For my first two years of college, I spent holiday breaks in the humble abode of my dad and my soon-to-be stepmother, affectionately dubbed "poo palace." The exceedingly old and probably unsafe farmhouse made strange creaking noises in the summer, boasted hiding places in the foundation and under the porch, and had fly strips hung everywhere (many a time I got my hair caught in the one hanging over the toilet in the one functioning bathroom). Cold water showers were a must in the winter, because the hot water pipes would freeze. There was a vintage seventies wardrobe in rotting cardboard boxes, deemed unworthy of removal by the previous owner, and dad and laura could speak to Jared through holes in the wall.
Poo palace is no more--after dad and laura built their new place, they sold that piece of the property. The current owners, with no fond memories, saw only a crumbling old farmhouse, and chose to eliminate it, much to our sadness. These are a few pictures from the weekend, provided by my dad. Jezebel and Bad-Bad (Leroy Brown) would be rolling over in their graves.
2 comments:
You make it sound like we lived in sin for two years!! What'll the neighbors think??
god, i forgot about catching my hair in the fly paper...thanks for that reminder....but seriously, wasn't it nice that you didn't have to wipe your feet before coming in? well...we don't do that in the new house either, do we? i think the message here is that the bowmans could make anyplace where they all reside into a nostalgic home. miss you babe.
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