Sadness is more or less like a head cold -

With patience, it passes.

Barbara Kingslover

The best way to cheer yourself up is to try to cheer somebody else up.
- Mark Twain-

Keeping those words of wisdom in mind, I am (with the help of new found friends) adopting a family for Christmas. I`m not certain yet how I will do this..Shawn is still off of work, and we are struggling to pay our own bills and Christmas? I have no idea how I will pull that off for my family. My kids are older now though, and as long as we have a nice meal, I think that our Holiday will be complete. Not only that but my brother Steve is threatening to come see us early in the New Year.
Shawn had an appointment with a specialist on November 15 th - or so we thought. I should have checked the calendar earlier, because the 15 th was a Sunday.
Why were we confused? Maybe because the receptionist at the doctors office and Shawn`s doctor both told us that was the date. When we called last week to double check, we informed that the actual appointment was on the 2nd and we missed it.
Shawn had been waiting since April and this was more than just a disappointment. Initially, we were told that it would take another year to get in with the other doc. Thankfully, we will get in earlier, Feb 1 st. That still seems like a long way off but at least it isn`t a year away.
Instead of being pissed off, I am trying to focus on the positive - February is waay closer than November.
Life is alright otherwise. We are slowly getting settled, and I mean slowly. We still have boxes all over the main floor, and the shredded paper that we used for packing is multiplying. Seriously. It is everywhere. The dogs have it stuck to their paws and the cats seem to always have it hanging from their mouths. Lol.
The Christmas Village is still packed up. I am stumped about where to build it this year. I can`t even figure out where to put our tree. I have half a mind to put some of it Kayla and Jessica`s bathroom. Somehow, I doubt that they would approve.
Oh, I am thinking of doing some serious baking for the holidays too. I`ll let you
you know how that goes. Thank goodness we have the fire hall on speed dial.

Lest We Forget

In Flanders fields the poppies blow Between the crosses, row on row,

That mark our place; and in the sky

The larks, still bravely singing, fly

Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the dead.

Short days ago We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow ,

Loved, and were loved, and now we lieIn Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:

To you from failing hands we throw

The torch; be yours to hold it high.

If ye break faith with us who die We shall not sleep, though poppies grow

In Flanders fields.

John Mc Crea

Just Another Boring Day

Things I found during the move -
stocking stuffers from last Christmas that were apparently very well hidden
a way cool box of 'stuff ' that once belonged to my Dad
letters that Jessica wrote to Shawn and I when she went away to camp in Kentucky
a (preumably) human bone, that we promptly turned over to the authorities to be forensically tested.
I wonder if this is reason behind the many strange going - ons at the Duke Street house?

Is It Real?

Since Halloween is nearly here I thought that I would post some of my favourite ghost photos (from the web). I can't say for certain if these photos are real, but you all know where I stand on the subject. I firmly believe in them. I have had numerous experiences through the years and living in this house has been an adventure in the paranormal. I can't honestly say that I am always comfortable here when I am alone, thanks in part to my own active imagination and to what I refer to as our 'Little Girl Ghost.'
She has been responsible for many, many strange occurrences....I can't even count the number of things that have gone missing, only to turn up somewhere odd. Like, for instance, the can opener turning up in the bathroom or something that you just put down disappearing almost in front of your eyes.
About a month ago, something happened that scared the life outta me. I wanted to blog about it, but I was (am) afraid that talking about these kinds of things, writing about, dwelling upon it can only make it worse.
I was getting the laundry off of the landing leading down to the basement. There is a small cupboard hanging on the wall above the landing, and a small shelf just below that. There are skates, and shoes, skipping ropes and bubble wands on the shelf and in the closet, and on the shelf. Nothing else. Tools, extension cords, building supplies are all kept in the basement.
Imagine my shock when I was hit across the head by a heavy piece of wood with rusty nails stuck in it. It hit me so hard that I was woozy. I actually thought for a split second that I was being mugged (on my laundry pile. Oh, the humiliation) or attacked by some intruder. When the fog cleared and I could focus my eyes again, all I found was this piece of lumber.
It didn't fall from the shelf. It was never on the shelf, or in the cupboard. Nobody could even tell me where the chunk of wood came from. It hit me flat across the head, too, and I narrowly avoided a mangled nail cutting me open. Instead, I got a nasty sliver on the back on my skull that gave me an equally nasty infection. Trust me, it was bad.
The very first month or so that we moved in weird things were happening. Cold spots. Whispers (I heard some last night). My dryer, which is nearly brand new and is in perfect working condition, has been known to turn off/on by itself.
The dogs absolutely will NOT go into the basement. Ever. They stand at the top of the stairs and cry while I do the laundry. Shawn actually got locked in the back room when there is no possible way to lock the door from the inside. It only locks on the outside, with one of those old fashioned slidey things.
The new house feels safe. I don't get that sick to my stomach feeling when I walk in, the way that I do here some days.
I will miss this little house. It holds a lot of wonderful memories for me - for all of us. KC has moved out, and the new house will probably never feel like home to her. Her bedroom is here, the late night Buffy-a-thons were here, Pork Chop is buried here, in this yard.
Hopefully, our Girly Ghost will stay here, too. We won't miss her.

Laugh For The Day

Testicle Therapy -
Two women were playing golf. One teed off and watched in horror as her ball headed directly toward a foursome of men playing the next hole. The ball hit one of the men. He immediately clasped his hands together at his groin, fell to the ground and proceeded to roll around in agony.
The woman rushed down to the man, and immediately began to apologize. 'Please allow me to help. I'm a Physical Therapist and I know I could relieve your pain if you'd allow me, she told him. 'Oh, no, I'll be all right. I'll be fine in a few minutes,' the man replied. He was in obvious agony, lying in the fetal position, still clasping his hands there at his groin. At her persistence, however, he finally allowed her to help. She gently took his hands away and laid them to the side, loosened his pants and put her hands inside. She administered tender and artful massage for several long moments and asked, 'How does that feel'?
Feels great, he replied; but I still think my thumb's broken!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We are still packing and purging, and as much as I hate the packing part, the purging feels good. I have given away every single thing that I haven't needed, from bags and bags of clothing, to furniture, to the fridge that we will no longer need.
The new place is coming along nicely. The kitchen cupboards are waiting to be painted, but the house is ready otherwise. Kayla has been playing happy homemaker and setting it up the way that she likes. I don't mind at all, that kid should be an interior decorator. Seriously.
I guess that I best get my butt in gear. I have so much left to do not much energy to do it.
Sigh..

All Growed Up