Right that’s it. I need to get myself a millionaire American husband. Taking a jaunt yesterday down ‘Country Club drive’ (I kid you not) a street of houses just casually retailing at 4.5 million dollars apiece, I decided I want in. I must have been feeling optimistic when I packed for this trip as I appear only to have arrived laden with lacy lingerie and no granny pants in sight. I figure I can make this work-as long as I go light on the Peggy Mitchell twang. Continue reading “If I like it then i’m gonna get a ring from it…”