With a catch of my breath, amidst all of the confusion and novelty of this perilous time, I smile to greet this early spring. I smile to see this sunshine today. I am smiling, too, at you, my friends, in your little corner of the world. Safe and
Tag: Miss Cassette Detective Agency
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Hello and welcome! Dear Detective Friends, today, March 2, 2020, My Omaha Obsession is celebrating a four-year birthday party online. We have grown so much this year and I want to thank each and every one of you for that. You have really spread
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It was last May that my passion for 56th Street, on the fringe of the Country Club District, developed into an obsession. On special assignment, I had snuck to see if I could uncover the Archie Love summer home, just a side note, really, to
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I will admit, I have an obsession with cobblers and tailors. These craftsmen’s workrooms were occasionally visited on Saturday errands when I was young and from those brief but memorable interactions, it was their particular scent that
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Our little house is much bigger than you would think from the city sidewalk, busy sidewalk out front. This is as it should be. You alight at the modest front door and look up at this charming, old box of a place, hidden from the road behind a
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I shall never forget the thrill I had when I first saw a photograph of the darkened Cudahy Mansion. It was a pleasant, summer day and had been invited to an intimate noon gathering. Let us pretend this was a get-together with Miss Cassette’s
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It may come as no surprise to many that 1219 Pacific Street was torn down a few days ago. To those making the rounds, she might have served only as a corner cue in a Last-Minute-Louie to the Downtown Post Office. Certainly when the Sexy Dwell
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For all of my years working at the antiques store, I never found the hidden portal in the back of the giant wardrobe or that coveted, inner panel toward the bottom of a steamer trunk. It was not for the want of trying. Some of you will
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I wish I could recapture a bit more from my child’s eye view of the large, Asian house. The memory is a tissue thin scrim of standing by the railed porch with my father and his friends, awaiting entrance to a blurred art opening. The ambiguous
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Between you, me and the postman, I should have rang that doorbell when I had the chance. The shake shingle and stone cottage was a New England Classic. Any beady-eyed lingerer could see, 10805 Poppleton Avenue was the Real Deal Mystery disguised