The first three weeks in San Diego were a whirlwind as I adjusted to my new work routine, unpacked and decorated my condo, interviewed Nannies, found a new pediatrician, and registered my oldest children at the local elementary school. Mapquest became my new best friend as I tried to learn where everything was located (because, no iPhones). It was a busy time, but exhilarating nonetheless. The kids and I spent most of our free time by the pool, exploring nearby parks or making the short 10 minute drive out to the Pacific Ocean. Two of my dear friends (who still live in Orange County today) drove down one weekend to take us to the zoo and show us around.

One day, as I sat at my kitchen table pondering a plan for the weekend,  I decided to clean out my purse. Wallet, pack of gum, pen, mirror, lipstick, a Happy Meal toy, several crumpled up receipts… and a business card.

I pulled out the card from deep within the abyss of my purse and held it for just a moment.

The design boasted a palm tree and ocean scene, conveying a clear message of urgency to buy a piece of real estate somewhere tropical. There, in the top left corner, was his name.

Jose Loera.

Nice last name, I thought.  While precariously biting the inside of my lip, I slowly reached for my laptop and logged into my Hotmail.

Jose, I hope this finds you well. Do you remember me? Let me know if you’d like to grab a bite to eat sometime. -Tiffany

I left my laptop open, but went about my business that afternoon, cleaning my condo and tending to Mom duties.

At one point, I heard the little ding to indicate I had a new email. I opened it up to read,

Hey there. Yes, I remember you. 🙂

And so the adventure began. Our first time meeting up was at Taka Sushi. Our second date was at Indigo Grill. Third was at Trattoria La Strada (unfortunately, permanently closed now). Then there was Blue Point Coastal Cuisine, The Oceanaire Seafood Room, Po Pazzo, and at least a dozen others.   Also worth noting, one of our first dates together was a short six mile run on the boardwalk in Pacific Beach. I remember thinking I could never marry someone with so much energy, and I even commented the same to one of my family members.

Funny how that works out.

The saying goes that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, and in my case that couldn’t be closer to the truth. As fate would have it, Jose and I ended up falling in love over food. Whether it was in a trendy restaurant in the Gaslamp quarter or over a home cooked meal, we were always getting to know each other with food. As a result, I was continuously putting my culinary skills to work and learning as much as possible so I could woo this beautiful man who seemed to appreciate my every move.  Eventually, we moved out of our respective condos and rented a house together so the kids could have a bigger space. Our cute little house had hardwood floors throughout, a huge playroom, a white brick fireplace, a fenced backyard and a tree right outside of my kitchen window. It was a dream, and I’ll never forget the day we were approved to move in and the feelings of elation I experienced.

After being in our house for 1 month, the Lord called my father home following a 5 month battle with cancer. Although Jose and my father never had the opportunity to meet face to face, they did speak over the phone. In my heart, I choose to believe that my father knew Jose was God’s choice for me. I believe he knew we would be well taken care of and loved. I accepted it was the Lord’s timing to take the most important man in my life, but He also gave me Jose when I needed it most. I will forever be grateful for that.

I eventually quit my job working as a paralegal so I could be at home with the kids 100% of the time. Life was beautiful. Jose filled every need I had, and even the ones I didn’t realize I had. He changed diapers. He carried the kids on his shoulders. He rolled around in the floor with them. He was a father. He listened to me. He accepted my (many) flaws. He protected us. He loved us. And he did it well. One day, I commented to Jose that he saved me from having to do it all alone. He saved us from a single parent household, but the only thing he responded with was,

“but you saved me.”

On December 31, 2006, Jose and I sat on our couch watching NYE specials on tv while we cozied up to a crackling fire. Somewhere around 15 minutes before midnight, he sat straight up, turned to me and asked me to spend the rest of my life with him.

Twelve years ago today, I said yes.

Marriage is such a precious gift, and the good Lord is merciful and kind to show me such undeserved grace.

For as long as I live, I will continue to say yes. I love you, Jose Loera.

Early 2005.

Prince Charles finally married Camilla, low rise flared jeans were in style, and Carrie Underwood won American Idol. I was 27 years old, and a single mother to three young children; ages 7, 4, and 18 months. I worked as a real estate paralegal during the day, and spent most of my evenings and weekends at my parents’ house. Somehow I was able to make ends meet, but the cushy reliance upon my parents and their constant provision kept me from fully seeking independence for myself. As days would go by, the yearning in my heart to find contentment and purpose outside of my tiny home town at least 500 miles away continued to grow inside of me like a raging wildfire.

One day after work while picking up KFC for me and my children, I received a phone call that would change the entire trajectory of my life. A successful condominium conversion company based in La Jolla, California was looking to hire a real estate paralegal. They came across my online resume (my resume?) and wanted to do a telephone interview. After a 15 minute conversation, I was booked on a flight and would leave later that week for an in person interview. After we wrapped up lunch at George’s at the Cove, I was offered a full time position with a salary higher than my asking price, along with a 5K relocation allowance, two months rent free in one of the company’s brand new condos, and in one of the most desirable areas of San Diego. I called my sweet Daddy later that night to tell him the news. I still remember standing in my posh hotel room and peering out over the Pacific Ocean as his voice grew silent.  Looking back now, I am amazed at the strength and emotional fortitude it took for him to let me move away with three of his grandchildren. Although he didn’t want me to leave, he allowed me room to spread my wings and fly. I never thought about this until many years later, and even today I am still uncovering pieces of the person and father he was to me.

Only three short weeks would pass before I said my final good-bye to home in South Carolina as I had known it for over 27 years…

Hello SoCal.

As a tried and true Southern girl, there were a few harsh realities I quickly discovered. Nobody in California wears panty hose. Nobody. You can’t order sweet tea. Anywhere. If you go grocery shopping, you will use a cart. Not a buggy. If you are referring to any major roadways, highways or interstates, you must put the word “the” in front of it. For instance, there is no such thing as Interstate 5. It’s THE 5. Last but not least, if you utter the words “yes ma’am” or “y’all” you will immediately garner the attention of everyone within a 2 mile radius.

After being in town for only 10 days, I decided to venture out and attend salsa dance lessons at Cafe Sevilla in downtown San Diego. I still remember what I had on that day – a fitted silky black blouse with tiny blue polka dots, cropped gaucho pants and strappy high heels. My hair was super long and curly at the time, and I was probably wearing a dark shade of lipstick. I didn’t know anyone and realized early on I would have to put myself out there if I wanted to make friends. (Side note: San Diego has the friendliest people you will ever meet.) I boldly approached a group of girls who were looking for a booth, and I invited myself to sit down with them. Yes, I actually did this. They were more than welcoming and we hung out in the restaurant area for awhile since lessons didn’t start for another half hour. Shortly before it was time for the class to start, I bounced over to the bar area to order a water. As I waited on the bartender, I caught someone looking at me out of my peripheral. I turned to see a rather handsome Latino man wearing wire rimmed glasses and a button up shirt (except he apparently forgot to button the top two buttons). Like, where does he think he is? Miami?

Without any hesitation, he asked me if I wanted to join him for a Sangria. So I did. We chatted for a few minutes and realized we were both going to the salsa class downstairs. He gave me his business card and I thoughtlessly shoved it down inside my purse. We ended up going to the salsa class separately, and I never did dance or talk with him again that night.

In the coming weeks, I settled into a new routine with my job while the kids adjusted to a Nanny at home. Each morning on my way to work, I would enjoy a Starbucks iced white mocha while listening to my Kelly Clarkson CD. Her single “Breakaway” encapsulated everything I had experienced that year, and was no doubt the #1 most played song in my car for weeks.

During that 10 minute drive to work, the Pacific Ocean would come into clear focus as I got closer to my office. Every day, I felt as though I was living inside a dream. It was a fresh start. A perpetual vacation of sorts. It was everything I had imagined… and it had only just begun.

Hi friend!  You are probably here because you’re curious to see what this new blog is all about! I’m in the process of writing my first post, so check back soon for an update! In the meantime, I hope you have a joyful holiday season with the people you hold dear. Merry Christmas!