The Moses Myers House

Right on the dot, we showed up for the 1pm tour of the Moses Myers House.  This house was the first permanent Jewish family in the area, and chronicles their rise through the 1800's, surviving the Civil War, and proceeding into the 20th century.  Plus their house is comprised of 80% actual furniture owned by the family.  Not too shabby.

So we entered through the kitchen, after passing through the courtyard of their plush pad.

And the tour on the schedule was the family's enduring of the Civil War.  But since it was just the 3 of us, so they decided to poll our interests and go from there.

Decided to pass up the sandals today for my Clarks: Artisans.

I'd love copper cookware.  But the upkeep is just too much.  So I'll leave it to the displays.

Look at this dining room.  In love.  And the jade serveware.  Adoring.  Oh, Mr. Wookie, if you ever go to the Far East on a deployment, please bring me some jade ware.  I'd totally give you a high-five!

This is their formal entryway.  Or as they called it, "the passthru."  I want a ceiling like that.  Now who do I have to pay??  And who wants to fund this purchase?

200-year-old couch

Fun Fact: The parking garage of the mall is butted up right behind the lot.  Yay for history.

Man date. 

And behind this charming Colonial street is the new Bank of America tower.  How this place has such history yet is on the brink of boomin' into a great Downtown district.  This place will really be great in about 10 years after Norfolk gets the Light Rail finalized, and it gets cleaned up a lot.  It's in a great place now.  But it has so much potential though!

I really could use some sun.  But with sun comes freckles.  And with freckles comes the need to purchase new makeup because I'm a half tone "darker."  Besides, I don't like the way the freckles come in.  All on the face, none on the neck.  So my neck looks like the transplant from a corpse, while my face is a friendly attachment to my body.  But first, I need a new swimsuit.  Because no one likes a pasty body on the beach in a 5-year-old suit.  Oh wait, no one likes a pasty body in the first place.  Fail.