I have a ghost.
We've known about our little friend since I bought the house. It's an older place, having been constructed in 1920, so I'd figured it had a little bit of history. To tell the truth, it was one of the reasons that I bought the house. I'd much rather live in a home that feels as though it has a story to tell than live in a cookie-cutter, brand new home in a sprawling develop. That, and the kitchen is the same size as the living room. I can throw entire parties in the kitchen alone. After having tried to cook in cramped, closet-sized apartment kitchens for 10 years (some so small that if the oven was open, you couldn't leave the kitchen), I needed a bigger place. But I digress.
For the most part, Casper's been a friendly ghost. (I don't know if it's male or female, I just like the idea of a cute little floating Devon Sawa hanging around. Shush. Don't judge me.) Things will creak and go THUNK in the back hallway when all pets are present and accounted for, and there's nothing to justify the noise. He likes to play with the cats, and it's very obvious that they can see him when he's roughing them up and tweaking their tails.
Then there's the objects that will randomly disappear and turn up again. I tore my world apart, looking for a Photoshop disk. It disappeared out of the cd holder for the computer related disks. I went through the desk. Not there. I went through the bookcase where computer books are stored. Not there. I rifled through the random boxes in storage, and of course it wasn't there, because there was no reason why it SHOULD be there, but I was ruling everything out. Finally, after days of frustration, I gave up. Somehow, though I don't know how, it had to have left the house. Maybe someone at the video store or redbox had gotten an exciting surprise.
Two weeks ago, as I was crawling into bed, I noticed a CD case on my headboard. Odd place for a CD, I thought, as I turned it over.
It was Photoshop.
I swear, I heard Casper giggling.
But now, our little ghost boy has started to get destructive. A few nights ago, we were all gathered in the living room catching up on Ax Men when there was a loud CRASH from the kitchen. The sound of glass shattering was so loud, it made two dogs, two cats, and two humans jump. I ran to the kitchen to find the remains of a wine glass more closely resembling sand than a solid object. My mind exploded.
The glass had been in the rack with a bracer that went all the way up the interior of the cup. For it to have made it all the way up and off the bracer, across the counter, and crashing to the floor would have required help. Of the ghostly kind.
Now, I might have let Casper off with a warning. That is, if it hadn't been an irreplaceable glass from a Wine Walk. He couldn't have shattered one of the cheap glass goblets I got at a discount store, oh no. He had to go for the one that had sentimental value.
But here's the question; apart from going all Sam-and-Dean-Winchester on the spook, how exactly to you get back at a ghost?
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Monday, September 26, 2011
Where is my mind?
I'm sitting at my desk. Like most days, my attention isn't drawn to the work in front of me, rather, I'm staring out the window. The branches of the tree outside are scratching against the window in the wind, and the leaves are just beginning to fade to yellow. As the sky darkens with ominious clouds and the window begins to blur with raindrops, I wonder, for the 23rd time this month, if autumn has finally arrived.
I'm unashamedly sipping my morning coffee from last years Starbucks Holiday travel cup. The bright red of the cup is contrasted by the white snowflakes and a variety of winter scenery. I flavoured my coffee with peppermint mocha creamer, and I suddenly feel the need to blast some Burl Ives or Bing Crosby.
Don't ask me. I don't understand my mind sometimes, either.
After all, I have more important autumn-related things to focus on; fitting into my Halloween costume, planning the giant Halloween party we're hosting, and, oh yeah, training for the 5k that is now looming less than two weeks away.
Two weeks. Yikes. Yeah. Um. I'm not ready. But that's another story for another blog.
I wonder if we'll even have an autumn this year, or, like my mind, Mother Nature will decide to jump straight from summer into winter. I wouldn't put it past her, and I certainly wouldn't complain. My snowshoes are lonely in the shed and ready for an adventure, and my bulky, comfy winter clothes desperately need to come out and warm me up.
Anyone else caught in-between seasons today?
I'm unashamedly sipping my morning coffee from last years Starbucks Holiday travel cup. The bright red of the cup is contrasted by the white snowflakes and a variety of winter scenery. I flavoured my coffee with peppermint mocha creamer, and I suddenly feel the need to blast some Burl Ives or Bing Crosby.
Don't ask me. I don't understand my mind sometimes, either.
After all, I have more important autumn-related things to focus on; fitting into my Halloween costume, planning the giant Halloween party we're hosting, and, oh yeah, training for the 5k that is now looming less than two weeks away.
Two weeks. Yikes. Yeah. Um. I'm not ready. But that's another story for another blog.
I wonder if we'll even have an autumn this year, or, like my mind, Mother Nature will decide to jump straight from summer into winter. I wouldn't put it past her, and I certainly wouldn't complain. My snowshoes are lonely in the shed and ready for an adventure, and my bulky, comfy winter clothes desperately need to come out and warm me up.
Anyone else caught in-between seasons today?
Sunday, September 25, 2011
Amazing Day...Keeping it Tight
I have wanted a corset forever.
No, seriously. When I was a kid playing make believe, I wanted to be the warrior pirate running around in a peasant blouse, long skirt, badass-bitch-boots, and a cinched corset. Growing up and doing theater, wearing a corset was a must for period shows, but those belonged to the costume department, not me.
There's just something about a corset that makes a woman feel like a woman. Hourglass figure, overwhelming bosom, flattering hips...sexy as hell. If you've never worn one, you immediately find yourself carrying yourself differently once it's been properly cinched.
(Spare me the historical references, the permanent damage stories, and the smelling-salts stories. I'm not talking about Scarlett O'Hara's 18-inch cinch here.)
Today, I got my wish.
A close friend, the roomie and I took an adventure to a fabulous costume store in Seattle. Before going, I looked over the website, figuring out what, if anything, I'd be interested in. Because, let's face it, I'm a curvy girl, and the majority of Halloween costumes are made for the skinny-mini girls who can traipse about in a body stocking and bunny tails. It's hard to find costumes to fit over my...um...ample bosoms. But I digress...Clicking around the site, I stumbled on their corset section...and that was it. I knew.
On the ride up, I kept trying not to get my hopes up. Finding a corset that would fit me, plus being a flattering color, plus being steel-boned (oh, please, I don't play around with anything less than steel)...well, it seemed impossible. It turns out, I needn't have worried.
The staff at the store could not have made my experience more positive and amazing. When I told the girl, I wanted a corset, there were no telltale signs of disgust. Instead, she clapped her hands excitedly and led me to the section, and measured me. She helped lace me up, and explained to my friends how to do it properly, and even gave me tips and tricks for wearing it! She really knew her stuff and was so friendly, she put me right at ease. Once I saw myself in the mirror, even without being fully tightened, I was FLOORED. It had to come home with me, it was meant to be.
A special thank you to the staff of A Masquerade, who didn't pay or give me anything for writing this, but they were just too awesome not to mention.
And now...the photos!
No, seriously. When I was a kid playing make believe, I wanted to be the warrior pirate running around in a peasant blouse, long skirt, badass-bitch-boots, and a cinched corset. Growing up and doing theater, wearing a corset was a must for period shows, but those belonged to the costume department, not me.
There's just something about a corset that makes a woman feel like a woman. Hourglass figure, overwhelming bosom, flattering hips...sexy as hell. If you've never worn one, you immediately find yourself carrying yourself differently once it's been properly cinched.
(Spare me the historical references, the permanent damage stories, and the smelling-salts stories. I'm not talking about Scarlett O'Hara's 18-inch cinch here.)
Today, I got my wish.
A close friend, the roomie and I took an adventure to a fabulous costume store in Seattle. Before going, I looked over the website, figuring out what, if anything, I'd be interested in. Because, let's face it, I'm a curvy girl, and the majority of Halloween costumes are made for the skinny-mini girls who can traipse about in a body stocking and bunny tails. It's hard to find costumes to fit over my...um...ample bosoms. But I digress...Clicking around the site, I stumbled on their corset section...and that was it. I knew.
On the ride up, I kept trying not to get my hopes up. Finding a corset that would fit me, plus being a flattering color, plus being steel-boned (oh, please, I don't play around with anything less than steel)...well, it seemed impossible. It turns out, I needn't have worried.
The staff at the store could not have made my experience more positive and amazing. When I told the girl, I wanted a corset, there were no telltale signs of disgust. Instead, she clapped her hands excitedly and led me to the section, and measured me. She helped lace me up, and explained to my friends how to do it properly, and even gave me tips and tricks for wearing it! She really knew her stuff and was so friendly, she put me right at ease. Once I saw myself in the mirror, even without being fully tightened, I was FLOORED. It had to come home with me, it was meant to be.
A special thank you to the staff of A Masquerade, who didn't pay or give me anything for writing this, but they were just too awesome not to mention.
And now...the photos!
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| Laced up, from the back. |
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| Laced up, from the front. |
Saturday, September 24, 2011
Musing with the Muse
I've been kind of in a slump with my blogging lately, and I've been trying to figure out why.
It's not that my Muse isn't speaking. She is. She just has no interest in blogging, she'd rather work on fiction projects instead, which definitely has it's value, but...it's still not blogging.
You see, I used to be a GOOD blogger. Not on this blog, on my Livejournal. (Which, you won't find, so don't even try looking.) Every day, sometimes many times a day, for YEARS. From 2002 to 2011. I was an active part of the community, had several groups I contributed to regularly, and a feed of LJ users who would respond to me on the daily, just like I would respond to them. I never had to struggle for an entry, it just came.
Here, though, I don't know. It's harder, and I've been trying to figure out why.
For some reason, Blogger feels like more of a high pressure situation to me. It feels like everyone is staring at my follower count, and if it doesn't go up, I must be doing something wrong. If people don't comment on a blog entry, then it's like shouting into the ether; it makes me feel better, but it really doesn't count.
Why do I feel like this?
I'm guessing part of the reason has to do with how I got into Blogger to start with. A friend...or friend at the time...had/has a blog that's pretty high profile with an insane follower count, and had a pretty high profitability factor. I'd lamented to her that I'd missed blogging (my LJ had been unused for several months) and wanted to get back into it, she encouraged me to check out Blogger and said that if she could figure out the formatting, she knew I could. I figured, what did I have to lose, so I signed up.
The problem was, I found myself trying to emulate her. I wanted my follower count to be high, I wanted people to read my entries and comment constantly, I wanted companies to read my reviews and send me money or free products. Heck, I even think my first entry was a product review.
But I wasn't writing for ME, I was writing what I thought people wanted to read.
Well, shoot.
We just figured out why the Muse isn't speaking for Blogger, didn't we?
It's not that my Muse isn't speaking. She is. She just has no interest in blogging, she'd rather work on fiction projects instead, which definitely has it's value, but...it's still not blogging.
You see, I used to be a GOOD blogger. Not on this blog, on my Livejournal. (Which, you won't find, so don't even try looking.) Every day, sometimes many times a day, for YEARS. From 2002 to 2011. I was an active part of the community, had several groups I contributed to regularly, and a feed of LJ users who would respond to me on the daily, just like I would respond to them. I never had to struggle for an entry, it just came.
Here, though, I don't know. It's harder, and I've been trying to figure out why.
For some reason, Blogger feels like more of a high pressure situation to me. It feels like everyone is staring at my follower count, and if it doesn't go up, I must be doing something wrong. If people don't comment on a blog entry, then it's like shouting into the ether; it makes me feel better, but it really doesn't count.
Why do I feel like this?
I'm guessing part of the reason has to do with how I got into Blogger to start with. A friend...or friend at the time...had/has a blog that's pretty high profile with an insane follower count, and had a pretty high profitability factor. I'd lamented to her that I'd missed blogging (my LJ had been unused for several months) and wanted to get back into it, she encouraged me to check out Blogger and said that if she could figure out the formatting, she knew I could. I figured, what did I have to lose, so I signed up.
The problem was, I found myself trying to emulate her. I wanted my follower count to be high, I wanted people to read my entries and comment constantly, I wanted companies to read my reviews and send me money or free products. Heck, I even think my first entry was a product review.
But I wasn't writing for ME, I was writing what I thought people wanted to read.
Well, shoot.
We just figured out why the Muse isn't speaking for Blogger, didn't we?
Sunday, September 11, 2011
A Blog of Beautiful Things
Please see my previous blog for an explanation as to why September 11th deserves two blogs.
In Celebration of Life:
September 11th, Life Continues On.
The Northwest Raptor Center, a non-profit rescue and rehabilitation facility in Sequim, Washington, announced that this week, 9 owls have been returned to the wild. 9 owlets were orphaned and received by the center this year, and through the hard work and compassion of the volunteers and two surrogate mother owls, they all survived, grew up to be strong and independant, and quite literally left the nest this week.
The Article from The Sequim Gazette
Nike has announced that it will be releasing the famous Back To The Future shoe. Seriously, if you grew up in the 80s or therabouts, how can this not make you grin like a geeky kid? 1500 pairs will be put up for auction on eBay, and all proceeds will be donated to the Michael J. Fox Foundation for Parkinson's Disease. Now...can we get started on those hoverboards?
Article from KOMO News
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Meet Chilli, an American Staffordshire Terrier. When she was 8 weeks old, she was thrown violently over a fence and broke her back. Now, she works with her canine friend, Arlo, and the Baylor Institute For Rehabilitation to help human survivors of traumatic injuries. Many of the people she helps are newly wheelchair bound, and seeing Chilli scooting around on her own two wheels gives them inspiration, hope, and the strength to keep going. I can't do this story justice in a brief blurb, so please, please, check out the article. Though, if one look at Chilli's adorable face hasn't already brightened your day, I don't know what will.
Article From MSNBC
In Celebration of Life:
September 11th, Life Continues On.
Today, we had a miracle. We experience the one thing that every parent of a missing child prays for, yet only rarely experiences. 3 year old Kienan Hebart of British Columbia was returned to his home safely. Not by the police, but by the suspected kidnapper. Let me repeat, the kidnapper brought him home. While I'm sure there's much more to this story than we know right now, he's home safely, and that's the best news I think any of us could have hoped for.
The Article from The Sequim Gazette
Article from KOMO News
Article From MSNBC
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| Yes. You. |
September 11th
Today, I will post two blogs. I rarely do it, but I feel that today, of all days, is the occasion.
September 11th is a day of tribute, reflection, and grief.
But September 11th is also a day of hope, life, and beauty.I think it's important to remember where we've been, but I don't expect the world to stop moving today.
We have spent 10 years as a nation mourning our loss, and we will spend a lifetime feeling the sting of that pain.
But ignoring all of the beauty in our world, and miraculous events that occur on this day is wrong, and disrespectful to the many lives lost in the terror. Their loss doesn't mean that we should grieve eternally. The best tribute we can offer is to REMEMBER them, and LIVE.
Today, one blog will be in remembrance. One blog will be in celebration of a life continued.
Reposted Blog: In Remembrance
Tomorrow My World Will Be A Different Place
September 11, 2001, as I lived it.
I wake up and roll over in the streaming sunlight. My room is filled with the smell of humidity and gasoline; I left my window open overnight to try and combat the stale, musty air of of the air conditioning.
I roll to my left where my radio is blaring too loud for me to ignore. It's early, and I have a morning class today. There's no way I can skip, I have a paper due, and this teacher brings new meaning to the word unforgiving.
I reach out to slam my snooze bar down. My fingerprints have worn a hole in the writing on the alarm; it now reads SN^^>E, but the tone in the DJs voice catches my ear. I normally don't have it on this station. Doc Holliday (Doc and Johnny Morning show) grates on my nerves. His caustic, misogynistic attitude is no way to start the day. But I snoozed to LoveLine last night, and they share a station.
They must be joking. A plan has crashed into a world trade center. Seriously, this is another one of those radio pranks they are famous for playing. But something in Doc's voice is haunting. He's not this good of an actor. I roll off the bed and out into the living room. The cat, shuffled from his sleep at the foot of me bed, groans loudly, takes a swipe at my leg, and goes off to hunt the geckos that crept through the screen overnight.
My roommate is sleeping on the futon in the living room. I plop down on her bed and fumble for the remote control. She rolls over, sleep in her eyes.
"What are you doing?" She asks, the sleep heavy in her voice.
"A plane crashed in the world trade center somewhere. I'm turning on the news."
"What?" She asks, trying to put pieces of information together. "Don't you have to be at class in like 15 minutes?"
"Shh..." I flip the channel to WESH.
On the screen, one of the twin towers stands, smoke pouring from it's core.
"What happened?!?" My roommate gasps. "Was he flying too low?"
I don't even have time to push words out of my mouth when we watch the second plane crash into the second tower. My heart stops in my chest, and I can't catch a breath. A few minutes later, we watch as a proud symbol of American decadence crumbles to the ground.
"Oh my god." I turn, unable to process what I'm seeing. My mind pushes me to believe that this is a stunt; a movie; a magic trick gone tragically awry; anything other than what the news has only been hinting at so far. "There are thousands of people in that building! Oh my god! Oh my go..."
I choke as the realization hits me. Tomorrow, the world in which I live will be a different place. Late that night, I fight sleep, knowing that when I close my eyes and reopen them hours later, I might suddenly be longing for the world I'd left behind.
September 11th is a day of tribute, reflection, and grief.
But September 11th is also a day of hope, life, and beauty.I think it's important to remember where we've been, but I don't expect the world to stop moving today.
We have spent 10 years as a nation mourning our loss, and we will spend a lifetime feeling the sting of that pain.
But ignoring all of the beauty in our world, and miraculous events that occur on this day is wrong, and disrespectful to the many lives lost in the terror. Their loss doesn't mean that we should grieve eternally. The best tribute we can offer is to REMEMBER them, and LIVE.
Today, one blog will be in remembrance. One blog will be in celebration of a life continued.
Reposted Blog: In Remembrance
Tomorrow My World Will Be A Different Place
September 11, 2001, as I lived it.
I wake up and roll over in the streaming sunlight. My room is filled with the smell of humidity and gasoline; I left my window open overnight to try and combat the stale, musty air of of the air conditioning.
I roll to my left where my radio is blaring too loud for me to ignore. It's early, and I have a morning class today. There's no way I can skip, I have a paper due, and this teacher brings new meaning to the word unforgiving.
I reach out to slam my snooze bar down. My fingerprints have worn a hole in the writing on the alarm; it now reads SN^^>E, but the tone in the DJs voice catches my ear. I normally don't have it on this station. Doc Holliday (Doc and Johnny Morning show) grates on my nerves. His caustic, misogynistic attitude is no way to start the day. But I snoozed to LoveLine last night, and they share a station.
They must be joking. A plan has crashed into a world trade center. Seriously, this is another one of those radio pranks they are famous for playing. But something in Doc's voice is haunting. He's not this good of an actor. I roll off the bed and out into the living room. The cat, shuffled from his sleep at the foot of me bed, groans loudly, takes a swipe at my leg, and goes off to hunt the geckos that crept through the screen overnight.
My roommate is sleeping on the futon in the living room. I plop down on her bed and fumble for the remote control. She rolls over, sleep in her eyes.
"What are you doing?" She asks, the sleep heavy in her voice.
"A plane crashed in the world trade center somewhere. I'm turning on the news."
"What?" She asks, trying to put pieces of information together. "Don't you have to be at class in like 15 minutes?"
"Shh..." I flip the channel to WESH.
On the screen, one of the twin towers stands, smoke pouring from it's core.
"What happened?!?" My roommate gasps. "Was he flying too low?"
I don't even have time to push words out of my mouth when we watch the second plane crash into the second tower. My heart stops in my chest, and I can't catch a breath. A few minutes later, we watch as a proud symbol of American decadence crumbles to the ground.
"Oh my god." I turn, unable to process what I'm seeing. My mind pushes me to believe that this is a stunt; a movie; a magic trick gone tragically awry; anything other than what the news has only been hinting at so far. "There are thousands of people in that building! Oh my god! Oh my go..."
I choke as the realization hits me. Tomorrow, the world in which I live will be a different place. Late that night, I fight sleep, knowing that when I close my eyes and reopen them hours later, I might suddenly be longing for the world I'd left behind.
Friday, September 9, 2011
Is it autumn already?
Well, hello everyone!
Here we are in September...is everyone as shocked as I am? Weren't we just packing away the things from LAST Halloween? Oh...wait...mine are still in totes in the back hallway...hehe, nevermind.
I took the entire month of August off from blogging to work on Camp NaNoWriMo, and guess what? ::points over to the "winner" banner on the sidebar:: WOO HOO!! I'm trying not to talk about it and celebrate TOO much because, frankly, 50,000 words isn't enough, and my novel is FAR from being finishes. And yes, I'm a superstitious writer who thinks that talking about something that isn't done is just BEGGING for the Muse to turn back into the bitch she really is. (It's a term of endearment, love, it really is. Good Muse. ::petpet::)
But now, the blog is back in business, and with a beautiful autumn layout done by the lovely FreyjaSilver. Let's play catch-up, shall we? Here's my top 3 events from Absent August:
1. I have my natural haircolor. Well, as natural as you can get when it comes out of a box. It's odd, though. People aren't recognizing me because my hair isn't bright, ha!
2. I got into Hogwarts! Pottermore, anyway. I'm in Gryffindor, which shocked the heck out of me, honestly. I figured Ravenclaw, but I'm not going to turn away from the scarlet and gold.
3. I'm training for a 5k. The actual event benefits a breast cancer foundation and will be run on Oct. 8.
What did I miss with you? Tell me in the comments!
So, I guess I have a few more readers than I did when I left? WOW. I'm shocked and honoured that little ol' me somehow garnered your attention! Thanks so much! I should probably give you the little head's up (if you haven't figured it out already), I'm...pretty outspoken. I say what I mean, mean what I say, and I'm not a big fan of sugarcoating my opinion. In short, I'm probably going to piss some of you off sooner or later. Not intentionally, it just happens. When that inevitable day happens, know that I LOVE debate and discussions, so never, EVER, shy away from adding dissenting opinions in comments! It's cool, I promise.
Here we are in September...is everyone as shocked as I am? Weren't we just packing away the things from LAST Halloween? Oh...wait...mine are still in totes in the back hallway...hehe, nevermind.
I took the entire month of August off from blogging to work on Camp NaNoWriMo, and guess what? ::points over to the "winner" banner on the sidebar:: WOO HOO!! I'm trying not to talk about it and celebrate TOO much because, frankly, 50,000 words isn't enough, and my novel is FAR from being finishes. And yes, I'm a superstitious writer who thinks that talking about something that isn't done is just BEGGING for the Muse to turn back into the bitch she really is. (It's a term of endearment, love, it really is. Good Muse. ::petpet::)
But now, the blog is back in business, and with a beautiful autumn layout done by the lovely FreyjaSilver. Let's play catch-up, shall we? Here's my top 3 events from Absent August:
1. I have my natural haircolor. Well, as natural as you can get when it comes out of a box. It's odd, though. People aren't recognizing me because my hair isn't bright, ha!
2. I got into Hogwarts! Pottermore, anyway. I'm in Gryffindor, which shocked the heck out of me, honestly. I figured Ravenclaw, but I'm not going to turn away from the scarlet and gold.
3. I'm training for a 5k. The actual event benefits a breast cancer foundation and will be run on Oct. 8.
What did I miss with you? Tell me in the comments!
So, I guess I have a few more readers than I did when I left? WOW. I'm shocked and honoured that little ol' me somehow garnered your attention! Thanks so much! I should probably give you the little head's up (if you haven't figured it out already), I'm...pretty outspoken. I say what I mean, mean what I say, and I'm not a big fan of sugarcoating my opinion. In short, I'm probably going to piss some of you off sooner or later. Not intentionally, it just happens. When that inevitable day happens, know that I LOVE debate and discussions, so never, EVER, shy away from adding dissenting opinions in comments! It's cool, I promise.
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