I write this post just hours away from a Seahawks playoff game.
I have already extended apologies to the people in the apartment below the Man Cave for all the shouting, cheering, stomping and screaming that will no-doubt emanate from our New York-area apartment. But the cheers etcetera will NOT be coming from my sons, nor from my loving husband. Continue reading
My youngest sometimes sneaks into my room to nap because he says hubby and I have a bed that “Is soooo FLUFFY!!!” So now my bed smells like little boy feet and taco chips. Febreze is handy in the Man Cave. Continue reading
I want to decorate the Man Cave for the holidays, but this is proving to be tricky.
Most of our ornaments went into storage when we made the big move from Seattle to Manhattan. To be honest, though, many ended up packed away long before that, as our family evolved. Continue reading
I’m thinking about how hot it gets in the Man Cave (and nearly everywhere else). Truly. It’s as if a little old lady in a Florida retirement home manages the temperature in all of the buildings in New York City. Seems like you can almost hear, “Marvin, turn the heat up. I’m FREEZIN’ my caboose off here’!” or “Marvin, blast the A-C, I’m havin’ a HOT FLASH HERE!” Continue reading
Hi! My name is Heather Bosch and I live in a MAN CAVE. You know that room in the house where the man-types hang out?
Where they burp, kick their shoes off, play video games and do other manly things? That’s pretty much my entire house.
Let me explain.
Heather Bosch's Man Cave 