Oh, if life could be a dream

We’d live wherever we’d feel like at the time.

Octave performed at the Grant Park Summer Shade festival over the weekend. It was fun, but of course it was so frickin’ hot outside. We sure were sweaty when we were through.

Afterward, my husband and I were invited to cookout in nearby Edgewood.

Okay, so we love our house and our neighborhood, and our lives as we know them, but there’s something so appealing about the Grant Park/Edgewood/Kirkwood/Inman Park/East Atlanta area. Yes, they are separate neighborhoods, but they’re in close proximity to one another. And they’re all adorable.

We also love Decatur.

I bet we like other neighborhoods and don’t even know it. We haven’t met them yet.

Oh, add Virginia Highlands to that list. It, too, is stinkin’ cute.

We also love Boston. And Asheville. And Playa del Carmen. I bet we’ll like Germany and Belgium next year. I secretly dream of living in Florida, close to the water, but I am far too practical (right now, anyway) to live near hurricane-prone places. Not that we’re all that safe from hurricanes in Atlanta, but we do have a bit of a buffer.

Our daydreamy selves are like a couple of tethered balloons, floating toward other spots to potentially call home, but not quite picking up our roots and moving somewhere else, because, as it turns out, home is awesome. We love our house, our neighborhood’s own charms, and our many wonderful neighbors.


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