Monday, July 26, 2010

Home isn't pretty. Ain't no home for me.


It's the end of an era.

This is the last week I'll live at the Ol' Kentucky Corral. It's bittersweet. The memories are seriously flooding my already overcrowded brain. I've been reliving it all...

Lisa crawling into my dryer on new Year's Eve, Ben dressed as a nun wrestling Rocko and Pat May, Phoebe having an overnight guest of the male persuasion who wore see-through panties, backyard shenanigans during some night time rain, me falling down the stairs and fracturing my back which lead to Hillbilly Heroin which lead to hilarity, the many places Johnny has passed out, all the PFG practices which consisted mostly of gossiping and giggling, doing shots out of the giant wooden spoon and then spanking each other with it,  preparing for Cannibalicious!, Todd (nakedly) proposing on our bedroom floor, a billion bands playing and a billion people rocking out in the Rock-a-Hula basement...

You know, I thought there would also be a plethora of rotten memories but right now, all I can think of are the funny things. They're probably what's most important anyway. I don't want to carry any of the rot and misery to Castle Grayskull.

I guess the saddest thing was painting over the "measuring pole" in the basement. All the heights of all the people who had been over. That stung a little. I took pictures. My favorite measurement was probably "Sugar w/ hat" which was followed by "Sugar w/ head".

If anyone wants to say goodbye to the house, come by Friday evening and watch us pack 6 years of livin' into a straight truck. Bring snacks.

1 comment:

phoebe marie said...

oh, pantie-man. oh, memories.

it was a good house. they were good times. but moving on and up is an amazing thing and i'm very happy for you!