the restaurant

have i been remiss in sharing the fullness of my life? let me remedy that.

our neighbor across the street (not the strange canadian and her drum-beating delinquent wanna-be from next door) is a sweet-natured, good-hearted, gospel-loving, half-cherokee, half-black gal from atlanta via hawaii. she had a restaurant in atlanta that ended up making her and her first husband an awful lot of money. they retired to hawaii (she's my age). he secretly invested their whole fortune in enron. things fell apart. they divorced, she ended up here with no money and no savings.

cutting out a lot of detail, she now has a tiny place in our small shopping center and doesn't have near the space she needs to be successful (which means a lot of catering and selling baked goods with the restaurant as a sideline). her second husband, of four months, decided he didn't want to be involved with her trying to expand and they split up.

enter my husband. she's still broke and trying to hang on, so hubby (who's been looking for a hobby ever since he retired almost three years ago) decided to volunteer at her place since she was struggling to do everything by herself. he has enjoyed that and has been instrumental in helping her get semi-control of her run-away situation. somehow i got involved in helping and became totally immersed, until my lymphedema up and said, "No more!"

i have spent the last eight days resting and willing my condition to get better. after all, i am not indispensable, plus i am still waiting to hear if i will make the interview stage of my application to the border patrol (as secretary, not gun-carrying agent).

so .... our involvement with 'the restaurant' is strictly as volunteers and hubby is very much enjoying himself (even if he does spend a lot of time shaking his head or complaining about things he sees). jean is a pleasure to be around, her accent is delightful, and her optimism is contagious. i don't know how long we'll be this involved in this endeavor, but in the meantime, what a ride!