Moving Day

Y’all.

Our stuff is finally here.

Here at Six Little Acres.

Oh yes it is. And we, (the Ninja Man and moi) are exhausted beyond imagination.

Here’s what:

We rented a U-Haul and – through U-Haul- we hired two movers. Y’all remember how I’ve mentioned how blessed we are? Well, those two movers turned into three, and the four hours we paid for were finished in three!

That’s a big deal since Ninja Man had worked a full day and needed to go to bed. It’s just a piece of gravel in a mountain of major challenges we have faced.

None of this has been easy, y’all. None of it.

Let’s recap since February 2016. The 15th, to be exact was when Baby Wren was diagnosed with neuroblastoma in her neck. That is the day I will never forget. Baby cancer will do that to you. Looking back, it’s absolutely a devastating event that forever altered our lives. But it is also absolutely the time we have seen more blessings than we have ever witnessed.

With this news, there was not even a doubt that I would help our daughter and her husband with Wren and big sis Phoebe.

We moved away from our beautiful Savannah home, renting it out because it’s too soon in the mortgage to sell. We knew the expenses we would incur would be substantial. We own an RV and we moved into it.

We spent a full year renovating Six Little Acres with horrid contractors. I was in charge of the whole project and had to navigate it from a distance from either Savannah or the children’s hospital. All this while living in the RV near Savannah and me driving to Atlanta every 21 days for 13 rounds of baby chemo.

Our plan was to accomplish this place with no debt. We didn’t make that goal. We had to go into debt and now we will pay that as we go.

We finally finished this build/remodel in late May. I moved in and lived as sparsely as I’ve ever lived. Paper plates. No dresser for my clothes (I’ve successfully used cardboard boxes). Very few chairs, a borrowed pot and pan, no toaster, no washer or dryer and no TV. Everything we owned was in storage and Ninja would bring as much as he could every time he came. Im 58 years old. Let me just say that I am completely over hauling laundry to a laundromat either near SLA or at the campground. Over it, y’all.

We have been married nearly 41 years. Besides the washer and dryer, we have a good bit of stuff even though I pared it down a lot before we moved. Check this out: knowing how I needed furnishings and necessities, Ninja Man tirelessly loaded his truck after working 10 hour days (he had help only once) and drove the 3 1/2 hours from Savannah to our new home. He did this nearly every Friday for over four months.

He’s 64. There were bookcases and heavy boxes.

It’s a lot, y’all.

Fast forward to tonight. I can’t describe how tired we are. I’m too tired to cry. Too tired to put on my PJs. So I won’t do either.

Ninja Man and I left the RV (I was there to get some things done in Savannah) about 9:30 this morning. Instead of sleeping, I’d spent several hours being anxious about the SneakMobile being towed. Oh, I didn’t want to. I didn’t even expect to. It’s just a byproduct of being the sweet and loving control freak that I am.

Anyway, he drove the 26′ truck with The SneakMobile in tow. I drove his huge pickup truck.

Being the control freak that I am, I was surprised that once we were on the road, I really wasn’t worried at all. The SneakMobile is obedient, and followed along as if it we do this all the time.

Here we are challenging another U-Hauler to a duel.

Don’t worry, I never looked at my phone to take this picture. Seriously. It’s just a rare talent that I discovered shortly after the invention of picture-taking-phones.

Four hours later (only 30 extra minutes from our usual time) we were turning in at Six Little Acres.

Can I just tell y’all how big this is? Huge. Huge, y’all.

And that 26′ truck was filled, as momma would say, “to the gills.”

Having spent so much already, I put a call out on Facebook for help. Even though the offer was for pizza-compensation, we had folks eager to come at this crucial time.

Crucial because:

Both Ninja and I have issues with our right shoulders. Mine due to a hard fall on concrete, his a mystery injury. I asked him if he was with his shoulder at the time it was injured, he assured me he was. We have no clue what happened but he will get an MRI next week.

And can I just say that I saw my X-ray and I’m downright skinny up under all this fluff. Skinny bones. Yep. That’s me.

Anyway, here are a few pictures of the “during”. I will start on boxes tomorrow, right after I sleep until somebody makes me drag my drivin-all-over-the-dang-place-paper-plate-using-laundromat-hanging-out-whiney butt out of the bed.

And not a moment sooner.

Thanks for stopping by, and thank you all who have been praying for Baby Wren. Keep it up please, she has a ways to go yet.

God bless,

Kathy Bo.

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An uninvited guest named Irma

We are southwest of Atlanta. We watched the news of Hurricane Irma with great interest, as we have friends and family in Florida and Savannah. We also still own a home in Savannah and so far it fared well.

Being southwest of Atlanta, we figured we’d have nothing more than rain.

We were wrong.

That danged old storm just found her way into places no one expected. And though we had only wind and rain, Six Little Acres was no exception to Irma’s SE trek.

There was rain, lots of it. It was the kind of cold rain that the pups refused to go outside.

All weekend.

We finally devised a plan that meant leading them out and letting them go in the carport. The carport is a metal roof thing with dirt as a floor, so it was perfect for pups “on the go”. This single thing was probably the best plan all weekend.

We had wind that twisted the treetops in a weird and creepy way. That wind got up to a guesstimate of about 40 mph and spread that cold rain with it.

We were ready for a power outage. We had hurricane snacks as well as bottled water, sandwich fixings, canned goods and chips.

Ninja Man and the FSIL filled every gas tank we had just in case we needed the generator.

The grandLittles were stir crazy after a few short hours and needed some chicken-chasin’ outdoors. But as the rain and winds continued, we all just did our best to entertain them.

Here’s a great illustration of Ninja Man, favorite daughter (ok, she’s our only daughter) and yours truly, coping with the storm.

I know. It’s hard to muster up any sympathy. Except for a flicker or two, we never lost power.

Please keep praying for those who were hit hard during this storm as well as Harvey. They may never regain their lives and livelihoods. Having once lost all our possessions in a fire, it breaks my heart to see the devastation reported from these storms across the Caribbean, Atlantic and the Gulf.

Prayers also please for Baby Wren and favorite daughter as they travel to Pennsylvania for more treatment. We are so blessed that they CAN travel. That there IS medicine. That we ARE able to have treatment for our Little. We are blessed beyond imagination.

Thank you for stopping by, and God bless each of you.

Kathy Bo

Wash day = every day

If cottons and polyester blends could ever get confused, my laundry would be the first in line.

For the last 12 months, I’ve washed clothes in the weirdest places, with only ONE pleasant experience.

Y’all. I’m not a high maintenance girl. Really. I’m not. My laundry consists of t-shirts and leggings (yes, I’m 58 years old and I wear them. I am sure it’s a gift from the former me who HAD to wear panty hose in the summer in the 1970’s. WHO would refuse such a gift? Not me!)

Other clothing in my laundry are chemo week gear. Let me tell you about that.

Our grandLittle Wren was diagnosed with neuroblastoma in February 2016 at the age of 16 months. In order to help support our daughter and her family, my husband and I went into a phase of life that meant many changes.

We rented out our home, stored ALL THE THINGS and lived in our RV, 3 hours away from daughter, until Six Little Acres, which is just minutes from daughter, was livable.

Believe it or not, I kept that part right there pretty simple.

For more than a year, I traveled from the RV to daughter, picked her and baby up, and off we went to Atlanta for treatment.

We did this every 14 days.

Let me say now that our grandLittle is doing so much better! She still needs prayer and there’s more treatment ahead, but we believe the worst is behind us. Praise God!

So back to the laundry. I was doing laundry at the Ronald McDonald House. Now that really was the best experience of all the laundryness that I had to do. But we didn’t always get a place at the Ronald McDonald House. Sometimes it was an outdoor washer and dryer in a downtown Atlanta motel and it was very creepy and scary. Sometimes it was the camp ground and other public laundromats. Either way, where ever we went it was easily $12-$30 just to do laundry. I had to get my clothing down to a minimum. I needed low maintenance clothes.

Changing my look was all very appropriate, considering the fact that in no time, I had become a hot mess. My long brown (colored) hair had several inches of grey roots. All that long hair was piled on top of my head because the heat coming off of my body was enough to make me break out into a sweat for no reason whatsoever. I was miserable.

Ain’t nobody got time for that. The hair got cut and not kidding, this is me:
Short, grey hair DON’T CARE. And that’s not all: There’s been NO makeup for over a year. I wore it twice and cried it off both times.

Baby cancer will do that to you.

Ok, so very soon into this experience, I realized my clothes were not sufficient for doing things such as helping a wee one battle cancer. I needed things that did not snap or buckle or zip. Pretty much what I needed was pull ’em up, pull ’em over, and GO. And I needed big shirts to hang over everything just in case “stuff” started falling out because I didn’t get them pulled all the way up before the toddler was climbing on me to get out of there! She was always very eager to leave infusion-as we all were. I carried her most of the time and I was happy to do so.

It was during this time there was no room in my life for make up, bracelets, dangling earrings, necklaces, fancy purses or dressy, trendy shoes.

Nope no holes barred. I was going to be as stealth as possible, zipping in and out of that children’s hospital, toting baby and luggage (daughter did also) to hotels for the week, and trolling the streets of Atlanta, looking for places we could afford to eat. Hot mess. Hot, hot mess.

Well, I found the perfect ensemble for such a task as this. With plenty of tunics, leggings and a hipster type purse that hung over my shoulder and landed on the opposite hip, it was all I needed and all I really could manage.

And as of last Thursday (yes, I know I blogged about them already, but it’s THAT important, y’all!) I have my washer and dryer, here, at Six Little Acres.

I have washed everything. Even my Stampin’ Up backpack, the absolute necessity for all those trips. It’s hanging up to dry now.

Ninja Man might be a little jealous because I’ve been hugging these dreamy machines all weekend. I’m trying to keep it classy, but just one kiss on the power button is all innocent, right?


Oh, and the laundry room is pretty small but it is just enough to do the job. I found that rack above at Hobby Lobby for 40% off. It’s the bombdiggity.

Well, that’s it. I’ll try to peel my lips off these dream machine (they DON’T even take quarters!) and report back soon on other things going on at Six Little Acres. I have more time now that I’m not heading to the laundromat every other day. #uppity.

Thanks for stopping by, and please follow us on Facebook! God bless.

Baby Wren is on FB also: Hope for Wren

Permit me to burn this

So we passed inspection a few weeks ago (see previous post) but we had so much going on we didn't have time to celebrate.

Oh, we've talked about it. We've planned and planned.

Extensive planning.

All that planning ended up with this:

We planned to have a fire. In a pit.

And that's not all. We planned to burn the renovation permit that was stuck on our door for over a stinkin year.

A year, people.

This is more than a classic cardboard mini-poster thing with black marker and … wait for it… blue painter's tape. This, THIS thing meant we were not allowed to live here until we fulfilled the county requirements. And now we have.

And like the song says, tonight's the night. Oh yeah. It is.

And Ninja Man, creative as he is, added all kinds of memorabilia to the blaze. There were pieces of old siding, a 2X6 from the EBR (our 14 X 44 "porch" aka the "Emotional Baggage Room"), some window trim and assorted bits and pieces from all over the former house.

Through the magic of the interwebs, y'all can celebrate with us!

Here I am directing the process because I'm a control freak:
and here is Ninja Man being all brave with this fire. It's his fire, after all. He's SO ready to toss that thing in. Me too, but I was feeling a bit warmish. It's July. In Georgia. So there we go. It's a done deal. We are living here and and we've had the ceremonial roasting of the permit.

Life is good here at Six Little Acres. We are blessed. Now for getting our stuff here and start decorating and nesting.

Thanks for stopping by and Click here for our Facebook page and enjoy extra content!

God bless.
Kathy Bo

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 

Name that tree!

Ok readers, I need your expertise. 

I have trees and cacti here that I need to identify. They are probably common as can be but this sort of thing has never been a priority until now so I’m on the learning curve and you get to drive!

Let’s do the cacti first. 

There are two patches of these things that are planted beneath a tree. It’s odd to me why they would be there and it looks like they should flower at some point. 

Anyway, here’s a pic of one patch:

Now on to the trees. 

Sorry, there are no prizes except for the fame and fortune of being among Those Who Comment. 

I kinda think tree #1 is a magnolia type tree. The leaves resemble one but it’s too small. 


Tree #2: 

#3: maybe that’s just a vine in this tree? What kind of berries? 


Tree #4


And since y’all have hung around to help me, you must be a tree / plant lover- so here’s a few pix of Six Little Acres for you to enjoy. (And you’ll see some pecan trees too!) 


Thanks for helping! I look forward to your comments. God bless. 

Kathy Bo

IKEA farm sink

I can’t even say how long it has been since I first wanted a farm sink. What is a farm sink? I dunno, but my definition is a very large apron sink. 

I found one online at IKEA and fell in love with it, but actually getting it was a huge challenge.  Once I ordered, I found that you cannot do some very basic things once you’ve surrendered you hard earned money to IKEA. 

You cannot track an order on the IKEA website. 

You cannot access your order. 

You can do nothing towards seeing what you have ordered. 

What you can do is call the 800 number. 

I called IKEA and held on for 23 SOLID MINUTES before getting a human. 

I told the human, “Wait a minute. This is 2016! We’ve been tracking orders for a hundred years!” 

Human was not amused. 

I had an email – not an order confirmation- oh no- that sort of thing apparently is too high tech for IKEA. The email showed it had shipped, via some carrier, and it gave an order number. I gave that number to Human. 

“It has shipped,” Human informed me. 

I was now into about 28 minutes to find out what I already knew. 

I was told to call the shipper to get more information. 

I called. I was told immediately that the sink was broken- or lost- and IKEA should have gotten with me to replace it. There was a faucet too. It was going to be held for the replacement to arrive and they would ship together. 

Oh happy day. 

Well, except that I now had to go through all that IKEA customer service call stuff again. 

We were in the process of a mega move. Why mega? Because: long story. Trust me, it will make you cry. Ugly cry. I’ll save the whole sordid tale for a night out where ice cold low carb beer flows from a tap. Then we will laugh and laugh and laugh. In between bathroom breaks I’m really funny when I get ice cold low carb beer on tap. Really funny. 

A few calls later and my sink was on its way. It finally came, amid a bit of drama (full disclosure on cold beer night).


Isn’t it adorable? Joanna Gaines uses these all the time on her Fixer Upper show. 

But as fabulous as my 108 lb, 36″ sink is, it’s just a fancy birdbath unless you have a faucet. 

And my long-awaited sink/birdbath needed a really neat faucet. One just like this:


And that happened to be the one that is, to this day, waiting on its sink in a dark corner somewhere on a loading dock. 

So I called IKEA and got a REAL human, one who clearly excels at everything IKEA and without a doubt is an overachiever in life. She is probably also cute and will be cute even when she is old. 

I liked her anyway. 

So much so that I asked for her supervisor so I could share how helpful she was in getting my replacement faucet on its way to me. 

IKEA may lack what most third world countries have in decent customer service, but I still love their products. Even better are their meatballs. But that’s when I’m fortunate enough to be able to actually go to the IKEA store and not order online or by phone. 

Imagine the length of time to get meatballs delivered. I’d starve. 

So the sink is here and the faucet FINALLY shipped 8 days (7 to 10 was the timeframe) after I called. It is actually paired with a tracking number and FedEx will bring it on Friday. 

I’ll post a selfie with it on social media and only readers of this blog will have a clue about why I’m posing with a faucet and a smile. 

It will be a great story to share. At least if we have some cold beer first. Then it will be hilarious. 

Thanks for stopping by and God bless!

Kathy Bo