Apparently I've been remiss in updating the blog so:
- yes, we've moved in
- no, we have no interior doors put up yet. They're still in the box. WHA?
- I have no photos because we've packed away the battery re-charger and I still can't find the bugger
- the deer are bossy, demanding things that think Vyolette is a chew toy so I tend to keep away - far, far away
skip to main |
skip to sidebar
There once was a woman who lived in a shoe. She had so many kids she had no clue what to do. So she used them all for a humor column and now she knows why she suddenly gottem.
Motherhood isn't for sissies---
Raising five wee daughters on the tippy top of a mountain in Virginia with my husband, I'm an Oregon transplant just trying to make it back home.
Writer, ghost hunter and the best little granola chef in the whole wide world, I'm trying to write the Great American Novel between Brownie permission slips and grocery lists. I once gave a cashier half a scene when I handed her a coupon. It was a toss-up which I needed more - coffee or if Esme would make it out alive. Coffee won.
Writer, ghost hunter and the best little granola chef in the whole wide world, I'm trying to write the Great American Novel between Brownie permission slips and grocery lists. I once gave a cashier half a scene when I handed her a coupon. It was a toss-up which I needed more - coffee or if Esme would make it out alive. Coffee won.
0 comments:
Post a Comment