the fort

At my old house there was a corner of lawn semi-hidden behind some trees.  The illusion of privacy provoked mischief and fantasies.  The mischief primarily consisted of us peeing on said lawn so that we didn't have to go inside mid-playdate [because clearly that was an unreasonably inconvenient distance.  I won't even mention how we used the tree leaves to, "clean up after ourselves..." ]

The fantasies, at least on my end, came in the shape of imagined forts.  I wanted so badly to build my own little dwellings in that corner of space.  I remember working on blue prints during school, drawing, erasing, drawing, erasing, until I had a "feasible" plan.  The door was going to be a sheet of hanging beads, because I was convinced those were the key to a nice, "vibe."  For one reason or another, the plan was deterred and eventually I grew out of the fantasy.  

But my brother?  No, no.  That kid makes things happen.  The above photos showcase a fort/bachelor pad he and his friends made on a whim.  Complete with carpet and couches [roof to come soon!].  It makes me unreasonably happy to know he hasn't grown out of fort making and dreams.  

And here's a fun/depressing fact: 

I uploaded these photos on Facebook with the caption: "If house-hunting doesn't go well, I'll just enlist my brother, fort maker."  Until today, I didn't realize that I had uploaded them onto my friend's wedding page.  So instead of providing my address per request, I gave her a picture of a fort with a caption that absolutely does not relate to her wedding.  Have I convinced you I have a 90-year-old's soul yet?