I asked my adorable daughter to get some shots of me for it. I'm about as photogenic as a train wreck. And I'm closing in on 50. Have I mentioned that? It only bothers me when I'm on a blog where the young mother of 3 is lamenting how old 26 is. I felt bullet proof and invisible then. Sam was 19 at the time somewhere in Virginia and still in my future while I sliced through the male population's hearts like a hot knife through butter.
We did eventually meet, and I claimed my child groom when he was 22.
He turned 23 during our honeymoon in Key West, people. I'm not a monster.
We started our journey together patching up a house that was nearly condemned, but so cool that I saw past that and had to have it.
We will have owned this place 20 years October 1st. My parents, his parents, random siblings and homeless people all ask us why won't we sell this mess and just buy something that isn't about to collapse.
My answer is simple.
I don't give up on things.
So get your nail gun. Grab your Mod Podge. Holster your hammer.
We have a lot more work to do.
We have a ton of things to make, and a lot more remodeling to do.
Welcome to Rehab.
THIS is not a drill.