![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirjoweHRkGp_ScQGtCboWYAItm1iIF_2jVjcAuF66qcDuiWfHNliB9yBl-yKTZnTFibvyu0kBJr2ZEhjxUOZlR31TA4SAbZLz-fgZzecX48xZvqMt75epqQ94K07t1Zk0TvAJY0wrcOI0J/s400/Disc+Transfers+436.jpg)
I never thought I'd marry who man who loved planting trees, and farming, and chopping wood. Growing up in NYC, we always "had someone do" whatever it was that needs to be done, from painting bedrooms to installing wall units and swing sets. I married a man who actually "does it" - it's like marrying the superintendent, but not having to live in a basement apartment! His garage is full of tools and projects and skill saws and a whole lot of crap that he just can't stand to throw away. That's fine - it's his space, but I could do without the life-size Molson bikini girl winking at me through the window.
I am so getting a life-size Bobby Labonte cut-out for my studio space!
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