2014 Wrap Up

As we near the end of another trek around the sun, I always feel the need to make a post of highlights (or lowlights) of the year. A semi-list in no particular order:

– We started 2014 at a party at someone’s house in Dacula. It became a Hillbilly Hoedown, complete with screaming, fist fights and drunk driving. NOT an auspicious beginning for sure. Out of that came our current rule of NEVER staying at anyone’s house overnight unless absolutely necessary. Why risk it?

– We lost DJ in April. He was old and sickly. He waited for me to get back from my trip and he died two days later. He had a seizure right in front of us on a Saturday. It sucked.

– We finally walked away from the Maplehurst house in June. It was hard to let it go, but we had to. Despite Wells Fargo’s insistence that it was not discharged three years ago in the bankruptcy, it WAS and we were NOT obligated to pay for it. It will be auctioned next month and become rental once again. Nick left notes in the closets to whomever lives in it next.

– On the heels of the move, I get the call that my brother’s best friend died suddenly. He was doing some electrical work at an office and was electrocuted. It was horrible. It rocked me to my roots, I can tell you. The thought that one day a husband says goodbye to his wife and goes to work, never to return. It could happen to ME. It was very upsetting. On top of that, now my brother has no one. He’s all alone with elderly, sick parents and a woman-child with a new baby. I feel SO BAD for him and for Aron’s widow. Ugh. I cry just thinking about it.

– The move to the ‘burbs was relatively painless thanks to a great moving company that sent us TWO crews for the price of one. (Big League Movers if you need a referral.) We are now in a lovely ranch w/ full basement that is crammed full of our stuff. We have a lot of stuff. Other people’s stuff is shit, but our shit is stuff. (George Carlin. Kids, ask your parents.) Anyhow, I’m not a fan of the ‘burbs – too many white people and nothing to do. And white people are NOISY fuckers! Every single day I hear leaf blowers/yard equipment. EVERY. DAY. One day, the asshole neighbors behind us had TWO going from 8am-noon. Continuously. WTF, white people? OTOH, no gunfire, even on holidays and Nick is 10 minutes from work. Tradeoffs.

– We are in full swing of getting the pub concept off the ground. We’ve got about $55k available of our own money. No banks. The trick is finding space that has most of the equipment and a landlord who will work with us. So far, the owners of the place we want refuse to talk to us because we don’t have $100k. They seem to think that is a magical number that ensures success. We’ll see if they still feel that way after paying the fucking $500k note on that property for a few months. NO ONE is looking at it other than us, according to our broker. I’ve been working tirelessly on this. I want to put our names out there and meet as many people as I can. I feel that if we put enough energy out there, something will happen.

– Although I get ridiculed by my friends, I’m sticking to my No New Pets rule. Once Missy goes, I’m not getting any more cats. I’ve got a damn good reason: if we get this pub going, I’ll never be home. Why have pets if you’re not home to enjoy them? If the pub doesn’t happen, we may move. We’ve been talking about it and we’d rather take our money and move with it than sit here and piss it away on rent. It could be a BIG move. Like to Europe big. We don’t want to be in the US when we grow old. Healthcare here sucks. We’re getting passports, but that’s as far as that plan goes right now. We are keeping our options open. When Nick’s job ends, we have to make decisions. Until then, we save money and try to open a pub.

2014 has lived up to its 7 number. 7 is my life path number and I’ve certainly been working on THAT this year. 2015 is an 8 year. 8 is a karmic number; a bringer of change. That seems to be tracking with what we’ve got going on. I look forward to the challenges of an 8 year. I’m curious about what I’ll say on Dec 31 next year. I’ll be 50 this time next year. What a concept. Eh, I’ve always been a late bloomer. Some things never change. :)

Happy New Year, y’all.