Not Exactly Maine or Canada

19 Sep

I spent the last week, longing to live in a small fishing village on the coast of Maine. . . or Canada. . . I’m not picky. . . in some old farmhouse, with a clothesline in the yard, tons of huge trees, fresh bread in the oven, and pies cooling on the counter.  Realistically, that’s never going to happen unless the entire Miller clan decides to move north with us?  I’m relieved to say that a weekend full of casseroles, homemade cinnamon rolls, fresh bread, smothered okra, and loads of clean laundry has made everything okay.  That trip to New Orleans didn’t hurt either. . .

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