When we were down for Fathers Day, I resolved to show my Husband a secret neighborhood.
Where I grew up, there is a secret neighborhood that is right off the main highway. I assume the houses were build when the Mill went in.
As a poor bitch I never had a reason to go there.
One day, as a teen, I got lost on a bike and stumbled on it.
It was a neighborhood FULL Of Beautiful Ranch Houses.
It is hidden.
This neighborhood looks like it is in the shadow of a mountain even in broad-ass daylight.
So, obviously, I had to prove it.
It sounds crazy. There aren’t pretty neighborhoods where I grew up. But there are.
I turned down two wrong roads and found it and the third try.
First thing we see are Big Brick Columns.
That was freaking cool.
What did I say?
Serving You Pleasantville realness in the middle of the Panhandle Wilderness.
“So that’s the Mayor’s House”
I KNOW!! But they’re all like that!
That is old money. They can live wherever they want.
I’m not bitter. You are.