My Story
A city girl, saving for a farmhouse
Chicago is the only place I ever wanted to live, and I got it: twenty years of the lake, the museums, the noise of it. One of the great pleasures of my life.
I'm leaving it for a farmhouse in Indiana.
Fifty did that. I want a kitchen that smells like something, pumpkins on a step that belongs to me and nobody else, and fireflies, which this city has never once managed to produce. Pumpkin spice is not a joke around here, it's a personality.
So every mug and every towel goes into the farmhouse fund. The Art Institute membership was the first thing to go. The porch is coming, and every saying here is a plank in it.
Come sit down. Bring nothing.