“There’s a gas station and some donkeys and, you’re doing what with a miter saw?”
Holyoke Home asked (very politely) for me to please explain myself, because I write most of my posts after midnight and sometimes I forget that not all of you have been reading this website for the last 5 years. Which is to say I suck at setting context.
Seeing as how it is almost midnight again and I still have grout to finish on my basement tile, let me point any of you who are interested into a little more information about our own personal brand of insanity. You can get a little backstory on the Memorial property in The Roost section of this site. (And let me ask you, is it weird that “The Roost” is a link to a page, but there are also links to sub-pages under it? Would anyone think to click on the main tab? Because I almost just couldn’t find this information on my own website, but I can’t tell if that is really poor design, or just sleep deprivation.)
I just re-read all of that and realized I should be banned from writing any more tonight due to my complete inability to form coherent sentences. And use proper punctuation.
But I can point you to more great (I use that word loosely) information about us, or if you haven’t fallen out of your chair from cute overload yet today, check out our future miniature donkeys.
Cute trumps coherent any day of the week… see?

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Comments
Amy
I LOVE miniature donkeys. They are my favorite animal to visit at the State Fair. Methinks I should bookmark this post in case I need a cuteness break at work today.
Kate
Holyoke Home could do what I did, which is to go back & read from the beginning.
When I first started blurking, I was completely confused on why there were 2 (or I guess really 3) locations being worked on & my curiousity got the better of me. Add in the crooked brooms & OMG! It’s a wonder you ever sleep at all!
Holyoke Home
See? Now it all makes SO MUCH SENSE! Except the miter saw. The miter saw still doesn’t make sense.
Mamie
HEY KIT
YOU MAKE THAT GROUTING JOB SOUND SO EASE, I MAY TRY IT AGAIN. I HATE TO GROUT, MAMIE