Storybrooke

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.

BAD. ASS.

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.