Dayton

Years ago, (31 to be exact), I would on occasion make the trip down I-75 from Toledo to Cincinnati. Cincy is where Karen was born and grew up to age 18.

Now, I know things change over time, but I am totally blown away by how big the city of Dayton has grown, and I actually see large high-rise buildings like a real city!

I remember driving through it in 1990 and thinking what a run-down dump of a city whose ONLY claim to fame were the mighty Dayton Flyers, NCAA basketball giant-killers.

I would never live here in a million years, I remember thinking to myself.

We just put a bid on an awesome house in the Dayton area.

I know.

It has only been 31 years, but this house, unlike the other dozen or so we have considered so far, is legit.

Move-in ready.

Hopefully we will hear shortly whether our offer is acceptable, but my wife and I both feel that if we don’t get this one, it was for a reason. We know we will be totally happy wherever we land.

As long as we land together.

In the event we do get this property, we are really ready to be off the road and into our new digs. Bruiser and Murphy are more than ready, and as we do, a large, fenced yard is the first box that has to be checked when deciding on a house. I am interested to see if I can coax them into a pool, because that is the next box to be checked in our search.

Our neighborhood is almost in a forest with overhanging trees forming a fragrant archway to our (hopefully new) domicile.

With so much green, I know there are golf courses around there and I love hitting out of the trees (read lost ball).

The weather is really muggy, but our hotel room is at a cool 72-degrees. So, as we await our realtor’s call, we are hoping to truncate the road trip and move in.

I am one step further than that.

I am already planning a Mexican Fiesta with my family.

Cheese Enchiladas, tacos, frijoles, Spanish rice, and of course, salsa and guacamole.

I’ll be pouring my famous Margaritas. There is no one living on this planet who can verify my prowess because they are all dead.

Every last one of them.

There is also enough room for me to set up a studio. As I have threatened to do in previous blogs, I will definitely be taking lessons to learn how to finally play lead guitar.

Also my main man Allan was holding out on me, telling me he couldn’t play. Well, we jammed today, and he can play and sing well enough to do a working (read paid) duo.

Happy Hours.

But Big A prefers the beat, sound, and energy of a band.

I don’t blame him.

I remember fronting rock bands growing up and the first power chord of the opening song on the playlist gave me wood.

But then again, so did any oxygen that I breathed.

Stay well.