Sixteen. "My Dream House."

Haha, this cracks me up. I feel sort of silly describing my dream house, but since that is what I have been told to do. I shall.

This would do, I suppose.

So yes, pictured above, is my dream house. I have always loved yellow houses. There is just something so bright and sunshiney about them. I also LOVE front porches. I love the idea of sitting out on the porch in a rocking chair with a glass of iced tea. Or sitting on a porch swing with a cup of coffee in the early morning. Its just so very quaint.
I can see me, relaxing after a long day of... house-wifey stuff. My husband brings me out a cup of coffee and some of the pie that I made in my spare time. Then he turns up some great country music and we dance on the front porch while the crickets sing. Barefoot. After he serenades me with this great love song he wrote on his guitar.

But then I got to thinking...what if I move overseas?

Then I would want this house instead.

I can just see the sprawling English garden in the backyard. I can imagine my children named Charlie and Jane running into the mudroom where they will take off their wellies before stepping onto my clean kitchen floor. That very same kitchen where I have been baking some scones that we can have with our tea. "Darling!" I call to my husband, who sits at his piano, playing feverishly. "Tea time!"

OK. So maybe, I get a little carried away now and then.

Its so me to want both of those houses though. Man alive. The first house is a representation of Daniel's influence on my life. The Southern, laid-back, country style of life. I used to hate it, and now I think I love it more than he does! The second is so Emily. Goodness... British, Flowers, Cottage... yep. Its how I have always been and always imagined my dream house.

Here's the kicker. You're gonna love me for this one.

My real dream house. Is one with the man of my dreams. I realize that I am way too premature in our relationship to say something like that. but, after all. This is my "Diary On Display."
I cannot imagine living anywhere without him. Not even in the most beautiful of Southern homes, or the quaintest of English cottages. It would instantly not be my dream home.

A cardboard box, or a pick-up truck with him? Every wish granted. See, you think I'm just saying that because that's what every girl says. and yes. I would probably get very sick of not being able to take a shower.... but really, "is a house really a home when your loved ones are gone?"

I couldn't just leave the pictures as they were. I had to describe social interactions that took place in those homes, because that's really what makes a home, a home.

So. Here's to my parents for making (and continuing to make) my home the best ever, and here's to hoping that I either win a million dollars, or stay true to my word of contentment in a cardboard shack. I love you Daniel Scott McCurdy. Only for you, would I live somewhere without indoor plumbing.