Their new home's Hilo. As in Hawaii.
I've known them since 2001. Matt's a fellow suvivor of the Vesta call center; he was my supervisor at one time, and then we were co-workers for a year in the Fraud Department. Gerry's both a numbers-cruncher (doing accounting at Western Culinary Institute for several years) and a belly-dancer. She's multi-talented.
I called ahead this afternoon to confirm they'd be at their (nearly empty and now also sold) home around 6-ish. "I'll bring food," I told them. "How does Popeye's sound?" It sounded just fine to them. Strangely symmetrical, too: they'd been to the Popeye's a few blocks from their place once, soon after they'd moved in! But we shared chicken, cole slaw and mashed potatoes that we'd placed on a stool. We first ate outside, but a bee got waaaaaaaaaaay too friendly with me and my chicken so we went inside and sat on the kitchen floor.
They had put their car in a cargo ship two days ago, to get it to Hawaii. Tomorrow they fly (think good-flight thoughts for them, if you'd be so kind) to San Francisco for a week of vacation; from there they head across many, many miles of the Pacific, to where a three-bedroom rental place awaits. So does a plot of land they own, where they'll build a house.
I got photos of them -- probably the only shots of them I've yet taken -- and they unloaded various freezer things and toiletries that they won't need and that I can use. And then we hugged, and then I headed home.
Wondering when I'll get to visit them on the big island. I will get there. Oh yes, I will.
Edited To Add: Matt has a web page! The background is a Hawaiian beach, and there are photos they took during their trip last year to the Mexican Riviera. I'd never known until seeing those shots that the Mayans had ever lived on the beach.