Sunday?

Who knows what will come out of this.

Unfortunately I have used FB for a creative outlet.  What problem is that you ask?  It totally enables me to limit my writing and not push myself.  It also enables my writing  fears and only be funny in a few sentences. SO, here I go.

Tori reminded me it has been a year since I had written in my blog.  SHAME.  Sedra re-reminded me that she finds hers to help her.

Today I wanted to find a hobby.  Laugh.  Like I need to look for one.  So I made a snacky for Mike.  There is a part of me that watched disdainfully as I wandered everywhere EXCEPT here.  Even sitting here I am forcing myself & my head not to wander.

Yesterday I gave a friend a psychic overview.  I can't explain it.  But he wanted to know why I didn't want to see Paranormal 4.  I laughed & said I had that shit for real in my basement.  I realized I didn't recently.  I could blame it on the energy shift in the house but again that is ignoring the main part....me stepping away.  I tried to use my pendulum but as normal it was a weak attempt at communications.  I almost "tag" up with a hobby and then move on.

SO, tonight I am calling to my guides to move me forward in my education.  I am missing something in myself.  Nothing dangerous except my love of who i am.

I am nuts, & was raised that way!

It has been a while. Almost a year. What a loss for me. This is always so freeing for me.

A friend freed herself by free writing on her blog & I was re-inspired. Thank you.

I just finished 10 days off work. We had plans for the time off & that fell through. i told my brother years ago....do not count on the Davidsons until we are on the plane! Call it laziness, but our plans fall through alot.

Neither here nor there....I did very little during my time off. Not true. I recouperated. I feel that I take sooo much on & soo much of the emotion of pe9ople I work with or for or support, I get drained. No whine, just truth. My sister says I need to protect myself more. I attempt...not really visualizing that.

So I played nearly 300 games of solitaire on my time off. Yah...I get it. But please be honest with AT least yourself that you have something like that & do it. My struggles with the 300 games are two pronged....1) I sat for hours on a decorative chair 2) I listened to NPR for hours on the apparently uncomfortable decorative chair.

Note...the world is in a war they blame us for, the monetary foundation of Europe is precarious and only the Germans can save it, and Robert Fulghum is coming to SLC. I treasure NPR, Sincerely we donate to both stations in our area. But as with any new outlet, dang, you get overwhelmed. So, the end is nigh.

The chair. Holy Gawd I am still enduring amazing ass cramps. I mean I wasn't aware when I purchased the chair how it wasn't meant for obsessive solitaire players, but there should be a warning. My ass still hurts. And whenever I sit in the chair for even a few minutes the residual pain GROWS. My body is boycotting the chair. I had to monitor myself at work. I would find myself walking through the center with my hand behind me cupping my cheek and massaging the pain point with some determination. I began to share the story of my disability with people in hopes of gaining freedom to conduct my own daily physical therapy. Odd to me how my freedom seemed to be inhibited by glances of shock and disgust. Secretly, I still self "medicate" at my desk.

I did make Whoopie pies. I won't bother to explain what they are, suffice to say they are an East coast treat which my mom made infrequently as we were growing up. Without being able to confer with my mother, I can attest this recipe was not my mothers but I can definitely with 5 cubes of BUTTER, Faye would most assuredly approved.

Where did this secret recipe come from? Well, other than having obsessive times with solitaire, I also have little to know problem purchasing more than a few less than trashy but albeit gossip-ish periodicals. Nuff said. (You get them too OR you wait until I am done with mine...check your piety at the log in please!). So it was in People listed as Maine Whoopie Pie recipe. How could I resist? I didn't.

I will be honest, I was lazy & didn't want to make them. With mixed feelings, I was forced to make them solo after Shawn passively declined to assist. Needless today....I almost FORGOT the bittersweet chocolate AND the cup and a half of BUTTERMILK....gasp. One of the things I feel compelled to remind you of....even though you are baking, and it looks like chocolate, feels like chocolate....LICKING THE SPOON IS LETHAL when it is bittersweet chocolate. It really happened in slow motion....and I couldn't stop. I couldn't really tell whether or not I had a mouth full of wax or dirt. I figured it was waxy dirt. I guarantee I will do it again next time.

There are few words to describe how they taste. Understand they were too big and way rich. So I did the Faye thing. I froze them. Froze them? Yup. I am imagining a mom on a limited budget wanting to have kids not devour food. I grew up eating stolen (from our freezer) frozen cookies, chocolate (even bittersweet) chocolate. My sister understood why they were there & where they were. Mike was like "What in the fuck am I supposed to do with this frozen". Shawn & I said "Eat it". Yes, we are nuts, and were raised that way!

FORGET THE SOLDIERS!

We journeyed with our class to the Rio Grande station downtown Salt Lake. It is the original railroad station. Apparently this and the rail station in Ogden were used as temporary morgues for Soldiers who lost their lives in the World Wars until their families came to claim the bodies. Apparently the instructor has been contacted by several soldiers. As we were waiting, he was telling quite a few stories about past visits and who he had spoken to and interacted with. I turned him off. I wanted no preconceived ideas of what could be there.

We went into a room and other people were there with an iPad & a flashlight. We were showing blips on our ghost radar (yes it is an ap) and so were they. I will try to be fair. The gentleman was asking someone to turn on the flashlight if they were there. I felt someone was there. I felt an agitation with the person asking the questions. He said he wanted to know what it was like in the afterlife, how it feels to be dead. He asked a few times to turn the flashlight on....at one point it turned on. In my head I heard "There, now leave me alone". The man with the iPad asked more questions. I felt we were asking the wrong question.....so I said so. I had no idea what questions to ask. We found another room and the guy felt more there. In my mind he didn't want to talk about death....he wanted to talk about his family. I felt lighter. He never gave me clear pictures other than a sunny place and a huge tree, but he was sharing joy.

In a hallway I felt something. I asked my friend to take a picture. She took a few. Some with me in them, some without. I felt someone. I tried to get a fix on who it was. My friend was taking pictures of things in the hall. Later she looked at the photos and one had a full body entity but the legs were see through. In my head there is a logic telling me the photo is of me but I had moved. But the coordinating pictures of me show no consistency. My friend thinks it is a woman with a hood on. There are other pictures with reflections in the displays and mirrors. Fascinating.

We were sitting in the common area I felt the man again but I couldn't gain a grasp on what he wanted. He felt proprietary about the place. In my perception, he was someone who had worked there not a soldier. My friend was communicating using a crystal. I looked at her & said "You are pretty". My friend caught on and asked if she looked like his wife. Was an interesting interaction.

My friend felt a mean entity in the basement. More pictures but nothing showed. THe EVPs are still to be reviewed. Later we had the most amazing interaction. We went to the room again where the flashlight had gone on & off. The instructor and the rest of the group was there. They have a box which runs through the FM stations giving entities a chance to use the radio for communication. To me it is irritating and highly suggestive. The instructor was asking if there were any soldiers who had been killed in the room. I felt a woman. At the same time my friend felt a few cold spots. I verified the spots....chilly. My friend pointed out she smelled perm solution and a man's cologne. She pointed out what she noticed to the instructor....he moved on saying he felt a soldier who had been shot in the face. My voice was frustrated & said to me that it wasn't the soldiers....she had worked in the station for years taking notes. The remaining students were feeding into the soldier feelings yet my friend & I still felt a woman. Constantly hearing the untuned radio was bothersome so we left the room...and the woman.

These visits are intriguing. Accepting what we are seeing, hearing and feeling is not difficult but discriminating them from imagination or suggestion is definitely my next step.

Ghost Hunting

Our family (well Shawn, Mom & I) have always laughed with each other about ghosts in our house. There was a little boy who "lived" in the closet on the second floor in our last place. A friend of mom's saw him. The three of us just had feelings...whether valid or not we just knew other people were out there. Mom said her grandmother had feelings as well.

SO last year looking at a brochure of Community Education classes, I noticed a Ghost hunting class. My friend took it, I didn't. Time passed and another friend started posting what she had heard, seen and experienced. I signed up. I will be honest, I was nervous on the first night which was held in class. Now, I just think the instructor told us too much of what he had experienced which lead some of the class members to pre-perceive things.

The first place we went was a cemetery in Park City. My friend had been there & had some EVP's (Electronic voice projections) which she captured. She said she wanted to take me to the place where she had heard things, but I told her I would lead her there. Here is my struggle...discerning what is a viable message vs my imagination. It ended up that I got us to the exact spot. We took tons of pix & recorded alot. I used dousing rods to gain "answers". I want to learn again what is a genuine message vs me breathing...laugh.

We felt some"one" around a grave of a woman and 4 of her babies. Because she & the last baby had the same death year, we assumed she died in childbirth. I get my feelings on my shoulder & neck. Almost like my arm is asleep. When I had those feelings, I had my friend take pictures. There are two pictures of my hip where there is a shimmer and one even has a pink tinge to it. When my friend had feelings, I took pictures of her. She is amazing! She reviews the pictures and the hours and hours of tape to collect evidence. When she was sitting and talking to John, she received quite a few EVP's. Fortunately we were pretty much alone. I told Mike that I struggled with people who weren't at OUR level. Snobby but we had people who would mimic what the instructor would say & said he felt. I know we all are desperate for answers, but my friend & I wanted to find answers on our own.

I felt something over a grave of a man who's headstone indicated he was a logger. We were standing with two young men using dousing rods to talk to this guy. They were fixated on him dying in a brothel. Our EVPs had a very definitive NO when asked. In my head the messages I received were leading away from death in a brothel. As we were "listening" the instructor" came up and had us ask about the number 6. I was crabby as it totally derailed us....the feelings stopped.

The young men were using the rods wrong. I am not talking as an expert, but the rods couldn't cross. My friend & I were interested in what was happening but it was tough not to take what they were "receiving" as misguided.

My goal is to understand what I am feeling and "hearing" and be able to translate it. Next post....The Rio Grande Station. My friend's holy grail!

Gift me Marge!

When I hit adulthood, my mom made a confession which was almost difficult to hear. She said that they struggled to give me gifts because I was always disappointed with what I received. I felt guilt and hurt. I never thought I was a materialistic child, but listening to my mother, I guess I was. I apologized to my mom. NO, she refuted....she said whatever they gave me didn't fit the vision in my little creative head & I was disappointed.

I don't think she was far off. In my head, I have unpainted paintings, unwritten ideas, all sorts of creations which when started OUTSIDE of my head, wither...ever so painfully. My friend does gifts amazingly well. So well I am stymied. When she got married, I chickened out & got a gift certificate. Maybe it was marriage which dulled my gift giving sense.

Marriage. Mike receives gifts very well, kinda. In August, he starts on his Christmas list. In January, he starts on his March birthday gift list. Being ADD his list is long and changes often. Alot of times he buys his own gift & lets me know.

I worked late. Was talking to Mike on the way home & he said he had a card for me & a surprise. My heart smiled! I am going to pause here for a Faye rule. Do NOT give me gifts for the house. No blenders, vaccums, or coffee makers (which she went through quarterly). I was raised with that rule...though funny....mom spent most of my birthdays since I was 17 giving me gifts for my house...hmmm. So I get in the door, exhausted. There is a card....but it is on top of a COLLECTION of Glad containers. Mike was fortunately asleep.

Mike is working OT and getting up at 4am every day. As well as I am working to gain better marital behaviors. When I was heading over today to visit him at work, I commented "I am sorry, huneeee....but I didn't see my prize when I got home. Did you leave it in your car?". I am sure the tone in my voice was soo sweet that it stopped him in his tracks. "But there were....some containers there", he offered cautiously & somewhat weekly.

"So those containers for left overs...". I stopped. If there had been a soundtrack, the theme from Jaws would have played. "I am sorry I couldn't find your surprise...Did you leave it in your car?".

Oh yes, he responded. "It must be in my truck because I would NEVER give a gift which was for the house, that is like giving a vaccum cleaner!". We both laughed.

He came home with football munchies just for me....pinwheel cookies and 2 (count em) 2 packages of cornuts.

I, as well as Faye, are happy!

Trouble in Sleepy City

I am large...so is my husband.

Now before you think this is a self depreciating diatrab on obesity, it isn't. We have approximately 80 pounds collectively of dog. Both of my brothers dogs singularly weigh more than that.

When we go to bed, the command is "In your room", meaning they go into the guest room which is covered by costco dog beds (very Bedouin/harem like). They have food, water, the protected guest bed, and it is the coolest room temperature. They do not suffer. When we got the boys, we put their beds in our room. Midway through the night, Bo would stand by my side of the bed & shake his collar & tags until I got up. Aware of not wanting to established this as a habit, I became adept at ignoring him. He in turn became Tenacious Bo, & would poke at my hand and nudge the bed. This is where "In your room" started.

So, the boys are pretty good about getting up & going into their room. Daisy, on the other hand, apparently has noticed the change in the rhythm of the house when it is time for THE ROOM. So she walks away....calmly & decidely. I leave the retrieval of said discipline problem to Da Pappa. He bribes her. Again another bad habit. But there are nights when we both relent and have the Dukes sleep with us....here comes the problem with being large. 80 pounds of dog & an unmentionable number of human pounds, in a queen bed. Here is how it works...Mike rolls over, Luke sits at the head of the bed in between Mike & I, Bo is under the covers near both of our calves, and Daisy sleeps on top of the covers near Luke. But what you are missing is the migration. Daisy sleeps close enough to me to touch me...I think it comforts her. Bo also tends to touch me. Mike loves this sleepover attitude. Me? I am so far on the edge, my boob is on the floor. Da Momma doesn't like this. Usually about an hour into this, I put them in their room.

As of late, there has been a struggle with getting the boys to their room. It started with Bo. Mike gives the command, Luke follows, but Bo sits up & doesn't move. Not only does he not move, he looks to ME for approval. I laugh. Bo lays down as Mike commands again. Again I laugh. Only when I tell him to go does Bo go into their room. In the past week, the hilarity has increased. NOW Luke is not responding to Mike's command. Bo has become emboldened and sits up and looks Mike in the eye. I still laugh. Not at their failure to follow the command, but the idea that the room is negotiable.

So, all you parents of human children understand, in the Davidson household...we have the same issues you do with night time!

Just Me!

That Smells Like Urine

30 years ago, I was babysitting my summer away with two boys the oldest being 10, and somewhat independent. At lunch I would make sandwiches or such. Pat rejected my offerings and he wanted to make his own sandwich. The rule became whatever he made he had to eat. I worded the rule like that as he was creating the foulest combinations he could imagine (yes, my opinion but YOU decide). The one I recall vividly was maple syrup, brown sugar and mustard. I remember his face as he made it, defiant. If I remember correctly that defiance dissapated just a tad when his brother & I sat and watched him eat....the whole thing!

With my husband, you would not know he is a grown man by what he eats. Here is the tuna I make for him (he requested these ingredients) mayo, yellow mustard, deli mustard, horseradish cream, horseradish and dill pickle relish. He mentioned (with his most charming twinkle) if I felt like adding minced onions, he would appreciate it. I did not feel so inclined. I also gave up making the stuff! The other night before I went to bed I came down following a horrid odor. Mike looked guilty. Did the dog pee, I inquired. He was quizzical. I went on, it really smells like urine. I am scouring the floor to see if I can find an offending spot. Mike said "I just made some tuna" he paused "I put saurkraut in it, want to smell it?". Mike, your food smells like urine.

I have married the Swedish Chef. You know who that is. The squinty eyed unintelligible cook who would create muppet like chaos while chattering "Hordy fordy hordy" or something to that effect. The classic Swedish Chef story was years ago (years ago as I have forbade him to cook any longer). He calls & asks what he can do for dinner with the chicken I had defrosted. I said I had a tortilla soup mix which he could add the sauteed chicken to. He left to his task. I will attempt to (without exaggeration) to clarify what he added to the soup: 1 envelope dehydrated onion soup mix, 1 envelope dehydrated chicken noodle soup, onions, boullion cube, and another soup mix I had stored. With pride he showed me my dinner. I can't say it was tasty. What ever had been dehydrated had yet to rehydrate as he neglected in the melee to add more water and it smelled weird. He told me what he had added with a frenzied eye. I was speechless. The directions for the original soup were 7 cups boiling water and the sauteed chicken. Yes I was ungrateful that night...the next day when everything which needed water had some, it was a fairly tasty stew!

Lately he just puts most of his meals in a tortilla! Not so odd except when he eats his veggie burgers. Now these are not regular veggie burgers they are extra spicy black bean burgers. I will at this time quote my sister and say "they smell like ass". I am not enticed to eat them by their smell. But he is focused on eating healthy and accompanies the odd disk with a myriad of condiments and cheese on his tortilla, smiling he bites into his creative meal....hordy fordy hordy!

Just Me!