Stinky Cheese House

Our new house is smelly.

Now Paul will tell you that I have super olfactory skills and there might be some truth that. It's not a desirable superpower like teleportation or speed eating. Falls right below being Yard Squirrel Whistler, I think.

The previous owners had a temperamental cat, it seems {As per new neighbor. Brief aside: the neighbor has published Acrostic books. How cool is that? How do you become a published puzzle crafter? I'm fascinated.} and I think the cat misbehaved but our very responsible, military couple homeowners worked to chemically remove the offending remnants, now leaving an unusual new connocotion. This is all conjection, mind you. It could be me.

But after living somewhere for four years, I'm probably used to how my old house smelled. This possessed environment isn't bright enough to adopt to our lemony fresh scent yet. How do you exorcise the ghostly imprint of old owner-smell? Other than sticking Rejuvenate or whatever they call it sticky, floral things all over the place? How many batches of chocolate chip cookies or pies does a happy homemaker have to bake? It probably would be more efficient if my hubby could conform to my "our smell" agenda and cut back on packing the fridge with the strong French, triple-cream cheeses. I don't want the house to get confused and think that's our scent.

The image is from the book, The Stinky Cheese Man. I love that book. But don't read it in my house--yet.

The Next Big Thing

Because I'm a publishing geek...

Based on browsing recent bestseller lists, of both Christian books and general market hits, I determined to develop {fast-track, of course} a novel set in a nineteenth century gold mining town, where a young hardened prostitute is taken in by tent revival preacher who speaks to the miners about how God really wants them to be rich and if they give him all their nuggets, they will strike gold and drive really fancy wagons.

He gets struck on the head by an angry miner and is dead for ninety-seven minutes before the prostitute-turned-bookclub maven revives him. He comes back—but is somehow changed into a vampire and she must flee her sudden, incredible attraction to him so she does a really hard thing, and runs off with her adorable-but-naughty yellow lab to eat in Italy, pray in India, and love in Indonesia… with purpose.

The book will be called The Hut.

Packed, Painted, Moved, Exhausted... it must be September

This summer's gauntlet has landed us here, one hand gripping loose dirt across the finish line, and barely coherent. Recent Septembers have been busy months, workwise and travelwise, and the coming weeks don't promise anything different. So we'll pull ourselves up, try to find the box with the clean clothes, pretend the shower doesn't leak a little, and get back to it.

But the dining room and family room are painted {much thanks to Sandi for all her help!} and we are completely moved in. We cut the grass-gone-wild with our craigslist-found Briggs & Stratton. I even cooked for friends on Sunday. And this view is definitely worth it. {I know I look a little crazed.}

Olympic Events

Every four years, I cynically think "Ah. The Olympics again." Lots of pomp and circumstance. Many discussions of performance enhancement and a heavy dose of American self-importance in this worldwide competition. {Could the NBA big shots look more apathetic about being a part of the games?} Don't get me wrong... I appreciate my country, but I'm not sure we need to be the best at everything. Why can't the one athlete sent to represent his entire African nation be the big winner in the swimming?

And invariably, every four years I get drawn into watching the artistic opening ceremony, the parade of the countries and athletes, the lighting of the torch {wow-that was cool}, and quickly find myself, couch potato-like, in front of sports like women's sabre, road biking, badminton and sculls.

There is a magic to the games... and this year, the setting is such a fascinating place of contrasts. The Chinese approach to human rights is appalling, but one can't deny they know how to throw a party.

Also this year, I'm thinking about the Olympic events we are actively engaged in... well, they seem Olympic-sized. We proudly took an early gold in the How to Get a Better Interest Rate with Last Minute Scrambling 400. The results in the Planning Beyond the House Purchase & Move Jump are mixed at this time. Team Disorga Nization has been consistently lapping us in Keep All Your Critical Financial Documents in One Easy to Locate Place. The Throw Out All the Junk You Haven't Unpacked from Four Years Ago Hurdles were called yesterday on the account of conditions in the basement, but I've got a good feeling about that one. Next up: Creatively Packing Empty Boxes Relay and the Haven't Cracked that Book in Years and Unlikely to Toss. Not expecting to medal in that last one... Go USA!

How to be Married Two Months

Enjoy sunshine and books together...


Cheer on the Sky Sox...




Host dear out-of-town friends {Jenny & Chance! Hopefully, the whole Baumgartner clan next time.}

Adopt a dog... see below.




Take a 36 hour vacation.
{poolside coffees at The Golden Nugget}

Try to buy this house...{3rd time is a charm!}

The New {Unexpected} Addition

Buffy Marie came to rehabilitate from a nearly lethal case of kennel cough at the Marchese house on June 21st. She wasn't beating this relatively common canine "cold" of sorts {a viral respiratory condition} in the animal shelter environment and we were happy to help nurse her back to health. Probably comes as no surprise that Paul fell in love with her and insisted on adding this sweet, well-mannered Flat-coated Retriever to our already-very-cozy household.



She has inserted herself quite nicely. Even Easy is coming around, as long as Buffy doesn't mistake our tiny cat for a squirrel worthy of a chase.

Like her humans, she loves sleeping, car rides, eating, and going to the park.

The password is...

I like this picture.