After dinner, I head out to the porch with a bottle of Woodchuck Hard Cider and enjoy some witty banter and conversation with other Dopers. Ahh, it’s too lovely to sleep in my own bed tonight. I think I’ll just sleep in the hammock on the screen porch.
:grabs her favorite pillow and a light blanket and heads to porch:
I’ll be the unknown roomate, I’ll be seen all around the house walking by in a ratty bathrobe, a can of beer in one hand and a bowl of corn flakes (with beer) in the other. Nobody knows what room I live in or where I came from. I’ll be very unobtrusive, never demanding that the channel should be changed, the toilet paper is on wrong, etc. My only contribution to the house is amazing food cooked on the BBQ grill out back. (Ribs are my speciality)
Don’t forget the garage! Sixteen stalls, grease pit, and lift, at a minimum. And we’ll need to rewire. Oh yes, we’ll need to rewire.
Any chance one of the technically minded folks can string one of them fiber-optical lines out to the garage so’s I can network the engine analyzer, computer and dynamometer and hook 'em up to the Internet? 
Drooling greedily,
Zappo
Need you ask, Zappo? I thought we’d taken care of that the day before we moved in. Now, can I trouble you to look after my Aston Martin DB7 Vantage Vollante? The engine’s been purring like a kitten rather than the tiger kitten sound I was getting when it was new. Thanks bunches.
As evening falls over stately Doper Manor, I pour myself a lemonade and take a seat in the glider swing on the upper veranda. From there, I can see most of the estate and the activities thereupon. There’s Scylla in the vegetable garden, armed with a shotgun, ever vigilant against the Groundhog Menace. Persephone is using the last of the daylight to put the finishing touches on the Goddess shrine next to the ring of standing stones that came with the place (who knew we’d find a family of Druids so eager to sell?) I can barely see Thinksnow as he walks over the crest of the steep hill on the edge of the property…good heavens, is that a snow machine in the wheelbarrow? And a pair of skis leaning against the tree?
The neighborhood will never be the same…
Climbing behind the estate, the SD-Gondola carries ts the 3,000 vertical feet to an awaiting cornice. Powder is the order of the day and he shoots down a chute, hip deep in flowing white crystal. The observers on the deck lose him as he blasts into the woods, catch him again in a glade, then lose him once more over the far side of a hill. When he next appears, he’s changed into shorts and a sweater, tossed the skis and is carving phat lines on his 158. The terrain park just ahead, it looks like he is going to put in a workout this afternoon.
slackergirl is busy fiddling with the digital cable, hacking in and finding all 758 channels for us while Superdude is trying out some new material while gliding around on the overhead sling-system. Flying over a small construction area, he spies Persephone building an alter, and a lovely one at that. Circling back over the deck, one can see idiotboy prepping his sax while his band works out some new SKA for the night.
P.S.: racin, if you’re making a track, could you go ahead and build up 18-holes for us duffers, too?
Ah! The flying harness. Too bad Superdude’s tights are in the wash. As the material kills, our ever-lovin’ superhero unhooks his bad self from the harnass, and joins BunnyGirl on the porch for a drink. No cider for him, though. He prefers the hard stuff. Mountain Dew. He sits on the stairs, looking towards the horizon, absently stroking his sidekick and wondercat, Beru
By this time celestina’s nails and toenails are dry, and yep, she’s good and tipsy and LOVING it. She’s admiring the view of Fairy Chat Mom’s fine-looking, scantily clad fella and enjoying the conversation with Sophie and FairyChatMom, although she admits she doesn’t know anything about no Cubs or whatever Crunchy’s hollering about. She wonders if she goes and empties his water dish and puts some Oban in it if that will get him to stop shouting about boring old sports stuff. [giggle]
As far as food and dessert goes, she asks FairyChatMom if she can spare her scantily clad fella to bring her a bowl of chili with Basmati rice and some guacamole. Yum. She also tells Sophie that there are plenty of desserts in the kitchen, wondering how folks could have missed all her famous apple and peach pies, the two lemon buttermilk pound cakes, and the three yummy chocolate cakes dripping in chocolate frosting that she brought over and set in the kitchen. She asks if it’s okay if FairyChatMom’s fella will go check on the status of the desserts and bring all the folks on the porch helpings of whatever food folks request. Once the food is brought, she commences to stuff her face. My. My. My. JonScribe, that chili and guacamole are to DIE FOR! She eats until she laughingly admits she’s so full she can’t move a muscle, even if she wanted to.
Oh, and Sophie. I think it’s probably okay if you want to sleep under the stars. It’s a cool night, and I think that the Dopers who’re hanging around here have to behave or else the mods will whup them good.
Maeglin is not deterred by the screams of the prisoners. A hot scalpel in one hand and pliers in the other, he continues the lesson for all interested Dopers.
“Provided that a small circular incision is made just beneath the elbow directly on the femur, the entire forearm can be flayed without spilling any blood.”
SDMB House torturer and executioner.
Whoa, your femur is in your forearm? No wonder you want to hurt people.
Ugh. Remind me never to post after an exhausting lunch. Leg flaying, not forearm flaying. Incision below the knee.
(Shows up with bags)
Hey, got room? No? Well, I’m just gonna build this little bamboo grove out here on the outside. Dag, this place has a lot of space.
That’s hard cider, sugar, hard cider. Good stuff. I’ll see if we can’t find some at ChiDope to introduce you to.
Anyway, back to the story:
Having appointed myself the House Gardener, I’ve got a lovely big herb garden, complete with rock paths, raised beds, and lavender borders, on the south side of the house. Persephone, I’m growing you some rue, motherwort, wormwood, and mandrake. Need anything else? It’s a full moon tonight and I’ve heard that’s the best time for harvesting.
:strolls off to take a walk in the garden in the moonlight:
The massage parlor is open.
GingerOfTheNorth is quite happily wandering about outside, in bare feet and sunglasses. Spends many happy hours in the garden, and picking wild berries and apples to make into heavenly pies. Avoiding the cats at all cost, she has set up her rooms in back. She spends her days blissfully sewing, quilting, and crocheting, and not caring that she’s occasionally quiting her sarong into whatever project is at hand. She spends a great deal of time wading in the nearby lake, and body surfing down the river. In the winter time, she goes out cross-country skiing, ski-joring, and aurora-watching; she also teaches the kallunaq Dopers how to build an iglu and how to make blubber into an appetizing treat.
Every once in awhile she wanders in to the main house to kick Cranky’s ass at poker - she knows Cranky thinks she doesn’t know how to work American money; so Ginger plays stupid the first game or two, then unmercifully wins back all of her money and more.
At night, she snuggles down under her duvet and gazes through the skylight directly over her bed in wonder of the beauty of the night sky. She wakes every morning to the song of birds and Crunchy’s barking for more extension cords.
Why sure! I’ve been looking for an excuse to buy some metric spanners. Those wrenches of mine just ain’t up to it. 
I think we can get a nice purr out of that 'ol tiger kitty. . .
<heads off to garage with large hammer and big box of muffler nails>
Keeping the shiny side up and the rubber side down,
Zappo
I was going to ask Maeglin if he would fence with me in his spare time, but, um, I think I’ll pass on it…
Can you save me a corner for some nightshade and foxglove? Oh, and maybe some extra basil.
Balance wanders off into the woods, mentally laying out courses for IFGS games–and maybe looking for a place to make his own Circle.
Dibs on the top room of the turret with the widow’s walk directly above it. It’s getting converted.
Uraniborg, oh yeah!
Um, my room gets to be an late Victorian drawing room/study with wall-to-wall bookshelves and several overstuffed red-leather chairs. Rolltop desk, too.
My only rule: enter in Victorian dress or don’t enter at all. Unless female visitors can score a leather dirndl. That’s the only exception.
knock…knock…
KNOCK…KNOCK…
BLAM BLAM BLAM
Hello? Hi, I’m your neighbor down the street (way down the street) I brought a nice bottle of Chateau Beychevelle for our new neighbors…but it seems I shoulda brought the whole damn wine cellar…
Well, welcome to the neighborhood, enjoy the wine…hey, is that MST3K on? Let me go grab the wife. You mind if I sit for a spell?? Man you are nice neighbors.
Oh, absolutely! I’ve already got the foxglove planted near the shade of that big oak (with mistletoe in it) and the basil is practically taking over its corner. The forest in the back has places we can can harvest the nightshade from, along with May apples and Solomon’s seal.
Boy, my back is aching after being out in the garden all day. I think I’ll take advantage of the thinksnow’s Massage-O-Rama.
Actually, that’s a tacky name. How 'bout ts’s Room of Theraputic Touch? That’s a skosh better.
:totters off to house, holding back: