H A P P Y H A L L O W E E N ! ! !

"Jethro you git that bucket of rust jalopy outta my driveway!  And if I catch one more of them critters tracking mud inta my keetchan, thez becomin' vittles fer my possum stew, Ellie Mae!   Dag nabbit!"

 

Today at the staff meeting my boss told me she couldn't take anything I said seriously.  I wonder why?

 

HAPPY HALLOWEEN EVERYONE! 

Here on the west coast, things are just gittin' started!  He he he he.

 

I See Little Halloween 'Amway' People

Graphic courtesy of PrintMaster 12 

 

I'm a sucker for the kids down the street.  They often drop by to visit if they know we are home, whether they see us working outside or just relaxing on the porch after a days work.  They are friendly, inquisitive, and funny.  I enjoy their company as they are well-behaved and mindful of their manners.  They have two large dogs, both lab mixes and one of them, Dodger, is the master of escaping from the back yard.  Sometimes I'll hear a commotion outside and look out the window in time to see the little girl, A, being led down the street by Dodger. Moments later, I'll see the two cross past the window again, this time with A in control, Dodger having had his fill of running amuck in the neighborhood.

I'll refrain from using their given names, for the sake of their privacy.  Were the world a safer place I would not hesitate to share their names.  But they are not my children and all three are minors, so I'll just use one letter for each child.  There is the girl, A, age 9, and her two brothers, J age 5, and T age 11..

Last month Sam and I were working outside when all three children came running into the yard, catalogs in hand.  Over the years I've come to believe our schools are turning the children into little Amway people.  Between work, family and the neighbors, Sam and I are constantly under the siege of school fund raisers. 
Thank heavens for the summer as it provides the only respite we'll ever see; after all Sam's oldest daughter is an elementary school teacher and her school does the magazine subscription pitch.  Which, by the way, is the kind I did in my youth.  So, back to the kids.  I can't say no to them, and their school features some very cool merchandise in the catalogs.  With huge smiles, their eyes a light with dollar signs, they stand before me.  Together we take a seat on the steps of our front porch and I begin shopping.  I see lots of things I like, and roughly add the items up in my mind, careful to keep the total purchase from each child similar in cost.  Not an easy task.  I ended up with a box of chocolates, two tubs of cookie dough, Christmas wrapping paper, and more chocolates.  Yep, I'm a sucker.

So, the other night there is a knock at the door and there stand all three children, fully dressed in their Halloween finery, their arms loaded with the fruits of my catalog quests.

"Trick or treat!" they chime in together as they playfully thrust the items into my arms.  Loaded down with my 'necessities' I invite them in, unaware that the artful Dodger has snuck in while my back was turned.  

I set my purchases down on the kitchen table, fussing over their costumes.  T is dressed this year as the 'Scream' guy (you know, with the long white mask), A has selected a witchy princess theme, and little J is all decked out as a cow, his costume complete with a noisy air pump to keep his bovine shape in perfect form. 

It's priceless and I'm about to grab my camera when I see my dog Allie standing in the living room with a rawhide bone in her mouth.

Funny, I didn't give her a bone.  Just then I see the artful Dodger casually strolling through the living room.  Ah-ha!  That's were she got it.  What kind of hostess is she, stealing treats from the mouths of her guests?  I snatch the bone away from her and return it to Dodger,who then drops the bone right all Allie's feet.  Naturally, she can't resist and scoops it right up.  I think Dodger has a crush on her, and so do the kids, who by now are all teasing the artful one about his 'girlfriend.'  Allie gets the bone removed from her mouth again and I send her downstairs.  The kids need to go, so I send them off with a few early Halloween treats.  These past two years they have learned I purchase my Halloween candy early, and they always find some excuse to pay me a visit a few days before the actual holiday.  They love Skittles and M & M, and this year I sent them off with some Dots, as well.

Friday night they came back for more.  More Dots.   Now, they love Dots.

And the cookie dough.  Excellent!  Peanut butter.  White chocolate macadamia nut.  I just baked over three dozen cookies and the house smells yummy!   

Once Upon A Cold Dark Night...

With Halloween just around the corner, many here in J-Land are sharing scary stories.  Sandra, owner of Sandra's Scribbles often finds a ghost story to share.  And our beloved Blogfather, John Scalzi is prompting us to write, to draw on our own experience and relate a bone chilling, flesh crawling, hair raising Halloween story.  Well, maybe not flesh crawling.

Okay.  If you thought I was a little bit crazy before, well I'm about to remove all doubt from your mind.

Somewhere between fear and imagination lies the truth.  And many years ago I learned the line between is often blurred.  During the time that followed I have struggled to grasp the meaning of what happened to me on a cold dark night.  Even now I do not fully understand exactly what happened; but I do remember. 

It is September 19, 1978.  I am a newlywed of just three months, spending the night at the home of my in-laws.  They live in a split-entry house with four levels and the guest room is downstairs, in the daylight basement.  A few hours before, at 12:45 a.m., I received news of my mothers passing. It is now 3:30 a.m. and I can't sleep.  I keep wondering what life will be like with her gone.  I feel cold, chilly, and alone, even as the heat of my husband's sleeping body radiates next to me under the warmth of several heavy blankets.

When I feel the urge to relieve myself, I get out of bed and silently make my way through the dark house to the bathroom across the hall.  I switch on the light, shut the door and go about the business that called me out of my bed.  The events of the night play out in my mind, and I think about what the days ahead hold for my young sisters.  At only 12 and 13, they are so tender and young, too young to lose their mother.

I finish and wash my hands, struggling with the loss I feel in my heart.  Looking up at the medicine cabinet mirror, I stare at the reflection; is the person looking back at me strong enough to deal with this?  Do I have what it takes to help my sisters cope with the heart break I must deliver to them in a few hours?  Beneath my eyes the bags and dark circles belie my age.  I am only 21 yet I look to be in my 30s.  My mothers illness has taken its toll.  I rub my eyes, take a deep breath and step away from the sink.

Without warning, I begin to shiver, as if the temperature of the room suddenly dropped several degrees.  I shake it off, rubbing the skin on my arms vigorously with my hands, eager to slide back under the warmth of those heavy blankets on the bed.  But when I reach out and grab the doorknob, an electrical shock stabs my fingertips.  I stop and pull back my hand.  Thinking it is static electricity created by rubbing my arms, I reach out again, and quickly withdraw my hand when the vibration of electrical energy touches my skin.

What?

I look down at the linoleum, then at my bare feet.  How can I be getting shocked?  I glance at the sink, step toward it and touch the metal fixtures.  Nothing.  Slowly I wrap my fingers around each knob.  No shock.  Okay, so it wasn't static.  It's nothing.  Feeling relieved, I turn away from the sink and cast my sight on the door knob.  That's when I hear it.  An inner voice that stops me in my tracks with the words, Don't look.Look?  At what?  Gathering my wits about me, there I stand, thinking about being shocked by a door knob while standing barefoot on the linoleum floor in my pajamas listening to some voice telling me not to look...at something.

Nonsense!  This is crazy, I tell myself.  Not to mention silly and stupid.  Again I reach out, ready to take control of the situation.  Even as I wrap my fingers around the door knob, my sense of touch vibrates with electrical energy.  I withdraw my hand, staring at it in disbelief.

What's happening?  This can't be real.  Don't look.  You must not look.Slowly I back away from the door.  Look?  At what?  Is there something out there?

Get a grip.  I shake my head.  I've been reading too many Stephen King novels.  This is just my imagination getting the best of me.  I'm tired, physically and emotionally.  It's late at night, everyone in the house is asleep, and my overactive imagination is working overtime.  Go to bed.  Just open the door, turn off the light and go to bed.  You've done it before, thousands of times in your life.  Do it again, like before.  Open the door.

Even before I reach out a part of me resists.  I am tired.  I need sleep and I am not going to get it standing in this room.  Once again I reach out, only to stop and withdraw when the shock of electricity hit my fingers.  Don't look.

Again, I back away from the door.  My heart is pounding in my chest, I hear it thumping in my ears.  My pulse is racing.  This isn't happening.  This isn't real.  I know what is real.  This is not real.  As if to convince myself, I do everything I know is real.  I wash my face, splashing the cold water on my skin, willing myself awake.  I'm still dreaming.  I brush my teeth.  I brush my hair.   I run in place.  I do jumping jacks.  And still the knob shocks me and the voice reminds me, Don't look.

I'm going crazy.  My mother's death has pushed me over the edge of reason and sanity.  There is nothing out there I tell myself.  There is no need for fear  And yet my feet refuse to move, silently disobeying the order given by my brain.

It comes on suddenly, a sense of disturbance in the air.  A feeling of unrest.  In my minds eye I can see something, beyond the bathroom door, up the stairs, past the kitchen and dining room, where the drapes are open, on the other side of the sliding glass door.  It's there, in the car port.  At first I think it is my mother's spirit, checking on me, wanting to know how I am coping.  Dressed in white, she waits for me, calling out my name.  The feeling permeates every pore of my skin, drenching me with an overwhelming feeling of helplessness.  I lean against a wall, propping myself up, my mind swimming with thoughts, desperately trying to make sense of the here and now.  It wanders back in time to conversations about the weakness of the human spirit; particularly when dealing with the loss of a loved one.  I remember stories I heard and read about people who, faced with the death of a loved one, claimed to be visited by something.  Each thought it was the spirit of the departed, bound by love, unable to leave the other's side.  It made sense; what could be deeper than a mother's love for her children.  Maybe what I sensed was my mother's spirit nearby, hovering, lingering, wanting just one last look, before moving on to the other side.

No.  It is not your mother.  It wants to hurt you.

What?  What wants to hurt me?  Mom wouldn't do that!

Don't look.  It wants to hurt you.

I feel like the room is shrinking and the walls are closing in on me.  I need to get out of here.  I want to get out of this room.  A part of me needs to confirm I haven't lost my mind and there is something out there.  But I'm too scared.  There's nothing out there.  It's just my imagination getting the best of me.  I try the door again.  Shock.  Okay.  I won't look.  Just let me out.  I'll keep my eyes straight ahead.  I won't look up the stairs.  Just let me out of here.

Don't look.

Out loud, I say it.  I won't look.  Tentatively, I lift my arm and reach for the door knob.  Nothing happens.  I wrap my fingers around the metal and take a deep breath.  Do it.  Open the door, eyes straight, and move quickly.  Don't look!  I turn the knob and with the other hand I switch off the light.  I jerk the door open and bolt across the threshold toward the guest room.  As I pass in front of the short set of stairs and the open drapes an ice cold chill runs down my spine.  Go!  Don't stop or look.  My knees feel like Jell-O, my feet feel like concrete and I lose my balance, slamming into the bedroom doorway.  I stumble in the darkness, bent over with my arms out, searching for the bed.  What just happened?  I feel the comforter and follow the bed, flinging my body down onto the mattress, then under the covers.  He doesn't move.  I feel like I've made enough noise to wake everyone in this house, yet my husband lies beside me.  Undisturbed, the sound of his slow breathing fills my ears.

I don't feel safe, just yet.  I feel like whatever it out there is now right outside the window above me head.  Go away!  Whatever you are, leave me alone.  Go away!  Fear racks my body and I shake as I pull the sheets over my head, burrowing myself under the safety of the covers.   Go away.  Leave me alone.  Seconds pass, the tension in my muscles begins to ease, I close my eyes and slowly drift away...to sleep.

When I wake up I am alone in the bed.  I check my watch and remember what happened last night.  What had happened?  Whatever it was, I knew I could not, would not tell my mother-in-law, or my husband.  Neither would believe a word and write it off as a bad dream.  They would do their best to convince me it never happened.  I imagined it all in my sleep and it was just a nightmare.

Thing is, it was.  At least the part about losing my mother.  That morning I remember the haunting feeling of being abandoned.  Sitting on the edge of the bed, with the sound the words I didn't want to hear resonating in my ears, I realized my worst childhood fear had just come true.  My mother had abandoned me.  And that little girl who suffered from the nightmares which woke up her, and everyone else in the house, now found herself alone in the company of strangers.

Until this moment I have shared this experience with a handful of people.  My sister and a few close friends, as well as religious and spiritual advisors.  A couple of pastors and priests scoffed at my words, explaining the events of that night as just the workings of my imagination as they patted me on the back and led me to the door.  But the majority, they listened intently and many came to the same conclusion.  The death of a loved one makes a person weak, spiritually.  On that they all agree.  From there, their interpretations vary.  Some say in my weakness, the devil came to take my soul.  Others say the devil only exists if you believe that it does.   As for me, I think there is truth in both sides.

Throughout my childhood, I had nightmares; dreams in which my mother abandoned me.  On those nights I would cry out for her and she always came to my side, her gentle voice soothing away the fear as she held me tenderly, rocking me back to sleep.  She said she knew when the nightmares would come because an angel told her.  My mother always said I had an angel at my side, silently watching over me.  She said the angel spoke to her, but I never sensed it, or even heard it speak to me.  Until that night.  I wonder if it was the voice of the angel I heard, telling me not to look, warning me.  Guiding me through the darkness and reminding me...I am not alone. 

Trick or Treat in J-Land

Got this from Teresa.

Hey, everyone is looking for journal exposure or maybe would just like some fun. Let's do both!

Starting Friday night through Monday night visit as many J-land journals as you can, and leave a comment and a link to your journal as a treat. The more "houses" you visit the more trick or treaters you'll get.

Please call your entry "TRICK OR TREAT THU J-LAND".  If you come to a journal that does not have this entry title, consider it a door you knocked on and no one answered! Decorate your journal for Halloween, perhaps a picture of your front door or whatever grabs your holiday spirit. Leave links to your journals where ever you can. Stop at the same journal only once!

 

Start 7 pm Friday and end 9 pm Monday...whatever your time zone. Report back here (here being Teresa's journal) next week to let us know how many trick or treaters you had.

 

Graphics courtesy of PrintMaster 12

 

These just in from my sister Chris, who loves it when I share photos of her family in my journal. 

Vic and Chris in costume.

Beth looks like she's surviving her first year at college. LOL!

James didn't get dressed up, so I warped the back ground for him.

Mathew gets into the spirit of things.

Two for Tuesday

Steelhead season opened recently; every morning and afternoon on my commute the river is dotted with boats.  I'm sure there's a lunker or two beneath the surface.

Any work day that ends with this sight...now that's a good day!  'Night all!

 

~~Everyone is worth loving, because we are all imperfect people.~~

~~Beauty is seen in every soul.~~

 

UPDATE:  What is a steelhead, you ask?  :)

Idaho Steelhead

Steelhead are actually rainbow trout that migrate to the ocean and return to fresh water (anadromous fish). Idaho's A-run steelhead are usually found in the Snake and Salmon rivers. They return from the ocean earlier in the year (usually June through August) and they most often return after spending one year in the ocean. Because they return early in the year and because they usually come back after only one year in the ocean, they weigh 4 to 6 pounds and are generally 23 to 26 inches in length.

The B-run steelhead most often return to the Clearwater River, but some return to tributaries in the Salmon River. These fish usually spend two years in the ocean, and start their migration to Idaho later in the summer or fall of the year (usually late August or September). Because of the extra year and the extra summer of growing in the ocean, they return as much bigger fish.

Average B-run steelhead weigh between 10 and 13 pounds and are 31 to 34 inches long. Steelhead grow very large when they spend a third year in the ocean before they return to Idaho to spawn. These steelhead are usually larger than 37 inches and often weigh more than 20 pounds. The Idaho state record steelhead was 30 pounds and was caught in the Clearwater River in 1973.

(Information provided by the Idaho Department of Fish & Game)

The river in the above photo is the Clearwater River.

When I Get Where I'm Going

For the past week, I've heard this song in bits and pieces.  Today, for the first time I heard it, completely...on many levels.  Through all the shifting ups and downs lately, today when I stopped and actually listened to the song, the strain around my mouth relaxed a bit, my stomach stopped rolling and flipping and I realized something.  I have much to be thankful for; no matter what happens, I can't control everything, and all that really matters is the love I carry in my heart, and the memories I make...today.  Tomorrow will come and everyday when I wake up, I am ready for it.
Sometimes, the simple words in a simple melody bring it all together.
And, for everyone who shared your words of encouragement, thank you.  Your kindness and caring is immeasurable, and deeply appreciated.
         ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When I get where I'm going
On the far side of the sky
The first thing that I'm gonna do
Is spread my wings and fly

I'm gonna land beside a lion
And run my fingers through his mane
Or I might find out what it's like
To ride a drop of rain

(Chorus:)
Yeah when I get where I'm going
There'll be only happy tears
I will shed the sins and struggles
I have carried all these years
And I'll leave my heart wide open
I will love and have no fear
Yeah when I get where I'm going
Don't cry for me down here

I'm gonna walk with my grand daddy
And he'll match me step for step
And I'll tell him how I missed him
Every minute since he left
Then I'll hug his neck

(Chorus)

So much pain and so much darkness
In this worldwe stumble through
All these questions I can't answer
So muchwork to do

But when I get where I'm going
And I see my maker's face
I'll stand forever in the light
Of his amazing grace
Yeah when I get where I'm going
There'll be only happy tears
Hallelujah
I will love and have no fear
When I get where I'm going
Yeah when I get where I'm going

Music video by Brad Paisley performing When I Get Where I'm Going. (C) 2005 BMG Music

• Music

  • "When I Get Where I'm Going (Featuring Dolly Parton)" by Brad Paisley (Google Play • iTunes • AmazonMP3)

Your Monday Photo Shoot: Halloween Decorations and Greetings

Spent the weekend decorating a bit for the kiddies next week, and now John Scalzi says...

Let's get spooktacular for this shoot:

Your Monday Photo Shoot: Halloween is just a week away! Display your current decorations and preparations, or show off a favorite from years past. Pumpkins, holiday cards, decorations from Halloween parties and porch displays -- it's all good.

As Alvin would say "Okay!"

First photo is the front and breezeway.  It doesn't show up very well, but I have spider webs in the windows, and all over the breezeway.  You can almost see the big spider I made out of puff balls and pipe cleaner hanging right above the hose.  Don't know what that bright thingy is under my pumpkin porch light and in front of the lawn chair.  Maybe a bug, caught in the flash? Spooky looking tho...and how did it get in my photo anyways?  Weirdness.  Ironic weirdness if you ask me.

Second photo is my favorite decor...blinking, glowing eyes.  I think they are cool, in an eerie kind of way, and keep one in my car for when I'm driving around at night. 

Fun...fun...fun.

Graphic courtesy of PrintMaster12