Monday, March 21, 2016

The story of the Little House

As with everything, there is a story to the little house. Wayyyyy back in the day, many, many moons ago my grandfather was in search of a pad and a piece of land. PawPaw, as I called him, was an oil man. Where the black gold went Paw went, which brought him to B-town. He found a few acres and a/THE little house for a reasonable price, and went for it. My grandparents lived in the little house while they built their current home. In order to keep my mom around, my grandpa gave her a couple of acres on the other side of the little house, and that is where my childhood home was built. From left to right goes: my parents' house, the little house, and my grandparents' house. We call this the compound. The little house has housed MANY relatives; my grandparents, my Uncle Ray, my great-grandmother Grannie Willie, and my sister Candy (who liked it so much she came back to stay a second time!). I swore I would never, under any circumstance, live in the little house. Well guess where I am……the freaking little house.

During most of my childhood, my Grannie Willie lived in the little house, and I pestered the ever loving crap out of her. My friends and I would play behind her house at night, up to no good. She would yell at us to go back home and we would take off running, just to come back five minutes later and do it all over again. She favored my cousin Tiffany. Tiffany would spend countless hours at her house cracking pecans, shelling peas, and crocheting with her. I was too busy for all that jazz. I was very mischievous as a child (imagine that) and shelling peas was not on my top ten list- right there along with cracking pecans and crocheting. So instead, I just irritated the piss out of her. And for that, I think she haunts the little house.

During my sisters first round in the little house I house/dog sat for her while she was on vacation. At the time Chris and I were dating and I roped him into staying with me. Mind you, I had never lived on my own, so I wasn't too terribly keen on staying solo. As we were getting ready to lay our sweet little heads down the light came back on. I had turned it off at the actual switch, not the pull cord. So I figured maybe there's a short or something (I know nothing about electrical stuff). I decided maybe I just needed to turn it off at the pull cord. Pull the cord, light comes back on. In my head I think "Ok, now this is getting a little weird." Give the cord a good, strong pull again, lay down, and once again blinding brightness. By this point I am completely creeped out, and Chris is just trying to play cool. Grannie Willie had decided to pay a visit to her favorite (wink, wink) great-granddaughter. Her gesture did not go unnoticed, I packed my bags and trekked back across the yard to my parents' house. Never to stay in the little house again….until now. And boy did Grannie Willie come in with a bang the first couple of weeks!

The Little House

My very favorite part….I've always wanted a red door. So the first thing I did after we moved in was paint the door red. 


  1. I love you so much Brandi Jean. Anyone with the courage to share that story publicly (even though it was the pg version) has most definitely got some McMullan in them. I laughed until tears were flowing from eyes. You are one crazy lady!��

    1. haha! I know you're impressed I held back just a little. (My kids will read this one day!)