Family Ghost Stories... (a few of them)

     HAPPY   HALLOWEEN!!!

The following are a few TRUE freaky family stories told to me by my mother.  I have more, but here are just a few.  Many incidents such have these have been experienced by many members of my family, including myself.  Enjoy and have a safe and happy Halloween! 

A Knock From Beyond

Delia had a lot of things running through her mind. The last few years were not good ones. She had good days, and bad. Today proved to be a bad day, for she found herself in tears since early that morning. On days like these, she threw herself into her housework more than usual. She had finished washing the floors in the bathroom and the kitchen, dusted, did some gardening in the garden, and now she found herself washing dishes.

It was 9:30 am in the morning. She heard the man selling the morning bread, honking his van down the street. She had awakened earlier that morning and bought bread from his earlier rounds. She took the bread, into the kitchen, fried eggs for her and her mother, and made coffee. The marmelade that her daughter had loved so much was set on the table..left there more out of habit than anything else, near her chair--the empty chair.

From the window Delia noticed the flowers in the garden. It was approaching spring, and there were flowers blossoming already. A memory suddenly came to her; a vision of her little girl coming in with a bouquet of flowers. Her vision then ended aruptly with the slamming of the front door. Her grandson was visiting for the break at school. His small voice filled the quiet and dark little home. His voice echoed in the once silent walls...just like his mother's once did, so long ago...running in the kitchen with a bouquet of flowers.

Delia found herself talking to her daughter in the kitchen. Not talking out loud, but with her heart. Where are you now? Are things better where you are? As Delia put away the last of the dishes, she decided to sit at the table for a moment to dry her eyes. Her grandson hated to see her this way, and she did not want to make him upset.

It was then, in a brief moment of silence, she heard the sound of the door. It was the sound of the green garden back door that led into the kitchen from the garden. The door was used mostly by family...each with their own distinguishing greeting. Some people would give a "yooohoooo", or a "Senhora", or "a vizinha", and others had their own distinguishing knock. Her husband knocked 2 times, her son used the bell at the front door to announce his arrival, and just walk in. Her daughter however would always knock once...if no answer, she would knock again.

The door knocked once.

Silence. Delia could smell the fragrance of flowers. She heard the sound of her grandson's laughter in the other room.

The door knocked once more.

Delia found herself unable to move. The knocks stopped.

After a few minutes, thinking that she was hallucinating, Delia got off of the chair and opened the garden door to find no one. She walked around the front door, around the backyard, asked a neighbor if she had seen anyone at the house. No one.

While the tears did not stop that day, from that day forth, she never asked herself about her daughter's well being. This incident happened a few years after her daughter's death. Louisa had answered her mother's questions that day, that she was fine, and still there near her, in the garden, listening to her heart.                       

Footsteps from beyond...

Rosa was alone in the loft that night with her 7 children.  Some of the children had fallen ill, and they had finally gone to sleep.  She was having a restless night, and decided to recite her rosary as she tried to sleep.  As she was counting the beads on her rosary, she did what she often did at night--she thought of her husband.  Her husband past away a few years ago while working overseas in Africa.  He had left her alone with 7 children, and her loneliness and grief at times seemed unbearable.  On this night she called out to him, "Where are you now?!  I need you here!"   

After finishing with her prayers, she tucked her rosary beads under her pillow, she lay there silently among her children, listening to the crickets and the soft flow of the babbling of the stream down the country road that led to her home.  She listened intently, and soon heard footsteps.  The footsteps seemed to be coming from the stream, and walking up the road.

Rosa immediately became frightened.  Her husband would walk this path many times on his way home from working on the land.  Although there were others that lived close by, it was very unusual that anyone should be walking from that way so late in the evening. 

Rosa lay there silently, as she nervously listened to the footsteps coming up to the top of the road near her house.  It was then she recognized the footsteps as being very similar to her late husband's.  His work boots always made a distinctive sound when he walked, and whoever was near her home, now walking on the walk way, was wearing work boots.  It was now that Rosa realized how she had called out for him earlier while reciting her prayers.  Could it be her dead husband coming to her now?  Had he heard her call out to him?

The footsteps were now on the walkway in front of the house, and now at the front door.  Rosa trembled, and was now in tears.  She did not want to wake up the children, and she had remembered to lock the door that night.  Surely, whoever it was would not be coming inside.  Rosa was wrong.  The door creaked open effortlessly, and now the footsteps were going through the hallway, and into the kitchen, slowly approaching the stairs that went up to the loft.

The stairs creaked softly, as they slowly went up each step. Rosa looked around at her children, whom were all sleeping silently, oblivious to their mother's cries and anguish.  Rosa then put the covers over her head, and pleaded for her husband to go back to where he had came.  She was safe, and she knew he was always there with her.  She did not need to see him, although very much tempted, she was frightened.  She could feel a presence in the room; a loving warmth came over her.  Her trembling stopped, and her tears ceased, but she kept the covers over her head, as she listened to the footsteps retrieve back down the stairs, to the kitchen, through the hallway, to the cold night.  His footsteps echoed into the night, and melted into the soft sounds of the babbling stream.  The next morning, Rosa checked the door, and it was locked. 

 

TRICK OR TREAT THROUGH J-LAND

     

It's FRIDAY!!!  YAHOOOOO.....YIPPPEEE!!!!!   

I'm making my rounds and doing my trick or treating already...  I'm knocking on as many journals I can this weekend leaving treats... (comments)... 

It's going to be a busy weekend for me.  I have homecoming activites tonight... (My daughter is performing as a belly dancer and doing another dance routine at half time), I have grocery shopping, cleaning the house all weekend, doing a wedding registry with a friend who is getting hitched, a homecoming dance last minute preparations...last minute Halloween stuff....like making cupcakes..etc..etc...  My weekend is already gone!

Have fun, and be careful of  those loosely wrapped up candy comments....        

 

Assignment #83--Spooky Halloween Story

It was the night AFTER Halloween that freaked me. 

After a weekend of lying to my parents, I thought that God's wrath was going fall upon me.  I was with my friend, Denise, and we were driving a very twisty and windy highway back home from a weekend in San Francisco.  The rain was pouring down on us, and the car's tires skided quite a bit.  There was thunder, there was lightning, and Denise had just gotten her driver's license a few months previous.  Is that scary enough for you?  It was a shakey and swervy ride.  I remember putting on a brave face, but reciting the Hail Mary under my breath as we slowly skidded down the long highway.  I remember Linda Ronstadt's Blue Bayou was playing on the radio.  All I could think of however was that song "Riders On the Storm" by Jim Morrison (Doors).  "There's a killer on the road....."  Denise's knuckles on the steering wheel were white.  I honestly did not think we were going to make it home, and that I was going to be punished somehow or another.

When I was seventeen I agreed to go spend Halloween with my best friend, Denise.  We thought it would be fun to go up to San Francisco to look for Halloween costumes, and Denise had an uncle who lived close by who invited her and a friend (me) to spend the Halloween weekend at his house. Her uncle was going to throw a big Halloween party, and urged us to go and to come in costume.  I desperately wanted to go, but I knew there would be no chance in hell that my parents would let me go up to San Francisco and spend the night there; so I lied. 

 

Denise picked me up in her mother’s old BMW, and we took off to San Francisco.  I asked my mother if I could go to San Francisco for the day, and she wasn’t very happy about it, but I somehow convinced her to let me go.  Of course, I lied and I knew very well of the consequences involved, and that I would be in a whole lot of trouble later, but at the time, it seemed worth it to just be the rebel and spend the weekend in San Francisco.  I wanted to hang out with my friend Denise,and I wanted to go to this party. 

 

After hanging out at Denise’s uncle’s  gated condo duplex community in Walnut Creek (he must have had money, because this place was massive and quite trendy looking), we decided to go on BART and go shopping in downtown San Francisco.  We went to a few costume places, but didn’t buy anything, mostly we just went window-shopping, and it was great!  I had never been on a subway before, and never had the opportunity to actually walk around downtown San Francisco!  It was a taste of independence and freedom for me.  When we got back to the uncle’s condo, I decided to call my parents, and give them the news.  Of course, I lied again, and explained that my friend’s car had tire trouble, and that I wouldn’t be able to return until the following day, but I was completely okay, because we were going to stay at my friend’s uncle’s house, and we would leave the next day…  It is only now that I can fully appreciate how furious my parents must have been with me.  Of course, at the time, I could not understand why they were so upset, and I resented the fact that they didn’t trust me. 

 

Poor Denise had no idea what I had said, and did not know that I had to lie to come up withher.  I didn’t tell her mostly because I felt embarrassedthat my parents didn’t trust me, or feel I was old enough to spend a weekend with a friend.  For God sakes, throughout high school I never got in trouble, or hardly went on dates with boys, or ever caused them worry, and Denise was someone that I actually went with to her religious revivals for the Salvation Army!  In no means was my friend a party animal of any sort, and we didn’t smoke or drink…we were two goody too shoes.  How dare my mother question what and where I was going!!  I was 17, not 12!!

 

Denise’s uncle took us out to dinner to a hole in the wall Italian restaurant.  I remember eating my spaghetti, hearing my mother’s very disapproving voice in my head.  The spaghetti wasn’t that great, and I remember thinking that my mom’s spaghetti tasted a whole lot better.  I don't know if it was really the food I didn't like, or the guilt that was building in my stomach as I envisioned my mother fuming. 

 

After dinner, we got ready for the uncle’s Halloween party.  He gave me an old karate outfit for a costume.  I turned the shirt backwards, and wore it as a straight jacket, wore a lot of makeup, and teased my hair as high as I could muster.  I wanted to look like Pat Benatar from one of her album covers.  I don’t remember what Denise was, but I think she was dressed as a cat, I can’t remember for the life of me.  I only remember feeling VERY guilty, but at the same time, determined to have fun. 

 

Well, we went to the party, and right away we both felt out of place.  It was apparent that we were at a “singles” party, and we were the youngest ones there.  The men were checking out the women, and vice versa.  People were drinking, and of course my friend Denise was totally against that, so we decided to play on the elevators and walk around.  A younger guy who was also at the party befriended us, and we thought he was nice looking, but he seemed a little too interested in Denise.  He wanted to know if we wanted to join him at hisplace where we could go drinking and smoke some Mary Jane.  I knew what was coming, so I just sat there and let Denise do the talking. 

 

“Have you tried talking to Jesus?”  Denise asked. 

 

Well, after that question, I don’t remember exactly what he said, but let’s just say he left us rather quickly and disappeared in the night.  Denise and I, the cat and the psycho girl, returned to the party, and proceeded to play on the elevators and pretended to work out in the gym and racket ball facility at the condo. 

 

To make a long story short, WE DID survive that crazy night on the highway, and although I was yelled at when I finally got home, I could clearly see the relief on my parent's faces when they saw me at the door.  I was happy to be home too.  It was a terrifying night, and this goody too shoes was done with her weekend of freedom. 

Extra Credit:  "Monster Mash"-- Not my favo; the Beach Boys version is bearable tho..  I like the song "Witchy Woman"..(Eagles) 

Oh My Word!

I'm spreading the word around for my pal, Teeisme57:

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 THOUGH 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 7pm Friday and end 9pm Monday...whatever your time zone. Report back here next week to let us know how many trick or treaters you had.

 

Witch Hat

When I was a little girl, I liked playing in my mother’s closet.  My mother had a large closet full of dresses and coats and shoes, but, I don’t exactly remember why I liked playing in there, other than the fact that I’m pretty sure it had to do a lot with my mother’s pill box hat collection that she kept on the very top shelf of her closet.  They were old hats that my mother wore when my older siblings were babies, and they were what she called her “Jackie O” hats.  I never saw her wear them, and I was fascinated by them.  I would often climb on chairs or stools just to try and reach for them.  Sometimes I would throw one of her fancy heels at one of them, and they would eventually fall down one by one from off the shelf.   I would put the hats on my head, put on my mother’s heels, and walk around the house in them until she noticed.  Of course, she would eventually notice the mess in the closet before she saw me come around the corner, and I was often scolded and told not to go in her closet again, but of course, it didn’t stop me from playing in her closets…

 

UNTIL ONE DAY….. 

 

On one particular day, when her closet doors were open, I looked high up in her closet and was surprised to see something I had never seen before.  Right next to her pink, feathered pill box hat, on the top shelf, was a pointed, black, Halloween witch hat!  Of course, it was obvious that the hat was made of paper, with orange and green fringes, and it looked a lot like the hat my sister wore that Halloween, and it couldn’t possibly belong to my mother, BUT the image of that hat in my mother’s closet haunted me for days, maybe even weeks. 

 

That is when I started having dreams that my mother was a witch.  Of course, the witch wasn’t my REAL mother; my mother was transformed to an evil witch when she put on the hat.  The only time she wore the hat was at night when she was busy in her sewing room, which happened to be upstairs, right next to my bedroom.  As I lay there in my twin bed, I would slowly pull the covers over my head, as I listened to the hum of the sewing machine in the next room.  The humming would keep me up late, but I would eventually fall asleep, and have another dream.  In the dream, my mother was now transformed to a witch, busily sewing away on her sewing machine of evil, as she made more and more black witch hats.  She would then jump on a broom and laugh as she flew through the windows of my room.  I would wake up from these dreams in the middle of the night, and run to the top of the stairs, where I would continually scream until I was rescued by my father and my REAL mother, who had since been transformed back to her normal pink feathered pill box hat self.  

 

After numerous dreams, I finally confided to my sister of what I had seen in our mother’s closet, and of course she ran off and told her that I thought she was a witch.  This did not sit well with my mother, but the witch hat was quickly removed from her closet and into the trash, and it wasn’t until then until the witch nightmares ended.

Bedtime Story Assignment

As I child, I fondly remember my mother reading to me from a Mother Goose book with her slight Portuguese accent.  However, most of the stories that were told to me and my siblings were not read from a book, but recited from my mother's own childhood stories. 

Most of these stories revolved around her family, and her many aunts and uncles (she had 13 of them) and many cousins.  She enjoyed telling me stories about one aunt in particular, "Tia Merquinhas", who apparently was very stubborn whom my parents felt I had a lot in common with.  Not only was she stubborn, but she was known to be sort of a rebel who often did things her way, not caring what other people thought of her.  (Okay, what is wrong with that?) When she got older, she hid her money and gold in her mattress and in the walls of her home fearing that she would one day be robbed by family members or thieves.  (Imagine the activity in that house after she died!).  The last time I saw Tia Merquinhas she barely could see very well, but she was a very strong and determined little old woman, who went about her business, taking her walks with her walking stick through the village with her dark heavy shawl.  Yes, she was a bit on the eccentric side, but it wasn't until I got older did I learn more of her very unfortunate, heartbroken life, and to this day I am not miffed at all being compared to this very strong willed woman.  (But that is another story in itself.)

Most of the stories  told to us as children were more like fables.  There was always an important lesson to be learned!  One of the stories that still is fresh on my mind is the story about the poor little girl my mother was friends with who never put on slippers after taking a bath.  She stepped upon the cold floor and immediately had a stroke which immediately left her paralyzed.  To my parent's dismay, I never wore my slippers after taking a bath, and they often felt they needed to remind me over and over again about this little girl's demise.  Another story that was told to me was the story of the little boy who always left the house with wet hair and no sweater.  He also had a stroke, and was left with a disfigured mouth marked by the cold weather.  I apparently still haven't learned my lessons, and I still leave the house with wet hair, no coat, and I often leave my shower/bath barefoot.  Dare I even mention that yearsago, I left the house for work with a towel still wrapped in my hair?  It wasn't until I noticed my young daughter's weird expression as she looked up at me, and finally felt the cold morning air, that I indeed FORGOT to take the towel out of my hair and comb it out. 

I am, however guilty of telling these stories to my own children; just because I can... 

My favorite story that was told to me was about the old man who wandered the streets carrying the large burlap bag over his shoulders, full of children that refused to sleep at night.  I remember jumping into my parent's bed with my older sister (when my father worked graveyard shifts), and snuggling close to my mother, giggling and chattering away refusing to sleep.  Suddenly, out of the darkness of the room, my mother, out of desperation would knock on the headboard.  Suddenly, we all became very quiet.  "Olha, o velho!"  my mother warned.  (Look, the old man is here!).  We all lay there, motionless, listening in silence hoping that the old man would go away and leave us in peace.  We lay there until we finally gave in to the silence and drifted to sleep, often to my mother singing "Ave, Ave Maria...." over and over again. 

Extra Credit:  Yes, I have done the old man technique story with my own children, and they now think it is very funny, and often pretend to be the old man.  I tried this the other night with my almost 2 year old, and although he probably doesn't understand, he worked like a charm. 

Coelha Rita

Guess what?  I got another email from my cousin (Coelho) this afternoon!  Here is his daughter, Rita in front of one of the fire engines in the Azores.  She is such a cute little bunny rabbit, isn't she?

The ghosts of the White House

 One night, George W. Bush is tossing restlessly in his White House bed.
  He awakens to see George Washington standing by him. Bush asks him,
  "George, what's the best thing I can do to help the country?"
  "Set an honest and honorable example, just as I did," Washington
  advises, and then fades away.

  The next night, Bush is astir again, and sees the ghost of Thomas
  Jefferson moving through the darkened bedroom. Bush calls out, "Tom,
  please! What is the best thing I can do to help the country?"

  "Respect the Constitution, as I did," Jefferson advises, and dims
  from sight.

 The third night sleep is still not in the cards for Bush. He awakens 
  to see the ghost of FDR hovering over his bed. Bush whispers, "Franklin,
 What  is the best thing I can do to help the country?"

  "Help the less fortunate, just as I did," FDR replies and fades into 
  the mist.

  Bush isn't sleeping well the fourth night when he sees another figure
  moving in the shadows. It is the ghost of Abraham Lincoln. Bush 
  pleads,  "Abe, what is the best thing I can do right now to help the country?"

  Lincoln replies, "Why don't you go see a play."       

Madonna does ABBA

I just listened to Madonna's "new" song, "Hung Up", and as I listened to this very dance worthy tune, I was taken aback to HOW SIMILAR this song was to Abba's "Gimme Gimme Gimme A Man After Midnight" song.  She is copying ABBA!!!!

I don't imagine there are many of you Abba fans still out there, and you may not know what I'm talking about, BUT if you happen by chance have the Abba record with that song on it, listen to it, and then listen to Madonna's new song.

Since age 12, I've collected all of the Abba's records; and no, I am not ashamed!  BUT, I'm starting to wonder, why Madonna has to be looking for material in previously recorded Abba music...  I hope Bjorn and Benny, Agatha and Frida are at least getting some royalty monies!!

"Gimme Gimme Gimme (A Man After Midnight)"   

Half past twelve
And I'm watching the late show in my flat all alone
How I hate to spend the evening on my own
Autumn winds
Blowing outside my window as I look around the room
And it makes me so depressed to see the gloom
There's not a soul out there
No one to hear my prayer

Gimme gimme gimme a man after midnight
Won't somebody help me chase the shadows away
Gimme gimme gimme a man after midnight
Take me through the darkness to the break of the day

Movie stars
Find the end of the rainbow, with a fortune to win
It's so different from the world I'm living in
Tired of T.V.
I open the window and I gaze into the night
But there's nothing there to see, no one in sight
There's not a soul out there
No one to hear my prayer

Gimme gimme gimme a man after midnight
Won't somebody help me chase the shadows away
Gimme gimme gimme a man after midnight
Take me through the darkness to the break of the day

Gimme gimme gimme a man after midnight...
Gimme gimme gimme a man after midnight...

There's not a soul out there
No one to hear my prayer

Gimme gimme gimme a man after midnight
Won't somebody help me chase the shadows away
Gimme gimme gimme a man after midnight
Take me through the darkness to the break of the day
Gimme gimme gimme a man after midnight
Won't somebody help me chase the shadows away
Gimme gimme gimme a man after midnight
Take me through the darkness to the break of the day                

A call from the Azores...

Above is a picture of my cousin, Coelho--on one of his days off. 

I keep in touch with all my cousins in the Azores, and we usually exchange emails, jokes...etc..  My cousin, Jose Carlos, who I call "Coelho", (rabbit) usually sends me the most emails, probably because he has a lot more free time.  He is a fireman who lives on a small island.  Most all of the houses/buildings there are made of stone and cement.  I imagine most of his work is dealing with small brush fires, and accidents that may occur at the airport.  The other day he sent me another email requesting my phone number at work and at home.  Knowing my cousin, I knew he was up to something, and although I really wasn't expecting a phone call,  sure enough, I got a phone call at work!

"Is this Julie McQueen?"  (I don't know why, but he likes calling me that...)

"Coelho!? Is that you?!" 

My cousin has found a great new service online!  It is pretty amazing, and it took little to convince me to join.  I am now a member of SKYPE.  Check it out at www.skype.com.  For a few cents on the dollar, you can make international calls anywhere in the world.  It is pretty cool...  Check it out!  I've sent emails to all my other cousins to let them know about it. 

I just got another call from Coelho this afternoon.  This is the latest Azorean update of Terceira:  Weather conditions, cold and windy.  Price of gas:  Almost $4 a gallon.  What did my cousin do today:  Played a round of golf, went to the American Air Force base, and had a Whopper at Burger King (newly opened at the base) and then surfed on EBAY looking for Sugar Daddies (the candy), and new parts for his new mountain bike, called his cousin (me.)  Apparently, it is cheaper for him to call me than his own mother whom happens to live on the same island. 

If you are thinking about changing careers, think about being a fireman in the Azores.  This is a description of his work week:   He worked Wednesday and Thursday, and Sunday, then he got 5 days off.  On his days off, he spends time with his wife and little girl, and plays golf, tennis, and mountain biking, and he still has time to call his cousin (me) in California just to shoot the breeze.   Life is good....

 

Tuesday

 

 

1. Who was the last person you send flowers to?  Who was the last person to send you flowers?

My husband sent me flowers for our anniversary, they were beautiful long stemmed roses.  The last person I sent flowers to was to my daughter for her birthday, unfortunately, the high school that she was attending at the time wouldn't accept them, so my daughter had to walk downtown to retrieve them from the florist.

2. What is your favorite single piece of furniture in your home and why?

That would have to be the mirror/dresser my husband bought for my birthday.  It's the newest piece of furniture we have in the house that was bought after we were married, so it's special to me, and it's quite pretty--it's where I always display the flowers he sends me. 

3. You are given the chance to model clothing in a catalog.  What type of clothing would you most want to model and why?

Dresses, I don't know why..  I guess I feel sometimes that I just don't wear enough of them.  I live mostly in jeans, and it gets a little boring.

 

4. Take this quiz:  What is your "power color?"

Your Power Color Is Teal At Your Highest:

You feel accomplished and optimistic about the future.

At Your Lowest:

You feel in a slump and lack creativity.

In Love:

You tend to be many people's ideal partner.

How You're Attractive:

You make people feel confident and accepted.

Your Eternal Question:

"What Impression Am I Giving?"

5. What product are you mostly likely to buy in bulk?  Have you figured out whether you actually are saving money by doing so?

That would have to be toilet paper.  I have three bathrooms and a full house....there never seems to be enough.

6. READER'S CHOICE QUESTION #75 from Mortimer:  Now that winter is approaching, what is your ultimate comfort food? What guilty pleasure do you eat that is sinfully not good for you but, you can't get enough?

Comfort food, that would be the bean stew (feijao) my mother makes; it's a Portuguese dish made of pink beans, onion, linguica, and other stuff---very yummy.  I put if over two slices of bread, and it is way delicious.  Naughty pleasure would have to be ice cream.  I enjoy eating ice cream in the rain--always have.  It just tastes better for some reason, and I crave it when it rains.

Friday Music..ha

It's FRIDAY!!!  YIPPPPEEE!!! 

I'm listening to Rick Moranis..  Okay, I thought this was a joke, but it isn't--check it out!

http://www.rickmoranis.com/

Ha :)

Favorite Sci Fi Flick

Yes folks...  Devil Girl From Mars!!!  (Tough in cheek..)

She is a vixen from the red, firey planet of Mars, who has come to snatch your boyfriend, husband, and brother!!!  Not only is she sex starved, but she plans to repopulate her red planet.  If you don't perfom (ha), she will turn you men into robots!! 

Are we scared yet?

Extra credit:  Favorite Sci Fi character:  Robbie the ROBOT..  "Danger, Danger!!"

Was Robbie a victim of the DEVIL WOMAN?!  We may never know!

 

Thursday

Last night, baby Nicholas slept in one hour intervals.  I was up at 11:30 pm, 12:20 pm, and again at 1:15 am, and 2:25 am.  I am not quite sure what was wrong, but I suspect he had an awful tummy ache, because after each little squeal, he made a little noise in his diaper.  You know, there isn't much on TV during those wee early morning hours, and the only TV he will tolerate is the Disney Channel.  It doesn't matter what is on, as long as he sees the little Micky Mouse ears at the corner.  We watched That's So Raven--you know the episode with the bees chasing Raven when she is competeing for most stylish at her high school, but the student counselor, played by Susan Lucci wins the award instead?  Exciting stuff..  We watched that, and very old reruns of another popular show that I can't remember the name of at this moment.  Forgive me, but I think I had a total of 3 hours sleep last night.  It was SOOO hard to get up at 6am.  It was so hard, that I pressed the snooze button at least 3 times, and actually did not get out of bed until 6:25 am.  Suprizingly enough, I managed to get out of the house, and in the car with son Andrew and the baby by 7:15.  Sure my hair was still wet, but it is very rare that I have time to blow dry anyway.  In the morning, I ususally have this big wet stain behind my shirt, that eventually goes away by noon..that is just the way it is.  All I can say, is thank GOD for the CARPOOL lane.  If it wasn't for that lane, I'd be late everyday.  I confess however, I do feel guilty when I whiz by past the other cars waiting at the meter waiting for the light to change.  People really should drive in 2's more often though. 

Well, it's finally Thursday, and I'm sitting here at my desk thinking about the weekend.  My weekends always seem to be a bit hurried and busy, and I shouldn't wonder why the weekends just go so fast. 

This weekend, my daughter needs to go to the school and take pictures for the year book for her dance club, and I also have to take her the mall (always fun--NOT) to find a dress for the senior formal, and the formal dinner that she is going to attend from her Leadership Club -(she is going to meet Magic Johnson and this big ole fancy hotel), and I need to take her to grandmother's house for the weekend like I had promised my mom.  Lizzy warned me that if I made her switch schools, and force her  to attend the high school two blocks fromhome (we moved), that she would make a point of doing every extra afterschool activity there was.  Well, she is, and I have no problem with it--in fact I'm proud of her, but man she keeps me busy! 

I also promised a friend that I would help her register for her wedding at Target and Crate and Barrell.   I still don't know what time she is going to show up, and I am waiting for her to call me.  She probably doesn't realize that I must start planning and scheduling my weekend around this event. 

One weekend, I hope me and hubby get a chance to just leave for the weekend.  Destination, I don't know--just somewhere away from normal life for awhile.  I started typing this, I was listening to Mary Capin Carpenter sing the following song.  It's sweet and so simple; it reminds me of that beautiful day in Pacific Grove when I and my husband said our vows.  Sweet and simple, not complicated--that is how love should be.  I am so lucky!

Grow Old With Me

Grow old along with me
The best is yet to be
When our time has come
We will be as one
God bless our love
God bless our love
Grow old along with me
Two branches of one tree
Face the setting sun
When the day is done
God bless our love
God bless our love
Spending our lives together
Man and wife together
World without end
World without end
Grow old along with me
Whatever fate decrees
We will see it through
For our love is true
God bless our love
God bless our love

Written by: John Lennon

Childhood Backyard(s)

This entry is response to the following journal's question of the day:  http://journals.aol.com/promiseluv372/TheJournalJar

Describe your childhood backyard:  Did you do yardwork?

We never moved when I was growing up, but there are three backyards I remember quite fondly.  They are the following:

Home/California:  I had one backyard during my entire childhood, and I guess I was pretty lucky.  It hasn't changed very much since then either.  There are still a few fruit trees, and of course the over grown lemon tree at the corner.  The large orange tree my father had planted, has been replaced by numerous rose bushes and two apple trees.  The vineyard that used to cover the entire background that would cover are little picnic table is now clear across the other side of the backyard.  The hole where the tetherball used to be is still there, and the backyard steps are still painted from the last time my father painted them. The ivy is growing on the fence is still there, and it is probably the only reason why the 45 year old fence is still standing.  I remember many days in the backyard as a child, not doing yardwork, but snapping leaves off the hydrogena and dropping them in big buckets of water pretending to fish.  I remember blowing dandelions, and making wishes, and being frightened of the casual lizard that would creep out from the hedges and the lemon tree.  My father was usually in the backyard, and even today, when I sit out there on the steps, I can still imagine him there.

Grandma's backyard:  My grandmother's bacykard was a fascinating place.  Whenever I would come over to visit I would go directly behind the hydrogenea bushes to spy through the holes of the fence she shared with her neighbor.  Her neighbor gave swimming lessons and if you looked through the holes of the fence you could see the pool and the various floating animals looking back at you.  It was almost looking inside a magical imaginary zoo.  The aqua blue water of the pool bounced off the fiberglass above and gave out a beautiful  blue hue on the faces of the plastic animal faces of zebras, monkeys, ducks and seals.  Another favorite place in her backyard was the cellar.  The cellar had a dirt floor and was directly underneath the foundation of the house.  In it my grandmother had boxes and boxes of old magazines, books and garden tools.  It smelled moldy, and musky, and it was dark, but I used to remember enjoying sitting there listening to the conversations above, and hear the creaks from the footsteps walking about.  "Have you seen Julie?"  I also remember thinking that my brother used to live there.  (I have an older brother who died before I was born.)  His toy sit in street car sat there alone and rusted in the corner of the cellar.  I was always too scared to touch it, and I never did.  My grandmother did the yardwork in her background, and I lovingly remember her wearing her scarf and straw hat when she was out gardening.

In the Azores: Many summers were spent in the Azores while growing up.  When we were there, we would stay at my mother's childhood home.  My mother's backyard was narrow and long, seperated by two cement and rock walls on eachside.  There was always a nieghbor outside either hanging clothes, washing clothes, feeding chickens or gossiping.  "Olha, os americanos foi a praia ontem.."  If you hung out your swimsuit and beach towel out on the line, sometimes it was the main subject of conversation in the neighborhood.  Maybe a little too close for comfort.  At the end of the backyard, there was an empty old pig pen made of stone, and in front of it was a beautiful fig tree.  My step-grandfather used to take great pride of that fig tree, and was the main caretaker of the backyard when were were away.  My cousins and I loved climbing on the tree and swinging on the branches when he wasn't looking.  I also remember pretending to wash clothes in the old "pia" near the stairs leading to the backyard.  A pia is a large stone looking sink that my grandmother used to wash clothes in.  I thought it fun washing clothes in it, and as a child I remember sitting in it and washing the sand off of myself after a day at the beach. 

 

Monday Photo Shoot on a Friday!

Okay, I know this is extremely late, but here are some pictures of wild animals that were taken by my cousins. 

They were taken last month at the Jardim Zoological in Lisbon, Portugal.  Pretty cool, huh?  I got these pictures from my cousin Adelaide, and I just had to share.

Okay, I didn't take them, and they weren't taken in my backyard, and this assignment is very late, but--what the hey?!

Favorite (Stupid) Jokes

Weekend Assignment #80 from John Scalzi: 

Share a favorite joke. Keep it clean, of course. Otherwise, go nuts.

Okay, these jokes are truly silly, but, hey--why not post them just for fun?!  One of my most favorite quotes reads:  "Laughter is the closet distance between two people".   P.S.  Sorry about the blonde jokes---some of my best friends have been blondes, so please don't take offense...I love them all.. 

What do you call a skating rink full of blondes?

A bunch of frosted flakes.

Why did Helen Keller burn her fingers?

She tried to read the waffle iron.

How did Helen's parents punish her?

They moved the furniture.

Why did Helen run away with the priest?

He promised her that he would show her the "light". 

Why do you call a guy with no legs, and no arms, who swims?

Bob.

What to call a guy who always hangs out your door and never leaves?

Matt.

What do you call a guy who just enjoys hanging around?

Art.

What do you call a woman who has one leg longer than the other?

Eileen.

WHILE RIDING A BUS, A BLONDE WAS READING THE NEWSPAPER

AND THE HEADLINE BLARED, "12 BRAZILIAN SOLDIERS

KILLED." SHE SHOOK HER HEAD AT THE SAD NEWS, THEN

TURNED TO THE STRANGER SITTING NEXT TO HER AND ASKED,

 

"ABOUT HOW MANY IS A BRAZILIAN?"

Mary Poppins moved

It seems that Mary Poppins has moved to California. She has started a business telling people's fortunes. But, she doesn't read palms or tea leaves, she smells one's breath. That, right, the sign outside reads: Super California Mystic Expert Halitosis.

Extra Credit:  Do people think you are actually funny?  Yes they do, but sometimes they laugh when I don't even try to be funny, and that worries me.

Have a great weekend everyone! :)

Julie Did a GOOGLE on her name...

I picked this up from Mary's Journal at:  http://journals.aol.com/gardenmantis/MidnightDiaries 

Go to keyword Google and type in "your name is" in quotation marks, like this "Mary is".

Well, here is mine:  "Julie is"....

Julie is her name.  (yes it is..)

Miss Julie is a lacerating power play. (not sure what that means..)

Julie is a passionate young woman.  (yep)

Miss Julie is complicated by his class envy and misogyny. (huh?)

Julie is a voice performance music major, and would like to be a professional.  (always wished I could sing..)

Julie is convinced that he will come back to her. (of course he will...)

Julie is a participant in numerous conventions, charming everyone in her path. (I sound like a hurricane--a charming one to boot!)

Julie is now on her fourth year of dancing at Bessenmer. (I wish.)

Julie is presently serving as Coordinator for Science Fiction. (oh gosh, I'm a geek now.)

Julie is one sexy lady.  (so i've been told.. :)

Julie is wet after getting sprayed by Steve's shower. (oh my!)

Miss Julie is irate at the pregnancy. (who is pregnant?!)

Julie is not a sleazy film. (thanks)

Julie is no longer a loner; she too, learns about being a part of the community. (i try)

Julie is about a girl who lives with her dad. 

Julie is the love of my life.  (aawww)

Julie is an MP3 and OGG jukebox written in Python and C for UNIX systems.  (wow-i'm like a robot!)

Julie is Jeff Bystander.  (wow, now i'm a trans-sexual!)

Julie is a fascinating film that explores the journey of a girl.

Julie is told that all men want from a woman is their body. (ha ha..no comment.)

Julie is back...and how!

Julie is a funny person.  (aaww)

Julie is having a unique experience that no one else I know is having.  (I am?!)

Miss Julie is despondent after the breaking off of her engagement to be married.

Julie is a rising star on the DPA horizon.  (sounds good..what is a DPA?)

Julie is also a member of the the world music band "Safe Harbor."  (I hope I play the bongos)

Julie is faced with a dilemma that could have been avoided.  (story of my life..)

Julie is more confident each day on the slopes.  (wow, I ski now!)

Julie is my hero.  :)

Julie is a trashy tart, a cogelle, which is a pejorative term for the kind of slutty, working-class southern French girl that Julie is.  (ha ha..my favorite.)

Julie is in a trance-like state, trying to shut out the world around her.  (yeah, is something wrong with that?)

Julie is a very powerful woman!

Julie is portrayed as a conscientous person.

Julie is, without any doubt, the interpreter of Peruvian music needs to transcend frontiers and to project the vital new image that our country needs.  (quite a mouthful..)

Julie is on the go.  (always)

Julie is not fired, but offered the CEO position.  (at last!)

Julie is a firmly rooted Muscovite. (?)

Julie is active not not an activist,; she has opinions, but is not an agitator.  (does this mean i'm a wuss?)

Julie is immediately suspicious and thinks that the CEO is going to fire her.  (hey I was just promotted!)

Julie is really funny and I like her snarky sarcastic wit.  (i'm snarky..ha ha)

Julie is the founder and director of  Steel de Boro.  (? what?)

Julie is tierd and focused on getting milk.  (my family drinks gallons of it!)

Julie is exposed to drunks and street fighting as she sells her goods on the streets. (only at work)

Julie is growing up and therefore may well be subject to mood swings.  (give me chocolate..NOW)

Julie is at high risk of schizophrenia. (perhaps)

Julie is determined to return to Preston's side to nurse him to health.  (who is Preston?)

Julie is originally from Scotland and is married to Skevos who is Greek. (totally untrue..my husband was born in Fresno, California!)

Julie is a frequent guest on many TV and radio shows, including Oprah.  (I WISH)

Julie is burdened with the usual motives of her meanness. (ouch!)

Julie is being sited for her diligence in blostering the work of all 50 employees. (it's about time!)

Julie is nervous about appearing on national television. (the camera does add an extra 10 pounds!)

Julie is blue, the color of sorrow which has filled my heart, so many times.  (i'm a heart breaker..i'm sorry!)

Julie is a snake.  (ssss....ssssss)

Julie is as comfortable in front a group or on camera as she is interacting with some of the world's most fascinating creatures.  (must include snakes..)

Julie is a nice looking woman with an all natural body.  (yes, all my body parts are indeed REAL.)

Julie is hesitant to set herself up.  (Well, DUH)

Julie is easy to chat with, has a nice personality, and a decent sense of humor for further heartbreak.  (i'm a wuss?  is this a compliment?)

Julie is candid that life as a single parent is not easy. (so true)

Julie is absolutely relentless in her lust. (whoooa...baby!)

Julie is right.  (enough said!)

 

 

What do you "shop" for at the grocery store?

There is a local paper that comes out each week in this little town and I read it on occasion during my coffee break at my desk.  It's a free paper and I basically just get it to read my "astrological forecast" for the week.  Sometimes there are a few interesting articles to read, but basically, I just end up skimming through it.  Sometimes if I need a good laugh, I'll read the personal ads.  (I'm sorry if this offends any of you single people out there, but in this day of age I imagine you all have a sense of humor by now.)  My favorite section in the Personals are the entries under the "Missed Connections" column.  They can be all quite interesting.  Here's an example:

"Our eyes met in the express line at the Corner Market.  I was wearing the blue turtleneck holding the bottle of merlot, and you were the stunning blonde in red holding the bag of apples.  Regrettably, I was too shy to start a conversation.  Want to meet for apple pie and wine sometime?"

Oh, and then there is this one:

"Our carts bumped briefly in the frozen food section of the grocery store last week.  I was the one who helped you pick up the bag of frozen peas.  Your eyes were as green as the peas, and your smile made me melt.  I was too embarrassed to even say hello.  Did you feel the same connection?"

Oddly enough, both of these encounters were at a grocery store.  The odds of course of these two ads ever being answered are quite slim unless one of these "missed connection" people actually pick up this obscure newspaper, and happen to come across the little ad, hidden tighthly away in the little column the day it actually goes into print.  It is kind of sad actually, and a little pathetic that someone took the time to write up these sappy ads in desperate hopes that their encounter person will actually make contact with them.  I'm sure they will get answers, however they might not be from the same people the were intended to reach.  Let's just hope that one day these people will meet at the grocery store again one day, and will gather the nerve to express themselves.  Aww... 

When I was single, I was told, and I had read in various books and magazines that the grocery store was an excellent place to meet men.  The "hot" aisles were of course the frozen food and pasta section because typically men ate a lot of frozen food and were onlycapable of boiling water for spaghetti.  I can speak from experience that I never met anyone remotely interesting at a grocery store, other than the escaped mental health patient wearing the fake fairy wings, pretending to be an angel.  (I swear for a moment there I thought I was the only one in there who could actually see him.) 

Do people actually meet other people at grocery stores?  It would be interesting to know.  Other places that I were told to meet other single people (besides bars, nightclubs, online dating) were as follows:  Childrens sporting events, (When I was single, I was so broke I couldn't afford putting my children into sporting events, and frankly they weren't interested in them.) Church (are you kidding?), Library (Yeah, if you want to meet a senior citizen for a game of checkers or if you have a thing for transient men), Walks in the park with the family dog (I own a cat), School (I was so broke when I was single I once worked 3 jobs--when do I go to school, while rasing two kids?).  None of these places worked for me.  I think the person who suggested these places for single people were all married.  Maybe they were all having affairs with married people, I don't know, or perhaps they were still watching a little too many old re-runs of Mary Tyler Moore or That Girl, when all you had to do is look cute and wear a good hat. 

I'm just glad I'm not single anymore!