Back in August, Swede and I toodled out to Frederick, Maryland for a friend’s wedding, and the day after set off toward adventure to Charlottesville, Virginia. Swede’s cousin and his new wife just moved there, and a visit to them was in order.
Charlottesville and the surrounding areas are home to many several historically significant locales. You know. Like the one where that one guy lived. You know. That guy. He was a president. The third one, perhaps. He had poofy white hair, because that was original for the time, and no other president or important man of the era had poofy white hair.
I am fabulous with details.
He also built quite the estate, if you must know, which sits on acres and acres overlooking some of the most lovely country you’ve ever seen.
I would not so much mind if Swede or I became president and could build a similar estate. I’d even style my coif to poofy whiteness.