Tell me you’re the economy version of “Breakfast at Tiffany’s”
On the way home, we found a lovely little 50s diner that was about 30 minutes into our journey.
They went for 18 holes of golf, I went into town for some damn civilization
We went camping. Let me rephrase: they wanted to go camping, I went along under duress.
I’m not a bride. I don’t care if we’re before or after Labor Day.
Some practical advice for younger women: wear comfortable shoes.
Trees. Grand, tall, and deafening in their silence.
Me and Marge, both sexy Mamas who make similar sounds when annoyed?
The pond, our local pond, becomes so overgrown and wild in certain areas it’s really just like a dream.
You know what I just love?
