Dennis and I started our married life in the condominium but it wasn’t his place, our place, it was my place, and the other biggy, he came with a large black lab, named Bo. The second floor balcony of three by five wasn’t very dog friendly. The year my mom was sick we started looking at houses but the California market was going nuts, had been going nuts, it was 1989. People were waiting in line to buy houses, there were lotteries, prices were going through the roof, subdivisions popping up like weeds. Neither of us were working at jobs that were making the kind of money it would take so we backed off. After my mom’s death we decided to rent the condominium and move in with my dad, who now was alone in a large house. I could help him transition a little and he was helping us save money to eventually get out again. I inherited about five thousand dollars when my mom died and while on vacation in Park City with Dennis that winter we put a down payment on a thirty thousand dollar lot in a subdivision called Pinebrook. We thought at a hundred and sixty six bucks a month for three quarters of an acre, in the mountains, we could look at “someday”. We watched the real estate market in California get crazier and crazier and then it crashed. Prices tumbled, people that paid five hundred and fifty thousand for a house in Vista, California, now were looking at a value of three hundred thousand. Even the condominium that had gone up in value to almost one hundred and fifty thousand was back down in the eighty thousand range. We watched prices come down and then we started looking again for a house. I was now working the stable corporate job with hopes of promotion.