The story of "us" is thus far undoubtedly interesting enough to inhabit a screenplay of its own. The first
few months of our relationship was a whirlwind of insanity and nothing short
of qualification for the asylum. Well, ok.... if we are telling the whole truth, the first few YEARS were nuts (and packed with adventure, I might add), but
we’ll just do this in small doses for now.
We moved in together quickly (I know... shocker!) and spent
the months between June and December 2006 setting fire to our money, partying
our asses off, and giving ourselves permission to do things like... answer a makeshift sign on the side of the road which read (in bright orange spray paint), “Golden retriever puppies!”. It didn't take long to know which fur kid would best suit our family because he was the one with reddish ears who preferred to entertain himself while keeping his littermates at paws length, refused to stay confined to his pen, and was found sleeping peacefully and defiantly on the tile in front of the refrigerator each morning. Unaware that we would soon meet our match, I withdrew the last $200 from my savings account
to bring Sailor home from the place where he was born. He was seven weeks old, and cute enough to
make my heart do things I was convinced it wouldn’t do anymore. I brought him to the apartment where Sarah
and I lived . She was at
work so I called her to come home for lunch, and she fell head over heals in love... with Sailor, at least.
We were already going through some rough times, and when I look back,
sometimes I’m not sure how we stayed together.
But by this time in our lives, each of us were well-practiced in finding
temporary solutions to long-standing problems.
This worked for us for longer than I’d like to admit, but I wouldn’t
trade it for all the experience, strength, and hope it has rendered in my life
and hers. That said… a fluffy, little
puppy named Sailor was just what we needed to get back on track, and it worked like a charm.......for a day or so....
It wasn’t long before we realized that we couldn’t get up at
3:30am with Puppy the Sailorman if we had just gone to bed at 2:30am. This, among other more significant factors,
was reason enough to at least admit we had some work to do on ourselves. So….We began trying to cut back on the
partying which proved to be more difficult than we ever imagined.
The apartment complex we lived in was
situated across the street from the Atlantic Ocean. There were crazy people everywhere. Our next door neighbor was the ex-wife of the
lead guitarist for Foghat, and at about 3:30 every afternoon there would be an
obnoxious, but ever-so- endearing, medley comprised of anything from Eminen to Elton John... the
Grateful Dead to Destiny’s Child and maybe a little Lynyrd Skynyrd for good measure ….blasting through her screened patio and
coming to rest on ours.. My ex lived in the building across from us and more often than not, when she would see Sarah on the property, she'd try to punch her in the face. You know.... just the usual stuff.
The entire staff lived on site, so it was understood that most days, the
front office hours were, “Whenever the apartment manager rolls out of bed”
o’clock – “whenever she decides to go back to the unit she lives in and throw a
party” o’clock. If you didn’t catch her
within that time slot, you would just have to try again tomorrow. Unless, of course, she invited you to the
party…. to which we maintained a not-so-glamorous VIP status. And everybody knew what everybody else was doing….
All the time. There were 5 buildings. We lived in the building closest to A-1A,
and the crowd we partied with most nights of the week lived across the sidewalk
(this crowd included the apartment manager on many occasions). So most days when work was over, we’d walk
across the street to Kamal’s BP station, grab a 12 pack, and head to the party
patio. Or the pool… which was even more
conveniently located. OR the beach....
because everyone who’s anyone knows there is never a better reason to drink
than if you are going across the street to fish for dinner. If
none of those places were hoppin… we could always get on our bikes and ride a
few blocks down to the bar, where sarah and I both had been employed off and on
and where, most days, we were granted a
free pass behind the bar to mix our own drinks.
Whew! We were beginning to realize a
snowball had a better chance in hell …..
Sailor was happiest
of all. He was 4 months old by now and clearly
thought he’d won the lotto. He was so
noticeably happier living in the great outdoors that we immediately knew we’d
made the right decision….even if it was the middle of a cool December, our home
was a small canvas bubble, and we weren’t quite sure what our next move would
be. We have learned a lot about life from that dog, I swear. Eventually, we would adopt this way of life, buy a travel trailer, and embrace our inner golden retriever, but first.... we needed to learn how to sit..................
