I find that I can't write a post that makes sense . . . has a beginning and an end. I fail to follow rules of the English language . . therefore-hence-now-readysetgo- I will now not have complete stories. *However, I give myself full power to change this statement*
We've had issues getting a loan for a home here. Who knew that owning two rental properties would ruin us? We are collecting appliance boxes . . please email me if you would like to make a donation to our new cardboard palace.
I've even been dreaming of the loan issue. My last dream involved trying to "trick" a bank into giving us 5k to build a playhouse to live in. My plan from there was to have Boyd "add on" to it. Good heavens . . . I might be on to something.
We had a "mini-craft" night in the boathouse. We were working on Sister2's wedding bouquet. There was a little alcohol involved (not much, Mom!) and a lot of mocking/laughing. One Sister said at one point: "I think I just peed a little." I think Sister2 is nervous and now believes that wedding bouquets should not be part of "craft nite".
Boyd has been trying to teach G "The sprinkler" dance move. He's not quite there.
Speaking of Boyd . . . what possesses men to taste strange liquid puddles in the driveway? I can understand kneeling down and smelling . . . but tasting?! Its a good thing he's cute . . .
The shoppe opens tomorrow. Enough said . . . must go to bed.
glad i'm not the only one who can't write in a linear fashion. format schmormat.
ReplyDeleteThat can't be good for the system if he's tasting liquid puddles in the driveway. "yup tastes like oil" :)
ReplyDelete