Where's Margaret?

Out of commission here in Margaretland.

Computer issues to boot!!

 Can't blog from my phone. I'm an old fart

Hope to be back later in week🤞

Hope

 Busy, busy, busy here. Of course, nothing fun - lots of doctors' appointments.

We were at a neurology appointment for Rick yesterday.

I went to see this Dr. when dealing with back issues. He helped me a lot, but said surgery was my only option, as everyone else told me. He did give me temporary relief, but as he said, "it's only temporary"  

Rick has been having a lot of pain in his left side. The side that doesn't function well since the stroke. His left foot bothers him more, not because of pain, but because he can't walk well. So Rick wanted that addressed first.

His left hand is in constant pain. Hot and cold on it will make him go crazy.

I convinced him he had nothing to lose by seeing him and getting a consultation.

We were 4 people sitting in the small waiting room.

We all had on navy.

I said to the 2 women across from me that I see they too got the memo to wear navy blue. They laughed.

Then, a few minutes later, out of the blue, Rick asked them, "Are you from Michigan?"

Both mouths dropped open. They looked back and forth at one another. 

I turned to Rick and said, "Why did you ask that? Are they wearing something I don't see that says Michigan?"  

"No, I just felt it."

Okay, that is weird.

The ladies asked how he knew it. He told them he just felt it.  Please don't be scared of me.  They laughed and said, "We are not scared, just flabbergasted"

When Rick was called back to see the doctor, it was then just the 3 of us.

The woman asks me if Rick does this often.  I said, "Oh yes, and since the stroke, it's even more now.  I wish he'd feel lottery number for Pete's sake.

The women asked if they could ask a couple of questions, for example, about another time.  I told them recently he awoke and said, "Our niece A is pregnant."

I responded, "No, she's not." I just talked to her. 

Trying, but it's not happened yet. He said, "Yes, it has"

I called A and told her Rick's "feeling". She screamed. I just found out 3 minutes ago - I am pregnant, Peggy. I haven't told even M. yet (her husband). How did he know?  

Beats me, kiddo.

I told them the biggest one for me was 9/11.

I worked in Manhattan even though I lived in DC/VA.

I was leaving very early on the 10th and staying until the 13th.

Rick said at breakfast that he didn't want me to go.

I laughed and said what are you talking about.

He told me he saw tall skyscrapers falling in NYC.

I, being ever the smart ass, ask, well, do you know where, I'll stay away from that part of the city?

Oh, but he was adamant with me not to go. I did go.

We all know what happened the next day!

Then the dr.'s nurse came out and asked for me.

I looked at the 2 women and said, "wanna bet he doesn't know what medication he takes?"  They laughed, and one said, "I could give my husband poison, and he'd take it. He doesn't know his medications either.

We laughed, and I walked back to the area of the dr and Rick.

Rick must have a lot of tests next. He hopes he can help Rick. 

As Rick said later in the car. At the very least, he is willing to try. No one else ever gave him options, just that this is it, buddy. Be thankful you're alive.

We shall see. But this is the 1st time in 3 years Rick has felt hope. 

Hope is always a good thing. 

Monday Morning

 Hellava sports weekend at my home

The Carolina Hurricanes won the Stanley Cup.

That has my town all a twitter.

It's been crazy good.

Then the Knicks.  I don't even like basketball all that much, but I had to see that last game.  Wow, I did not think they were going to pull this off.

And of course, we root for the NY teams, so we were happy to see that.

Then my baseball team went to the Great White North.  We never win up there. But we took 2 out of 3, and I'll take that.

So my weekend was good since all my teams won. :-)

Now to the things I don't like.

1. Wind Chill

2. Heat Index

3. Water restrictions, along with neighbors like Gladys Kravitz

4. Tell us what you really mean.

5. Contractors who don't show up.

1. Why do we need this?  If it's 12 degrees Fahrenheit, I don't need to know it feels like 3 degrees. It's damn cold. Let it go. Let me freeze, I'll figure it out.

2. See above.  It was 99 the other day. They had to tell me it felt like 106.  Oh, goody, I feel better now.  argh!  It's hot. Let it go. I have boob sweat. I know how hot it is.  Or as my friend's little boy says, "Mom, I have butt sweat."  Now that made me laugh.

3. We are having a severe drought. Fines for watering your plants and flowers. Neighbors turning in neighbors. I hate seeing all that money; those plants die. But watching out your window to turn in your neighbors just doesn't feel right to me.

4. I want to hurt people when I say something, and they respond with, "Tell us how you really feel."  Well, Karen, I just did. What I wish to say is, "I just told you. How dumb are you?" I smile, say nothing, and don't even respond to their stupid comment/question.

5. 2nd time in a month that a contractor did not show up again.

They must be so rich that they don't need to work. Oh, this is when I miss my handyman, Rick. Worse part of this damn stroke. Well, not quite.

My Boyfriend

It appears I have a type.

My boyfriend, Craig Ferguson, has a show on CNN.

It's called American On Purpose.

I only tuned in because I love him. 

In the meantime, I found that I love this show as well.

I must admit I didn't expect to hear words like shit and fuck on CNN, but I did. 

All done in a funny way.

Watching this show, Rick pointed out that my other boyfriend, Gerard Butler, is also Scottish. My husband is Scottish and Nordic.  So it appears I have a type.  All 3 are very tall as well. Yes, we short girls love our men tall.  You know, so you can reach things for us. :-)

When I did my ancestry, I told everyone I wanted to find out that I was Irish or Scottish or something equally exotic to me. Everyone laughed at me.

This was before I had my 2 boyfriends, mind you.  

Sadly, I was 97% Italian and 2% Cypress and 1% African.  The ole slave trade from Africa to Sicily, I imagine.  

Needless to say, I wasn't Scottish.  But I seem to like the men now, don't I?

Whether you do or not, and you're American, this show is very good.  

History with a great deal of humor.

It makes me forget the hell we Americans are living right now.

Missing Something?

Picture this.

Rick walked into the living room, sat on a chair, and put on his sneakers. 

He was heading to the gym

He was wearing a T-shirt, his baseball cap, and his socks & sneakers

I can barely contain my laughter when I ask, "Rick, do you think you're forgetting something?"

He says, "No, I don't think so. I've got my keys."

Which he puts in the air and shakes them.

I suggest he look down. He does.

Now we are both laughing. 

The goofball was only wearing his underwear on the bottom half.

He said his new mantra while laughing at himself, "Hey, give me a break, I've had a stroke."

He looked ridiculous. Thank God I saw him before he left. 

Can you imagine him at the gym like that?

The Crazy Old Guy.  

In My Neck of The Woods

 A couple of things said around our house this past week that made us both laugh.

* It was said - Catch up on their sleep.

* Ketchup on their sleeves? What the hell does that mean?

That brought on some laughter.  Rick loves it when I don't have my hearing aids.  He thinks I'm funnier.

*For someone who hates people, you are so damn friendly.

I'm sure you can figure out who said that one.

* Dear Lord, you're a handful!

Yeah, well, so are my boobs, we're even (stick out tongue and walk away)

*What are you in the mood for for dinner?

Nothing really.

Good, it's exactly what I felt like making. 

Yes, Rick seems to be coming back.

For the first time since his stroke, he has been like my old Ricky for the last two weeks. Thoughtful, kind, romantic, and a pain in the ass in the most funny of ways.  

Does it take 4 yrs to get yourself back?  Is this a fluke?  

God, I hope not. I've missed this fella so damn much.  

Laughter fills our house again.

Fingers crossed for me, okay?

Cooking

Gosh, I don't enjoy cooking as some folks do. They wax poetic about it.

I cook because I like to eat. I cook because eating out is stressful.  I cook because Rick had a stroke, and his cooking is not the same.  Or he can't do it at all.

On our first time meeting, I believe I told you all that he asked for my last name. I told him, and he said, "Oh, you're Italian, so you can cook." 

I said," No, I can eat."

He said, "Well, good, we'll make a good pair."

The 2nd time I saw Rick, he had invited me to his place.  It was a Saturday afternoon.  We sat outside in his Adirondack chairs on a beautiful spring day and had a glass or two or three of wine. It was just a lovely afternoon.

He then says, "Are you getting hungry?"

"Yes, I am," I reply.

Now, I am assuming this means we'll be heading out to go eat somewhere.

But nope. 

He says, "Let's see what I can whip up."

Oh dear, was my first thought.

He made this concoction of pork chops, rice, and a veggie, which I'm not sure now if it was broccoli or not, but I think so. A casserole-type thing. He used seasonings I had never heard of at that time.

He puts this casserole in the oven, and I am thinking to myself, "Boy, if this sucks, what am I going to do?" 

I set the table like a good guest.  

We sit down to eat. 

He took a bite and said, "Not bad."

He didn't fall over instantly dead, so I thought I'd try a bite.

I took a bite and about died all right. Not because it was terrible, but because it was so. damn. good. It looked like a hot mess but oh my goodness was this ever good.

At this time in my life, I only baked. I hated cooking. I had not been diagnosed with celiac yet, just having all the pain associated with it and no one knew why.

I told him I could only make 4 things well.

1. Damn good Chili

2. Egg Rolls

3. Quiche (yes, the crust too)

4. Cream Puffs and most baked goods.

His response?  "Oh, you can't make egg rolls or cream puffs if you can't cook."

I told him cream puffs are the easiest thing to bake, period.

"What about egg rolls?" he asks.

He said, "I'll make stir fry if you make me egg rolls and cream puffs."

It's on.

We made a date for the following weekend and he brought over his wok.

He made me beef and broccoli because I told him I loved it.

And we sat down to eat.

He moaned over the egg rolls.  I loved it.

He asked how I learned to make these.  A friend showed me. 

Then dessert. He moaned again after eating 3 cream puffs. (back when he was young and could eat everything in sight and not gain weight)

Until celiac, I never cooked. Then, after my diagnosis, I began to watch the Food Network. Back when they taught you how to cook and not just games.

Rachel Ray and Emeril Lagasse taught me so much. I learned to adapt their recipes to be gluten-free. But the techniques were a big lesson for me. Learning what a rue was and how to use this fantastic thing to make cheese sauces, etc. Just substitute my flour.  

I am still not a great cook like Rick. But I am light-years away from where I was in 1987. 

Everyone always feels sorry for Rick because he eats so many gluten-free meals. Honestly, he doesn't mind. He still has his own bread, and he eats regular pasta if I make him a lasagna or stuffed shells. But overall, he eats pretty much the same as I do. He eats gf pasta and doesn't mind it. 

The other night, I made a Reuben Casserole. He was talking about this place we used to go to in Pennsylvania.  Best Reubens in the world. We both love Reubens.

So I tracked down some rye bread that was gluten-free. This casserole had a lot of moving parts. But oh my God, was it good. Rick asked me to take it away because he could not stop eating it.  It looks like a lasagna, because of the layers, but of course it's not. 

The bread is cut into 2-inch pieces for the bottom. Some of the bread is crushed to make bread crumbs for the crunchy top.  There are a few tablespoons of caraway seeds in this as well.

Later that night, as Rick was getting ready for bed, he went to brush his teeth.

I walk into the bathroom and see him touching spots in his sink. Then he begins to laugh. I mean, really laughing. I ask what is so funny.

Well, the goofball took off his glasses and began to brush his teeth before bed.

He saw black things in the sink and thought they were drain flies or something. But the second time he stomped one with his finger, he realized it was caraway seeds from brushing his teeth. 2 caraway seeds that he thought were bugs.

Now that made me laugh like crazy. 

I told him from now on to brush his teeth with his glasses on for heaven's sake.

Sports Night

The area I currently live in had an enormous soccer event. Everyone was in a tizzy to see all these famous international as well as the national players. 

On the local news, they showed all this soccer. I said to Rick that I just can't get into it. He laughed and said, "Why is it that if they're on ice, you like it. Close to the same game, one on ice and one on grass." I laughed because I had never thought of it like that.

We've been watching NHL hockey since our Carolina Hurricanes are going to be in the Stanley Cup Playoffs.  While not exactly the same, I got what he was saying. I do believe we will win the Stanley Cup to Canada's dismay.  

I have a friend who asked if I was going to see the Hurricanes play. Oh hell no. We saw what the ticket prices were, and they also mentioned them on TV. I could probably do the nosebleed sections for several hundred instead of thousands, but I have a great seat on my sofa, and I don't have to wear a bra. :-)  (There seems to be a theme to my life, isn't there?)

But when the Carolina Hurricanes are playing at the same time as my Yankees, and both are televised.  I have to go with the boys in pinstripes and no skates.

There was a semi-pro hockey team in my hometown, and before them, I didn't know a lick about hockey. I never even ice-skated. I know, I know!  I lived on a frozen great lake growing up. I used to see all the skaters on the bay. But I had difficulty rollerblading, so I knew this was not my thing. I needed all 4 skates to move forward and backward. I'm clumsy, remember.  I needed the stability of the 4 wheels to skate.

We went to hockey games all the time while growing up in my hometown. We were just a junior hockey team. We competed in the Midwest Division of the Ontario Hockey League.  Now you ask yourself, how the hell does she know this when she was never a fan of hockey before?  I met a hockey player, and we dated for a good while, and I learned fast. This young man had the thickest Canadian accent, and I used to tell him I needed closed captions under his chin sometimes because I couldn't always understand him.  The 'eh' I got. The out, about, and house were typical, but some things he said it was like a foreign language to me.  Yes, it was English, but a different English than I was used to. So he schooled me, and I him.  He learned bad words in Italian from me. Hey, I did not say I was a good influence on this gorgeous young man.  
Okay, gorgeous with his teeth in. 😁

Saturday, I don't get a baseball game televised, and the hockey games are over for now.
What's a girl to do on Saturday night?

Thrill of a Lifetime

Yesterday I had a real thrill.

Remember the grocery store where I got reprimanded for standing on a shelf to reach something?

Well, I was at the same store yesterday to get milk. 

I went down an aisle I never go down. (all pop) but it was a bit more people than I liked, and I was taking what I hoped would be a shortcut.

I see a woman struggling to get her 2-liter bottle of Pepsi up and out of the top shelf. On this shelf is a bar of sorts, so this needs to be lifted and then taken out.

Now, as a short person, I know this makes it more difficult. This young woman was in a motorized cart of sorts. She is struggling, and I heard her frustrated moan. 

I approached her and asked if I could help. 

She smiled warmly and said while looking me up and down, "Do you really think you can reach that?"

I told her I would try. 

I DID IT.

She kept thanking me. I was smiling as I walked away, all proud of myself.

I did not wish to tell her that I was as thrilled as she was that I could do it.

I assume this thrilling feeling is how you tall people feel, isn't it?

When I arrived home, I couldn't wait to tell Rick. Of course, he laughed at me.

But he came out of the womb at 6'2 he will never understand.

Hump Day

I hope you all had a nice holiday weekend if you were in the U.S.

It rained here the entire weekend.  We so need the rain because we are in a horrific drought.

But I must admit it ruined all on our to-do list and grilling. But we need the rain, so we couldn't complain.

I actually love rainy days. A solid rain all day to me is a book day and a glass of wine or coffee. Is there any better time to read?  I think not!

I read where someone said her parents told her to stop crying or she'd give her something to cry about. OMG, people went nuts. That is child abuse.

Look, my parents did this. I knew enough not to test them.  I don't think that was abuse.  It got everyone's panties in a twist.

I had a respectful fear of my parents. Mostly Dad. He followed through, so I didn't test him more than I had to. 

I fear my parents would have been turned into CPS by today's standards. I never felt abused, nor was I abused. I just knew enough to fly right and behave. I never got hit. Well, once, I'll share that in a bit.  My parents could just give me a look. Oh, that look from my mom would make me know I better straighten up, as she'd say.

They always followed through, no idle threats of taking something away and never doing it.  Maybe that's why I never really did anything really bad.

Oh, I tried a cigarette once. I hated it!! Then I saw an 8mm film of my parents and extended family just a few days later. I saw my mom, who was now dead, in every frame; she had a cigarette hanging out of her mouth. (She died of cancer). I never ever thought about touching a cigarette again!

As for being hit once. I was slapped. I was being my ever-sarcastic self, and my mother did not appreciate it, and I was slapped. I was told that this mouth of mine will get my trouble. My husband loves that story because he says, "Boy, she knew, and you were only 11." 

I got grounded a lot. No phone calls. No going anywhere by my backyard was a fun one for summer. I snuck out of the house to go to a neighborhood party.  My dad drove by as I was riding my bike to the house and asked where the hell I was going since I was grounded. Oops.

A classic is getting in trouble for helping my sister. She is 3 yrs younger than me. She was always doing something she shouldn't and she always got away with it. She would call me a sissy cuz I wouldn't do things and then laugh and say, "Yeah, but you always get caught, so maybe you shouldn't."  Too true as you will see at the end.

Here is how I tried to help my sister.

I was a senior in high school. I had a job at the local pharmacy.

I was brushing my teeth to get ready to go to my job.

My father walks into the bathroom with an ounce of pot in his hand.

He shoves it into the sink as I am brushing my teeth.

I almost swallowed my toothbrush. (this is 1973-4)

I act stupid and say, What's that?

Dad said,"You tell me."  I said NOTHING.

Then he proceeded to tell me one of the little ones pulled down Pam's purse from the desk in the kitchen.

(I had new sisters of the age of 1 & 3) 

I immediately said, "Dad, that isn't Pam's. I am certain she is holding this for Paula. You know Paula is grounded, Pam told you."

Dad HATED Paula and thought she was a bad influence on Pam, so I went there, figuring he couldn't hate her anymore, and to save my sister.

Dad said okay, and I made it to work on time, but in a full-on panic for my sister.

I called the house 3 times, hoping Pam would pick up because she was sleeping when I left. 

Each time, it was my step-mom or Dad, so I'd just hang up. Thank God, no caller ID at the time.

When I got home from work, everyone was eating Sunday dinner around the table. Pam wasn't there. I assumed if she wasn't there, we got off the hook. I even asked my mom where she was, and she was with friends.

As soon as I sat down, Dad said I was grounded for 2 weeks for lying to him.

I asked when I lied. He said, "Your sister told me this was hers and you lied."  No, I didn't lie.  I honestly thought it was Paula's Dad.

Well, I watched as your sister dumped it down the toilet and she admitted it was hers. She thought she'd try it.  THAT HE BELIEVED???

He believed my sister and that it was her 1st time. But I get in trouble, and not her who had the pot?

So as you can see, even when I didn't do it, I got in trouble anyway, and my sister was correct, I always get caught, even if I didn't do it.

By the way, she loves that story!

Hatred for Trump and other news

The old-fashioned alarm clock read 5:01AM.  I know it's wrong. It's wrong by about 30 minutes. A hangover habit from my corporate days. I don't get up easily, or at least not then. I was always half an hour ahead. Somehow, in my morning fog, I'd forget that, and for some reason, that amused the hell out of my partner.  

I shuffled out to the living room and sat for a minute. Nope, can't go back to sleep, so I made a cup of coffee.  Read the AARP magazine that came in the mail, unloaded the dishwasher, and put things away, then put Rick's medications out for the breakfast round.

At 6:45 a.m., I thought I could sleep. WHY? Why not when I'm in bed? 

I made the mistake of turning on the television.  Oh yeah, I recorded the baseball game and the Stephen Colbert show.  So I watched my team lose and then watched Stephen Colbert. I only watch him and Kimmel. The whole thing pisses me off.  God, how I hate trump. I have never had hatred for anyone before. It's ugly, but so is he, damn it.

I am feeling better this morning. Stomach pain is so mild it's hardly something to talk about. My swelling is slowly going down. You can now see my knuckles when I make a fist. The other unpleasant things that happen have also slowed down, and I am so thankful for that. I think I'll be back to normal in a few days.

I vent here. I whine here. So, because I whined about being so sick, your comments made me feel all your kindness towards me and also a bit like I was being dramatic. Oh, if you go through all this, you wouldn't think so, but it's how it makes me feel. I may have a problem with accepting compliments and good wishes. Never had that until my Rick's. It's still odd to me. Anyway...Not looking for sympathy, just needed to vent and bitch, better known as blogging.  Sometimes, after I vent here, I need a cigarette, and I have never smoked. :-)

While I was in and out of the bathroom and/or napping for 30 minutes here or there, Rick was sending me memes. Oh no, he's right here in the living room and he's sending me memes. I don't want to be that couple!

I'm going to share with you what the ass my husband sent me.

These are from my sick husband to me as I lie on the sofa dying:

WARNING: These could be offensive to some.

                                       Silly man thinks HE picked ME. 🤣

Is he being sarcastic?  Hmm.....

Damn Gluten!

I have been glutened.

Man, I've been feeling bad. As I tend to do, I am plowing through but I don't wish to.

Being glutened is like getting the flu. It takes 2 weeks for me to feel good again. I did this to myself. I knew better. 

Last Thursday, Rick wanted a Jersey Mike's Big Kahuna sub/hoagie. 

He ordered it, and I went to pick it up since I was out and about, and it was on my way home.  

When I got home, I saw that mine was not a bowl but on bread. I said I can't eat this. He said they told him this was gluten-free bread. When I held my sandwich, I saw that it was gf because it was dry and falling apart. 

But cross-cantamination is a real issue. 

Rick said, "Oh, I asked, and they promised it does not touch the other bread surfaces or use the same knife. " 

Well, it was great that he asked them, but I know better. They lie. 

I doubted eating it, but then Rick began apologizing, and I felt bad.

I ate half of it with the lousy bread and then took out the insides.

Within an hour or 2 I felt it. I knew. Damn it. The diarrhea, the vomiting and oh, the stomach pain. I haven't been sleeping due to this. I want to scream. I know you can't eat what "they" call gluten-free in a restaurant - ever. I've done it twice - got sick both times in 20 yrs. So no more. 

If I do ever cheat, it will be something far better than Jersey Mike's!

Rick's birthday is Tuesday(19), and I have a lot to do.

He wanted lasagna. He wanted apple pie.

I made both on Monday. 

I'm going to wrap myself in a blanket and crawl onto the sofa.

I'm taking a couple of days off, probably from here.

Here is what happens if you get glutened. 

I know you didn't ask, but sometimes folks really don't understand Celiac Disease. May happens to be Celiac Awareness Month. 

Trust me, I get all of this and severe swelling in my limbs, face, and abdomen. Fun times.

When you have celiac disease and consume gluten, your immune system triggers an autoimmune response that attacks the lining of your small intestine. This damages the villi (tiny, nutrient-absorbing projections) and causes systemic inflammation, potentially leading to gastrointestinal distress, fatigue, brain fog, and joint pain. 

Immediate Immune Response

Within hours (typically 2 to 4 hours) of ingestion, your body mounts an acute attack. The reaction intensity varies greatly from person to person, but common acute symptoms include: 

• Nausea and severe vomiting
• Diarrhea and abdominal cramping
• Fatigue and extreme lethargy 

Delayed and Systemic Symptoms

Even if your gastrointestinal symptoms subside quickly, the immune reaction often causes widespread inflammation. Delayed effects can last for days or weeks and can manifest as: 

• Neurological: Severe "brain fog," migraines, and mood changes.
• Dermatological: A painful, itchy blistering rash calledp0 dermatitis herpetiformis.
• Musculoskeletal: Joint and muscle pain. 

Internal Damage (Asymptomatic Reactions)

Crucially, you can have "silent" celiac disease. If you ingest gluten but feel no outward symptoms, your small intestine is still being damaged. Repeated exposures prevent the villi from healing, leading to long-term issues like nutrient deficiencies (e.g., anemia), osteoporosis, and fertility issues. 

What to Do If You Get Glutened

There is no medication or quick cure to instantly remove gluten from your body. Recovery requires a focus on supportive care and hydration: 

• Stay Hydrated: Drink plenty of water and electrolyte-rich fluids to replace losses from vomiting and diarrhea.
• Eat Bland Foods: Stick to small, frequent meals of easily digestible, gluten-free items like broths, bananas, rice, and plain chicken.
• Rest: Allow your immune system time to calm down.
• Monitor Symptoms: Reach out to a doctor if you experience signs of severe dehydration, uncontrollable vomiting, or high fever. 

Where Are Your Clothes?

Margaret, where are you taking off your clothes? He asked me.

Valid question.

I can not find a pair of heather gray leggings. These are not something I would ever wear outside of my home, but I love these leggings. They are a size too big and are baggy and comfy, and I wear them around the house. So where did they run off to?

I also lost my hearing aids.  I had them in Columbus. I took them out and put them in the case, and the case in my makeup travel bag. Rick saw them there. I saw them there.

When it was time to leave, I did the old double check. Went into the bathroom to be sure all was gone (they were in there originally). I always double-check drawers and under the bed if there is an under-the-bed. Nothing was left behind as far as I could see.

Did they run off with my pants? But they can't hear me call! :-)

And lastly, a makeup color palette that is my all-time favorite. Gone - Pff!  

So someone has some nice makeup, can hear better, and is wearing a pair of baggy leggings.  If you see her, tackle her. I want at least my hearing aids and makeup back! 

And jumping tracks - 

I watched the Marty Short documentary the other evening. 

I adore Martin Short. I was an SCTV junkie, and I just loved him and his crazy characters. Every interview I have ever seen him do, I just love him more.

This documentary didn't change how I feel about him. 

I understood how he used his humor with the sad things that happened in his life. The loss of his parents early and a brother. I admired the way he handled himself. But my goodness, this man has had a lot of big losses. 

Funny how some of us use humor to get through these times, and others sit in it. 

I find that fascinating. But I digress...

If you can watch this on Netflix, I would highly recommend it. I honestly loved just seeing the cast of SCTV and all their shenanigans. But more than anything, it's Martin Short. 

Spirits

Our friend, Kate, from Blondi Blathers, asked me about my comments on living in a haunted house for s few years. I told her I'd replay it here since she's new. 

Get a cup of Joe and settle in to Ghosts.. 

__________________________

Monday, November 22, 2010

Some Ghostly Stories.....since I brought it up last week.

I lived in a haunted house. There, I said it.

My Aunt owned this home. She gave me a great break of only $200/month rent plus utilities. It was in a fine neighborhood and close to work for me. Why wouldn’t I take it?

The rent alone was a steal. I had just moved out of a place that my sister and I had lived in together, but she had just gotten married, so I was living alone for the first time.
With rent costs like that, I could do it. I had always had roommates, so this was exciting to me to have this house and live alone for the first time.

It had 2 bedrooms, a kitchen, a dining room, a living room, a bathroom, a sunroom, and a room off the living room that went upstairs to an attic-type room. I used that room to store my holiday items and bikes, etc. There was also a back deck and a real attic off the kitchen for the entire house.

I would go to work and come home, and sometimes find things in different places or different positions than how I left them. As I have said before, I am anal retentive. I like everything in its place, and I notice everything when it’s moved.

I came home one day, and the photos on the top of my dining room buffet were all as I had left them, except my one sister’s photo. It was faced down. I picked it up. This happened several times, and I figured I just needed a new frame because the thingy in the back was unable to prop the frame up. I bought a new frame and inserted my sister’s picture. A week or so later, it was faced down again. None of the others was ever moved.

I came home to find the flowers in the middle of my dining room table had moved a bit to the left. It felt creepy. I shouted something, fearing someone was in my house. I called my Aunt and asked if she had been in the house. I told her I didn’t mind, but I would prefer she let me know because I was scared. Normally, when she has come into my home, I can “smell” that she’s been in there, because the woman was never without a cigarette hanging from her mouth. She laughed and said she would never go in without telling me, and I probably moved the flowers and didn’t even realize it, or I forgot. I wanted to believe her, so I let it go. But I knew I had not moved them. I would NEVER put them off set like this.

In my small hall bathroom, the sink was very close to the hall door. I could brush my teeth and stick my left foot into the hall. That's close. While brushing my teeth, it always felt like someone was either behind me or walking down the hall. I felt it.

When it felt like someone was behind me, I would lift my head up quickly and look in the mirror above me, thinking I would see someone there. Never saw anyone. But oh, how you could feel it. One day, while my head was down in the sink brushing, I felt like someone had walked by me in the hall. I felt that a lot, too, when showering. I lifted my head again quickly to look into the hall, and of course, there was no one. But I felt it all the time. When showering, I would swear I’d hear footsteps down the hall, and I would quickly snap back the shower curtain, and of course, no one was there.

I saw someone at the foot of my bed a couple of times. A man and a woman. Something woke me up, and I sat upright quickly and screamed at them to leave me alone, and they would dissipate. Now I’m awake with every light on in the house, unable to fall back asleep.

The things that happened didn’t happen every day. I guess it would be more accurate to say that I didn’t notice them every day. I did notice over time that certain times of the year they were quite active.

A friend of mine was visiting, and we were in the living room on a Friday night. We got together after work to just sit at my house and “chill”. We had a pizza delivered, and we cracked open a bottle of wine, put on some music, and were talking about our weeks. She was telling me about this guy she had just met and then stopped and said, “Those people who live upstairs sure are making a racket.” To which I replied, “Connie, I live on the top floor.” The color drained from her face. She said, “I always thought you were full of shit about this ghost stuff.” She began to gather her stuff. She said, “Peggy, I can’t stay. This is freaking me out.” It will stop in a couple of minutes. As I said, it indeed stopped. She said, “Ah, I’m going home,” and she left. The noise did not start again.

She and I had always lived in apartments where someone lived above us. But not this time. My house was a flat. That is what they were called there anyway. Think of a duplex, but instead of side by side, it was on top of one another. My Aunt “lived” in the one below. I say “lived” because all of her things were there, including her office, which she worked out of, but she was always at her friend Mary’s home, and she slept there 99% of the time. This was before people were comfortable “coming out.” We all knew, but we left it alone.

I was indeed on the top floor. The noise was coming from the room off the living room where I stored my holiday items, like Christmas lights etc. It sounded like people were throwing boxes down the stairs and running around.

I didn’t live there long before I was transferred out of town for a career move.
Rick was my friend whom I had just met 2 weeks prior. He loved my apartment with all its windows and great light. Since his lease was running out, he asked if my place had been rented yet. I told him no, and my Aunt would be thrilled to have a man above her since she was a single lady. I just knew she would tell him it made her feel safer. I never once told him any of the things that I felt in my apartment. I didn’t know him well yet, and I really didn’t want him to think I was crazy.
He could figure that out on his own later.

As expected, my Aunt was thrilled that he wanted to move in, and she didn’t have to go through the whole process of looking for someone. She did raise his rent to $250.00, which was a joke. Rick couldn’t believe his luck and told her he’d mow the lawn and handle snow removal since she did that. So both parties were thrilled to be living there.

He moved in as I moved out, and a month or so later, he called me in Ohio and said, “What the hell is with this apartment?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, there are some strange things that go on here. Did any of this stuff happen to you?”

He began to share some stories – all of which I had experienced. We ended with the bathroom scenario, where it felt like someone was walking down the hall or standing behind you while you were brushing your teeth.

He worked a lot, so he wasn’t there much. But when he was, he felt something or saw something, but it didn’t make him want to leave. He had just wished I had told him before I left. How do you tell someone you’ve just met – “Hey, I think I live in a house with a few others….ya just can’t seem ‘em.” He would have run for the hills, thinking I was a nut job.
(he learned that later on his own)

If you’ve been reading here for a while, you know that I ended up back there with him a few years later, after my company was bought out and I lost my job. By this time, my Aunt was full-blown living at Mary’s, but kept this house as her home for others to keep up the facade.
I didn’t tell a soul. I have known Mary since I was a wee little thing. Mary cooked, and my Aunt didn’t, she would say. My Aunt said she didn’t like being alone in the house so she just stayed at Mary’s. Sad that she felt she had to do that.
But the point was I no longer had anyone to blame for things missing, moved, or hearing footsteps, etc. If she wasn’t here, who the hell was making this noise? Or moving stuff?

The house was old but full of great charm. Big moldings and wood floors. Since I had been downsized at this point Rick and I had decided to stay to save some money before we moved on to buy something. (I had just started a business) So we stayed, and so did our “guests.”

Here are a few things that have happened while we lived there.

• My youngest sister had had a fight with my parents. She was still in high school. She asked if she could come to stay with us for a few days. I talked to my mom and dad, unbeknownst to her, and asked them if it would be okay. Of course, it was, and I kept them informed of what was going on. One day, while in the shower, she swore she heard someone walking down the hall (yep, I know that one!) and she yelled out for either Rick or me. She thought we were both at work. When she got out of the shower, she called me at work and asked if I had come to the house and left. I said, “No, why?” She said I will call Rick then. She asked Rick if he had come home, and he said, “No, why did you hear something?” She called me back and begged me to come get her to go home. She was completely freaked out. So she ran home and apologized to my parents and couldn’t wait to get to her room and be ALONE.

• One night, when I was living with Rick, the same thing happened to me as when I lived alone. I woke up and saw these 2 people at the foot of the bed. I could see them, describe their clothes, yet see through them and not really see a face. I screamed at them to leave me alone and go towards the light. (someone told me to do that) I kept repeating, “LEAVE ME ALONE” They dissipated. But I woke Rick up, who was now saying, “I’m not touching you!” Which is pretty damn funny now.

• We would get these horrific pockets of a smell. To me, it was like rotting fish. It was so gross. It would be between the hall by the bathroom and into that entrance to the dining room. You could put your head in it and out of it. The smell was just foul. We were having a bunch of people over for dinner, and the smell arrived. We never knew when it was going to be there. I was setting the table and bitching, “Oh yea now you show up when company is coming. Please give us a break and go away.” It would remain, and then just before they arrived, viola it was gone. This happened a lot. This would show up and be gone just like it arrived, with no notice. It always varied in length, but always smelled just horrible.

• One night, I had a girlfriend visiting while Rick was out with his buddies. We were in the living room talking and having a couple of cocktails.  My friend and I were sitting on the L-shaped sofa facing the entertainment center, watching something on television. To the left of the TV was a rocking chair in front of a window with draperies. All of a sudden, the rocking chair moved forward as did the drapes, and then slowly back in its position. As though someone had gotten up, and the wind outside made the drapes move. She and I both saw it and freaked out. There was no wind outside, and even if there was, the window was closed. But I saw the look on my friend's face. I immediately lied and said, “You know how bad these old windows are, look at us with blankets over us, this house is old and drafty”. She didn’t buy it. She was uneasy after that and didn’t stay a lot longer.

• One day, when my niece was about 3-4 years old, I was taking her to the beach. It was cooler than I thought, so after I picked her up, I went back to my place to grab a jacket. I picked her up from her car seat and said we were going to go inside to get a jacket, so I didn’t get cold. She said, I don’t want to go into your house. By this time, we are inside the door and about to walk up the stairs. She grabbed me and asked to be held. She held both sides of my face in her chubby little hands and said, “Aunt Peggy, I do not like those people who live with you.”

I got shivers. I told her no one lived with me but Rick. She said no, those other people. I told her I would not let her down; she could stay in my arms. So we went inside, and I grabbed my coat. She said, “I can get down now because they are not here.” She continued to look around corners, and I never said a thing. Wow. Out of the mouths of babes, huh? That really creeped me out, though. She had no prejudice on the topic. She had no preconceived notion of the topic. She floored me that day.

• We had this sticky stuff that would ooze from the bathroom walls and ceiling. It was sticky. It looked like honey. I asked my Aunt if there were bees in the attic, and if an exterminator would come and take a look. The exterminator found nothing. Rick and I decided to gut that bathroom. Since we were living there dirt cheap and it was helping us save for a house, we decided, as long as we were there, let’s make it nice. So we had that bathroom down to the studs. We put in new lights, new drywall, fixtures, etc., and painted. We thought for sure that would stop whatever it was that oozed now. I mean, we were down to studs, nothing was there. Some told us it was lead paint, and that was the cause. After the remodel, we painted, so that shouldn’t be an issue. Within the first week of using our new bathroom, it was like that again. We just gave up. There was no explaining it. So I just was forever cleaning it up – even off the ceiling.

•  When we got to the dining and living room portion of the updating we ripped up the carpeting and found beautiful hardwoods that we refinished. They were gorgeous. But the paint on the walls was buckling and blistering. We decided to pay a professional painter to redo the paint in the dining room and the living room. We sanded and stained the floors.

Within a couple of days, the paint started to blister. The blisterings were big areas the size of a dinner plate all over. We called the painter back 3 times to fix and he would do it again. Finally, he asked us quietly, as though he didn’t want to say this too loudly, “Do you have poltergeists?” We said, “We think so,” which was the first time we admitted this out loud to anyone. He said that is the only time I have ever seen this happen. I can’t come back and fix this again for free. So when it blistered and buckled, we left it.

• One glorious early summer evening Rick and I were sitting in our sun room on the sofa.
We had finished a bottle of wine, and as sometimes would happen, my hands began to swell. I took off my wedding band and tossed it on the coffee table. It spun around and fell onto the area rug. I didn’t grab it just then because Rick was making me an offer I couldn’t refuse. He had already grabbed my hand, and as I got up, I went from the sofa to get my ring, and he said, “It’ll be there later,” and off to our room we went.

First thing the next morning, I went to get my ring. My ring was not there. I went crazy looking for it. He and I tore apart this room. We took out the area rug and shook it in the living room. We moved all the furniture, and we removed all cushions and put our hands down all the corners and crevices of the chairs and sofa. No Ring. I was sick about this. I saw it land on the area rug and stop against the corner leg of the coffee table. Where did it go?

A year later, Rick had to fix the chair in the sunroom because a spring was popping through its seat. He took it apart, repaired the springs, and put it back together again. Then, when one of my sisters was moving out, they were looking for hand-me-downs and I told her she could have Rick’s old furniture that we kept in the sunroom. I, of course, wanted to vacuum under the cushions and give it to her in the best way I could. As I went to lift the cushion, there it was, my gold wedding band, sitting right smack at the tip of the front of the chair. (across the room from the sofa)
Do you know how many times we looked there? For 1.5 years! When Rick took off the fabric and fixed the chair, it wasn’t there. How did it get there? Rhetorical because there is no logic to this.

• One day at work, someone had dropped off a copy of a book they wanted to be added to a gift basket for their friend. (I owned a cookie company) Their friend's mom had just died. While this woman had sent flowers, she wanted this basket of goodies along with the book to arrive a few weeks later, while she would be out of town. She wanted to show her friend she was still thinking of her. She wanted something not depressing, and a cookie basket with coffee, etc., was exactly what she had in mind.

I looked at the book after she left and thought it sounded fascinating. I really wanted to read it, and yet I knew I couldn’t open and bend the binding and make it look like it had been read. But one afternoon, I did it anyway. I barely opened it, and I read it ever so carefully. It was about a cardiologist who didn’t believe in God. He also didn’t believe in an afterlife or a near-death experience. Then as time went on, so did the number of stories that he couldn’t explain. He had a blind patient who died on the table, and they brought her back to life. She would retell him the story of what was said and what she SAW. Yes, a blind woman who laughed that they were all teasing the doctor about his blue and brown socks. How could she possibly know the color of the socks? It was only mentioned that he must have gotten dressed in the dark. Then it began with children. All spoke about peace and such a warm feeling of immense love. Whatever you believe, this book was a fascinating read. I finished it and told Rick I really want to read his 1st book. He came from a different point than most because he was such a non-believer, and I found it so interesting.

Fast forward 2 days. I wanted to make a quiche. But since moving in with Rick, I put all my boxes at the very edge of the steps of the attic. The real attic. The attic that was off the back of the house. You went up the stairs, and it opened on your right. There was nothing in there but a big chest at the end against the wall. I never went too far into this attic because, like the basement, I got the creeps. It felt like there were a lot of people here that I couldn't see.

Unlike the basement, this was not scary in the traditional sense, like cobwebs and wires, etc. It was a clean, empty room. I put my boxes right on the edge by the steps so I wouldn’t have to go all the way. I faced the boxes with the contents written on them toward the step so I could grab things and run. And I mean RUN. So this day I went up to get my quiche dish from one of my boxes. I had just been up there a week or so ago and saw that box right at the top, so it was going to be easy to get. As I got up there, I found a book sitting on top of the box with the quiche dish. I picked it up, and it was the 1st book of that cardiologist that I had wanted to read. It was from a library in a city I had never been. I ran so fast down the steps I twisted my ankle. I was screaming, so Rick came running. I just threw the book at him because I couldn’t even speak. He looked at me, and we both had no explanation. I wouldn’t go back up there to get my quiche dish or ever again for that matter.

I called everyone I knew. I asked my aunt if she had been to this city’s library, and she laughed at me. She didn’t even like to read, let alone go to this city to get a book. I still have that book, by the way. A little girl's photo is in the book. It looks like it was taken in the late 60’s or 70’s. I have no explanation for this at all.

I asked my Aunt for the 100th time about all the people who lived there. Only one was a non-relative and it was a good friend of hers, and she told me she would ask. Of course, her friend called and told me it was not her book, and she had never even been to this city before. Great, now how do I explain that one?

• And this one I’ll close with. We had an L-shaped sofa. It was a snowy Saturday, and Rick was taking a nap at one end of the sofa. I was knitting and watching TV way on the opposite end. I was sitting on the edge of the seat to be near the TV to hear it. I didn’t want it too loud due to him napping. He woke up and was stretching, and I said, “Hey, sleepyhead, did you have a good nap?” He at first smiled, then coiled his legs up to his chest, and he began to point at me and gasp for air. I didn’t know what the hell was happening. I thought he was having a heart attack. And then all of a sudden he said, “She was sitting right next to you! Didn’t you see her?” Now I was thinking he was dreaming or still sleeping. I went over to him, sat by him, and asked if he was awake. Oh, he was awake all right. His first thought was, “Why the hell wouldn’t you wake me if we have company?: But then, when he looked at her and realized he could see through her, she looked at him and smiled, and Poof was gone. It all happened so quickly.  When I asked him about it, he told me he saw an old woman bent over, sitting smack dab next to me, and she was also looking at the TV. 

So there ya go. I was never scared when living there, which I know sounds crazy. Except for one time, and I'll save that for another time. And honestly, I don't know why we weren't afraid of them. I know it sounds ridiculous.  I just found them sometimes annoying. They didn’t harm us. They didn’t bug us every day. One day, when leaving, I yelled, “Hey, clean up the kitchen while I’m gone, would ya?” And Rick laughed. There were so many more events.

Fast forward 19 years, and we had just moved back east. We decided to rent a place for a year before we bought a house to be sure of where it was we wanted to live. We came home one Saturday afternoon after a day of errands, and I ran into the house directly to the powder room.  As I sat there, I noticed the towels were askew. I came out of the powder room and said to my husband, “The towels are askew – let’s call the landlord and see if he was here.” Of course, Rick laughs at me. “I’m sure they were like already like that,” he says.

“Hello, Rick? Have you just met me? They were not uneven when we left, trust me on this. Or else something weird is happening again, and I just don't wish to go through this another time.”
So we called the landlord, and sure enough, he and his kids did a walk-through without our permission. His son used the bathroom, and hence the uneven towels.

So it wasn’t anyone I couldn’t see doing this, thank goodness. Just a dufus of a landlord that I had to set straight.  That our lease states he can’t just come in willy nilly or at the very least leave us a note that he came by, so I am not so freaked out!  He couldn’t believe I noticed something so 'minor' as he called it.  So being me, I had to tell him the other things too because deflecting and calling it minor pissed me off. I told him that his kids were with him and their dirty hand prints were on the front of the fridge, and how someone had sat on our bed, and you had moved papers on our desk.  All of which he now admitted to. I know he thought I was certifiable!
I told you I notice everything!

I know I should probably use this skill set for good or work for the FBI because I truly notice everything. It’s a sickness, unless of course, I got paid for it.  I admit I was more uncomfortable with this nosey landlord than the people living with me that I couldn't see.
But I sure didn't want this to be happening again, that was for sure.
We moved shortly thereafter.