Unto the Least of These

Yesterday was an interesting day. AJ, who works at Gunther Toody's diner, had a co-worker who asked for help. She is one of the waitresses, and is an older, single woman. Her washing machine was acting up and she needed it looked at. AJ told her his dad was good at fixing things, and so he and Stan spent Monday over there working on her washer.

They didn't get home until 10 pm last night. They were exhausted, and because the woman is a smoker, they were soaked in cigarette smoke. Both wanted some dinner, a hot shower and to fall into bed. It had turned into a marathon.

I went upstairs after AJ and I heard him in his room mumbling to himself. I thought he was frustrated that a kind offering of assistance had turned into such an ordeal and that he was in there complaining to himself.

As I listened, however, he was quoting to himself, "When you do this unto the least of these, my brethren, you do it unto me."

He wasn't complaining, so much as reminding himself who it was he was really serving. I was taught a valuable lesson last night.

A THOUGHT FOR THE WEEKEND

Whether you think you can, or whether you think you can't, you're right!

Henry Ford

1863-1947

Please! Tell Me It Isn't So!

WHOOOOOOSH! Do you hear that sound? That's the sound of Jane Austen spinning in her grave. Can't say as if I blame her.

A few weeks ago I was listening to NPR and they talked about a new version of Miss Austen's classic novel "Pride and Prejudice" that has been reworked in an effort to draw in young readers (teenagers I'm supposing). It's called Pride and Prejudice and Zombies and I kid you not. It's coming out in June and it's supposed to feature Mr. Darcy and his friends fighting the undead to protect their love interests. (I'm seriously rolling my eyes as I type this!)

But now I've read something else to make poor Miss Austen spin even faster. Elton John's Rocket Pictures has plans to make Pride and Predator, a traditional costume drama that reworks this lovely novel into a horror film that has aliens butchering the cast.

Well, I don't know. I think I'm going to spend the night in bed with the REAL Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth and try to put these gross images from my mind.

The Boys and the Duck

My teenaged boys have discovered a new place which has captured their interest. It's the Asian Pacific Market. The love to go there and check out the products, and, if possible, purchase treats from the in-store deli.

The other day they went there and AJ bought a roast duck. The whole duck and nothin' buThey brought it home excited as all get out to eat it. Especially, AJ told me, the head.

Yikes! I hot-footed it upstairs so that I wouldn't witness the dreaded event. I, for one, am not an adventurous eater and didn't want the sight of him eating that duck's head in my mind. They took some pictures, which I am sharing here.

Afterwards, they said it was delicious. AJ told me that he "cracked the head open like an oyster" and ate the brain. Ugggh! Am I ever glad I was upstairs!

Be Careful What You Ask For .....

Today is one of those days. My manuscript was out to a couple of literary agents and I hadn't heard from them. You know that old saying "No new is good news"? Well I guess. I got anxious and wrote to them asking if they'd come to a decision on weather to take on my project. I heard from them and the answer was no. *Sigh* I still believe in the book, and the overwhelming response from beta readers (both those whom I know, and those I don't) has been 8 to 1 in positive response to it. I'm going to believe my readers, and keep plugging at it.

Jack London State Park is up in Northern California. We used to visit it often when I was growing up. Just north of Sonoma, the author's estate is in a wooded, hilly area. The ruins of his mansion are there, as well as the house he lived in and his gravesite.

In the visitor's center there are a couple of display cases. One is filled, and I mean filled, with rejection letters. Some are quite harsh, some are just postcards saying "no thanks". And in the case next to it is THE CALL OF THE WILD printed in every language in the world. It does a writer's heart good to see that.

Now, I don't claim to be Jack London, but if he could stand up to all those rejection letters, then I can too. I don't save mine as he did, but I sure do remember them all. And, let me say once more, if anyone is interested in reading any of my novels, please let me know and I'll pass it on to you for your input. I appreciate any and all comments--even the negative ones--because they help me to be a better writer. Thanks!

The First Sunday of the Month

Yesterday was the first Sunday of the month. In my church, we use this day as a time of fasting and give the money we would use for food to those in need. It is also an opportunity for each of us to stand up and bear testimony of the things in our lives that have shown us the love of our Father in Heaven and His influence in our lives. It is a wonderful experience and one that always fortifies me. I hear that others struggle and are blessed the same as myself, and it gives me the strength I need to continue.

I haven't been to church for a couple of months because of my leg--sitting is a physical struggle for me. And while it was difficult the final half hour for me, I was so glad that I went. Three friends of mine, women whom I admire and who inspire me each stood yesterday. Tara, Kristeen and Rachel are women that I hope to be more like. That are my role models, and their hearts and spirits are beautiful.

As I listened to them yesterday I felt my eyes fill and my heart burn with the promise that what they were sharing was true. It buoyed me up and was a tonic to my spirit, and I feel energized today because of these wonderful women. (Links to their blogs are here as well!)

Each of them also had one of their children stand yesterday as well, which tells me what kind of mothers they are that their children felt strongly enough to share their feelings. It was a terrific day.

That evening we spent with Tara and her family celebrating her birthday. It was fun. And for those of you who don't know, Tara is a peanut butter and chocolate addict. (She claims she would eat a cockroach if dipped in the stuff!) I confess, I had enough peanut butter and chocolate to last me a couple of weeks! It was a blast. HAPPY BIRTHDAY TARA!

Easy Cookie Recipe

This is one of the simplest cookie recipes I have ever found. I used to make these at the drop of a hat when the kids were little. Make as many or as few as you want. Give them a try!

Ritz Crackers
Peanut Butter
Tray of melting chocolate

Make peanut butter sandwiches with the Ritz crackers, then dip in chocolate and let harden on wax paper. Yummy!

Ghost Story - The Conclusion

We arrived in Colorado in June 2000, leaving behind our home and all things that go bump in the night in San Jose. Never really did get any answers to what was going on there. We moved into our new home the end of July that same year. Stan worked the 3 to 11 pm shift, so the boys, who were 8 and 10, and I were on our own most evenings.

One evening a couple of months later Kevin had a cub scout ice cream social to attend. I told AJ I would take him out for ice cream and we would go explore our new town. As we were making our way back to pick up Kevin, AJ out of the blue asked me, "Mommy, who was that babysitter you used to have for us in San Jose?"

"You mean Megan?" I asked, one of the young women in our ward. "Or Tiffany?"

"No," he shook his head, looking very serious. "I mean the man who used to babysit us and play with us in the backyard."

I felt a chill go up my spine. Could he have seen our "ghost"? No one, no one to my knowledge, had ever seen the man in the yellow jumpsuit besides myself. I asked him to describe the man to me, and he described him to a T.

"What would he do with you?" I asked.

"He would play with us. Push us on the swings, talk to us. He was really nice," he told me. "But when we got bigger he didn't come anymore."

Curious, I thought. "Was Jake there?" If the man was indeed something wierd, would Jake have been suspicious? AJ assured me that Jake was there and played along with them and the man.

I asked some questions to see if the man had hurt my boys, done anything he shouldn't have; if he wasn't a spirit, but in fact a physical man. AJ told me that no, the man had only played with them in the back yard, and would wait until they entered the house before leaving. He would push them on the swings, toss the ball with them, and just sit and watch them while they played. Nothing else.

It still makes me feel a bit uncomfortable to think about it, and every once in awhile I bring it up again to AJ and Kevin to see if anything untoward happened, but they always assure me that the man treated them much like their grandfather would.

Who was that man--and was he a man? What caused the sounds and events to happen in the house? I am as clueless today as I was back then. If anyone has any ideas I would be happy to hear them. Not much of a conclusion to the story, I'm afraid. I've been thinking about it lately and wanted to post about it to see what others thought.

Let me know .....

Ghost Story - Part 2

One evening in late August after we'd been in the house a couple of months, I was sitting in my chair watching television and relaxing. It was about 7:30; the sun was still up and it was warm. The front door was open creating a slight cross breeze through to the living room window behind me.

I happened to look up and saw a man. There was a short sidewalk which lead from our driveway to the front porch, and standing there was a dark skinned man in a pale yellow one-piece jumpsuit. He looked older to me; his face was lined and his hair had grey in it. He had a slight smile on his face as he looked back at me.

I sat for a couple of seconds expecting him to come to the door and I would ask him what he wanted, but he made no move towards the porch. I looked over at my mother who was staying with us helping out. After cleaning the kitchen after dinner and putting AJ to bed, she'd fallen asleep in the arm chair so I couldn't tell her about the man. I looked back and he was gone.

Strange I thought. Perhaps he'd come to the wrong house and when he saw me realized his mistake.

A few days later though, I saw him again. We had a large cement patio off our back door from which was a sidewalk that ran the length of our backyard. Again I was in my chair and I saw him walk past the window down that sidewalk. I leapt up (as much as you can when six months pregnant) and looked out, but once again, the man was gone. He was absolutely nowhere to be seen.

This time my mother and I discussed who he could be. Perhaps someone who'd once lived in the area who had died? If he was human he couldn't possibly have disappeared so quickly both times. We had no answers, but I resolved that I would investigate the history of our house.

Over the years I would see the man many times. Except for that first time in front of the house he was always in the back yard. Sometimes he would be out there and I would witness him from our bedroom window whick overlooked the backyard. I would blink and he would be gone. It was frustrating, because I never got a chance to speak with him. Yet again, I never felt afraid or threatened by him.

Once, in a fit of frustration when I was trying to watch a program and the channels kept flipping, I stood up and cried out "What do you want? I just want to live here with my family. If you want something, let me know. Otherwise, please stop this shenannigans!"

Amazingly, it stopped for the rest of that night.

When the boys were five and three we stopped one day at a house that had puppies for sale and bought one. Jake was devoted to the boys, AJ especially, and we always knew he would gladly give his life to protect our sons. Once he even tried to attack Stan when he was scolding AJ for something he'd done wrong. When the boys were in the back yard I felt secure with Jake keeping watch over them. I never saw the man out there with the boys and assumed that Jake probably scared him away.

Eventually, as the boys got older, I stopped seeing him.

When we were getting read to move to Colorado I spoke with my next door neighbor about all that had happened in that house the years we lived there. She was widow, and the original owner of her home, so I knew she knew the history of the neighborhood. No one else had ever mentioned to her the things that we'd experienced. She had no idea who the man was, but she was fascinated.

"Perhaps you are more sensitive to these things," she told me.

I don't know. I only know that I believed that as we left our "haunted house" behind for our new life in Colorado, I thought that was the end of the story. But it wasn't.

to be continued

Ghost Story - Part 1

In the spring of 1991 Stan and I put our condo up for sale since we had AJ, who was a little over one and were expecting our second. In June we moved into our new house which seemed like a mansion after our 900 sq ft place. It was an older home, over 35 years old. The neighborhood was quiet, lots of huge trees, and great neighbors.

I was on complete bedrest with that pregnancy, so Stan bought me a recliner which would allow me to sit in the living room and stretch out when lying in bed or on the couch got old. Our living room was in the back of the house, and he set the recliner up in front of the window which looked out onto the back yard. Across from it was the entryway and the front door. Since it was summer time I kept the door open, and with the screen I was able to look out and see what was going on in the neighborhood.

AJ was little and needed a lot of care, and friends and family--especially my parents--took turns staying with us to help out since I wasn't allowed much time on my feet. That chair became my lifeline to the world!

Soon after we moved in, however, I started to notice some strange happenings in the house. The first thing I heard was some loud knocking on the walls in the entryway. This usually happened at night. At first I thought it was AJ since his bedroom was on the other side of the wall. But when I went in to check on him, he would be sound asleep.

Then I started to hear footsteps come clumping down the hallway leading to the entry. I would wait, and see no one when they stopped. Again I would get up and go look, but never saw anything.

The funny thing was, I was never scared; never felt nervous ... just curious.

The next event that happened was that the television would turn on and off on its own and change channels. The stereo would do the same. Stan checked them out, but could never find a problem with either one that would make them do that.

Those who stayed with us would see the TV and stereo do their thing, and also heard the knocking and footsteps, but like me, they never saw anything to have caused it all.

We lived in that house for nine years before moving to Colorado, and these things never stopped, and were never explained.

As I sat in that recliner waiting for the day my new baby would be born I thought if that was all the mysterious "ghosts" had to offer up it wasn't too bad.

That was what I thought at least......

to be continued