The Cantara Triangle

I'm beginning to second guess our house purchase.

Frankly, I'm starting to think there are supernatural forces at work there.

I know this may sound crazy, but during our last two visits, our children have vanished inexplicably. We walk into the house and the second Lori and I separate from them, the girls are gone.

What's odd is that you can usually hear their voices. In fact, if you follow the voices, you eventually see the girls...perhaps in the yard or in their soon-to-be rooms. But like some sort of ghostly apparitions, they don't seem to notice us. They're there, but totally elsewhere.

It seems the house has the power to transport my little girls to realms unknown and invisible to the naked eye. Pirate islands, distant kingdoms. And, when they come back, it's like they never know they were gone. Their eyes seem very far away, but they always have smiles on their faces.

I don't know, it's very strange. I've been reluctant to tell the authorities for fear they'll think I'm a wacko. But I tell you, the transformative power of that house...it's very real, bordering on mystical.

I married Homer Formby

A few weeks ago, in preparation for the big move, Lori started staining various pieces of our furniture. We've planned to shift most of our furniture (new and existing) toward the darker, espresso tones and Lori, with the vigor and persistence I've become accustomed to, took it upon herself to tackle the cause.

First up was our dining room table. Lori spent the better part of a week stripping that and another week staining and sealing it. The results are, frankly, stunning and have intensified our excitement about the move. (Like we need any further motivation.)

Lori's now moved onto our night stands and headboard. Our dresser waits stunned deer-like in her sights. It's kind of like getting new furniture at a fraction of the cost.

And it's kind of another reason why I lucked out with Lori.