old house smell

One of my favorite parts about getting home from a trip is the moment we step inside the foyer and smell old house hundred year-old fir and lathe-and-plaster. You get used to it after a few hours and it goes away and just smells like home. It’s an acquired taste (smell?). Some old houses have been so remodeled or perfected to Pottery Barn status, they smell like an appealing but mysterious combination of department store and fabric softener. Our house just smells old.

We flew home from Kauai, tonight. There was a headwind, so the flight to Seattle took six hours. Adam did very, very well on the plane. He spent a little extra time with his coloring books in addition to the Portable DVD Hypnotizer.

From 80 degrees to 40 degrees. To tell you the truth, the temperature difference did not feel like a big deal. The pilot and flight attendants were rubbing the weather in our noses for awhile, with several in-flight references about leaving paradise. I did notice a lot of extra brown leaves in the yard as I was dragging suitcases to the front porch.

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