Then there’s a pretty big break during which I bar-tended and taught art classes, moved to Portland and went to grad school, and then Mom passed away.
After grad school I got hired by a comic book company and played in a band. I met my (now) wife through an online dating service (really) and she came to one of my band’s gigs.
And then there’s a super-big gap where :
Rabbit learns she has late-stage class 4 thyroid cancer and we decide to move in together. She goes through three years of really brutal surgeries and radiation treatment, but lives. We are a happy couple with lots of friends, and for a few years we do all the things semi-professional artist-people in their early thirties do in an uber-hip, constantly moist but dryly sardonic, pre-gentrified northwest city.
This band thing becomes semi-professional, we play hundreds of shows, record some good records, and almost get signed.
Me and Rabbit decide to empty our meager 401k’s, move to Tucson and start a dog-daycare service. This decision is made, as are these sort of decisions, based on the experience of nearly dying, spending weeks in hospital beds, and realizing life is short. Plus we were tired of all the rain.