Last time I was in Nashville, I drove by my old house. They cut down the two big trees in the front (one was an evil pear tree, and one was a peach tree past its fertile time, and they attracted wasps so I don't really blame them, but plant something else!) and there's lots of cutesy Americana lawn ornaments. I didn't stop to meet them.
The house where I was born and the house I lived in growing up are both still there, pretty much the same. The farm - the land - has changed; in some ways that make me sad, but I don't live anywhere near there anymore, so I don't have to see it, and it can live on unchanged in my head. Excuse me, I'm going down to the spring and play with the bullfrog.
That not-hobbit house is awesome and I want it. Speaking of hobbit houses, a friend of mine is an architect and he's been idly playing with (if we say "working on" I have to pay him) my ideas about building actual underground hobbit houses. I want to build several living quarters connected by underground tunnels to a common kitchen/dining/hang-out area, so we can get to that and to each other's "houses" without having to go outside in the horrible heat/cold/snow. If I ever have money I'm doing it.
I leave dirty dishes in the sink, two feet from the dishwasher, all the time, and I annoy myself.
That Russian shirt is hilarious.
I am at work, and I STILL have almost nothing to do.