2012

As 2011 comes to a close, I thought I might make a list a resolutions. I never make resolutions because I figure no one ever keeps them anyway, but I thought I would give it a shot for 2012. So here goes...

In 2012 I am...

~ Going to lose weight and get healthier. I don't have a particular size or weight in mind, just smaller than I currently am. I want to feel good and feel good about myself.

~ Going to work my arse off and keep my GPA up or even better, raise it. Not that  I don't work my arse off anyway (as my lack of a social life demonstrates), but there's nothing wrong with trying to improve.

~ Going to try harder to have some sort of social life. My life is consumed by work and school and it would be nice to be able to visit with people and spend time with my friends.

~ Going to get more sleep...hopefully. Grad school interferes with sleep most of the time.

~ Going to save some money and/or pay off some debts. Its really all the same thing to me.

~ Going to train so that I can be ready for the Zombie Apocalypse that is sure to hit on December 21. (I have my fingers crossed.)

Happy New Year folks!

Bedtime Story

So this is the last of my Halloween inspired spook stories and this one is completely made up...although I'm pretty sure I believed it when I was a kid. I used to beg my Mom to tell it to me each night before bed because apparently I loved having nightmares. This story should also help explain my childhood fears of monsters under the bed, in the closet, in the basement, and the toilet. ;-) Enjoy and hope ya'll have a very Happy Halloween!!!

There once was a little boy that lived in a big house with his Mom. The house had a huge, dark, spooky basement and the little boy was always very, very afraid to go into the basement. He would cry and throw a fit and when his Mom asked him why he was so afraid, he would tell her, "The boogeyman lives in the basement and if I go down there, he will get me."

Finally at her wits end she took the little boy to a child psychologist. After talking to him about his silly fear of the basement, the psychologist told the Mother, "The thing for you to do is force him to face his fear. When you get home, lock him in the basement. No matter what he says, do not let him out until he's calmed down. Once you have shown him that there is no boogeyman, then his fear will be over and your life can go back to normal."

That evening when they got home, the Mother did as the psychologist told her and promptly locked her young son in the basement. As she stood on the other side of the locked door she could hear him crying, screaming, and begging her to let him out. "Please Mommy! Please, let me out! The boogeyman is here and he's going to get me!," he'd yell from his place at the bottom of the steps. But she remembered what the psychologist told her and she was determined to help her son face his fears.

After a little while her son became silent and she decided it was time to let him out of the basement. When she opened the door she couldn't see him at the bottom of the stairs. So she walked down to have a look around, thinking that maybe he was hiding somewhere. What she found at the bottom of the stairs sent chills through her. Where her son had been standing was a pool of blood.

She never saw her son again. The boogeyman had gotten him.

The End. :-)

The Old House - Tonight's Story

Tomorrow I plan on telling a tall tale that I used to beg my Mother to tell me every night before bed (because I'm weird that way...even when I was a child). Its completely NOT TRUE, but in order to keep with the spirit of things, I wanted to share one more true story with ya'll. This one involves the old white farm house that I used to live in.

At least I think it was our farm house...I grew up thinking it was a different old house in McKee, but as I got older I was told it was indeed our old house. Regardless of where it took place, it still happened to the people involved, so I thought I would share it.

Personally, I think that land sometimes holds memories. Not just our memories but the memories of those that have gone on before us. Both good and bad memories and both good and bad people. This could possibly explain why a brand new home could be haunted. I mean, the house is freshly built, so there would be no past tenants to worry about. The question would be, who lived on the land before the new house. So, I think its important to understand a little bit about my home before we continue.

As family legend would have it here's the basics about where I live. The land used to belong to Preston Adkins (hence the name of Adkinstown for the entire road in Gray Hawk). He got it due to his service in the Union Army during the Civil War. Pres was my Mamaw Mae's Grandfather (my Great-Great Grandpa in other words). Things being as they are, Pres eventually lost the majority of Adkinstown due to a variety of things. Now people who aren't part of the Adkins family tree inhabit Adkinstown. Pres is buried in a cemetery at the top of the hill from my house, where most of my other past family members are buried and where I intend to be laid to rest one day.

Below my house are some caves. These caves have been fashioned into homes. Homes that we have all always assumed were done so by some Native tribe many, many years ago. Probably even before Pres got the land. My Aunt's now ex-husband used to go there and dig up lots and lots of arrowheads.

From the top of the hill (where the cemetery is located) on down to the end of the road are Nunns. Its been that way for over fifty years. The only neighbor that isn't a Nunn lives below the hill at the very end of the road. He's the son of a distant cousin. From the top of the hill on, isn't primarily relatives but we do have relatives up there. Relatives from the Adkins side. So basically, its a family road. Just to kind of give you an idea.

Anywho...from the top of the hill down was owned by my Grandparents, Bob and Mae, for many years. My Mamaw's people lived in Perry County where her Daddy was a coal miner before they loaded up and moved to Preston's land in Jackson County. I'm not sure if Pres gave the land to her Daddy or if they bought it, but when Mamaw and Papaw decided to settle on the farm, they bought it from Mamaw's Daddy (I can't think of his name at the moment - this makes me terribly ashamed because I used to keep up with all this family stuff). Mamaw and Papaw deeded off the farm to their children before they passed. Throughout the years, some of the children have sold their holdings to folks outside of the family, but from the top of the hill down, it has primarily stayed within the family tree. The land holdings now belong to an Aunt, two Uncles, two cousins, my Dad, and myself.

At any rate, I just wanted to point out that the land, for well over a hundred years have belonged to my family in one fashion or another. Prior to that, I'm assuming it was wild country where the "Indians" lived or at least passed through on a regular basis. So the entities (for lack of a better word) that "haunt" the area must in some way have a close tie to the land. I'm assuming its past family members for the most part and that's why I don't really worry too much about the strange things that seem to happen in the area.

Now...on to tonight's story.

When my Aunt Ida was a young girl she had a sleepover with some of my cousins (cousins that were her nieces, but were close in age to her...because when you come from a family of eleven children, at some point the generational lines are going to blur). They were all nestled into one bed for the night and trying to go to sleep but it was storming outside and they were a bit spooked. It didn't help matters any when the lights went out in the house. To further complicate things, while the lights were off they felt the end of the bed sag as if someone had set down on it. They never heard or saw anyone entered the room prior to that and they would have noticed with the door being shut and all, so they had no idea who might have decided to share the bed with them.

Raised up in bed, they all looked towards the foot of the bed at their visitor trying to make out features in the darkness. About that time lightening struck outside the window, illuminating the room. In the split second of light they saw a woman sitting on the end of the bed. As Ida explained it, "She had wild looking hair that was just sticking up all over her face. She was really old and scary looking and she was laughing at us." When the light faded, so did the woman. The girls were too terrified to get out of bed, so they all covered up under the blankets and screamed until someone could come to the rescue. They never saw the woman again.

Red Eyes - Tonight's Stories

Now that we are back in Jackson County for our tales, I'll share a couple that don't take place at my house or even on my road. These take place in the Annville area.

When my Mom was about five or six, her Aunt Doris lived in a house out in Annville. Luckily, its not the house she currently lives in. This one was a lot smaller and it was blue. Mom used to go over there and spend the night with her cousins because her Mom would go stay at Doris' when her husband was out on the road for his trucking job. Mom slept in the room with her cousins, Linda and Ruth, and they would both make her sleep on the outside edge of the bed.

One night she awoke to the sound of scratching under the bed. Being a brave little gal like she was, she decided to see what was making the noise, so she flipped her head over the edge of the bed and looked into the darkness. Looking back at her was two large glowing red eyes. It terrified her. She jumped up into the middle of the bed and started to scream at the top of her lungs, waking everyone in the house. She was so scared, in fact, that the only way her Mom could get her to calm down and stop was to slap her across the cheek. She refused to sleep in that room the rest of the time that Doris and her kids lived there.

Even though she didn't sleep in the room anymore, she still liked to play in there. One day she was sitting by the toy box in the room and happened to glance over beside her. The toys in the box began to move and a hand, came out of the middle of the box. Obviously she was horrified again and ran away screaming. No one was hiding in the box and they took all the toys out to show her it was fine. But if you ask her, to this day, she will tell you that she loved staying with her family, but she hated that house with everything in her.

I've never been inside the house, but Mom has driven me by it several times. Someone lives there right now and I've often wondered if they have had any chilling experiences like my Mom's.

Today's Spook Stories

Now that we've been to Ohio, lets go back down South and back to Kentucky.

While I was writing stories about my house I realized I had forgotten a few. So I thought I would share a couple more about the haints that populate my little stretch of the county.

Lest you think its only the over-active imaginations of my Mother and me that witnesses these spectral occurrences, let me tell you a little story about my Mamaw Mae.

The Disappearing Strangers:

When I was a little girl my Mamaw used to babysit me while my parents were at work. I suppose I was five or six at the time but I remember the day clearly. I was in the living room of her trailer watching cartoons and playing with my dolls when she came in and said, "April, come out here and tell me who these men are." When I got to the porch I didn't see anyone but my Dad. He was sitting in his truck and about to pull out down the road. I told Mamaw this. She said, "But who are the men with him? Don't you see them?" No. I didn't.

Later that evening when Mom and Dad came in, Mamaw told them about it. Apparently she had been out on the porch when Daddy came in for his lunch. She said when he got out of his truck, two men got out with him. One went in the house with him and the other went around the corner of the house and out of site. Mamaw asked Dad about it, but he said he didn't have anyone with him when he came in for lunch.

In her later years my Mamaw suffered from Alzheimer's, but at this point, she was as healthy and competent as anyone else. So she wasn't having some dementia induced hallucination, yet she still stood by seeing those men with my Dad that day.

Other Places:

My house isn't the only home with its fair share of things that go bump in the night. Out the road from my house is where my Uncle lives and where his children were raised.

One Summer we had a pool out in the front yard of this house and my Mom and my Uncle's then-wife were outside cleaning it out while I played inside with my cousin Bridgette. Mom told me she would yell at me when it was time to go, so when Bridgette and I heard my name being called, we figured it was time for me to leave. I packed up my toys and ran outside only to discover that Mom and Kay were still cleaning the pool. No one had yelled at me, yet me and Bridge both heard it. I refused to go back inside the house until Bridgette came to the door to get me.

Not long after that day was the infamous day that Bridgette saw the girl in the mirror. While she was getting ready for school one morning she decided to check her hair and makeup one last time before getting on the bus and when she stepped back into the bathroom, instead of seeing her own reflection in the mirror, she saw the face of some other girl. It scared her pretty badly as I recall.

That wasn't the first time the girl had been seen however. Once when I was a toddler my parents stopped out at my Uncle's house one night to deliver some now forgotten message. When they pulled up and beeped, they seen a girl (they thought it was Bridgette) come to the window and look out, before disappearing behind the curtain. Thinking that Bridgette must have just been scared and didn't recognize the car, Dad got out and knocked on the door. No one ever answered. The next day he told my Uncle about and apologized if he had scared Bridgette or anything. Douglas told him, "Well, I don't know who you seen, but it wasn't Bridgette. We were all gone last night. No one was here when you stopped by."

Today's Stories

Ohio:

Now that we've talked a bit about my own home (which we'll come back to soon enough), lets take a little trip up North to a small town in rural Ohio. Years ago some of my family members headed North for work. My Uncle Clayton and his family ended up renting a beautiful brick home built in the 1800s. It set off the road about 1/2 mile or so down a really rough dirt road. You couldn't reach the house in the winter (or even in really rainy weather) unless you had a four-wheel drive because the road wasn't gravel or paved. Just dirt. Later, when I would go help my Dad work in the woods, I would associate every logging road I saw with that same road leading to Clayton and Daphne's house; that's how rough a road it was. You couldn't see the house from the main highway because it was surrounded by tall beautiful trees and fields full or corn and soybeans. Needless to say, it was fairly secluded. Seclusion would have been nice if the house itself wasn't so terrifying.

Never in my life have I had such a chilling feeling from a house. I believe it was Stephen King that once wrote "some places are just born bad" and this was one of those places. Don't get me wrong, I have great memories from there. So great in fact, that every fall I get the strongest urge to pack up my things and head North for a few days. In my childhood, at least once or twice a year before cold weather set in, my parents and I would load up and drive to Ohio to visit with family (I also have other family members that still live in Ohio, although these aren't the ones that lived in this particular house) and deliver wood or coal for the winter months to Clayton and his family.

What I remember from my weekends spent in Ohio include family board games, big breakfast meals, tag football in the front yard, cartoons, playing with dolls, and many, many more happy memories. Of course I also remember not sleeping at night, avoiding going to the bathroom at all costs, avoiding certain rooms in that old brick home, and staying glued to my Mommy whenever I was inside. Nothing out of the ordinary ever happened to me there...well, one minor thing, but it could or could not have been an over-active imagination and since it happened on my very last visit to the house, it wasn't something I worried too much about.

As far as I know, the children that grew up in that house (my cousins) all had happy childhoods while there. Sure it was haunted and they each have their own stories to tell, but overall, it was a normal childhood out in the country. But the house itself and the surrounding property were always a little "off". You could tell it as soon as you pulled up in the drive-way. It felt like someone was watching you while you were out in the front yard. On more than one occasion I was sure if I looked up into the top floor windows I would see someone looking down at me. Someone that shouldn't be there. The house was so old, that it didn't have a bathroom inside. Instead you went to the back of the house to the edge of the woods and used an outhouse. All this meant to me was that I would NOT be using the bathroom after dark. Even through the day I refused to go to the outhouse by myself. I was used to woods and I had used an outhouse before, but I was terribly uncomfortable being at the back of that house by myself. I wasn't the only one either.

Sadly the house is no longer there. After the children were grown and Clayton and Daphne retired and especially when Clayton got sick, everyone moved back to Kentucky. Shortly after they moved, the owner of the property had the house torn down. I'm not sure why. Maybe he just didn't want to do any upkeep or repairs on a house that was that old, but I have always thought it was because he was afraid. He had heard the stories after all, and to be honest, I have never known of anyone that didn't get creeped out by the house.

The history of the house is something that I am not very familiar with. It was built in the 1800s (like I said) and had been a part of the Underground Railroad at one point. There was a barn on the property as well. Before I was born, there had been an even older white house across the field and it had been very, very actively haunted (I'm talking things flying through the air and whatnot. So bad in fact that they eventually tore it down because no one would live in it.). The house was two and 1/2 stories and I think there might have been a basement, although I'm not quite sure. The first floor housed the living room, master bedroom, kitchen and dining room. The upstairs was two rooms which were used as bedrooms for the kids. The 1/2 story was in the upstairs bedroom. Beside an upstairs window was a little bitty door that led back into a storage area. I consider this to be 1/2 story because there was a small set of steps you had to climb in order to get to the door.

This brings us to our stories...finally. There are a lot of spooky tales from the house, but I'm going to share my two favorites.

Three Knocks:
The little door I mentioned earlier was kept locked. Back when my cousins were still small children, Clayton and Daphne kept the door locked and the key put away because they had some things stored in that area. In other words, there was no need for the kids to be playing inside the storage compartment.

One day, my cousins Janice and Helen (sisters) were playing house in their bedroom. Helen walked up the little steps and knocked on the little door, pretending that it was the front door to Janice's house.

From the other side of the door, came three knocks.

Needless to say the girls quickly evacuated the bedroom. No one was on the other side of the door. The door was locked. So who knocked back?

That story used to scare me the most because I always had to sleep in that bedroom when I came to visit. I made sure that my back was never turned to that creepy little door. God only knew what lived behind its locks.

The People Down the Lane:
This is a story that my cousin Janice will rarely talk about it. She doesn't like to relive it even though it happened well over thirty years ago.

She was outside playing in the front yard as a child and she had walked down to the end of her sidewalk and into the drive way when she happened to glance up the road and saw two people walking down the lane toward the house. One was a man and the other a young girl.

Thinking they were people she knew, she took off running towards them, waving happily and calling out their names. As she got closer she could tell that they were dressed "funny", wearing "old fashioned" clothes. As she got even closer she was frozen in fear at what she saw.

They looked like normal people but their eyes were completely black. Not unlike my own Lady in White, she could tell they weren't exactly transparent, but they weren't completely solid either. The thing that scared her the most though was the black eyes. There were no pupils, no whites, just complete darkness.

Terrified she turned and walked steadily but fast back to her house and the safety of her mother. She said she was so afraid, that she was too afraid to run. She felt like they would hurt her if they saw her run. Daphne went out to see who she was so afraid of, but no one was there. And that was the first and last time Janice ever saw those people with the black eyes.

Home Sweet Home - Round Three

A few more stories...then we'll move on to somewhere different tomorrow. Promise.

Little Children Everywhere:

Its not just ghostly adults that haunt our property...its children too. Although we've never actually seen these children, we have heard them on occasion.

The first person to ever hear the children was my Mom (big surprise, huh?). It was Christmas Eve and everyone was out the road at Ida's for our annual Nunn Christmas Eve Shindig. Mom had come home early to do the dishes from all the yummy food she had made for the gathering. She had gathered up some old dish cloths and was going to put them in Daddy's truck so he could use them for grease rags. She took them to his truck across the road and when she shut the door she heard children talking and laughing below the hill. You know, below the hill where no one lives and out in the woods? All the kids were at Ida's and were inside because of the snow, but yet she heard them, a boy and a girl, over the hill just talking and laughing away. Needless to say, she didn't wait around outside to see who it was.

Mom never told anyone about that night until years later when I had my little run in with the children. I had taken off from school that day because I was sick. I think I was about 12 at the time. I was sleeping so nicely until the scratching under the bed started. That woke me up pretty quickly to say the least. Too afraid to throw my feet over the side of the bed (at that age I still wasn't sure there really weren't monsters under there. Come to think of it, I'm still not sure there aren't.), I just laid there paralyzed and weighing my options. That's when I heard the voices out on my front porch. It was two little kids talking and giggling. One boy. One girl. I stayed wrapped in the covers until I heard them leave, then I jumped as far as I could toward the door (careful not to let my legs get to close to where the monsters might be hiding) and ran for Ida's. When I made it out there I was still in my gown and panting for breath. I cried the whole time I told them the story. There were no children at my house. None except for me. Maybe it was a mouse under my bed, but that didn't explain the voices on the front porch. When I told Mom about it, she finally told her story about hearing the kids on Christmas Eve all those years ago.

I've not heard the children since and to my knowledge no one else has either. Maybe they were just passing through. That's happened before...in fact, its happened with a whole group of ghosties before. Which brings me too...

The People in the TV:

Of all my haunted stories this is the one that seems to freak people out the most (well, ya know, not counting the "demon stories" but those are stories I don't like to share too often, so those won't be told here).

When I was little, I saw people in the television.That wouldn't be a problem if I were watching a show, but no, these people were only visible when the tv was turned off. I saw these people until I was around 12 or 13, then one day they just stopped showing up. Or so we thought.

The way it worked was I could be sitting on the living room couch for example and I would be in the room by myself, but when I looked into the dark tv, I saw people all around me. Some standing, some sitting, but all of them looking back at me through the tv. They never moved until I looked away, but when I would look back, there they would be again...just in a different position. It got so bad that I refused to be in the same room with the tv if it was turned off. To this day it still creeps me out, even though I no longer see the people.

At any rate, one day the tv people were there and one day they were gone. Never to be seen again, at least not by me.

Years later when we stopped talking about the tv people, my cousin Dillon came to live with us. He was around three at the time when he came to stay permanently. When he was still really small Mom used to get him to go to sleep at night by lying with him on the couch in the living room. She would turn off the lights except for the lamp and turn off the tv and see if she could get him to sleep. One day, he raised up from the couch and pointed to the tv. Mom asked him what was wrong. He said, "DaDa (cause that's what he calls her...even to this day) there is a man in the tv. He's looking at me. Make that man go away." Mom said that she immediately thought of all the stories I had told as a kid about the people in the tv and she had never believed me.

Mom asked Dillon, "How do I make him go away?" He told her, "He says that if you will go upstairs and turn on the light in April's room, he'll go away."

Mom didn't try to get him to sleep on the couch anymore...at least not with the tv turned off. I don't think Dillon ever saw the man again. At least if he has, he's too macho of a teenager to tell about it now. But something must have stuck with him, because even now, at 15, he still sleeps with the tv on in his room at night.

One for the Road:

And the final story for the night and the final one about my house, is really just a simple little thing. At least this one had other witnesses.

I had been seeing a white blur going around my living room and kitchen windows at night from the time I was a small child up until I was at least 14 or so. You could never quite get a good look at whatever it was that was peeping into the house, but you could still see it clearly enough to creep you out. It started at the front door. When you noticed it there, it would move to the kitchen window, when you noticed it there, it moved to the living room window, and so on and so forth. Making a circle around the house. Figuring that it was just another ghost to add to the growing list of haints at my house, I never told anyone about it.

When I was 12 or 13 I had a sleep over and me and the girls all stayed in the living room that night. Everyone was asleep except for me and my bestie, Crystal. We sat on the couch watching tv and eating popcorn. I had noticed the white blur for awhile, but didn't say anything because I didn't want to scare Crystal or have her think I was crazy. Finally, she turned to me and said, "I know you are probably going to think I'm crazy, but I have to tell you this. I have been seeing a white thing looking in the windows all night long." Then she described exactly what I had been seeing all those times. It was scary but it was at least a comfort to know I wasn't the only one seeing it.

I told Mom about it the next day and pitched a fit until she went out and bought blinds for every window in the house. That took care of my ghostly peeping Tom. But that was years ago and the blinds are gone now. I don't know if the white thing is still there or not, because when I'm alone at night in the house, I just avoid looking at the windows altogether. Ya know, just in case.

More tomorrow!

Home Sweet Home - Round Two of Stories

The Whistler:

Now, our house isn't just haunted by one specter. Oh no, it could never be that simple! In fact, our entire road is full of ghost stories, but we'll just concentrate on the ones that have directly affected those in my own home.

The first person that I know of to ever encounter the man known as "The Whistler" was my mother. As she tells it, I was still in diapers and they hadn't been living in the white house for long. It was cold weather and Dad was out with the boys doing a little coon huntin'. Mom was left alone with wee baby me and she had decided to go on to bed. Before she tucked us in for the night she wanted to gather up some wood for the stove and the wood pile was across the road in the shed.

Not thinking anything of it, she put on her housecoat and went across the road to gather wood. While she was gathering she heard someone walking down the road towards her and whistling a little song as they walked. Our road was still gravel back then and she could hear whomever it was kicking up the gravel as he/she walked. Thinking it might be my Dad coming home and knowing he had a gun and wouldn't be able to tell it was her, she shined her flashlight his way and yelled "Ed! Its me! I'm getting some wood!" She could see his boots and the bottoms of this legs and he stopped walking when she yelled.

She went on gathering her wood when she realized that the whistling had stopped and Daddy still hadn't come over to help her gather the wood up. She shined her light back up the road. No one was there. She's a smart lady, so she dropped the wood and ran back into the house and locked the door.

Turns out, the next day when Daddy really did come home Mom found out that it obviously wasn't him she saw. In fact, it wasn't anyone. It was "The Whistler".

That's not the last time he showed up either, although that was the last time when he visibly showed himself. I had a slumber party while in high school and all the girls stayed with me out in a little camper in the front yard. As the night wore on we started hearing whistling. It would come from out the road, walk around the camper, and then go back the way it came. It did that throughout the night. When the sun rose, The Whistler finally stopped making his rounds.

Since then, I've heard The Whistler many times. Never while I'm outside thank goodness. I've heard him while getting ready for work or school. I've heard him while sitting in the living room. You just never know when you'll get to hear him whistling his little song.

A Lil' Halloween Fun

Well, I don't post on here very often anymore. I don't have the time. I used to enjoy it but ya know, with school and work and all that jazz, there just aren't enough hours in the day to sit down and type something up. Plus my life isn't really all that interesting at the moment. But in the spirit of Halloween, I thought I would share a few "true tales of terror".

Back when I had a Myspace, one Halloween I ran a contest where I wrote scary/creepy stories and people got to guess if they were true or not. The person who guessed correctly most often won a $25 gift card to Wal-Mart. A lot of the tales were true and based on serial killers (I probably have a weird and unhealthy obsession with serial killers) and Tabitha Sams was eventually declared the winner. It was actually a bigger success than I figured it would be,  but since then, I've not posted any more tales. So I thought I would share some with ya'll from now until Halloween.

I have to admit, I'm stealing this idea from another blogger (who has a much better blog than mine...complete with cool music and great photos) but it was such a neat idea I couldn't help but to steal it. I hope she can forgive me (and I hope you all check out her blog too. This is the link to her Facebook page: http://www.facebook.com/thefreespiritchronicles?sk=wall ).

Now I will put in a little caveat here: The stories I will tell are all true. Meaning, either I experienced them personally or they were told to me by people I trust to tell me the truth about such things. I'd like to tell you that I'm "not at all superstitious" because that just sounds so darn mature, but that would be a lie. And I'm honest to a fault (it gets me in trouble sometimes in fact). I'm like Pinocchio, if I lie, you know it. Plus, I'm a believer in most things paranormal and metaphysical (I blame this on my Mother, who used to lovingly dress like a witch at different times throughout the year and chase me around the house, told me scary stories for bedtime stories, and would let me stay up until midnight to watch horror movies on late-night tv with her when I was a child). I believe in life after death...whatever that may be. For lack of a better word, we'll call these "ghost" stories, although I'm not sure that "ghost" is a really good definition of some of the spooky things I'll post, but we'll leave it at that.

Now you are more than welcome not to believe anything I say. In fact, you can think I'm foolish or childish and I'll be the first to admit I have always had a big imagination. You can even offer me scientific explanations of the things I've seen, heard, and felt or that others have told me about their experiences. Its all fine and good. But please be respectful, these are my beliefs and experiences and I would be respectful if it were you.

P.S. I realize that I work full-time and pull nine hours of Grad school and this could possibly make me a little crazy, but I assure you, I am not crazy. (Isn't that what all the crazy people say?) Weird, maybe, but not crazy.

Now, lets get started...

My Home Sweet Home:

First in line for the "boogery" tales treatment is the house I grew up in. Technically, its NOT the house I grew up in. When I was born my parents lived in a trailer behind my Mamaw Mae's old white farm house, but pretty soon after my Mom pooped me out, Mamaw decided to switch homes with us, so we packed up our few belongings and moved into the white house. I don't remember moving in (I was an infant after  all) but I have fond memories of the white house as I was growing up. Things being as they are, the house soon began to show its age and started falling apart on us, so we briefly moved into a two room "shack" across the road,\ while we had a new house built in the same spot as the white house. That's the house I lived in from around age five until I moved into my Mamaw Mae's other house...this one beside my parents' home. Now there are plenty of stories around the white house, but we'll get to those later...maybe. For now, we'll concentrate on the house I grew up in and the one my parents and brother currently live in.

The Lady in White:

My first "experience" with the otherworldly came courtesy of "The Lady in White" (as she will forever be called). I was about nine and it was a bright, beautiful Saturday morning in the summer. I was sitting in the living room watching cartoons while Mom fixed breakfast. At the time, the kitchen and the living room were side by side, separated only by a wall that had a nice little counter cut out in it. To the left was the front door, to the right was a small hallway where the bedrooms were located. From my perch on the couch I could see both my bedroom door and my parents' bedroom door. Both doors were closed because a.) Dad was still asleep and b.) I've always had this weird habit of closing doors, it bugs me when they are open.

While I watched Bugs Bunny something caught my eye and I turned to look down the hall. While I watched, this woman came out of my bedroom, looked at me, and then went into my Dad's bedroom. It took a second to register in my nine year old brain what had just happened. Mom was in the kitchen. Dad was asleep (and obviously not a woman). And we were the only people in the house. So who was that lady?! I clearly remember what she looked like. She was all white and semi-transparent...not that I could see through her exactly, but she wasn't quite solid like normal people. She had long hair that was hanging loosely down her back and she was wearing a long dress that came to her ankles. I don't really remember seeing feet at all and she didn't walk...she floated. Needless to say, I was pretty darn upset! I jumped off the couch, ran into the kitchen and glued myself to my mothers leg while I cried and rambled on and on about "the lady in white".

I've not seen her since. That doesn't mean she's gone though.

Mom saw her once not too long ago. At the time I had a long white gown and if you know me well enough, you know I wear my p.j.s to do just about everything in when I'm at home. So I had gone outside one Saturday morning to feed the critters. I was wearing that white gown. Mom was in the kitchen on the phone. While she was talking to her sister, I came back in the front door and walked back into the hall and into my bedroom. Realizing she had something important to ask me, she yelled out my name. When I didn't answer she got mad and walked into the dining room (which used to be the living room before we built onto the house) to hunt me down. Just as she was walking to the bedroom, I came in the front door.

That's right. I had been outside the whole time. She had seen the lady in white come into the house and only thought it was me.

Now Mom and I have a good hearty love of all things scary, so you may think we are just suffering from a good old fashioned case of over-active imagination syndrome, but my Dad is a very practical man. Its not that he doesn't believe in such things, its just that he chooses to ignore the things that go bump in the night. That doesn't mean they ignore him.

Years after my first encounter with our lady, he was talking to Mom about it and she had commented on how she had never really believed my story from when I was nine until she had seen the woman for herself. Dad told her, "Well, I always believed her, because I've seen that woman too." See, when I was younger, I would sometimes get creeped out in the middle of the night (for obvious reasons) and was afraid to sleep in my bedroom by myself. So on occasion, my Mom would pull a mattress into my bedroom floor and sleep in my floor until I could get to sleep (one of the benefits of being at only child at the time, was that I was extremely spoiled when it came to extra attention). Dad told her that on several occasions on those nights, he would wake up to see a woman standing at his bedroom door looking at him. He thought it was Mom and he would call out her name, but she never answered. He would get afraid that something was wrong and get out of bed to go find out what the problem was. Only, when he opened my bedroom door, there Mom would be deep asleep on her mattress. So on the nights when Mom wasn't in the bed, the lady in white would pay Dad a visit. He said it never really scared him, just made him mad that she had woke him up. ;-)

Since then, I don't think anyone has seen her much. She's still there though. From time to time you will hear her walking through the house at night. True, it could just be the house settling, but its a different sound from that. Its especially apparent when you sleep up stairs and you can hear her walking up the steps...something I do NOT miss about living in that house, since my bedroom was the only room upstairs. One morning while I was in high school, Mom and I were in the bathroom getting ready for work and school. The bathroom door was shut and Mom and I were idly chit-chatting about whatever was on our minds, when we heard the floor squeak in the hall. We thought Dad had gotten up early and needed in the bathroom (a really annoying habit the males in our household seem to have whenever we are trying to get ready to go somewhere - go figure). But we quickly realized it wasn't Dad when we heard what sounded like a full skirt go swishing by the door and towards the front door. We just gave each other a look and a shrug and went on about our business. We figured maybe the lady in white needed to go somewhere too.

That's enough for this one. I'll post a few more about my house later tonight. Until then, enjoy this one. :-)

Vacation 2011 - First Edition

Vacation was this past week and I know some of you like to read my vacation posts about what I did, what I saw, and what I thought of the whole experience. So I thought I would post a quick blog about the most recent vacation. The reason the title is "First Edition" is because I have another vacation planned for October. I'm going to be going back to my favorite city, New Orleans, in October. The last time I was there was back in 2009, so I'm due another visit soon. Believe me when I say, October can not get here soon enough.

Now...back to this past week.

I'll keep this simple because I know a lot of people have been to Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, so I won't bore those folks with details that they have experienced themselves. So here's the skinny...

Our first stop was in the Pigeon Forge/Gatlinburg area of Tennessee. Neither Mom nor I had ever been to either of those spots. Go figure. I mean, we live about three hours away from there and most people we know have been there multiple times, but I guess Mom and I are always trying to travel to distant lands when we go on vacation, so we never think to try somewhere close to home. Anyway, we started in Tennessee.

The only tourist thing we did while there was visit the Titanic museum. It was nice, but I had seen much of the same thing way back in 1997 on a trip to Memphis with a program called Educational Talent Search. So the museum stop was more for Mom than for myself. It was neat though and if you haven't been and if you are interested in the Titanic, then I suggest you give it a whirl. You pretty much tour it at your own pace and there is a lot of history to explore about the ship. I'm not sure how I felt about the music that sometimes played throughout the museum and my little earphone thingy because it was music from the movie "Titanic" and quite frankly, the best part of that film was when the ship went down. That sounds horrid of me, I know, but you have to keep in mind that it was a movie about love and romance and if you know me well enough, then you know I don't have a lot of patience for those types of movies. I thought the special effects were nice when the ship went down though and I remember getting teary eyed in the theater when all those folks were drowning. That's the same effect the museum had on me. At the very end of museum while looking at the mural of the ship going down and while hearing/reading the stories of some of the people that died...I got a little watery eyed. Those deaths were tragic and unnecessary and the fact that most of those that died were the ones that were poor...well, that just pisses me off. So given the right circumstances, it can be an emotional experience.

We ended up getting a room at the Pigeon River Inn while in Pigeon Forge. It was in pretty decent shape for a cheap hotel and our room had a little balcony that overlooked the Little Pigeon River. I also enjoyed chatting up the guy who ran it because he was originally from Berea.  A few too many beers that first night and I was having a pretty good time just hanging out in the hotel room. :-)

The next morning we headed toward North Carolina. This required us to venture through the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. I would love, love, love to go back there someday when I have more time and the temperatures are cooler. Just driving through the area was beautiful, although it did cause me to develop a headache as we climbed up the mountains (I'm assuming it was sinuses. All I know is when we finally started back down, my head stopped hurting.) We ran into some road work and what should have taken minutes to get through, took hours. It was horrible. It was made worse by the blistering heat. People were pulled off the road because their cars had overheated. Some people gave up and turned to start back down the mountain. We ventured on and eventually we made it to Cherokee.

Now, I'm not 100% certain on just how much Cherokee blood pulses through my veins, but it is there. I'm no genealogist and I don't know a whole lot about my family history other than what folks have told me from family legends and stories. I'm pretty certain I'm a nice hearty mixture of Cherokee, French, German, and Irish. I always tell folks this mixture is what makes me so stubborn...and have a love whiskey and beer. ;-) But the truth is my Cherokee bloodline comes from my Mom's side of the family tree and I know very little about that side, so like I said, I'm not sure just how much Cherokee I am. It was important to Mom though to explore our heritage and so we went to Cherokee, North Carolina.

It was a lot smaller than what I thought it would be but it was nice. I loved all the painted bears in the streets and the Cherokee Museum was neat as well. If you are looking for a cheap little history lesson, then head on into Cherokee.



After the critter cuddling, we headed on towards South Carolina and ended up spending the night in some rinky dink motel about three hours from Myrtle Beach. It was a little scary because it was right off the interstate exit and the only other buildings around were a run down gas station and a dirty looking restaurant. That being said, that is typically how we travel. I don't know what it is about us, maybe our lower class backgrounds or our badass attitudes or whatever, but when we travel, we don't typically do it in style. We have been known to find some of the most run down looking hotels/motels to stay in while on the road. If you don't believe me, just ask my friend Tabby, because she's traveled with us when we've stayed in places where the floors were peeling up, there were suspicious stains on the blankets, cigarette burns in the pillow cases, and you could only sleep when you propped a chair in front of the door for added protection. This place in S.C. wasn't hardly that bad, but it was pushing it. ;-)

Finally we made it to Myrtle Beach and checked into our hotel. This one was super fancy (at least for us). It was complete with a kitchenette and the staff were super nice and helpful. To be honest we spent most of our time in Myrtle Beach just chilling out on the beach. We did a lot of night walks along the shore because it was so dang hot while we were there. Even with the heat though I can't complain because the weather was perfect, the beach wasn't crowded, and the people were really friendly and nice. This is with the exception of another tourist on our last day there. She was rude and snotty and I wanted to toss her into the middle of the ocean.

On our last day in the area, after checking out of the hotel, we went to Brookgreen Gardens. We made a quick trip back to Broadway on the Beach for some photos and a few more postcards for people before we headed to the gardens though. I loved some of the shops there but I quickly realized I needed to stay out of them or I would blow all my money while I was there. :-)

Brookgreen Gardens was my favorite! I loved the sculptures and all the different gardens with their beautiful flowers, shrubs, trees, and ponds. I loved the butterfly house as well.  I could spend days there I'm sure. While we were leaving from there we got lost again and ended up in Litchfield and I fell in love with that little town as well. It is precisely what you picture when you think of a beach town.

Coming home we ended up having to stay in another ratty motel just shy of the North Carolina border and then we got up bright and early the next day we headed back to the hills of Kentucky. We got home later that evening and I've been relaxing at home ever since.

So here is my opinion of Myrtle Beach: It was nice. Everyone should do it once. But it was also one of my least favorite places that I've been. It was actually too touristy for my tastes. I think I would like the beaches of South Carolina if I could stay in a place that was a bit quieter and farther away from the big hotels. So if I ever go back to the area, then I fully intend to rent a beach house in Litchfield or someplace like it. I think I would enjoy that much better.

Patsy Lou - A Family Blog

I have an Aunt that I've never met.

My Aunt Patsy Lou has been institutionalized since she was a small child. When she was around three years old (my family can correct me if I'm wrong on any of this story), she had to go for her vaccinations at the local health department. Since she was a little behind on one of the vaccinations, they gave her a double dose. That night she started running a fever and when it finally broke, she wasn't the same child.

Patsy Lou, up until that point, had been a normal, healthy baby girl. The first baby girl in the family if I'm correct. My Mamaw eventually had 11 children, of which my Father is the youngest. There was John Henry, Clayton, Leonard, Hershel, Odell, Eugene, Douglas, Ida, Loretta, Patsy Lou, and my Dad, Eddie. (Although that isn't their birth order, I can't remember what order they were born in, but I used to know...and yes, I do keep track of things like that in my family.)

My Mamaw Mae kept Patsy Lou at home with her for as long as she could, but with younger children in the house, it became too much for her to tend to, so she made the heartbreaking decision to send her to a state hospital. Ida told me today that Patsy Lou first went to a hospital in Frankfort. In 1971, she was admitted to a facility in Louisville. Keep in mind, my family lives in Gray Hawk, so that's quite a distance if someone wanted to travel to see her. My Mamaw didn't know how to drive and so I'm not sure how often, if ever, she was able to go visit Patsy Lou. Not that it mattered much to Patsy Lou, because she had suffered such severe brain damage that she had pretty much regressed back to infancy.

Several weeks back Ida and I had planned to go visit with Patsy Lou in Louisville. She has been assigned a Social Worker that I would like to meet and discuss Patsy Lou's care-plan with her (Ida was named Patsy Lou's guardian when my Mamaw passed away). I wanted to tour the facility. I wanted to meet Patsy Lou. And I'm not going to lie, considering that I would like to work in a mental hospital at some point in my social work career, I was curious as to what that would actually require.

I don't talk about it much, but mental illnesses and especially mental disabilities are both things I can be quite passionate about. There's a lot of stigma associated with both things, but believe me when I say, I'm a firm believer that at some point in our lives, we all suffer from a mental illness...we just don't always get diagnosed for it.

Mental disability is different from illness though. Patsy Lou doesn't have a mental illness, she has a disability. It bothers me that all too often people with mental disabilities that are institutionalized are forgotten about. Its much the same way when someone is incarcerated. "Out of sight, out of mind" is very true in these situations. So I wanted to go see Patsy Lou because even though she won't know the difference, I wanted her to know that I was thinking about her. Every day I think about her. Which may sound strange to people, seeing as how I've never met her. I still consider her my Aunt though, just as much as my Aunt Loretta and my Aunt Ida. I'm sure that if circumstances had of been different, she would have been a great aunt too, just like Loretta and Ida. It makes me sad to think of things she has missed out on in life and by default, the things her family has missed out on as well. And I can't imagine what Mamaw Mae felt like.

Today Ida got a package in the mail that contained copies of Patsy Lou's "Individualized Support Plan." I told Ida I wanted to take it with me and read it tonight. I'm learning new things about Patsy Lou and because I don't know her well enough to have a family post containing all my thoughts and memories of her, I wanted to include a few things from her files.

First, her "profound mental retardation" was caused by encephalitis due to the vaccination. If you want to know what encephalitis is, then follow this link: http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmedhealth/PMH0002388/
She obviously has other physical and mental problems due to the encephalitis, her age (she's 60) and to being institutionalized for so long. During one of her evaluations, it was noted that she could "hit the switch" during one exercise and that she maintained eye contact and "leaned forward...as if trying to initiate an interaction" with one of the test administrators. I know those things don't sound like much, but they actually made me smile.

The thing is, I'm not writing this to be sad or make anyone feel bad. I'm writing this to celebrate the life that Patsy Lou does have. It may not be what I wish it was, but it doesn't mean that she's less worthy of celebrating or loving. People with mental disabilities are still people. If you have a child that is healthy and happy and "normal" then thank your lucky stars. Be grateful for the small things in life. If you have a child with a mental disability, then be grateful for them too. Love them no matter what.

I may not have any memories with Patsy Lou to share in this particular family blog (the trip Ida and I were going to take never happened due to circumstances beyond our control), but I felt like she deserved a family blog of her own just as much as anyone else in my family. So here's to Patsy Lou. I hope to meet you soon!

Human Rights

In one of my social work classes today, the teacher was giving a presentation on human rights. Apparently, only 10% of Americans know about the United Nations Universal Declaration of Human Rights. You can research the history on how that came about, but it kind of bothered me that only 10% of us had ever heard of this document. (I first heard about it as an undergrad through a charity I support.) So, in this blog, I will be posting the document. Just so ya'll know your rights.

"UNIVERSAL DECLARATION OF HUMAN RIGHTS
Preamble:
Whereas recognition of the inherent dignity and of the equal and inalienable rights of all members of the human family is the foundation of freedom, justice, and peace in the world,
Whereas disregard and contempt for human rights have resulted in barbarous acts which have outraged the conscience of mankind, and the advent of a world in which human beings shall enjoy freedom of speech and belief and freedom from fear and want has been proclaimed as the highest aspiration of the common people,
Whereas it is essential, if man is not to be compelled to have recourse, as a last resort, to rebellion against tyranny and oppression, that human rights should be protected by the rule of law,
Whereas it is essential to promote the development of friendly relations between nations,
Whereas the people's of the United Nations have in the Charter reaffirmed their faith in fundamental human rights, in the dignity and worth of the human person and in the equal rights of men and women and have determined to promote social progress and better standards of life in larger freedom,
Whereas Member States have pledged themselves to achieve, in cooperation with the United Nations, the promotion of universal respect for and observance of human rights and fundamental freedoms,
Whereas a common understanding of these rights and freedoms is of the greatest importance for the full realization of this pledge,
Now, therefore, The General Assembly, proclaims this Universal Declaration of Human Rights as a common standard of achievement for all peoples and all nations, to the end that every individual and every organ of society, keeping this Declaration constantly in mind, shall strive by teaching and education to promote respect for these rights and freedoms and by progressive measures, national and international, to secure their universal and effective recognition and observance, both among the peoples of Member States themselves and among the peoples of territories under their jurisdiction.

Article 1: All human beings are born free and equal in dignity and rights. They are endowed with reason and conscience and should act towards one another in a spirit of brotherhood.
Article 2: Everyone is entitled to all the rights and freedoms set forth in this Declaration, without distinction of any kind, such as race, colour, sex, language, religion, political or other opinion, national or social origin, property, birth or other status. Furthermore, no distinction shall be made on the basis of the political, jurisdictional, or international status of the country or territory to which a person belongs, whether it be independent, trust, non-self-governing or under any other limitation of sovereignty.
Article 3: Everyone has the right to life, liberty, and security of person.
Article 4: No on shall be held in slavery or servitude; slavery and the slave trade shall be prohibited in all their forms.
Article 5: No one shall be subjected to torture or to cruel, inhuman or degrading treatment or punishment.
Article 6: Everyone has the right to recognition everywhere as a person before the law.
Article 7: All are equal before the law and are entitled without any discrimination to equal protection of the law. All are entitled to equal protection against any discrimination in violation of this Declaration and against any incitement to such discrimination.
Article 8: Everyone has the right to an effective remedy by the competent national tribunals for acts violating the fundamental rights granted him by the constitution or by law.
Article 9: No one shall be subjected to arbitrary arrest, detention or exile.
Article 10: Everyone is entitled in full equality to a fair and public hearing by an independent and impartial tribunal, in the determination of his rights and obligations and of any criminal charge against him.
Article 11: 1.) Everyone charged with a penal offence has the right to be presumed innocent until proved guilty according to law in a public trial at which he has had all the guarantees necessary for his defense. 2.) No one shall be held guilty of any penal offence on account of any act or omission which did not constitute a penal offense, under national or international law, at the time when it was committed. Nor shall a heavier penalty be imposed than the one that was applicable at the time the penal offense was committed.
Article 12: No one shall be subjected to arbitrary interference with his privacy, family, home or correspondence, nor to attacks upon his honour and reputation. Everyone has the right to the protection of the law against such interference or attacks.
Article 13: 1.) Everyone has the right to freedom of movement and residence within the borders of each State. 2.) Everyone has the right to leave any country, including his own, and to return to his country.
Article 14: 1.) Everyone has the right to seek and to enjoy in other countries asylum from persecution. 2.) This right may not be invoked in the case of prosecutions genuinely arising from non-political crimes or from acts contrary to the purposes and principles of the United Nations.
Article 15: 1.) Everyone has the right to a nationality. 2.) No one shall be arbitrarily deprived of his nationality nor denied the right to change his nationality.
Article 16:
Article 17: 1.) Everyone has the right to own property alone as well as in association with others. 2.) No one shall be arbitrarily deprived of his property.
Article 18: Everyone has the right to freedom of thought, conscience and religion; this right includes freedom to change his religion or belief, and freedom, either alone or in community with others and in public or private, to manifest his religion or belief in teaching, practice, worship and observance.
Article 19: Everyone has the right to freedom of opinion and expression; this right includes freedom to hold opinions without interference and to seek, receive and impart information and ideas through any media and regardless of frontiers.
Article 20: 1.) Everyone has the right to freedom of peaceful assembly and association. 2.) No one may be compelled to belong to an association.
Article 21: 1.) Everyone has the right to take part in the government of his country, directly or through freely chosen representatives. 2.) Everyone has the right to equal access to public services in his country. 3.) The will of the people shall be the basis of the authority of government; this will shall be expressed in periodic and genuine elections which shall be by universal and equal suffrage and shall be held by secret vote or by equivalent free voting procedures.
Article 22: Everyone, as a member of society, has the right to social security and is entitled to realization, through national effort and international co-operation and in accordance with the organization and resources of each State, of the economic, social, and cultural rights indispensable for his dignity and the free development of his personality.
Article 23: 1.) Everyone has the right to work, to free choice of employment, to just and favourable conditions of work and to protection against unemployment. 2.) Everyone, without any discrimination, has the right to equal pay for equal work. 3.) Everyone who works has the right to just and favourable remuneration ensuring for himself and his family and existence worthy of human dignity, and supplemented, if necessary, by other means of social protection. 4.) Everyone has the right to form and to join trade unions for the protection of his interests.
Article 24: Everyone has the right to rest and leisure, including reasonable limitation of working hours and periodic holidays with pay.
Article 25: 1.) Everyone has the right to a standard of living adequate for the health and well-being of himself and of his family, including food, clothing, housing and medical care and necessary social services, and the right to security in the event of unemployment, sickness, disability, widowhood, old age, or other lack of livelihood in circumstances beyond his control. 2.) Motherhood and childhood are entitled to special care and assistance. All children, whether born in or out of wedlock, shall enjoy the same social protection.
Article 26: 1.) Everyone has the right to education. Education shall be free, at least in the elementary and fundamental stages. Elementary education shall be compulsory. Technical and professional education shall be generally available and higher education shall be equally accessible to all on the basis of merit. 2.) Education shall be directed to the full development of the human personality and to the strengthening of respect for human rights and fundamental freedoms. It shall promote understanding, tolerance, and friendship among all nations, racial or religious groups, and shall further the activities of the United Nations for the maintenance of peace. 3.) Parents have a prior right to choose the kind of education that shall be given to their children.
Article 27: 1.) Everyone has the right freely to participate in the cultural life of the community, to enjoy the arts and to share in scientific advancement and its benefits. 2.) Everyone has the right to the protection of the moral and material interests resulting from any scientific, literary or artistic production of which he is the author.
Article 28: Everyone is entitled to a social and international order in which the rights and freedoms set forth in this Declaration can be fully realized.
Article 29: 1.) Everyone has duties to the community in which alone the free and full development of his personality is possible. 2.) In the exercise of his rights and freedoms, everyone shall be subject only to such limitations as are determined by law solely for the purpose of securing due recognition and respect for the rights and freedoms or others and of meeting the just requirements of morality, public order and the general welfare in a democratic society. 3.) These rights and freedoms may in no case be exercised contrary to the purposes and principles of the United Nations.
Article 30: Nothing in this Declaration may be interpreted as implying for any State, group or person any right to engage in any activity or to perform any act aimed at the destruction of any of the rights and freedoms set forth herein."



For further information you can check out the following:
http://www.un.org/en/

Boo Hoo

Not that anyone cares about my nose issues, but I felt the need to share all the same.

For three weeks now I've had nose bleeds. This is not only unacceptable, but really quite unheard of for me. Sure, sure I've had a yucky bloody nose before due to sinus infections and whatnot, but never an actual NOSE BLEED. I'm nearly 30 and my nose has never bled before.

Three weeks ago, I woke up feeling quite grand and was getting ready for a first birthday party, when my nose started bleeding for no reason at all. Ten minutes later, when it finally decided to stop, I was a little worried. I brushed it off to the fact that three days before I had a MASSIVE headache and had taken six Advil just to dull the pain (the headache only left completely after about 12 hours of sleep, another unheard of thing for me).

That was on a Saturday, the following Wednesday it happened again. This time I woke up, took my cat to the vet, then came home and took a nap. Fifteen minutes after waking up, lo and behold, another nose bleed. Fifteen minutes later and I finally got it to stop.


The following Monday night I had another nosebleed at work. Took twenty minutes this time.

I had convinced myself I could manage without going to the doctor. People kept telling me my sinuses were probably just dry from the cold weather (even though my sinus had never done this before), so I decided to just leave it at that. However, this week, I have managed a nose bleed every single day. So, I reluctantly made a doctor's appointment.

Today was that appointment. After the exam (which consisted of a light in both nostrils) the doctor informed me she saw a "hole" in one of my veins in the left nostril (which is where the bleeding was coming from). She told me to use saline solution nose spray, a humidifier, and Vaseline to combat my dry, irritated nose and my vein would heal itself. If that doesn't work, then I will have to get a referral to a specialist and they will BURN the hole closed. I repeat...BURN the hole closed.

So I got what she told me to get and guess what? No luck. In fact, now the nose bleeds are worse. Whereas they used to only come when I blew my nose, now they just spring a leak whenever they feel like it. I have had so many nosebleeds today/tonight, that I've lost count. I can't move without running to get tissue and pinching my nose together. I've ruined my shirt. And quite frankly, I'm disgusted. As gross as it is for all ya'll to hear about my nose problems, imagine how gross it is for me. I only talk about it because I'm worried too death about it.

Now its BOTH nostrils that bleed. It takes longer and longer to make them stop. I'm worried that I will have to get both sides burned closed, something I am NOT looking forward too at all. But mostly, I'm worried about my little head. Two years ago I was in a wreck that left me with "closed head trauma" and I still do not remember a darn thing about it. I don't know if the leaking pipes have anything to do with the head injury, but it scares me too death that it does.

I am not happy with my current situation at all. :-(

Earthlings

Short post. Promise.

Not going to get on a soap box here. No preaching coming from me. Just an offer for anyone who wants too, please watch this documentary. Be advised though that it is EXTREMELY graphic. Very little is held back. Please do NOT let your children watch it.

Anyway, let me just say, this movie has made me terribly uncomfortable. There were parts of it that I couldn't stand to watch and that's saying a lot coming from a farm girl. Growing up we would raise our own beef and pork. Typically we sent the animals off to the Mennonites in Manchester to have it processed, but we would kill the pigs (sometimes we did this with the cow, but it was rare) ourselves and boil 'em to get all the hair off, cut 'em open, and all that jazz. It was a process that took an entire day, but fed us for months. I have had a great many pets that I have done my best to take care of through the years, most of them (some of them have died unexpectedly from illness and things out of my control) have lived to ripe old ages and passed away due to their age. We have always had chickens for both meat and eggs. My Dad and I operated a dairy for quite a few years. So I am no stranger to what happens when animals are used as pets or for food. I have a very realistic idea of what goes on to get a burger on my plate. That being said, this movie has made me want to be a vegetarian or vegan.

Its highly unlikely that I will follow through with that, but what I have decided to do is to only eat meat and milk products if I know where they are coming from. I don't want to eat factory farm food. I've known for years that bad stuff happens on the farms, but to see some of the images really made it hit home. I'm not comfortable with the comparison of eating meat to being a Nazi and I love seafood, red meat, and cheese, so I'm not trying to be pious and put down anyone's personal choices. But I hope that ya'll will watch this so that it makes you a little more aware of how we, as humans, treat animals, especially those that we think are yummy.

So you may not want to stop eating meat and you may not become an animal rights activist, but watch the movie and try to make a more conscious effort about what you put on your plate and into your body. When you watch some of the video, ask yourself if you are really comfortable with eating something that had to live in those kinds of conditions before it was slaughtered? Ask yourself, if you really know what happens to the meat before it gets to your plate, even after its slaughtered? I know not everyone can afford organic or free range or cruelty free. I can't really afford it either. But everyone can ask for a few more restrictions on factory farms or at least for adequate investigations and follow through with regulations that are already in place.  And by all means, we can all afford to go to our local Farmer's Market and buy locally grown and produced items (even if they are just veggies and eggs).

I support farmers. I think people all over the world need to eat. And I like a cheap grocery bill. But egads, this movie has further made me worry about the state of the food we are putting into our bodies these days. If you find that you can't stomach this film (pun fully intended), then check out "Food, Inc." because it will help you to educate yourself on the whole process. "Earthlings" is more about the animals themselves and not just food animals, but wild animals and pets.

So, like I said, watch it, think about it, discuss it, and then make up your own mind. For the love of all that is holy, don't watch it in front of your children or when you are eating. And for the record, our dairy wasn't like the one in the film. Our cows were never chained up to holding pens and such and we didn't use chemicals to make them produce more milk or anything of that nature. If they were sick, they were given vet approved meds and taken off the line until they were well. They were adequately fed and watered and allowed to roam the pasture land every single day when they were not being milked (which didn't take too long to milk them anyway). You need no further testament of love put into a small scale family owned dairy operation than the fact that my "pet cow" is actually one of the herd and she's every bit of 15 years old (I don't know her age for sure, but she's waaay up there), which means she has outlived the "average" dairy cow.

And another thing, just the simple fact that I'm posting this is why I was so pissed when my neighbors had the nerve to call the Humane Society on me just because Emmie has a big mouth and was in heat. Like I would ever be cruel to any animal. For gosh sakes, I still feel guilty about running over that 'possum the other night! Phew!

Without further ado...here is the link.
http://www.earthlings.com/

City Mouse vs. Country Mouse

I'm home.

Not home, as in, "a place to sleep" but actually H-O-M-E.

People have had a hard time understanding why I've moved back to Jackson County when I've been living in Richmond these past several months, so I thought I would try to explain.

First, there is the obvious...its cheaper. True, it will cost more as far as gas is concerned, but other than that, it is a lot cheaper to live in Gray Hawk. I don't have to pay rent and I have a home of my own (albeit a tiny little thing) that I've been trying to fix up the past several years. I have bills outside of paying my rent and because I'm moving back, I've been able to pay off three of those bills. Its a great sense of accomplishment to be able to say I'm a little closer to being debt free. So yeah, its cheaper. The distance I have to travel to work and class kinda stinks, but I can live with it. I've done it for years, so I'm pretty sure its nothing I won't be able to handle for a while longer.

There are other reasons I moved back though.

I'm a small town kinda gal, I've discovered. In all my traveling, its the smaller towns that I enjoy visiting the most and when my travels are finished, its Gray Hawk that I enjoy coming back too. Living in Richmond was nice because it was convenient. I could walk to my favorite restaurants, go shopping at all hours of the night or day, it took five minutes to get to work, and thirty minutes to get to class. It was great for those reasons...but really, those were the only reasons it was great.

I thought when I moved to Richmond I would get to see the people I care about more often. I was wrong. Everyone has such busy lives (including me) and it was hard to get everyone together. I lived literally two minutes from my Goddaughter and yet I hardly ever saw her. My life centered around work and school. The only time I was actually at the apartment was when I was sleeping. Sad but true. Sure I had a couple of parties and I shared my futon with my cousin, Kayla, but otherwise, it was pretty lonesome. I'm quite shy and quiet in person, but as a general rule, I do like being in contact with people from time to time. Living in the apartment made me feel like a hermit. Someday I'd like to be a hermit living all alone in a cabin way back in a hollow somewhere, but that day isn't anytime in my near future. 

I like living in Gray Hawk. I have a love/hate relationship with Jackson County most days. There are things I hate about my hometown. I mean, I despise some things! But on the whole, I like it here. Its home. In all my time living in Richmond, I never called it home. It was always "the apartment" and when I came back to Jackson County on the weekends, I always told folks I was "going home."

I like that when I see people out, even people I don't really know, I can say 'Howdy" and they will say it back. I like that when there is a funeral procession driving by, people stop on the side of the road out of respect and wait for it to pass. I like that people wave at you when you meet them on the road, whether you know them or not. I like that people I know ask me how my family is when they talk to me and how that people I just met can look at me and know who "my people" are just by the shape of my nose or the way I smile. I like the feeling of being connected to people when they figure out that they went to high school with one of my cousins or used to work with my Mom or whatever the case may be.

Living in a small town can suck, don't get me wrong. People gossip about everything and everyone. If someone has a grudge against you, then you will hear about it for years and years. Certain families can't get along with other families. A lot of things are "political" in nature. There isn't a wide variety of places to shop or eat or have any other form of entertainment. There are brilliant people and there are ignorant people, and most of us fall somewhere in between. But you will find all those things in a lot of other places, at least at home, I KNOW where I stand with folks. I know who to avoid and who I can trust.

I like being able to open my windows and let in a cool breeze. I like that my cats can climb trees in my front yard and that Emmie can meow as loud as she wants and no one will tell me to get rid of her. I like that I can walk for miles down my road, by myself, at night and still feel safe. And while I'm walking there will be at least half a dozen people that know me that will stop and ask if I've had car trouble and need some help. I've had it happen lots of times. I like the trees and the flowers and the birds and all the other animals. These things I've missed since I moved to Richmond.

And I like that first glimpse of my family's "homeplace" when I drive over the hill. There is no prettier place in the world than that hillside when the sun is setting. No place.



So that's why I moved back. The catalyst may have been a cantankerous lying landlord, but in the end, its because this place makes me feel happy, safe, and loved. I couldn't ask for anything better than that. 

Renter No More!

I get to move out this week! This both saddens and excites me. Its definitely mixed emotions at this point. Allow me to explain...(as if you had any other choice).

I like living in Richmond. I like being within walking distance of my favorite restaurants and my bank. I like being able to go to Wal-Mart, Kroger, and Meijer's at any point in the day. I like being five minutes from work and thirty minutes from school. I like the fact that I can run over and visit my Goddaughter whenever I feel the need and I can go home during my lunch break instead of eating out of a fast food joint. I like knowing that when it snows, I can usually make it to my own bed, rather than crashing on someone's couch. I like all these things about living in Richmond. But...that's about it. In other words, I like the convienence of it, but nothing more.

When I first moved up here I thought it was going to be sooooo much fun! I would have people stopping by all the time and maybe even have a few parties here and there. I could go shopping whenever I wanted. I could take naps during my lunch breaks. I could work out at the gym across the road. I could drive a short distance and visit Kayla and Ashlee whenever they were home. It was going to be AWESOME!!!

Guess what? It wasn't like that at all. Ashlee and Kayla are super busy with work and school and having little baby girls running around their homes. Kayla moved shortly after I did. I don't have parties. I don't take naps. I go to the gym, but I can do that regardless of where I call home. No one visits, because I'm never home. I go to work, I go to school, and I come to the apartment to sleep. That's about the long and short of it. I don't even get to shop because all my money is going to rent and utilities, so there's no moolah to spend.

This is disappointing, but I was willing to stick it out up until the "cat incident". Yeah, that's what I'm calling it now.

For those that don't know me well enough, let me explain something about myself. It takes A LOT to make me angry. In fact, I've been told that I am way too nice and laid back about things. I don't get angry enough with people. But when I do get mad about something or at someone, then that is the absolute end of it for me. I will never like that person again and that particular situation will make me miserable until I remove it from my life. Since the "cat incident" I have been miserable here in Richmond. After work, I drive around for twenty minutes to try to avoid going back to the apartment. I hate it there now...and I despise everyone that has anything to do with it.

So today, I went to talk to the landlord. I wanted out of my lease. I don't want to pay for something that I'm not using (which coincidentally is one reason why I should have never thought I could rent in the first place. I am not the type that likes paying for something that will NEVER be my own.), so I had determined I needed to get out of the lease ASAP and using any means necessary. Now I was prepared to be mean about it, but I hated to do that. Of course, there is no real nice way to tell someone "I am not going to pay you anymore. Kiss my ass." So I opted for a strategy I have seen work many, many times for other women I know. A strategy I have never used in my life and feel somewhat ashamed to have stooped to such a level. I feel its beneath me. I used...pity. Yes, yes, I swallowed my pride and used pity. "Poor little April. That nice, quiet girl next door. She just needs a break and she's having a hard time of it right now. We should all feel sorry for her. Oh...and let her out of her lease." ;-)

Well...it worked. Helps that the landlord is a man I suppose. A woman would have seen right through it. And I'm also happy to report that I did not have to resort to crocodile tears. I was prepared to do just that, but it wasn't necessary in the end.

So I'm out of my lease. I am moving out this weekend. He already has another renter lined up. And I get my deposit back. Go me!

To be continued...