A year later, Fry Guy comes home and tells me he has found a cheaper apartment in a nicer area. We drive about 15 minutes from our rental and take a look at the cutest little apartment. It is in a former garage, and has a kitchen, living room, bedroom and bathroom. The location is beautiful - sea views out the front, with views of the wooded hills out back. And the homeowners are beautiful people, transplanted Nova Scotians raising their kids by the sea. We grab the apartment up. And we quickly fall in love with our new community - two townie kids who had grown up spending vacations and holidays "around the bay" by the sea discover that salt water flows in their veins (but truly, whether a townie or a bayman, what Newfoundlander doesn't have sea-salted blood?). The smell of fresh sea air, the sounds of whales blowing on a clear day, the view of spectacular sunsets sinking into the ocean - that was what we wanted to come home to after long days working in the city.
Fast forward yet another year, and the house next door goes up for sale. A fixer-upper for sure, but we are ready to take the plunge into home ownership. I've managed to find myself a replacement position for a full-year teaching high-school English, and we want to start a family in the near future. And we recall the first rules of real estate - location, location, location. So we buy the house, and start renovation. A lot of work, worry and frustration lie ahead in renovating, but we love this place, and I am convinced that I will never live anywhere else.
We spend 13 happy years in our home - first with our first golden retriever, Scully, and then adding Small Fry in 2000. When Scully passes away at the young age of 8, we can't bear the thought of another dog. But then we find Remy, and he fits in to our little family perfectly. Life is good.I'll post the rest of our story soon - bear with me, it has a happy ending!
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