The scenery was beautiful. The people seemed nice (but somewhat slutty). I didn’t even get carded anywhere (I am old enough to drink and smoke but reaching for my wallet is a pain in the ass). I got ten different types of beer and ale from a microbrewery called Tommy Knockers right outside of town (I would recommend them).
But our bodies just couldn’t adjust to the thin mile-high air. We had a headache and felt sick for the entire time we were there. Then we ate at the original Chipotle restaurant and I tasted that twice.
But I had fun. I got to see Beth, who I have seen all of once in the last year or so, and my uncle, who I have seen once in the last decade or so. I got four days off work to spend with my wife, who I don’t NC see much. And I got to hang out at a hookah bar. Much fun.
Denver is a nice place to live, but I wouldn’t want to visit there.
The wedding had quite a few little kinks in it, but all in all everything went alright.
On the way there to set up my car died, but my sister gave us a ride over there so that wasn’t that big of a deal (though I sure wish that it still worked). We had quite a few problems getting ready, mostly due to the hard soil that we couldn’t stick anything in.
My best man showed up a little late, because he had to pick his wife up at the airport. Most of the people who RSVPed didn’t show. The wedding started forty-five minutes late.
But when I saw my beautiful bride walking down the isle none of that mattered to me. It may not have been exactly the wedding I have been expecting, or the one Jennifer was planning, but it was without a doubt the most wonderful moment of my life.
(I will post pictures as soon as the people with cameras email them to me, I promise.)
In 1935 my great grandfather opened a furniture store in downtown Ft Worth, Homer Oneal’s Furniture. The building is still a fixture on Jennings St. His philosophy was that a store that carries quality name brands but was still small enough to treat everyone individually would prosper, and it did.
Around the late 70’s or early 80’s, he died and my father and uncle Charles continued to run it. They were the two main salespeople, did all their own ordering, all the accounting, and more often than not, the deliveries themselves. Yet they could to this day remember the name of most of their customers and what they bought.
They later opened a small storefront in Hurst that specialized in chairs, the Chair Emporium. (this is before La-Z-Boy opened dedicated stores) For several years this was about the only specialized furniture store in the DFW Metroplex. After closing that closed, they bought Days Furniture and Railroad Salvage in the middle of the Stockyards, a store that sold discounted surplus, factory models, and refurbished furniture, though that also closed eventually, also.
In 1999, they closed down the store downtown to open a new building in ritzy Keller, offering design services as well as furniture. Sadly, that will soon be closing as well, putting an end to 70 years of a family owned business. I was never to anxious to get into the business — it never seemed interesting to me — but I always assumed that when I got older I would end up carrying on the family tradition. It surprised me to realize how sad I am that I won’t be.
Her mother had a baby about two months ago, named Marissa. Unfortunately, she is a huge drug user and the baby tested positive for meth-amphetamines, which clear out of your system in three days or so so she had been doing them quite recently.
CPS was on the ball for once, and wouldn’t let her take her child home from the hospital. She didn’t want anyone to know that she is a user (her family is tightly knit and talks a lot among themselves) so she had Jennifer sign something saying that she would be the guardian until Tina (her mother) could pass a drug test.
She still hasn’t.
Fortunately we had the guardianship transferred to her boyfriend’s mother, who lived with her. We love the kid, but couldn’t stand having to spend time with Tina.
The sad thing (not that this whole story isn’t sad) is that everyone cares more about Marissa than her parents. My mother (not related to her in any way or anything) has spent will over $100 on her alone, and is far from being the only one who takes care of her. Jennifer and I have spent more time with her than anyone else, much to our inconvenience. Yet Tina doesn’t appreciate a bit of it.
She comes over to our apartment and invites herself to stay. She invites her boyfriend (who cares nothing for her or Marissa) to stay here. She loses all the stuff people get her for the baby. Then she has the gall to say that we do nothing to help her, and are trying to take her baby!
Everyone in her family has done everything possible to help her out. So have we. She just takes what she can from everyone and then moves on to the next well-meaning victim. I hate it. I hate her.
The worst part is that I have done this same thing many times in my life, and am now beginning to understand why no one trusts me. I’m not like that anymore (I don’t think, at least) but I know that it’s going to be a long time before I give her another chance; does this mean that I won’t get more chances either?