It's over and I'm broke!

I am exhausted, financially unstable and I'm going grocery shopping! After all the love and kindness and giving and joy and love and more giving and eating and joy and love, my entire community seems to have lapsed into a bitter, angry, unhappy mood. The air is very thick around these parts. Many complain of the gifts received, most complain of the money spent and this is the first year I have heard LOTS of people accusing others of the dreaded and socially unacceptable activity of "re-gifting". I must admit, I have occasionally been forced to partake of this shunned practice, but only in cases of extreme emergency and only gifts that I would have wanted to keep myself....or at least that is the line I give myself when attempting to justify my actions. My husband wins the prize though. He was the only one of us (and I considered myself the SMART one....yeah, right!) to realize that my mother was only going to be receiving two (2) gifts for Christmas this year....One from us and one from our daughter. Ours was pricey-- beyond my budget and although it occurred to me that she was going to have an empty Christmas without my Dad, physically and emotionally, I never gave the gift factor one thought. This is the first Christmas without my Dad and he used to always make sure my mother had the largest pile of gifts each and every year....how could I have forgotten this important fact? I'll blame hormones, I guess. But the point is, my husband realized this, and realized it before Christmas morning when all the gifts were doled out. As all good Christmas stories go.....yes Virginia, there was a glimmer of hope! Although my husband had to work Christmas Eve night, and we were calling stores like crazy...ALL of which were closing within 10 minutes...he offered to brave the crowds and spare me and the little ones the horror when I found one KMart open past 7pm!!!! My (newly discovered) Knight-in-Shining-Armor dons his suit for work, and braves the only store open in a 50 mile radius. He had to wait for a parking space, almost got hit by a woman while pulling into the spot, dodges a car in the lot that comes a foot away from smashing him into the pavement and then waits for a shopping cart only to have it stolen from him while he reaches for the 20inch Flatscreen TV/DVD that we have decided to get for my mom. I get so mad I say the "F" word to him on the Nextel Walkie Talkie that goes like this "tell that guy Merry "F-ing" Christmas! Bastard!!!".....My hubby informs me I was on speaker phone and it echoed through the aisle...."Good" I reply. (only slightly blushing on the other end of the phone). So, Mom got her Flatscreen TV/DVD and it was the BIGGEST gift under the tree. We can never out-do my Dad, but we can sure do our best to try to remember and respect his empty chair. I hope you all had a great holiday!

All Gums!

I am sitting here, so reluctant to send them. Those of you that have given me your addresses, will be receiving one shortly. They are wrapped and packed, so-to-speak, and I am going to gather my courage and send them out. I am missing a few addresses, so forward me your address if you want to get one, Lord knows I ordered much more than I will ever need. The dreaded holiday family photo/card....who invented these damn things anyway? Now I get to worry about what my friends and loved ones will say when they see us-----"hmmmm, the baby looks NOTHING like her"-----"she looks like she has gained a TON of weight"------"Is she bloated or pregnant?"-----"Does she have any teeth or is she all gums?"-----"Is THAT her husband?" etc. As I was filling out the message "Best Wishes to you and yours this Holiday Season" these non-holiday, non-best-wish-related thoughts were running through my head! I almost burned the cards/photos before getting them home, but then was pulled back into reality by the sales receipt and the threat of my potentially wasting money.....besides, to buy holiday cards at this time would be a definite sin! Holiday Cards are on sale 3 weeks before the holiday and the day after the holiday, NOT 12 days before the holiday, they would ask full price and I can't forgive my vanity if I go down such a shallow path. So, they are sitting on my table, awaiting cheerful, holiday stamps, much to my chagrin. I guess I can't expect to get any modeling offers off of this photo session!

Being a Mom + Being Sick = Being Well???

Lets do the math here, my worst subject, but I can't see how this one adds up! A mother is a person that takes care of and manages the family, a mother works a "real job" and works at home and coordinates bath times, lunches, bills, dinners, laundry, dishes, house cleaning, and any other general thing that might need some attention (in most cases; pets are involved as well as pet feces). All this juggling, struggling, worrying, taxi-ing, working, paying, bleeding, etc. eventually takes a toll on the mother. So why is it that when mom gets sick, mom isn't sick? I don't understand. Doesn't a mother deserve to be loved and cared for just as she loves and cares for her family when they are sick and even when they are faking sick? I think so. I can't fathom ONLY having to worry about getting out of bed, cleaning myself, going to work/or school, doing my job for 8 hours, then the rest is FREE TIME!!!!!! Those in the family with these worries are starting to disgust me! With all of their free time, you would think they could use some of it to help Mom when she is sick, flat on her back. But that doesn't happen, and this is a mystery to me. Why is the mother a beast of burden? A slave to her family? Why does society EXPECT this of her? Wow! To lead the life of a child/or husband for just ONE day is my wish! I can't imagine life without responsibility. But I can dream.....

Doctor Time -vs- Human Time

Explain to me why we have to wait at the doctors office hours after our appointment time? I have been know to "vote with my feet" when it comes to changing doctors because of this inconvenience. You show up early (as is proper) for your appointment time. In my case, children are usually involved and the youngest ones typically make me and anyone in ear shot very miserable.....so we WAIT....and WAIT...looking at the clock...thinking, any minute now....

After a token---hour, you are called into the "room"....as your hope arises that you will be outta here in a few more minutes, the hope is false hope. A nice nurse asks the important questions....fever? how long? medications? etc.....then you are left to decay away in the room......another hour passes and you wonder if everyone is gone home and you have been forgotten...(don't laugh, this HAS ACTUALLY happened to me before...thanks to my undying patience) Should I open the door???? Today, I hear voices so I know we aren't getting locked in the office. I start to wonder, do we really need to see the doctor? Do we really need medication? I think the broken arm is probably healed by now......I wish I would have gone to Med School!!!
Torture is all this is. Not sure why we have to endure it, but we all do. I recall "bar-time" from my college years, but never knew there was such a thing as "doctor time". I would love to hear a good explanation on this one!!!!

I've Got a Broken Arm and I Know How to Use It!

I was so excited to vote on election day. I was standing in line at the polls by 6:30am and happy to do it. I decided to skip my daughters dance class in order to watch the election results moment by moment. An extremely selfish move on my part, but this was a historical election right? With another selfish sweep, I announce that I won't be cooking on this night, I am going to bask in the election night excitement and my family will have to fend for themselves. We have bread, milk, eggs....what more do you want from me? The answer is a resounding "McDonald's". I manage to break myself away from the news channel long enough to participate in the trip to McDonald's. I decide to be so generous as to let the girls play in the play area while we finish up our meal. Within 3 minutes, Jenna is waving down to me to come quick. The baby has fallen or something and seems to be whimpering. Hmmm...... As my husband climbs to the top of the structure, I assure the onlookers, "How hurt can she be, there aren't even any tears!" There weren't any tears....just what sounded like a tired whine....we had no clue where she might have hit, what might be hurting but Jenna said she found her face down.....could she have hurt her nose? I guess we need to go home. My husband seems a bit more concerned; "she isn't moving her arm" I HATE having to make these decisions. Do we rush her into the emergency room like crazy parents for the 10th time, or do we take a relaxed approach and go home (and watch the election results). We end up at the emergency room and I expect them to tell me, "we don't see anything, might be a sprain or hairline fracture" and we can go home and watch the election results. The ACTUAL news is "she has a broken elbow". Oh yes, I got to view the xray first-hand...broken clean through....no need to debate it.....we will be spending election night at the hospital! Prior to the soft-casting procedure (the monster-huge cast will be put on the following morning) I break away from the drama to try to catch a glance at the waiting room TV screen while calling my mother. The only thing I see on TV (muted) is some numbers that make it appear that John Kerry is winning by a LANDSLIDE (obviously, my misinterpretation), and my mom hasn't been home to update me on the actual results so I go back into the triage room, completely mislead as to who is winning the election. I must say, election night was a very exciting night!

The Workout

What is it about waking up at 5:00 am, finding workout gear, braving the Michigan COLD morning, and standing in line waiting for the doors to open that I find so appealing? Absolutely NOTHING. I am going to have to pray for some momentum and inspiration in order to continue my resolve to develop good habits or else I will start sporting an unwelcome second set of breasts.....YIKES! And that would not be pretty. No es muy bonita. (although I hear there are men out there that are into that sort of thing, I don't wanna be "that girl"...ya know?) Motivated by a friend who informs me that YES, you do gain weight while going through menopause, I figure I better start a healthy routine or else I will end up looking like Jabba-the-hut (spelling????) by the time I reach my 50's. Proactivity is not my strong suit, but I am going to try it on for size and attempt to do something good for the future.

The Cross-training machine poses its first challenge----How to turn it on?

After the ever-so-embarrassing moment of standing on the thing, pushing all the buttons and getting off the thing (a definite work out faux-pas) I try the next one, and repeat the process again. Now I start looking for a large rock to hide under because I am certain that everyone is laughing at me. I find an open treadmill that I am certain works because someone just stepped off it, and try to act like that is what I really wanted to do anyway. Upon close observation, I realize I have to start peddling and then push all the buttons in order to use the cross-training machine. Not rocket science, but embarrassing nevertheless. I guess time will tell if I can make this habit stick. Don't make fun of me if you catch me in Marshall Fields conspicuously purchasing bras in matching sets of two!

Jessie's (Almost) First Boyfriend

They met in church...BONUS! He gave her flowers and chocolate for her 14th Birthday....Double Bonus! They have yet to hold hands.....I LOVE this guy! Well, the romance was very short-lived (almost 2 weeks). I am not certain what led to the demise. Jessie doesn't seem the least bit affected. But she won't discuss it. She did mention that she wasn't going to "do" anything she didn't want to do. I have to admire her strength and lack of drama. I guess I can breathe a sigh of relief. I thought this one might stick, and I would finally have my opportunity to bring out the incriminating "blackmail" baby pictures I have been saving for the first boyfriend.

A Woman's Place is in the Garage

Empty Pop cans.....(and some not-so-empty). I feel like they are laying in every nook and cranny in my home....I even found a 2 liter empty next to my husbands' side of the bed yesterday! They are taking over my house. I have always been pretty OCD (doesn't stand for Over the Counter Drug, it is Obsessive Compulsive Disorder) about them.....used to rinse and dry each one before placing it in its respective box....now, they lie around,waiting for their next destination, hopeful they will never meet their doom in the "crusher" at the grocery store. I found two in the bathroom last night when I came home from dance...one half full the other 1/4 full....many have fallen down the stairs, staining the wall and carpet. The saddest part, somehow, these have ALWAYS been my responsibility. Perhaps because I always pick them up? I am not certain. Often times, they get unruly and piled up mainly because of this one truth....I HATE TAKING SODA CANS BACK, I HATE THE WHOLE NOTION OF EMPTY SODA CANS......my big question, why can't my husband share in the dreadful task??? especially considering he drinks the majority of the soda in the house? (we are talking to the tune of 5-7 cans per day or sometimes a full 2-liter bottle)!!!
Anyway, my dilemma is as follows, yesterday, I pulled a muscle in my back attempting to get to my van from the garage while dodging scads of pop cans and other miscellaneous garage items. To make a long story short, I used this injury as my motivation to clean the garage.....the kicker, my husband made FLAN and watched TV while I worked. The good news, the FLAN was incredible! It was a nice end to a busy, cranky, all out bad day.....

You Can Lead A Horse To Water, But You Can't Make Him Put On His Socks!

EXCERPTS FROM MORNING EXCHANGE OF WORDS
Mother and Daughter (Jenna)

Time to wake up Honey.....Are you up yet?.....You need to get up and get dressed....OK, now you have only 10 minutes to get ready!!! Get moving!

Did you bring your SOCKS down? check
Did you get your lunch packed? check
Where are your shoes? Unknown, unremembered
Will you eat some breakfast? check
Do you have your homework? we didn't have any...
Brush your hair. heavy sigh
Lets go, we should have been on the road 10 minutes ago!
(while in car) Did you brush your teeth? (always NO)
OMG, get in there and brush your teeth! We are going to be late for sure this time! Why are you wearing flip-flops??? It is only 47 degrees today! shoes might be in school locker....
DID YOU BRING YOUR SOCKS??? YES, Jeez
Remember you have gym today.....

The drive home was so peaceful. The turbulants have calmed down, my upset stomach begins its climb to relief. Ahhhhhh.....breathe......
Something tickles the back of my neck....look BEHIND you......
Unbelievable! There, in the baby seat are Jenna's socks. Did I forget to mention them??? Am I just a really horrible mother??? What more do I need to do? Funny how she has yet to tell me of the fun she must have had wearing her flip-flops in gym today....wonder why she hasn't mentioned it......

I guess I do "test" well!

I did NOT study for this test! I took it because Halloween is approaching and I always become a "Witch". How the heck did I obtain the HIGHEST score, that is the mystery! Just DON'T piss me off ok???


Congratulations you have achieved level 4 witch
status... you have studied hard and learned
well!!


What Level of Witch are you
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Woodstock!????

You are Woodstock!


Which Peanuts Character are You?
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Treasure Found!

Amongst my most prized possessions, I found a treasure. Monetary value is of no consequence, it is the enlightenment that has me smiling. I love my old books. Shakespeare school books and my old world atlas from 1900 are my favorites along with a delicate white silk book called The Wedding Day. This small book is a solemnization of marriage printed in 1888 but enscribed with the newly weds signature on June 21, 1898. Seven witnesses attended and signed the book as well. Within this keepsake are the obituaries of the couple that were the parents of our dear family friend. Within the pages are other scrumptious snipets like newspaper clippings of events of interest as well as poems. My treasure today is a poem cut out of an 1800's newspaper. The poem is entitled "Not As I Will" by Helen Hunt Jackson (1830-1885). Helen is a favorite of mine because she was an advocate for the rights of the American Indian (when it was not proper for a woman to speak out about anything!) and she deeply loved the beauty of nature. She survived the tragic deaths of her two sons and her husband. This poem, that is spiritual and strong in its message, is the treasure I would like to share:

Not As I Will

Blindfolded and alone I stand,
With unknown thresholds on each hand;
The darkness deepens as I grope,
Afraid to fear, afraid to hope;
Yet this one thing I learn to know
Each day more surely as I go,
That doors are opened, ways are made,
Burdens are lifted or are laid
By some great law unseen and still
Unfathomed purpose to fulfil,
"Not as I will."

Blindfolded and alone I wait;
Loss seems too bitter, gain too late;
Too heavy burdens in the load,
And too few helpers on the road;
And joy is weak and grief is strong,
And years and days so long, so long;
Ye this one thing I learn to know
Each day more surely as I go,
That I am glad the good and ill
By changeless law are ordered still,
"Not as I will."

"Not as I will!" the sound grows sweet
Each time my lips the words repeat;
"Not as I will," the darkness feels
More safe than light when this thought steals
Like whispered voice to calm and bless
All unrest and all loneliness.
"Not as I will," because the One
Who loved us first and best has gone
Before us on the road, and still
For us must all his love fulfil-
"Not as we will!"

HELEN HUNT JACKSON

Montecore and Other White Tigers

After watching Roy Horn on the Today Show (NBC) this morning, I can't stop thinking about Montecore (the infamous white tiger). My first concern is: did they destroy him?, I don't think they did, but I am needing to know for sure. My second concern/question is: did Montecore consider Roy kitty food, or was he only trying to save his beloved friend? I will choose to believe the later just because I live in my own fantasy world sometimes. My friend Kathie has her own "white tiger"...albiet, he is currently in human [sometimes questionable] form....for the sake of anonymity, we'll call him "Hal".

Kathie's "Hal" is like the white tiger Montecore. He looked wholesome and good on the outside, even handsome....but on the inside looms a potential future dictator of the free world or worse; a creepy, needy, deceptive, cling-on man. OK, maybe I have an overactive imagination, but this is one person that gives me the creeps....RUN, run, run, faster, faster, faster!!!!! Well, this guy [from a distance] has me screaming to my dear friend, Kathie: "RUN, KATHIE, RUN....AND HIDE WHILE YOU'RE AT IT, CHANGE YOUR PHONE NUMBER AND CONSIDER MOVING OUT OF STATE"....Yepper...."Hal" is a Montecore in disguise. BEWARE OF THE CAT

I Wanna Be Sponge Bob!

I guess I am easily amused. I observe my family, running around like idiots and I sit here and liken them to one of my favorite shows, Sponge Bob Square Pants. I, of course, am Sponge Bob....Absorbent, bright, cheerful, porous, undaunted. My husband is Squigword, overly tired, tough guy, clean-freak. Juliet (my 2 year-old) is Patrick, young, squishy, happy just to see me, lives under a rock. Jenna (my 10 year-old) is Mr. Crabs, owner of the Crabby Patty, in love with money, taskmaster, weird accent. They all just make me laugh. Juliet loves Sponge Bob...she can spot him from great distances. Last night she was in the back of the van yelling "Ponge Bob, Ponge Bob!" We weren't sure why she was saying it, but she usually knows her stuff. A few minutes later we glance at the van next to us at a light.....they have a Sponge Bob air freshener hanging from their rear-view mirror! Very observant for a 2 year-old. Here's to living in a pineapple, under the sea!

Pepsi EDGE

I have determined the "Edge" in Pepsi. It isn't for the consumer.....oh no, the "Edge" is for Pepsi Corporation. The product is alright , I guess, albeit a bit too acidic (it hurts my teeth!). But I am a true full-on, gimmee sugar straight up kinda gal. I have been called a soda-pop addict. My favorite drug? Dr. Pepper. Let me hear ya say YAH! I'm a Pepper, he's a Pepper, she's a Pepper et.al.... Anyway, I digress...., my conclusions on the Pepsi EDGE, is that Pepsi Corporation has found a way to get on the "low carb" bandwagon and make you think they are doing you a favor. It will be you that does them the favor though. They have taken out 50% of the sugar from Pepsi (which would be of significant cost savings to Pepsi Co.) and they can charge a premium based on Americas obsession with fad diets. While I was reaching to purchase a 6 Pak of Pepsi EDGE, I noticed that the price was $3.99 plus deposit ---- ON SALE. The regular, full flavored, 100% sugar Pepsi was $2.99 plus deposit for a 12 Pak!!!! If I were to buy into this "EDGE", I would be participating in giving Pepsi the true EDGE as I do the math.....1/2 the Pepsi, 1/2 the Sugar, $1.00 more. I think I will stick to the real thing....I just hope they don't tempt me with a Dr. Pepper EDGE!
www.pepsi.com

To Everything, There is a Season

This week, my fingers will be silenced to honor the deaths of some dear friends. This morning, Mike, Lorna, and Hayden lost their lives in a house fire. Hayden was going to start the 5th Grade with Jenna tomorrow. Jenna and Hayden have been friends their entire lives (9 Years). We are so very sad to hear that Haydens' father Mike, a Waterford Police Officer, may have been the one to send himself and his family to their untimely deaths. Jennas' words of comfort to me were: "Papa loved Hayden and now he gets to see them in Heaven". I told her that maybe Papa greeted them at the door. We pray for their souls. We miss them already!

Yes, I am Wonder Woman

Diana Prince:
*Black, wavy hair
*Buxom figure
*Blue eyes
*Flashy smile
*Invisible Jet Plane

That was me, age 10 years-old. At least in the mind of my 6 year-old cousin, Nester. So I was a bit more developed than my 10 year-old peers, OK, I was a bit more developed than the 15 year-old girls too.....THAT didn't mean I was the Goddess incarnate......or did it? With my invisible jet, magic rope and little cousin at my heels, I was Wonder Woman! Funny how having one person to believe in you, can lift you so high. I became a natural at the Wonder Woman Spin used only in case of emergency to magically transform from the average Diana Prince, to a super-human Goddess. I was astonished at my talent for flying the Invisible Jet Plane (although troubled that I was STILL VISIBLE to everyone including my enemies while flying in the invisible jet....minor detail). At the age of 10, I was able to defeat even the most horrific monster that Nester would conjure up. Today, I recalled being Diana Prince, and thus, Wonder Woman. I was marveling at the feats I was able to accomplish in just one day. They were feats of a domestic nature, but amazing nevertheless. At least now I know the monsters by their first names: Josh, Jessie, Jenna and Juliet.

Revealed! My Personality Twin!

You're My Little Pony!! Sweet and innocent and
happy, you make people want to spew burrito
chunks. Even a Care Bear could kick your ass.


What childhood toy from the 80s are you?
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Hitting: a new drug?

My son, the spaz. He loves to hit, people, that is....
He goes into a trance-like state, eyes rolled back slightly, nostrils flared, and he begins his reign of terror. No one is ever certain when or where this "trance" will occur, but it comes on like a potent, illegal drug....

Without provocation or reason, there he goes..... He is going to hit and someone is gonna get hurt (maybe even cry). Look at him, you might be the next victim. Laugh, cough, sneeze, smirk, send him a birthday card, pass gas, inhale, exhale, speak, eat, sniffle, feed him dinner -- you are at risk and might get hit. Walk past him while he is playing his PS2 and you are almost certain to get hit. (I have since learned that walking past him ALWAYS causes his guy to get killed!)....So you must pay the price and get hit!

Pondering on this strange quirk that engulfs my son, I look for the positive side as taught to me by my dear friend, Kathie. I have found that yes, there are positives to his behavior! The most MAJOR positive is that my son is NOT prejudice in any way, shape or form. It matters not to him if you are black, white or purple, if you are young, old, or in-between. He doesn't mind that you are suffering from major cramps, a broken bone, syphilis, or a brain tumor, you can still be his target and you might get hit!

p.s. Thank you Kathie! Your positive methods have worked wonders! (Now, DON'T hit me, ok?)

Primal Instinct

My encounter this morning was entered into with much naivete. I was overly tired from a late evening/morning and managed to just walk through the gate as if I belonged there. Obviously not functioning on all cylindars, I looked the emu straight in the eye (only one eye was visible). My gut instinct told me that the eye was a psychotic eye, capable of murder or worse! (witnessed by me once before in my ex-husband) Then my ears honed in on the war drum sound....surely this couldn't be happening! Now, there were two emu, standing side by side. They were a team and had found their victim. I stumbled through hundreds of ducks, geese, chickens, rabbits and a couple of deer, looking for a safe haven. With certainty, I determined the emu could and possibly would peck me in the head, thus causing a slow, messy death......Paul was two football fields ahead of me, by the time I were to call for him to help, I would be pecked and kicked to a bloody pulp!!! The war drums kept on, taunting me, torturing me. Do emu eat meat? I could hardly remember. Where is Steve Irwin when you need him??? All of the animal documentaries in the world couldn't save me now. Suddenly, Paul appeared with lettuce and grapes. The emu ran to him and devoured the offering. I guess emu are vegetarians after all!

Orphan Socks

I must be overwhelmed with responsibility. How can socks ruin my day? Next stop, the looney bin. Jessica is going hiking today, but she is ready to leave without socks, just tennis shoes. "Put on your socks", I demand. "I have no socks" she replies. Am I crazy or did I just place a steaming hot pair on her bed last night? Well, those made it to the floor, which then made it to the dirty clothes hamper. They had no opportunity to pass go, nor to collect $200. Those poor socks, they spend day after day waiting to be worn, but constantly re-placed into the dirty clothes hamper, then to the wash machine. It must be easier to throw them into the hamper, unworn and clean, than to put them in the sock drawer. I must be old, because I don't get the logic there.....

Now I sit here staring at two large baskets of "orphan" socks. I am usually blamed for being incapable of matching up the pairs. I say the other family members have some responsibility in this matter. They take them off, manage to place one in a hamper and leave one on the floor, which eventually goes on a journey underneath the bed, leaving me with one sock in the dryer and thus, an orphan. The events leading to the separation of the pair are never taken into consideration when the judgment is passed down to me. And the judgment is swift and harsh. "Mommmm.......none of us have socks!!!!! When are you going to do laundry?????" Good thing they didn't give a Parenting Exam prior to my becoming a mother, surely I would have failed....my saving grace....Thank God it is summer and bless the man who invented the sandal!

Five Loud Knocks - a story

I was awoken by the five loud knocks. They were coming from inside my closet door. I immediately closed my eyes to fall back to sleep, I was certain I imagined it. The knocks started up again, this time more aggessive, maybe even urgent. I smiled and acknowledged the knocks by whispering "Yes, I hear you." I hoped the knocks didn't wake the baby in the crib next to me. How odd to have such a "visit" in my house. My experiences of the past occurred at my parents' house. My dad swore the place was haunted. He was often times home alone and would hear voices and music in other rooms. When he would go to investigate, the room would become silent, only to start again when he walked away. He would tell of door knobs moving and doors opening or locking without human assistance. One Halloween night, my six year-old daughter became "spooked" while sitting next to me in the basement. She proclaimed that she had to get upstairs so the man would stop starring at her. Once we got upstairs, she described a gentleman in a tuxedo (tails) with a white tie, cumberbun and black tophat to my parents and I. We decided it was bedtime and looked at each other convinced that Jessica saw "something". Shortly after that evening, I was staying at my parents house and awoken one night by loud clapping. Clap! Clap! Clap! I could feel the breeze on my face and was quite paralyzed with fear. The sound was so loud, it echoed against the walls. When I tried to sleep again, the clapping started up. Quite frightened, I spoke out that "we have lived here for many years and are aware of you, we expect to never be harmed by you". That was my last experience at my parents "haunted home". I wish I could sit here and tell you that I have psychic powers and have the ability to speak to those on the other side, but I can't. I am merely a curious person with an open mind. As a young child, I was enthralled by the "olden days". My fire was fueled by my Grand-dad who was a great story teller. I would sit on the floor next to his rocker and soak it all in. He sat in a large, wooden rocker with thick armrests. He would place his hands down- fingers first and rhythmically roll each finger off the edge. I would count; one, two, three, four....and again......Once I sat in the chair and tried the technique for myself, just to see how it would feel. I decided to remember that odd habit forever, along with this song that Grand-dad taught me:

I dreamed a dream the other night I dreamed that I could fly. Flap my wings like a butterfly and fly up to the sky. Met old Master Peter, he looked so nice and neat, asked me in for dinner, and this is what we eat: Turnip Greens turnip greens good ol' turnip greens, cornbread, buttermilk, good ol' navy beans.

I never really understood the meaning other than someone died and went to Heaven to eat Turnip Greens and Cornbread. At the youthful age of 10, I would listen to my "old" Grand-dad tell of the good ol' days. He was in his 80's and lived before 1900! My favorite story was the one of his great-grandfathers' funeral, John Bell. Grand-dad was only three years-old at the time but he remembered the horse-drawn hearse, the rain, the mud and throwing dirt on the casket. I almost think he told me the hearse ran over a small child and got stuck in the mud, but I can't be certain. As if that story wasn't exciting enough, I learned that John Bell was the only person in US History to be officially listed as being killed by the magical powers of a witch! This witch is now known as the Bell Witch. I investigated this witch at my Junior High School Library. Much to my delight, the library had three books dedicated to this witch! I learned the Bell Witch was madly in love with my great-great-great grandfather, but he was married with children and, I suspect, not very interested in hooking up with a witch. She tormented him and his family for years until she finally killed him....with a curse to come back and torment the 3rd generation (my Fathers' generation)! I hit pay dirt. My dull existance was now infused with a real and deadly witch! Which somehow leads me back to the five loud knocks. I guess I will never know why or how they happened, but that morning, my life was profoundly changed....forever.

That morning, I was up early and went for a workout at the gym. My workout was typical, marred by my mental self-abuse. Then things started going in slow motion. I was chatting with people and feeling unusually social. I told one woman that I was going to make Easter Dinner for my parents at their house because they had both been under the weather.....I was worried because being a vegetarian, I had never cooked a ham. The woman and another woman stopped their primping in the mirror and turned to me and told me how nice it was for me to do and that my parents are very lucky to have me as a daughter. This was a wierd conversation, but it touched me in a strange way. I felt energized to go to my parents house and begin the dinner process, as Easter was the following morning. I called mom and dads' house while en-route and found the line busy. This was not uncommon as my parents believe that "call-waiting is very rude!" At a stoplight, a few minutes from their house, I finally reached my mother. She was screaming hysterically, and I could barely make out her words. "Get here quick, you dad is dead, oh God, get here, call Gabby, get Gabby!" At this point a fireman got on the line to confirm this horror and told me they needed to restrain my mother and were worried about her heart condition. I began to pray. I called my husband (Gabby) and my friend Kathie. I found many fire trucks, police cars and an ambulance at my parents home. I asked God to give me the strength to walk in the door. He did.

We aren't sure what caused dad to leave us that day. Mom couldn't wake him that morning and she thought he might have had a stroke because he was still warm. I guess it never occurred to her that he was already gone. As the EMS guys just stood by the bed, my mother yelled at them "help him! help me! do something! why aren't you helping him?" It took three hours to remove dad from the house and it was on that day, I finally grew up. Time will no longer be measured in years for me, but measured by moments. Before dad died and after dad died.