Will You Go To Prom With Me?

In April 2000, I asked a boy to my senior prom. He said yes. Oh man, he was hot, and a little bit of a bad boy. I was excited to have people see me with this guy. They'd think I was a hot little piece of ass, to be seen with this guy at prom.

They never got the chance. Two days before prom, I was told by the office that my prom date was not allowed at prom. Apparently he was a little too much of a bad boy. I found a stand-in date, but he didn't seem to want to be there with me. No dancing, no pictures, no nothing except sitting at the table. And I'm convinced he was checking out all the guys. Sigh. 

Now, 13 years later, I'm dating a high school teacher who just happened to be a leader for the planning and running of prom this year. He asked me to prom. I said yes! I volunteered to be a chaperone. 

It was a fun night. Things haven't changed much since my own prom, except the kids danced more now than I remember them dancing at my prom. I didn't get to spend much time with my honey, and we didn't get the dance he promised me (we were both busy with our duties), but we did steal a moment during a song that means something special to us, and we got a pic in the photo booth. 

Gosh, I really love that man. So handsome. <3<3

Taking Advantage

Beads, beads, the magical string

The more you wear the more you bling

The more you bling the hotter you are

So wear our beads to the Tiki Bar!

Every year, the Tiki Bar on Solomon's Island opens in mid-Spring. Tiki Bar opening is a huge event. An event so big they shut the roads down because of bar spill-over, vendors come from all over to sell food, souvenirs, and who knows what else. 

In 2012, I'd just returned from Mardi Gras a couple months prior, and had about 400 strings of beads from the parades. I drove onto the island late morning and sold beads for $1 a string out of the trunk of my car. I made about $275 before I had to leave because I didn't have a peddler's permit (who knew?).

This year, I teamed up with 2 other friends. We bought 84 dozen beads from a Mardi Gras wholesaler and sold them for a buck a piece, along with Red Bull and water. We got a peddler's permit so we couldn't be told to leave. We also offered sober rides to/from cars. The island gets so jam packed that some people have to park over a mile away.

We came in with high hopes, but the overhead and weather killed us. Tiki Bar, an outdoor sandy beach bar, does best when the sun is high and the temperatures are warm. We battled with rain and temps hovering around 50-55. After all of our expenses, we only made a little over $125 each. $125 into the moving fund, though.

The Route Home

The route home begins here. It's mid-February (even though I'm writing this later) and I have been unemployed for over a year. I've moved 60 miles south to be with the love of my life, but given up job prospects as a result. Southern Maryland has about as many condos for me to manage as Monsanto has non-GMOs.

My boyfriend, Doug, is a survivalist kind of guy. All things self-sufficient are right in his wheelhouse. I haven't ever been that into survivalism, but I have definitely always been in love with the idea of being self-sufficient as a way of life. Growing up, I never thought the idea of having a homestead and being self-sufficient was within reach. It was too expensive, too much work for just me, and I knew that the increase in government fingers in everyone's honey pots meant that even if I did somehow manage it, I'd be under constant scrutiny and/or regulation by people who thought they knew how I should be living. I gave up on the idea in late high school. 

We were at the bar one night with Doug's friend Chris, and his girlfriend Sarah. Chris pulled me aside and we got to talking. He asked, "So you know the plan Sarah and I have for a homestead in the Pacific Northwest, right?" I nodded. "Well, you know, we'd really love to have you and Doug with us there." That moment changed my life.

A few days later, I approached Doug. I knew he was interested in homesteading, but I didn't know how serious he was. We determined that the homestead was our goal. I asserted that everything we do should be with that goal in mind. And with that said, I asked him if it was even worth it for me to keep looking for jobs in that small town. Of course, it was not. We both wanted out, and if we were to leave, it should be something that will bring us closer to our goal of homesteading. 

Two weeks later, I'd revamped my resume, subscribed to a premium Linked In account, and studied interview strategies. I targeted a few select major cities between middle America and the West Coast. On March 3, I submitted my first application, and on March 4, the phone began ringing. 

Over the prior year, I'd submitted over 500 resumes to businesses local to Southern Maryland. I'd received TWO calls. With this new strategy, I received a call back for almost every resume/application I submitted. Depression had eaten me alive for the last year, and for the first time since it began, the clouds began to part, my confidence returned, and I was finally hopeful. 

About six weeks after I began, I had a job offer. A condo management opportunity in Chicago. They're lucky. I've said for years that the ONLY way I'd ever move back to the Midwest was if it was to Chicago. So on April 12, I accepted the offer. I'd start on June 3. 

Back in April, it seemed like I had so much time to get ready. I'd have plenty of time to pack, participate in the last few group outings, and get things in order before leaving. 

Turns out, life has a way of laughing at your "plans." 

But hey, I had a job! A job that was about 1,000 miles closer to the Pacific Northwest, would allow us to save for the homestead, and give us a little bit of adventure in a new town. 

Chi-town, here we come!