This is the story of a lovely lady...

Or, A Story Written Because of a Request of My Mother,
Despite My Belief I Had Already Told Her This Before

Except... she had four girls, not three.  Furthermore, they were already grown by the time she met the man she married, his name wasn't Brady, he didn't have any children, and neither the mother nor her daughters had golden hair, much less curls for the youngest.  As for the possibility of a housekeeper, finances (or more accurately, lack thereof) kept that as a pipe dream.  So except for several major differences, we were just like Carol Martin and Mike Brady in that they met and they married.
So let us return to the title to make a tiny alteration: this is the story of a lovely lady and how she met me.  Or did I meet her?  Either way, please try to retain your focus.  If you keep going off on these tangents, I will never get to finish the story.

Meme graphic of dubious relevance included for
the sole purpose of trying to get you to forget
how we got off topic in the first place¹

You know, the one about the lovely lady.  I did mention there was a lovely lady involved, didn't I?  Good, good, just wanted to make sure.
Anyway, this lovely lady (don't tell me you've forgotten her already?) cared for the children of this couple in Salinas, California, the male portion of which (the couple, not Salinas, California) had a sister who worked with me at HomeTown Buffet, which happened to be about a couple of miles from where they lived although that's not really important to the story so feel free to ignore that part.  This sister who had the brother for whom the lovely lady took care of his and his wife's children and worked with me at HomeTown Buffet knew that I might be interested in a long-term relationship, except not with her since she was already in one with someone else and that would have been... awkward!  However, she did tell the lovely lady, who was also her friend, about me and she came to see me at the restaurant.  While she didn't talk to me yet, she did write me a note which my co-worker gave to me.  Basically, it said, "yo, I saw you at the restaurant and was wondering if you might be interested in meeting me".  So I thought, "Eh, what's the worst thing that could happen?".  Well, I suppose she could have snapped and turned out to have been an ax-murderer² who killed us all, but then again, I wouldn't be around to write this if that is how it turned out and I didn't think such a scenario all that likely anyway.  Since I rented a room in a house and didn't have a phone at the time, I told my co-worker that, yes, I would like to meet the lovely lady (except, having never seen her, I would not have had any way of knowing how lovely she was), perhaps even go out on a date with her the next day I had off, if I recall correctly.
I don't remember much more about the meeting.  I was living at 439 Sonora Way in Salinas at the time (although I'm pretty sure the vehicles in the driveway were different) and sometime in the afternoon walked over to the house of the couple whose children she was taking care of and with whom she lived which was on one of the streets named for an American Indian tribe between West Laurel Drive and Northridge Mall (most likely the dead-end part of Cherokee Drive just south of Tulane Street.  While we may walked over to Century 14 at Northridge Mall to see a movie, I believe that was a later date, possibly our second.  Instead, I think we just talked for awhile before I returned home.

¹ So did it work?
² Although how exactly one murders an ax, I have never quite figured out. The same thing goes, more or less, for a hillside strangler.