A Treehouse, a little you-and-me house

Let’s call him Andy, for starters. He’s a special educator, hates his job, saves his money and quits. He’s never been to Ireland, where his parents are from, so he finds a cheap flight and gets on the plane. The answer for his dead-end life, he thinks, is finding an Irish wife. Maybe he has read Thomas D’Arcy McGee’s poem, “The Irish Wife,” with the stanza: My Irish wife has clear blue eyes,            My heaven by day, my stars by night; And twin-like truth and fondness lie   Within her swelling bosom white My Irish wife has golden hair,   Apollo’s harp had once such strings,          Apollo’s self might pause to hear   Her bird-like carol when she sings. Or maybe he knows the Irish are known for story-telling, a sense of humor and love of family. Their hearts are warm, their dispositions happy. Irish women make tasty Irish stews, corned beef and cabbage and soda bread. And an Irish woman can hold

Now that Fern Forest Treehouse has taken a bite out of the Apple (check out the web developers video at http://www.apple.com/ios/videos/#developers ), it’s time to polish up the old blog again. Our most recent guests were Alexandra and Mike from west of Boston. Alexandra was living in Manhattan as a set designer and traveled with a touring production of The King and I , which landed in Green Bay, Wisconsin. Mike, a Green Bay local, happened to be filling in backstage on the same show. Alexandra saw him. She gave him orders. He did what she told him. Then she noticed. He was awfully good looking. Uh-huh. Mike is a self-starter. When he was 17, he started a haunted house design business, building haunting displays, hiring actors to put on gory makeup and scare people. He had no plans to leave Wisconsin, so Alexandra gave up her New York apartment and moved to Green Bay, no easy task for a die-hard Patriots fan. She never took to the Packers, but Mike forgave her. His haunted ho