Authur Nicholas Taylor, my great-great-grandfather, built a quiant little cabin over 100 years ago. It is slightly falling apart. The bathroom is a little nasty. And I think bees might live in the walls. The chain on the porch swing is rusty, the bunk beds are ancietly rigid, and we even have a pump organ. Basically, it's old. But, oh how I love our little cabin.
Yesterday, eighteen girls came with me to my one room cabin and had a sleepover. Well, a "sleepover". We were awake untill seven in the morning!
The three bears trail hiking.
Flavored tootsie roll sucking.
Person, place, thing playing.
Mafia.
In the manner of the adverb.
Pysciatrist.
Scum.
First kiss stories on the tennis courts.
Star gazing.
Laughing.
Hair brushing.
Night gown wearing.
Secret telling.
Junk-food eating.
Twenty hours to spare.
A whole lot of love.
What else do you need?
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