I still don’t have chickens. Mr. G is trying with all his might to keep me deprived of fresh organic eggs and the magical chicken shit that will make my canna grow. Recently the kids and I listened to an interview on NPR with a fellow who raised fancy chickens with blue skin. Mr. G
I’ve been house hunting for a year. A full year of having the first email of every day come from ListingBook.com. I’ve seen homes that would work. I’ve seen amazing homes that I can’t afford. I’ve seen absolute junk for seven figures. Yesterday we went to look at four homes. The first home is very
I’ve been looking for a new house for more than four months now. I know what I want. I want a larger lot, a smaller house, a pool, good floors and a walking neighborhood. I want to spend almost exactly as much as we sell this house for. What I have is a bigger home.
I know I spend a lot of time telling y’all how my husband is a great father, a generous husband, and really good man. I don’t spend enough time telling you how Mr. G. is narrow minded and cruel. What you don’t know is that he is a dream killer. Not just any old dreams,
This morning I looked at a house. Tomorrow morning Mr. G. will tour the very same house. We will likely make an offer on it. I might pee the bed tonight, and I’m not kidding. This is our third house. It’s a big house, it’s a dramatic house, and it’s a great family house, but