Success! Life begins at Six Little Acres 

Picture a cheerleader, preferably me in 5th grade, shaking gold and black pom-poms that match my pleated cheerleader skirt and vest, yelling, “Tigers! Tigers! Gooooo Tigers!”  

Well, fast forward 45 plus years, take away the pom-poms and -please- take that uniform too (it won’t fit anyway) and that’s me, on the porch at Six Little Acres yelling, “Inspector, inspector! Gooooo inspector!” I mean, REALLY. GO. LEAVE. VAMOOSE. DONT LET THE DOOR HIT YA WHERE THE GOOD… well, y’all get the idea. 

Because we passed inspection! Oh yes we did. 

I’m so happy. And I am officially LIVING HERE. Yep. It’s awesome and amazing and even though most of our stuff is still in storage, we are just as cozy as we can be with paper plates and plastic forks. 

So life begins At Six Little Acres. 

There’s still LOTS to do and share so follow us here and on Facebook. We are excited to see what tomorrow brings. 

God bless,

Kathy Bo 

Still working 

It’s been a busy couple of weeks here at Six Little Acres. 

We are desperately- and I mean DESPERATELY – trying to get everything finished so the county inspector can sign off and we can go on with our lives. 

We are hoping he can come on Friday and also hoping we have done everything we had to do. Not only so we can be done with it but because this has KILT US.

KILT US DET!

Ninja Man can’t use his right hand without pain and my left knee is all jacked up. BUT Favorite Son in Law (FSIL) Ian is still young and to my knowledge, all his major parts are still in working order. 

A couple of fun things:

It doesn’t matter if you have to paint stuff and dig tons of dirt, grass grows and it has to be mowed. 

So I mowed this morning. 

And I took pictures. We shall call this “A View From the Mower”. 

Oh yes. 

We shall. 

Views from the mower make me happy, but mostly if I have already mowed what lies beyond. 
Another thing: 

Chickens and blueberries. 

Favorite daughter harvested about a quart of blueberries this afternoon. She and the Littles also brought eggs from the coop. But it’s not all fun and games, y’all. There’s some serious work going on here. So serious that we had to call for help. Rest up, Ninja Man. Teach those Littles to work. 

Now don’t feel bad for them- they worked super hard for approximately 8 minutes then went on vacation for – well- they are still on vacation. I get it, Littles, it’s hard work. I was over it in 5 minutes. Y’all rocked it. 

Disclaimer: this next shot ain’t pretty. Left these and they just sat there. They didn’t work unless we worked. Nothing magical here, move on. My water fell over. It was DET y’all. Some other things: 

We got rid of this: ohhhhh happy day. Dude left with this eyesore and my check for $350. I was happy and sad all at once. 

The only thing left behind was a terrible stench for a couple of hours because it poured rain for four days after. When the sun came back out we started working again. 

Apparently we aren’t the only ones making a home at Six Little Acres. 

This black widow is now just a memory (and yes, it’s a type of black widow, we Googled it). Anyway, Ninja Man squashed it with his glove. He’s cool like that. I magnified it for your viewing pleasure. 

In other news, my brother came to finish the stairs. He is a REAL carpenter, not pretend ones like we had before. The pretend ones left us high and dry with a huge mess that had to be rebuilt. If we ever see them again I hope it’s with a judge between us, one that raises one eyebrow and stares at them really hard. Yeah. TAKE THAT. 

Anyway, here’s my hero, brother Dave. After he rebuilt and put the (county required) granny bar on the steps, he and Ninja Man got some play time in. (By the way, that bar is required because someone’s drunk granny needed something to hang on to- not saying we don’t need it. I am, after all, a grandma and IF WE EVER FINISH THIS it will be 5 o’clock somewhere.

Anyway, the play date: 

Look closely for the drone. In the first image, it’s above the 2nd pup. In the next, it’s above the silver van. They had fun and marveled at the video of Six Little Acres. One day I’ll try to share one here so you can marvel too. 

It was a busy two weeks. We are looking forward to a burn pit night where we celebrate the end of county required work and the beginning of doing fun stuff for Six Little Acres at our leisure. That’s what we do in rural Georgia, celebrate by burning stuff. It’s a tradition, especially if you’ve sent your dumpster away. 

Thanks for stopping by, and please keep Baby Wren in your prayers. We are waiting on a 2nd opinion. See her story on Facebook at Hope For Wren. 

Hebrews 11:1 says, “Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” God said it, we believe it. And we proclaim His glory in this precious child. 

Toodles,

Kathy Bo 

Favorite son in law

There are so many reasons Ian is my favorite son in law. 

He adores my daughter and their girls. 

He loves a good pun. 

He’s really really easy to scare. 

He once sat by my bedside after I had major surgery and stayed in that chair beside me for hours. Every time I woke up he was there. 

He is very thoughtful. 

He thinks I make the best eggs ever. 

I guess I have to say it’s a good thing he is my favorite because he is also my ONLY son in law, as I have only one daughter and one son. Here’s today’s spoiler alert: there’s also a favorite daughter in law. 

Today he earned another gold star because he did this:

Let’s just talk about ↖️that bush right there. 

It’s a rare breed of holly called a Doggone Hot Mess. Yes it is. Don’t try to look it up, just trust me. 

That dang thing was in charge of those steps. When I say “in charge” I mean we had to navigate around that monster the whole time we were working last week. It was like the school bully trying to steal my lunch money. 

But I couldn’t avoid it. The prickly thing tried to grab me at least five times. I was already freaked out with the cooties (see first post and hazmat suit) so of course dodging it Every. Single. Time. just made me ornery. That Hot Mess just OWNED those steps. 

Ain’t nobody got time for that. 

FSIL (favorite son in law) heard me proclaim that the bush had to go, and lo and behold, go it did; via Sawsall. 

Yes, I said Sawsall. (Pronunciation: saws-all because it, well, saws all.) My husband calls it a non-discriminatory cutting device. 

My FSIL tried to use other tools but it was super hot on the Six Little Acres today. It was also humid. Toss in a cantankerous weed eater and clearly, it was time to improvise. 

The problem was that the saw was inside the house and he left the key at home. 

Here’s some math for you: My FSIL is a mere five-foot-fifteen-inches tall. 

He is a big guy. This photo illustrates how tall he is. Okay, it really doesn’t, but I like this picture. Anyway, he had to climb through a window in order to retrieve the saw. 


And he hacked that awful bush to smithereens.  

And then he did this:

That’s the back of the trailer. I can only imagine the vermin that skedaddled out of there when that big guy started whacking down those bushes with a Sawsall. 

Now to get the place mowed and pressure washed, painted, interior completely renovated and get my man retired. 

Piece of cake, right? We are excited and prayerful that this is going to be really nice some day soon. Meanwhile, my FSIL made it lots better than how we left it when we came home last Sunday. 

That’s just one more reason he’s my favorite. 

Thanks for stopping by! Please comment, subscribe for updates and share. Meanwhile, I’ll keep y’all posted!

God bless,

Kathy Bo. 

Phil. 4:13