There are some people that you might come across who claim that humans begin to assume the look of their family pets. Others still who proclaim that couples most surely begin to look like one another, the longer they are together. Are our homes
-
-
Before I came to the belated preoccupation of sharing my house sleuthing adventures, my life was largely one of hidden obsession. Left to my own imaginings and amateur stakeouts, I had about worn out the ears of closest companions regarding My
-
I ask you, what could more beautiful than a home owner who hears the pleading calls of his home, who seeks to understand and studies the oft ignored architectural language, and furthermore, (the real biggie in my estimation), has the financial
-
My Omaha Obsession—as you may by now have gathered—is not really a blog at all; it is only a long walk round our Omaha streets, through the years. If it bores you to walk round Omaha’s streets, peer in the windows of glorious homes and
-
Honestly, it is all rather dismal around here with no snow in sight. I do love a good snow. Mr. Cassette has said it will possibly never snow again, which bothers me greatly, and to give up my Snow Pining. He trails off, knowing not to be too
-
If I told you there was a small neighborhood in Downtown Omaha that had the look and feel of a 1920s or 1930s movie set, would you catch a dimbox over there as quickly as you could just to get a gander? Because there is such a strange, thrilling
-
There was never an afternoon that I didn’t look forward to a trip to Downtown Omaha with my grandmother. I felt like I was going back in time. She would get dressed up and expected that I would dress up as well. It seemed that all of the older
-
Omaha friends, I’ve been hoping that you’d drop in. Your hands are like ice. It’s bad out there. No cabs to be had out there, as they say in a favorite holiday song. Might I recommend you just hunker down and stay a while? We are in good
-
If you did not know it or maybe, if you were deep in thought (or woefully of the unobservant type), you might have never seen or even heard tell of the Jones Street footbridge through the foliage of Elmwood Park. It is now formally called the
-
I remember fake falling asleep in the backseat of my family’s car, driving home after special nights in Downtown Omaha. Father of Miss Cassette had a number of favored routes that would return us to our home in Benson but his chosen path