My first month in Galveston.....a memoir >^..^< Katlillie

Packing:

I'll do it later.......I'll do it later.......I'll do it later.....I'll do it later.....I'll do it later... OMG it's time to go. I am a genius, I am packing all my dishes in the towels, to create less trash during the unpacking, and everything is clean and ready to be put away. How Martha of me.

Moving day:

Ok, we are packed. If you want to call it that. The last 30 minutes of loading the truck consisted of throwing non-breakable stuff over the top of the stack of boxes. It just so happened that we gave away our couch, washer/dryer, and a couple of bigger pieces of furniture before we knew that we were getting our 17foot truck, which was supposed to be upgraded to a 24foot but we suspect it is actually a 14 foot. The things that are loaded, even after giving away the big stuff, are geting squashed. Many things were left behind and I will regret them later. curse you, U-haul.

Driving:

He's driving the truck, which is riding very low and heavy like it is overloaded, which of course, it is. I can see the dollar signs in the exhaust fumes coming out of the back, gas is like $3 a gallon today. I am instructed to NOT get separated, so I am tense.I'm in the Saturn with three (occupied) pet taxis riding behind me. The cats on either side couldn't see out because of the front seats, so they were cool. However, and this is a very important lesson, a cat will get carsick if it can see out of the cage. 45 minutes into the trip, I hear some panicked meows and turn around, just in time to see the middle cat barf for an endless instant of horror. I call him, we pull over, and I am cleaning cat puke out of a pet taxi at the gas station in Alto Texas. Casualty: My NFL sleeping bag that I've had since birth. It may still be in the trash can next to pump 2.

Arrive at the house:

We're here! Our dearest G family is here to greet us, and in a spurt of energy we all manage to unload about 3/4ths of the truck. A friendly neighborhood scary dude comes by and offers to help. We say no thanks, and go buy a padlock for the truck.

This is the hugest, and oldest, and the most "me" house I have ever lived in. The owners left an lot of furniture here, most of which is antique and all of which is cool. There is a cow skull hanging in between the windows in the living room, I decide to leave it. It has never occured to me to use a cow skull while decorating, but strangely it works and I like it.

All three cats are pretty much wigged out, especially Linda Blair. The oldest is the first to start sniffing around, she has moved a lot in her life and is slightly crazy from being spun around in an office chair as a kitten.

Our first morning on the island:

We wake up from our futon comas at 5:30am, I ask to go get some coffee (for me) and chocolate milk (for him) and go see the sunrise at the beach. Suprisingly, he agrees. We make it down to East Beach just in time. There was a sandcastle tournament over the weekend, and the beach is covered with giant lumps of sand. Sometimes we can make out what the castle looked like before the tide, wind, and two-legged beach creatures had their way with it. It is a cheesy moment right out of a bad TV movie, but it was nice.

Unpacking:

All of our stuff, which looked so big and cramped in the apartment and then in the truck, fits into the living room of the house. We decide to hire some movers to come finish unloading and rearrange some big pieces of furniture. Best $150 I ever spent. It's all inside, we take the truck back. I have a week before the job starts, and spend most of it going back and forth from the house to Home Depot and Target. Did I mention that houses built in 1898 don't have any closets? I shop for shelves, carts, tubs. I scout out an armoire at a garage sale, but pass. It's not old enough, it wouldn't look right. The house could use a major deep cleaning, I plan to hire someone to get right on that. Also, houses built in 1898 did not have garages or driveways (no cars, remember?), so the Saturn is on the street. Living rough, like 50-cent.

Work:

He's leaving for two weeks, 10 days after we move in. I am alone and creeped out, but as I start unpacking and getting all my stuff around me, it gets better. My good friend and associate John stays for several nights, we spent a lot of time eating fritos and bean dip, drinking port and watching the "My super sweet 16" marathon on MTV. My first day at the new job starts out with me looking fabulous with cute new shoes, and ends with me hobbling around on two evil shoes, filled with hate for them. Note to self: buy comfortable shoes suitable for endless and extremely rapid walking. And bandaids. The first few weeks are a blur of classes and meetings where I don't know anybody or even what we are talking about. Much like the house, UTMB is much bigger than I realized.

Play:

Our first Java Jam while living on the island! With our own house! I get to actually get ready like a real girl, with access to all my clothes and stuff, instead of changing in the bathroom at the Java. He's picking up two coworkers at the airport, and flights are delayed, so he doesn't make it until late. Most of our usual locals were there, but nobody from Tyler could make it and our Houston gang didn't call. We had a lot of new locals show up, which was cool, and maybe kind of profound. We make music and merry. Afterwards, we have a pack of our favorite folks over for some drinking and such. I am happy to be here. Also, drum circle every friday night at the courtyard cafe! I get to sit under the full moon, with a tummy full of magic salad and schnitzel and Texas beer, and play with my friends. I am happy to be here. I go to the beach, by myself, and just read a book and listen to music. I look up from my book, and hey there's the ocean. I drive down the seawall every morning to go to work, unless I go the other way and stop at Java's for a latte and hugs. I am happy to be here.

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