can all find it easily enough.) The house is in the historic district, and believe it or not, I don't think we'll stick out nearly as much as we thought we would -- the squid-billies are more "exotic" than we are... ;)
Offers have been made, inspections and appraisals have been made, and we have a deal as long as the big problems can be cured. The biggest obstacle is the "split" in the main support beam in the substructure, and we have a contractor coming to tell us if it can be repaired (I'm fairly certain it can), how it will be repaired and how much it will cost. The other obstacle is some wood decay noted by the inspector; it's a 70-year-old house, and I would expect that, but if it's termite damage that's been treated and just cosmetically repaired, that won't do. We need a vent in one of the bathrooms, too, and the contractor will be estimating that, too.
The sellers are a lovely lesbian couple with a new baby, and have spent the last two years renovating and repairing this house. Job issues are taking them away from it, and it's obvious that it's been given a lot of loving care in the restoration and that they are very reluctant to leave a place they've put that much of themselves into. I can't imagine that there will be any problems that we can't solve, just from observing the two of them and the state of the house.
Please keep your fingers crossed or whatever it is that you do to keep the positive thoughts coming our way. :)
So we're in limbo, staying in Galveston for the time being, still not sure what we're doing for New Year's Eve, and just drifting. I'm trusting that the Universe will continue to be kind until we get our feet planted again.
And on that note, I hope you all had a good Yule and am wishing you loads of love and all the very best for 2006. :)
{I'm sure my Stoner friends will notice that I mentioned the game not at all. This will tell you just about how much the end of my world as I know it has affected me. 'Nuff said.}