Pliney

Well, this morning my son Brandon and daughter-in-law Megan signed a contract to buy the house on Pliney Circle where Brandon spent his teen years.

We all have a lot of good memories from the ole Pliney house...

Like the time Brandon and I had lowered the basketball goal so we could have a dunking contest. We were using those "mini" basketballs, the ones most normal people can palm. I proceeded to throw down a monster dunk, hang from the rim, and then follow up by clenching my fists and yelling out in a great roar. A moment later, after hearing a noise behind me, I noticed that the nosey neighbor lady was standing ten feet away, and was trying to ask if she could get a clipping from our yellow rose bush. I'll never forget the look of horror on her face as she saw my antics.

Or like the time Cathy saw an animal in the far part of the yard, and tried to attract it with "Here, kitty kitty", only to find out it was a (rabid) fox that the animal control folks had been looking for. Cathy later said "I thought it looked a bit orange and pointy-nosed for a cat..."

Or the time it snowed, and the boys invited their friends over for a massive snowball war until the wee hours of the night. Or the time a cat had a litter of kittens under our house, and they clawed their way into our warm ductwork and had to be rescued by hand through the floor vents. Or the times Brandon would challenge Zach and I to a game of half-court basketball (the two of us against him), and the game would inevitibly end up with Brandon getting mad and slinging the basketball across the yard.

Or the time... Well, you get the idea. Our family had a lot of wonderful times in that little house.

Interestingly, the house was hand-built in the early 1950's by a local preacher, "Pastor Brandt." I think God has had his hand on that little house over the years. We'll see just what he has in store for it next.