All Grannies Make Cookies, Right?

My psychic lady friend invited us to a paranormal meeting. She said it's a large group that meets near here twice a month. They have various speakers come to talk. It's held in the back room of a pizza place. They all meet to have pizza before it starts. Ok, so the combination of curiousity and pizza did us in. We've decided to go tonight and see what it's all about. She said after the regular meeting, around 9PM, they do "table-ing", which from her descriptions sounds like a combination of seance and ouija board. She said she doesn't stay for that anymore, because it's such a long drive for her to get home late at night, but said we were welcome to stay and watch. I'm hoping my husband won't konk out on me by then and be ready to come home, as I'd really like to see that. Yes, it may be hocus-pocus but it has to beat any summer reruns on tv right now. Anyway, I'll let you all know how it comes out.
I had the first eye lasered for the glaucoma last Monday. It was an easy procedure. Afterward my vision seemed very blurry for awhile, but it gradually got better. I did notice last night that it seems my peripheral vision in that eye is worse, but that's really hard to gauge. I see her again on Monday for the other eye. I guess they can check it then.
This summer seems to be flying by. I spend a lot of my time browsing for baby stuff on the internet and looking forward to the grandbaby my daughter is planning. She and I have a good time pointing out things we find online to each other. Yesterday I found a fisher price little people house like the one she had when she was a little girl. I know I'll have to get one of those when the time comes. My mom always kept toys at her house for when the grandkids came to visit. And I'm sure I will have to get Amy to send me some cookie recipes, cause all grandma's make cookies, right?
I'm also collecting the books that were my children's favorites when they were young.
Books like "Dirty Feet", "Henry's Awful Mistake", and "The Man Who Cooked for Himself". By the time the little one gets here, there will be a children's library waiting. Can you tell I'm excited?

Evil Grin -Take Two

Today we went to see Monster House and met my step-daughter and her husband for lunch.
I saw something on tv the other day that was eye-opening for me. I think it was on Oprah but I'm not sure. Anyway, what was said was "Just because someone is a high achiever doesn't mean they are not in pain." That made me think. I guess I've always judged whether or not someone was ok by how well they seemed to be moving through their life. But I realized that is not always a good indicator. I should have known this, because it's been true in my own life. For many years when I was young, I made perfect grades in school, but in my life I was a wreck. I also made good grades my first two years of college while going through a bad divorce. Sometimes we just need someone to remind us. It's not good to assume anyone is "fine" when they may just be going through the motions.

My mom called to tell me she liked the article I had in the Father's Day issue of that magazine. She said my sister requested that I "continue to write about dead people" and "please not write about her." Now I must be evil, because now all I can think about is writing something about her that she would absolutely hate. ha. I probably won't but I'm really enjoying the thought. I told my mom to tell her that I planned to write the next one about her, and about our relationship. Hee Hee.

News News Get Your Daily News

My mother-in-law is coming tomorrow, so I may not write for a week or so, but wanted to catch up on all the news.
For those of you who don't read my daughter's blog, she told me she's planning to start a family soon. I'm thrilled. I can't wait to be a granny. The kid will be totally rotten if I have anything to do with it.
The psychic lady came yesterday right after lunch and stayed until 9 last night. We went to dinner at the Mexican place. I took lots of notes, and since Nora asked for a full report, I'll tell you the highlights.
Since my daughter said she didn't want to know anything from the lady, I didn't mention her (until she called later.) But while she was reading me, she said, "Oh, your daughter, I see a baby with her." I said, "Well it's funny you mentioned that, since she just told me they are planning to start trying." She said, "She will have a baby by the end of next year, and it will be a girl."
She said I would have surgery on my eyes. My mouth fell open. She said you will have two surgeries. I said well, I'm suppose to have two for glaucoma in the next two weeks, and before I could say anything else, she interrupted and said, "No, it's not anything to do with glaucoma." I said, "Well I am suppose to have other eye surgery to correct lazy eye in August. She said it will take two surgeries but I will be happy with the results. She told me to watch myself "stepping down or stepping off curbs" because I might hurt my ankle. She said she saw me with a bandaged ankle but it will be before cold weather comes, so just be careful until the cold weather starts. Then she said we would be moving, but not right away. She said my husband needs to watch his health, and especially in Feb or March of next year. She said we would be going through some big changes in the next five years. She said his daughter will not last with the guy she's with now, but will try to get pregnant to hang onto him . But that she will meet another guy when she is 25 or 26 and he will straighten her out. She said she sees me doing some remodeling in the house, then said maybe it is just a new appliance in the kitchen she sees. She said I have a woman around me all the time, short, white haired. Then she said the woman was showing her a feather like an Indian on her head, but she doesn't wear a feather. It's just that she's trying to tell you who she is by telling you she's part Indian. (My granny is short, white haired, and part Indian, and she died fifteen years ago.) She said she is someone who is very close to you all the time, but she was always very close to you, even in life. (She practically raised me and lived with us.) I really was glad to hear that.
She said my middle son will get in a serious relationship with a girl in the next year or so, but he shouldn't get married until he's had some time to get stable and buy a house. She also said that he would get a bonus or incentive at work, not part of his regular pay, and it has a five in it, either 500 or 5000.
She said my youngest son needs to take some time to relax now that his stress is better, and not to rush into marriage.
She said my husband's office is going to go through some major reorganization and a lot of people will move out and more will move in. (They are undergoing that right now as we speak.)
She also said that I had psychic abilities but just needed to practice with it more. She said everyone has it to some degree, because it's part of the 80% of our brains we don't use. She said some people just seem to be able to get in touch with it easier than others. She told me some things to try to practice.
She said I need to write a book. I hadn't told her I write anything.
Well, that's all I can think of right now. She is GOOD.

Help, I'd Fall But I Can't Find the Floor

If there is one thing that absolutely drives me nuts, it's clutter. When I was a little girl, I shared a room with my sister and it was filled to the ceiling (or so it seemed) with dolls, games, etc etc plus bunk beds. Then when my parents divorced, I had my own room, which I junked up pretty quickly (but those psychedelic colored peace-sign posters that lit up under the black light were cool). One day when I was about fifteen, I had a strange urge that came over me to clean my room (these urges were few and far between) and I started hauling stuff out into the hallway and telling my mom to get rid of it. I remember lining stuff up down the hallway while she carried it out (don't know where. Didn't ask; didn't care.) and suddenly my room was CLEAN and UNCLUTTERED and it was a high, let me tell you. From then on, I was pretty neat. When I was seventeen and got married, we found this teeny-tiny apartment that had once been someone's garage, and I thought it was so cute. I couldn't wait to fix it up. I was working then at Montgomery Ward and so I had some extra money (That job had other perks. There was a gas shortage then, and their employees could buy gas there at their pumps anytime.) Anyway, I bought a sofa and chair, my first big purchases. I started moving things into the apartment the weeks before we got married, carefully picking what went and what didn't. When my husband-to-be decided it was time to move his things, I was so upset. He had so much junk! And the junk didn't seem to go with my idea of what the apartment should look like. So I bit my lip and did some compromising and we moved in.
It was pretty easy to keep the clutter down, as we moved often. We moved to change jobs, we moved to find better apartments, and we moved sometimes just because it seemed like it was time. Each move, I'd throw out as much as I packed.
As I've said before, my husband is a pack-rat and I'm passive, so I suffer now a lot in silence. I've lived here six years. He moved in a lot of furniture I hate and stuff I think he should have tossed out. So, even though I try to sneak out things from time to time, it doesn't seem to make a dent.
So I do the next best thing. I buy books about organizing. Only problem is reading about it only means that I have to find a place to organize the organizing books.
Once I hired an organizational expert to come in and help us with our walk-in closet. I knew it was too full, but I had a hard time convincing him. My thought was that a unbiased second opinion would change his mind. The lady started by dragging every single thing into the bedroom, and saying, "Look through this box. Pick out only three of these. You don't need that many" and so forth. I was in heaven, and thought this was so much fun. Later in the day I got a look at him, and he looked like he'd done a forty hour dance marathon followed by his best friend's funeral and a trip to the oral surgeon. It was traumatic for him. Other people understand him feeling this way. I wish I understood, but I don't.
I honestly sit here and feel like screaming because I hate the way the house is now. No one else would come in here and agree with me. But that doesn't change the way I feel. I know it borders on neurotic, but I don't know what to do about it. I have even started looking at houses for sale, thinking a move would get things under control again. He'd never go for that, since this place is ours free and clear now.
I just would give anything to be able to call Goodwill to come get everything I don't want. He'd go into cardiac arrest. It's a no-win situation. And so frustrating.

Oh Granny!

My granny, bless her heart, had the softest, whitest hair you've ever seen. She kept it short, with a Toni home permanent in it, which my mom gave her regularly at the kitchen table. Then Mom would roll it into pin curls and pin them with bobby pins. When it dried, Granny would brush it back in soft curls and put a spider web thin white hairnet over it all. Big production. During all this, Granny would yell that Mama was pulling her bald, was killing her, and to hurry up. Mama would patiently reply, "I'm not hurting you, you're not dead yet, and I AM hurrying so hush." Granny's final inspection of completed hair would be, "I wish I could wear a crewcut, and only have to wash my head with a washrag. Yes, sir, If I could, I'd cut it ALL off." I'd laugh.
Well, Granny, the older I get, the more I hate fooling with this hair. I hate washing it. I have to force myself to do it, and only do it then because I can't stand the way it feels when it hasn't been washed every other day. I think some kind of head scarf should come back into style so no one would have to fix their hair to go to the grocery store.
My daughter keeps telling me if it was longer, it would be easier, but that sounds bizarre to me.
Sometimes I wish I could cut it all off and wear it in a crewcut, so I could just wash my head with a washrag....Oh Granny!

I Like It Like That

I hate to admit it, but it's dinner time and I never got out of my nightgown today. Ha. The joys of the weekend. When we got up this morning, we decided we didn't have anywhere we had to go, and since every day for weeks I've had somewhere I had to go, I decided to really relax. I did make lunch, but we ordered Steak Out for dinner.
My old boss called me a couple of weeks ago and asked me to build a database for him for his business. I worked on it for awhile, and sent it. Now he wants me to go to his office, 70 miles away and train his secretary on how to use it. He paid me for the database, and said he will pay me to go. But the truth is, even though I agreed to it, I didn't really want to go. I just couldn't say no, even though I should have. People pleasing rears its ugly head. So I have that to do next week, even though my mother-in-law is coming and I have a million other things to do.
The psychic lady I mentioned that I knew in one of my other posts is coming Monday night for dinner. She invited us to come to a group she goes to twice a month. They have speakers on a variety of paranormal subjects. Hubby said he's afraid we'll get demon-possessed if we go to that. ha. But I can't wait to have her over and get a reading from her. He's looking forward to that, too.
Nothing much going on around here, and that's just the way I like it.

Strange But True

When I was fourteen, I went to spend the weekend at my friend Susan's house. My mom couldn't drive me over, but my uncle who had been visiting was getting ready to leave, and he said he would drop me off. The next afternoon, we were in Susan's room, and she was looking for something in her closet. I was lying on the bed staring at the ceiling one minute. The next thing I knew Susan was shaking me and crying for me to answer her. But it was what was in between that was weird. I thought I was asleep and had a dream (Susan said my eyes were open the whole time but I was just staring with no response to her). I saw a bedroom, and a boy or small man was lying on the bed in a pair of boxer shorts, and there was a shotgun beside him on the bed, and he had shot himself in the chest. I knew he was dead. Then I heard bells ringing. Then I saw a grey velvet coffin with roses embossed on it.
Well it shook me and Susan both up. Neither of us knew what to make of it. It was so REAL. I spent the day wondering how someone could sleep with their eyes open.
The next morning my mom came to pick me up. She said my uncle, the one who dropped me off at Susan's had killed himself. He shot himself in the chest with a sawed off shotgun, and they found him. I almost fell over. I said what was he wearing. Guess what she said. Just his underwear. That afternoon we went to the funeral home with the family. When we walked into the funeral home, there were bells on the door jingling. They went back to pick out the casket, but I waited in the lobby. My mom came back and said they picked out a gray velvet coffin with roses on it. I didn't tell my mom what happened, because I didn't think she would believe me. I didn't even understand it, so how could she? But I knew. And Susan knew. I took Susan with me to the funeral so she could see the coffin. I swear.
Well, there have been times in my life that I just knew something was wrong, but I've ignored it. I didn't much believe in psychics, and thought it was all a bunch of hoo-ey. Then I met Jeanette. She's done psychic readings for many years. She was a friend of a friend, and I went to her out of curiosity. She's dead on. I've seen her many times and she's always dead on. She told me I would have a problem with my lungs. I said well I have asthma sometimes. She said no, this is something to do with your legs and your lungs. That made no sense to me. Later I had a blood clot in my leg that went to my lung. That's just one example. She's always right on. She's even solved police cases.
So I started thinking about the incident that happened when I was a teenager, and about a month ago, I went on aol into one of the chat rooms. It was called GET A PSYCHIC READING. Evidently the lady who opened that chat was not at her computer. I guess she was drumming up business. A couple of people were in there asking who was the psychic. So I sent an instant message to one lady, and said I will try to give you a reading. For free. I just wanted to see if I could. She asked me some questions and I gave her my impressions. She thanked me and asked if she could email me sometime, and I gave her my email address. Well, yesterday I got a letter. She said everything I told her was true. She said she was amazed. She wanted to ask me some more questions. I tried to help her again.
I didn't tell anyone this, because I figured they'd all think I was nuts. But I finally decided to come clean and write about it. It's strange but true.
My granny used to see things too. For example, she was sitting on the porch one day, and saw her grandmother walking toward the house. She said as she neared the porch, she turned and walked around the side of the house, and smiled at her as she walked by. She asked her where she was going, but she just kept walking. Granny went inside and told her mother that her grandmother was here, out back. No grandmother was there, but her grandmother died that same time over 200 miles away.
I wonder if this kind of thing is like a type of intuition that runs in families?

Which Classic Movie are You.

What Classic Movie Are You?
personality tests by similarminds.com

GEEZZZ!!!!! I was hoping to at least be Gone with the Wind, or Steel Magnolias, but Easy Rider? Well...maybe...

Mr Sandman Bring Me a Dream

I have had my share of nightmares. For awhile I wrote down my dreams, and some of them were hilarious. Most made no sense. Well, I think I've been sleeping better since I have the CPAP machine for the sleep apnea, and lately my dreams are getting more vivid. Some seem so real. Last night I had a very real one.
I was eight years old, and was out in my back yard. There was a swing my daddy made in a big oak tree, a sandbox my daddy built, and a playhouse he also built. He liked to do things like that, building things. But the personal relationship type stuff he never figured out. I was always a little afraid of him. I've heard the fights he and my mom had. But I'm getting off the subject.
In my dream, I'm in the backyard, and my step-dad is there. We are playing with some puppies my Daddy's hunting dogs had. They were cute and wiggly and I loved trying to hold them while they squirmed to get away. My step-dad was laughing at how much fun I was having. When I looked at his face, I could tell he was glad I was so happy, and his face showed that. Then he stood up and held out his hands to play my favorite game. I gave him both my hands, which he clasped above my wrists. Then he began to run in a circle swinging me in a big arc around him. I squealed and giggled and loved it. Every time he stopped, I'd beg him to do it again, and he would.
When I woke up, I realized that my dream was true. That day actually happened. It's a day I had totally forgotten about, or at least not thought about in many, many years. But dreaming it made me remember how he used to play with me, and how much I loved him. This was before he was my step-dad. He was just a friend of our family. But I felt closer to him then than I did my dad. And I felt more loved.
I gripe and complain a lot about my relationship with my dad and how I wish it had been better. But when Cathy lost her dad lately, I began to think about that a lot. And I realized, I was given a gift of a father who wasn't even my father. God saw I needed someone and he sent this man into my life. And even though I had a tough time with the divorce, I was much better off with my mom and him than I would have been with my dad and mom fighting all the time. She was happier, too.
I guess I overlook sometimes the blessings I've had. And sometimes it takes a dream to bring it all back. I wish I had more dreams like that. I woke up feeling wonderful and it lasted all day.

New Hair Color

Here it is. What do ya'll think?

Sunday Sundae

I've just been out of it lately, not feeling like doing much, and having way too much to do to suit me. Between the secret shopping jobs I signed up for, and all the doctor visits, I'm ready for a break. I stopped signing up for any more shopping jobs, so when I finish these, I'm not doing any for awhile. Plus I figure after the eye surgery in August, the doctor visits should be slowing down. I'm ready for some alone time, days with nothing pressing to do. I'm behind on getting things done in the house, I'm behind on my email with friends (Sorry Cathy and Bev), and I haven't had any time to myself for reading in a long time.
The sleep study showed sleep apnea, and the CPAP positive pressure mask they now have me wearing at night, I rest better and also look like the creature from the black lagoon. It makes it better in that my husband has worn one for awhile, so we can be creatures together.
I have laser surgery on both eyes the end of this month for the glaucoma, and then the eye surgery in Aug to correct the lazy eye thing. I can't tell you how excited I am over that one. It's been so frustrating all of my life having people think I was standoffish or stuck-up because I don't look them in the eye.
My mother-in-law is coming next week . My husband took vacation to spend time with her. I have a lot of cleaning to do.
We went to see Pirates last night, and it was good. I'd give it a B-. So I guess Johnny Depp is glad I'm not reviewing it. Actually looking at him was the highlight of the movie for me.
We've gotten into watching 4400. We didn't see it before, so this summer we rented all the DVD's from Netflix and caught up. It's a good show. Enough twists and turns to keep you guessing.
I also did a MAJOR thing. I went to see the Devil Wears Prada, and I loved Meryl Streep's hair (remember I'm fifty now). Since I have streaks in my hair of white, I thought how cool it would be to have it all that color. So I went to the beauty shop and told them what I was interested in. ALL of the stylists crowded around with different opinions on what I should do. I ended up with getting it foiled, and it's like platinum blonde with white highlights. Drastic change, but I REALLY like it. My son noticed it immediately after he came in from work. My husband came in, spoke to me, then went to change out of his work clothes. I was so disappointed. My son said it's ok, he didn't notice it because it's kind of dark in our living room, but if I would go into the kitchen and turn on the lights in there, and stand and wait, he'd see it. He did. He said, "Did you do something to your hair?" Then after I asked, he said he likes it. Later, at dinner at Red Lobster, he said he just figured out the word that described my new look-- get this--EXOTIC. He said I look exotic. How strange is that. Not sure how to take that. But anyway, I do like it a lot, and at my age, what other people think is not that big a deal. Yes, I'll eventually get a picture of it to put on here.
Oh yes, I made it into the local paper. They did a small write up on me and the stories I've published. I guess the editors are contacting local papers of the authors in the book, because they had my email and wrote and asked me some questions. I took the plunge and sent in a story of mine for a critique with a creative writing instructor from the University of Wisconsin. I signed up for his class awhile back, and for a bit extra he'd do a critique. What makes me really anxious is this is a story of mine I really like and think is good. Some of mine I'd say are so-so, and if he didn't like them, I'd agree they needed some tweaking. However, I don't know how I'll react if he hates this one. I keep telling myself it's only one opinion. If he really cuts me up with it, I'll send it to my daughter or Cathy. They always tell me nice things.
Well that's about it for my Sunday. Weekends go by so fast.

I Seeeeee Youuuuuuuu

I spent the last two nights at the hospital having a sleep study done. Recently when I had my ear surgery, the nurses were concerned about my "shallow breathing" and "low oxygen levels" when I was sleeping. My husband said I've always been a shallow breather, and that sometimes at night it is hard for him to tell if I'm breathing at all.
So my doctor ordered this. I had some idea before I went there that my sleep would be recorded and reviewed by a doctor, etc. I figured I'd have some pads to monitor heartbeat or whatever. I figured out once I got there I didn't know anything. I was taken to a room that looks very much like a hospital room with cheap hotel furniture in it, and told to put on my night clothes, make myself comfortable, and someone would be back in later. I did. There was a recliner in there, so I sat down and turned on the tv. I'm relaxing when a voice comes over the speaker and says, "Would you please look at the camera above you? I'm going to take your picture. No, take off your glasses and look up a little more. Yes, that's it. Thanks." So during this I realize that I've got a real person staring at me through a camera that rotates all the way around the room as I move about.
Then a lady comes in and hooks about ten million wires to my scalp, chest, hands, and legs. She also wraps two tight bands around my chest and waist. Wires are then placed under my nose, under my chin, by my temples, behind my ears. By now, I figure I look like the creature from the black lagoon. Now I'm told to lie down on my back, she turns out the lights and says to try to relax. She leaves, only to re-appear as Miss Speaker Woman. "Hello, look straight ahead, now left, now right, now center, up, down. Ok, now flex your left foot. Again. Again. Right foot, again, again. Breathe through your nose, now your mouth. Now take in a deep breath and hold it. Breathe. etc etc. After all this is over, I'm told, "Now you can go to sleep."

Sure lady. Uh huh. I'm thinking, Go to sleep. Ok, Go to sleep. Relax, Breathe. Am I going to sleep yet? No, think of something else. Go to sleep. Someone is watching me right now. I wonder if they think I'm asleep? I wonder if they can tell by all these wires? Wouldn't it be cool if they could tell what I'm thinking? I'm thinking you are all bitches. God, I hope they can't tell. Awww. God. I have to go to sleep. Relax. Ok, I'm relaxed. Now think about....what? Counting sheep? I hate sheep. Just count my breaths. I wonder what kind of things they've seen people do? Do men lay there and scratch in weird places? Or make disgusting sounds? I bet they do. Men can be so crude. Stop thinking. Breathe. Count breaths. How's that. I lost count. Does that mean I'm going to sleep? I wonder how fat I look lying here. Shut up. Go to sleep.

I learned I am no good at sleeping under pressure. I'm terrible at trying to sleep in a fishbowl while wondering if I'm going to turn over and expose something that shouldn't be exposed. Are there just women behind that camera or men, too? Oh God, what if there are men too?

Somehow I got through two nights of that. I managed to sleep some. Long enough for them to decide I breathe too shallow to get sufficient oxygen. So tomorrow I go back to see the sleep doctor. I hope he learned everything he needs to know, because he had his last chance to spy on me in bed. He's not that cute.

No, Mama, I'm Not Crazy

Some of you may remember me writing about the neighbor we had when I was little and how I was having these horrible feelings surrounding something that happened. I even rode by there to see if there was an outbuilding like I remembered.
Yesterday, our cleaning lady came. I used to work with her and have known her for years. When she got ready to leave, she said she loved my taste in furnishings, and that she and I were very much alike. She said, "I am just a simple person. I grew up in Five Points."

Five Points is a neighborhood in the town where I grew up. I said, "Really? I was born on Oshaunesey Street." She said, "You're kidding. My grandmother lived on Oshaunesy. Did you know the Adams?"

I said, "No, I was really little when we lived there." She said, "They were sort of in the middle houses on that street, next to the Bakers and the Miners."
The Miners were the family that had the outbuilding. So I said, "We lived on the other side of the Miners, in the green house." She said, "Oh, you're kidding. My aunt bought that house back in the 60's." I told her that is when my mom sold it.

I said, "Did you know the Miners?" She said, "Oh yes. I wasn't allowed to go around them unless my grandmother was with me. Their son was a pervert."

At that, I lost my breath. I told her what I remembered, and that I had wondered if I was crazy, because I didn't remember pictures in my mind, but just overwhelming feelings, like not being able to breathe and being terrified.
She told me they did indeed have an outbuilding. She went there once with some neighbor kids, and that is where the son did his photography. I said, "He took a lot of pictures of me." She said he took pictures of all the neighborhood children, mostly out in the yard, but her aunt came home one day and found him taking pictures of her two little girls in the bathtub. Their dad dozed off on the couch while the girls were in the tub and this guy had let himself in. He said he heard the girls splashing and playing through the open bathroom window.

She said everyone knew he was a pervert. No one would let their children go around him. Her grandmother repeatedly warned her not to go over there. And she remembered that building, where now I am convinced something happened to me, and I'm not crazy.

My husband came home near the beginning of our conversation, and he asked her a lot of questions. I felt very anxious the whole time and didn't say a whole lot. I told him I feel like my memories have been validated, and now I know that I probably had a good reason to remember the feelings. After all, I was 2 or 3 when this happened. A child that young will only remember feelings, because I'm sure I would have not had words for what was happening or understand it.
I quit going to the therapist awhile back. I felt like it was getting too hard to talk about things she wanted me to talk about. I don't know if I will go back.