Our house is really never quiet. There is just the three of us and we all use headphones, but the something is always on.
Son is connected via Team Speak to his Army Command center. Exciting right? Nope. It's several guys endlessly talking about databases and PHP 3.0 and moving people over, cobbled code and permission levels.
They are doing an activity purge, so do attach your rank shoulder plate. or you will be gone!
I love geeks. Stupid Wealthy White people. they just called themselves. They are planning way into July, the organization is complicated and this is a group of leaders who need to wrangle platoons. 400 members.
Great enlisted action, I might burst a gut. LOL. My son made this meeting, but he wasn't here. I was. :)
Okay you have no idea what I mean. and that's cool.
Saturday, April 21, 2012
special events house
Their jaws dropped when they actually saw the house..
‘This place is gorgeous, baby!’ she exclaimed with glee.
‘Only the best for my girl.’
They walked hand-in-hand up the path, to the old-fashioned wrap around porch.
They sat on the porch swing and the nicest red haired woman served them lemonade before dinner.
‘Haha! what a thrill. I trust everything is in order… and there is no chance we will be caught?’
‘No worries.’ said Joseph, with a sinister smile.
Dinner was served. The loin was especially tender. The young couple quickly adjourned to the bedroom. They were on their honeymoon, and not wasting any of the precious time they had together.
Rachel paused as she passed the room. The lights were low and the couple could be heard giggling and talking low. It was time for the special event.
‘This is a voyeur’s paradise.’ the guest murmured as Rachel handed him his second double shot of B&B.
He turned to watch the couple through the vanity mirror. His fly down. A lascivious grin pasted on his grizzled face. As his hand reached down, he felt the cold point of a blade on his neck… and heard the ripping sound of… duct tape.
‘This place is gorgeous, baby!’ she exclaimed with glee.
‘Only the best for my girl.’
They walked hand-in-hand up the path, to the old-fashioned wrap around porch.
They sat on the porch swing and the nicest red haired woman served them lemonade before dinner.
‘Haha! what a thrill. I trust everything is in order… and there is no chance we will be caught?’
‘No worries.’ said Joseph, with a sinister smile.
Dinner was served. The loin was especially tender. The young couple quickly adjourned to the bedroom. They were on their honeymoon, and not wasting any of the precious time they had together.
Rachel paused as she passed the room. The lights were low and the couple could be heard giggling and talking low. It was time for the special event.
‘This is a voyeur’s paradise.’ the guest murmured as Rachel handed him his second double shot of B&B.
He turned to watch the couple through the vanity mirror. His fly down. A lascivious grin pasted on his grizzled face. As his hand reached down, he felt the cold point of a blade on his neck… and heard the ripping sound of… duct tape.
Special Event House
Ten years ago my sister sold her ranch in California and brought the money to Washington on the lookout for a retirement home for herself. It was going to be something she could decorate and update, a place with room for her collections...dolls, barbed wire, hats, paintings, old farm implements, family pictures, pottery, Indian artifacts, board games, loom spools, antique furniture. Most of these things had been in storage for many years as she had downsized to a trailer when she moved from the ranch.
She ended up in my father's hometown and bought the largest house we remember as kids visiting there. It sits on a majestic hill three blocks up from the main highway, old 101, on Main St. right across from the oldest County Court House in the State, and the Court House's ugly 1980 addition, the County Jail! What do they say? Location, location, location!
For ten years she has spent the school year in California and every summer in Washington working on the house. It was built in 1903 by a lumber baron. He had money and spent it on this house. Over the years, however, after it passed out of that family it was owned by a dentist, a rehabilitation outreach, a gay couple of directors from Hollywood, and finally, Denise. It is called the Hubble House after the original builder.
For ten years each detail of the home was upgraded, refurbished, renewed or improved. It is now better and bigger than ever before. She lives in what used to be the carriage house while the main house is the museum. Besides her own collections many townspeople have presented her with items original to the house when the Hubbles occupied it. It is a showpiece. So far in the year it has been open to the public, there have been three weddings, four birthday and anniversary parties, one book signing and a couple of company celebrations. We have organized tours twice a year and it is available for drop-in tours at five dollars a head. I really enjoy it...
So, the other day my sister comes to me and says... I don't think I like to work with the public! There's a lot of stress getting things ready for an event. I'm getting older and I want to just go away and live in Kentucky in my trailer. ....
Is she crazy? I've devoted the last five years of my life to this project! Is she sick? Maybe the thyroid thing is acting up...I better get her to the doctor again. Really? She's going to walk away from her collections (can't take them in a trailer). Maybe she's just tired. Geez, the panic...my panic, sets in. I moved here to help her and now she's hightailing it? What's going on?
She explains...she wants to live debt free. She wants to simplify. She doesn't want to be so occupied with other people's problems. She loves to show off the house but it's not paying off like she hoped.
I say, you haven't given it a chance. You haven't done any marketing. In this town they don't understand what you're offering here. Don't give up. You will be bored without this project. I can see her dilemma. And, I can see mine. I moved here. She leaves and I'm alone. Well, I guess it's time to grow up. I can live life without her. After all, I have my friends on DMT and on Forever Young. Am I kidding myself? Nope, I can accept what comes. Will she stay or will she go. I really will be fine.
Ten years ago my sister sold her ranch in California and brought the money to Washington on the lookout for a retirement home for herself. It was going to be something she could decorate and update, a place with room for her collections...dolls, barbed wire, hats, paintings, old farm implements, family pictures, pottery, Indian artifacts, board games, loom spools, antique furniture. Most of these things had been in storage for many years as she had downsized to a trailer when she moved from the ranch.
She ended up in my father's hometown and bought the largest house we remember as kids visiting there. It sits on a majestic hill three blocks up from the main highway, old 101, on Main St. right across from the oldest County Court House in the State, and the Court House's ugly 1980 addition, the County Jail! What do they say? Location, location, location!
For ten years she has spent the school year in California and every summer in Washington working on the house. It was built in 1903 by a lumber baron. He had money and spent it on this house. Over the years, however, after it passed out of that family it was owned by a dentist, a rehabilitation outreach, a gay couple of directors from Hollywood, and finally, Denise. It is called the Hubble House after the original builder.
For ten years each detail of the home was upgraded, refurbished, renewed or improved. It is now better and bigger than ever before. She lives in what used to be the carriage house while the main house is the museum. Besides her own collections many townspeople have presented her with items original to the house when the Hubbles occupied it. It is a showpiece. So far in the year it has been open to the public, there have been three weddings, four birthday and anniversary parties, one book signing and a couple of company celebrations. We have organized tours twice a year and it is available for drop-in tours at five dollars a head. I really enjoy it...
So, the other day my sister comes to me and says... I don't think I like to work with the public! There's a lot of stress getting things ready for an event. I'm getting older and I want to just go away and live in Kentucky in my trailer. ....
Is she crazy? I've devoted the last five years of my life to this project! Is she sick? Maybe the thyroid thing is acting up...I better get her to the doctor again. Really? She's going to walk away from her collections (can't take them in a trailer). Maybe she's just tired. Geez, the panic...my panic, sets in. I moved here to help her and now she's hightailing it? What's going on?
She explains...she wants to live debt free. She wants to simplify. She doesn't want to be so occupied with other people's problems. She loves to show off the house but it's not paying off like she hoped.
I say, you haven't given it a chance. You haven't done any marketing. In this town they don't understand what you're offering here. Don't give up. You will be bored without this project. I can see her dilemma. And, I can see mine. I moved here. She leaves and I'm alone. Well, I guess it's time to grow up. I can live life without her. After all, I have my friends on DMT and on Forever Young. Am I kidding myself? Nope, I can accept what comes. Will she stay or will she go. I really will be fine.
Special Events House
Oh, you need directions to the Hanley House? You must be from out of town. Let me walk with you aways. It's easier to get to via the garden cut through.
No, I don't mind. I like to look at the flowers. Prettiest flowers in town, The spinsters Hanley always kept the gardener busy with the plantings. They hired a landscaper from England to come over here and reproduce the Hanley Gardens of Tollington, London,, where the Baronet Hanley had his notorious estate.
There was a time when being a Hanley in this town meant something. This house saw some of the best society and not just anyone could get an invite, No, by hank, they couldn't. Old General Hanley would not put up with new Money.
Over this way, through the arches.
Are you in for the Medical Marijuana convention? I thought so. There are a lot of people coming in this week for that. Hanley House was inherited two years ago by the remaining great nephew and turned into a Special Events House. Viola Hanley would turn over in her grave if she could see the riff raff tromping through her house, pulling on the curtains. peeking in the cupboards, sitting down on her furniture like they owned the place.
I heard tell from one of the maids there, that the last renters had brought in lights and produced a specialty porn flick, Debbie Does Diarrhea. She said the director was a method actor and gave the actors and models as they like to call them, senekot and let them go at it. She said they also had to take up the floor boards in the dining room because of his vision.
Don't let it worry you none, the smell of marijuana covers up most of the remaining odor. They've got the Miss Marijuana pageant there tomorrow out on the veranda. I'll be by for the smoke off. I wouldn't miss it.
Let me get the door for you. Knock knock, knock.
No, I don't mind. I like to look at the flowers. Prettiest flowers in town, The spinsters Hanley always kept the gardener busy with the plantings. They hired a landscaper from England to come over here and reproduce the Hanley Gardens of Tollington, London,, where the Baronet Hanley had his notorious estate.
There was a time when being a Hanley in this town meant something. This house saw some of the best society and not just anyone could get an invite, No, by hank, they couldn't. Old General Hanley would not put up with new Money.
Over this way, through the arches.
Are you in for the Medical Marijuana convention? I thought so. There are a lot of people coming in this week for that. Hanley House was inherited two years ago by the remaining great nephew and turned into a Special Events House. Viola Hanley would turn over in her grave if she could see the riff raff tromping through her house, pulling on the curtains. peeking in the cupboards, sitting down on her furniture like they owned the place.
I heard tell from one of the maids there, that the last renters had brought in lights and produced a specialty porn flick, Debbie Does Diarrhea. She said the director was a method actor and gave the actors and models as they like to call them, senekot and let them go at it. She said they also had to take up the floor boards in the dining room because of his vision.
Don't let it worry you none, the smell of marijuana covers up most of the remaining odor. They've got the Miss Marijuana pageant there tomorrow out on the veranda. I'll be by for the smoke off. I wouldn't miss it.
Let me get the door for you. Knock knock, knock.
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