We made an offer on this house flush against downtown Greer, and the offer was accepted. We hope to close May 31. All the inspections etcetera are this week, if you will pray. I am pumped, yea, truly pumped, about moving into that house, for many reasons. I will lay out a few below. You will not find the pink toilets listed.
1. This evening when I got home I snacked on bread from a Mexican bakery only three blocks from the house in question. The bread was filled with Costa Rican guava jam (alas, not a paste, which any self-respecting Cuban or Brazilian would have used) and farmer's cheese, both obtained from a fantastic Mexican butcher/grocer just a block north of the house.
2. The best little Mexican joint I've ever eaten at is practically across the street. Beef tongue sandwich for a mere five bucks, baby!
3. The house is five minutes' walk from The Great Bay Oyster House. Microbrews, Guinness on tap, and permission to store my own cigars in their humidor.
4. Four blocks from a basketball court where there are games every Sunday, and many weekdays. I've already discovered a cardinal rule of living in this part of South Carolina, simply from observing the action on the court: never play ball with the Mexicans. You take your life into your hands. (Today I overheard an accurately phrased summation of what I'd observed the couple of times I'd seen Mexicans play: "...those m**********rs be foulin'.") Anyway, played at this court today, had a pretty good time. Everybody knew everybody, which was cool. I love a basketball court, and I like the South. I think of it as my home now. And I'll tell you what, it's a good feeling to see men with do-rags and brands slapping hands with men bearing tattoos of the Confederate battle flag. They've obviously grown up together, played ball together for years, and I look forward to playing with them. (I'm just not going to stray over to the Mexican side.)
5. There's a big yard, and it's against the street corner, not in the back. So I can have a big cookout and the whole street will see it. Maybe the whole street will come. Good times anticipated.
6. There's a fig tree.
7. The Sumpters will have a ten-minute drive to us, and it will be nearly a straight shot.
Hope everything goes through all right. And remember, mi casa es su casa.
1. This evening when I got home I snacked on bread from a Mexican bakery only three blocks from the house in question. The bread was filled with Costa Rican guava jam (alas, not a paste, which any self-respecting Cuban or Brazilian would have used) and farmer's cheese, both obtained from a fantastic Mexican butcher/grocer just a block north of the house.
2. The best little Mexican joint I've ever eaten at is practically across the street. Beef tongue sandwich for a mere five bucks, baby!
3. The house is five minutes' walk from The Great Bay Oyster House. Microbrews, Guinness on tap, and permission to store my own cigars in their humidor.
4. Four blocks from a basketball court where there are games every Sunday, and many weekdays. I've already discovered a cardinal rule of living in this part of South Carolina, simply from observing the action on the court: never play ball with the Mexicans. You take your life into your hands. (Today I overheard an accurately phrased summation of what I'd observed the couple of times I'd seen Mexicans play: "...those m**********rs be foulin'.") Anyway, played at this court today, had a pretty good time. Everybody knew everybody, which was cool. I love a basketball court, and I like the South. I think of it as my home now. And I'll tell you what, it's a good feeling to see men with do-rags and brands slapping hands with men bearing tattoos of the Confederate battle flag. They've obviously grown up together, played ball together for years, and I look forward to playing with them. (I'm just not going to stray over to the Mexican side.)
5. There's a big yard, and it's against the street corner, not in the back. So I can have a big cookout and the whole street will see it. Maybe the whole street will come. Good times anticipated.
6. There's a fig tree.
7. The Sumpters will have a ten-minute drive to us, and it will be nearly a straight shot.
Hope everything goes through all right. And remember, mi casa es su casa.
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