I know my shooting bull riders, then getting bronchitis, followed by being told I only had 6 months might seem like an odd introduction on how I met my wife, but it's the truth. I was sick. While I'd recovered quickly from the bronchitis, it seemed my end was neigh.
Working at the museum seemed more pointless than ever, both my parents were all gloom and doom. Of course they tried to keep me from worrying. What surprised me was how little worrying I actual did. Now that I'm a parent myself, I understand a little more about how they felt.
I also had no serous "love interests" having recently found a need to not actually want one. One friend I did have though, and this is going to sound ridiculous, was Pellé my cat. He just died today. I'd thought he might be 22, but now I realize he's actually 20.
RIP my friend. 1991 - 2011
I also made it point to drive out to what I jokingly called the "provinces." One of my best friends, and also a former coworker at the Carnegie, owned a coffee shop/art gallery called DV8 Espresso Bar & Gallery. Even during these visits they would ask me if I'd "meet their friend Teri." She was supposed to be my "perfect match" according to my friend Mark's wife, also named Terrie. They just wouldn't let up...
I just went fishing with my father more. I'd enough of trying to be in relationships. My experiences as a bachelor had taught me some lessons. Maybe that's where I'll jump track here a little and try to explain it. Later maybe...
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