When I came back from Dominican Republic after the big visit to the embassy trip I was ready to do what it took to be a Dominicana. I didn't tell anyone right away, at least for the first few weeks. I can keep others secrets well, but my own secrets...well, there's really no such thing.
So I started talking. I was a waitress at Kings for almost 10 years. 4 different location. I was so worried I was going to be a lifer. So this was my only way out.(not really, but that was a big joke of us Kings long-timers)
I contacted the Dominican consulate in Philly and made a few friends there. I put my mobil home up for sale. Started selling off stuff I didn't need. Making lots of jewelry(that's what I did for some extra money after I closed my business) Sorting through my accumulated junk. Funny how I got all the junk. I kept adding more junk but didn't want to get rid of the old junk. So I bought a little bigger house so I could fit more junk. I built my own shelving so I could display all the stuff. I had a small shed out back bu had to tare that down to make room for a new and improved shed with a loft and work bench so I had room for all my tools and movers and rodatillers and all the boxes of stuff that I didn't want to get rid of but really didn't want to look at either. Its hard to belivev all the junk one can accumulate in a short time.
I was looking at things in my home town in a different light. Like it was going to be the last time I saw these things. Things did look prettier. The sun rise and sets were brighter. The green of the leaves were more vibrant. But the snow was still as cold and I realized how much I did hate being cold.
The most difficult things to sell was my camping gear. I loved to camp and I had all the gear organized in alphabetical order(that's what my friends used to tease me about).The week before I put them up for sale my aunt flew in from Chicago to make the last camping trip with me. Then it was in the paper and sold within a week. All gone for $500usd. A nice lady came with her truck and we started packing up. I was telling her all about what was there she was getting. I started crying. She felt so bad she offered not to buy the stuff. I had to sell it and she seemed nice so it was going to a good home.As she drove off with my most treasured stuff I cried. There was no turning back. I couldn't live in USA without camping and be happy.
My tools sold fast also. My electric saws. Chain saw. Rodatiller. Sanders. All went fast. This was difficult also. I was so proud of my work shop. All my tools in order on the peg board. Every nail and screw in order on the shelf by size and labled nicely. After these things went everything else was easy.
I got a stall at the Flea and was there every Sunday selling all my collected belongings.
Then the 9/11 thing happened. People went crazy. At my job customers were telling me I was abandoning my country. Some would not even sit at my tables. Before 9/11 people were interested in my moving, how it was coming along, why I was doing this, all was good. After 9/11 I was the bad guy. I was abandoning my country. I was a tractor. Even tho I had already sold half of my belongings before the attacks.I had one very large fireman almost physically attack me over his table. My manager had to take me to the bacl of the restaurant to calm down.
I was ready to fight the guy. I could have beat his fat butt, I know it! LOL!
It was time to move out on my place. I was moving in with mommy and daddy for the last month so I could pay up all my bills and get rid of my house. I was working a second waitress job at night to make more money. My son came in from Louisiana, where he was living that month, to spend me last month in USA with me. And I was giving him my truck and lots of good stuff for his apartment. It was great that he came to see me. Who would have ever known that this would be the last time I would ever see my son Billy Jay again.
Come back later for more of the story. Back to work on the web site.......
