domestic perfection

I've found it. The perfect house. The place I live in my dreams. There is a small table on the front porch, supporting a tall glass pitcher of iced tea and a vase of zinnias and Queen Anne's lace from the garden. Two comfortable wicker chairs padded with pillows made of tea-stained chintz invite friends to stop by and knit a spell.


I can see myself growing old in this house. Enjoying the multitide of good friends and family that I'm fortunate enough to have in my life. There's just one little problem -- this sweet little house is in Atlanta, Georgia. What do you say, Lillium? Can a born & bred Tater-Stater become a sweet Southern belle? Ah, it's all a fantasy, anyway. But a delicious one, indeed.