The one about werewolves and corndogs...

<----These kind of werewolves. Not these kind of werewolves--->

I know. Right now you're sitting there wondering what the french toast werewolves and corn dogs have to do with each other. Don't get ahead of yourself. All shall be revealed.

So Mike left Sunday night for Camp Eastman. They're doing a new joint crew week this year and he and Phil ended up being the crew weeks two deep leadership. In non-Scout speak: Mike had to go hang out with the ranger at the other camp and watch over the 8 boys who had come up for crew week. They'd spend half their week up there and half their week down here, doing projects for both camps and then having some fun time too. I'm used to Mike being gone a lot so I didn't figure it was a big deal. Except that, inevitably, the weird shit always happens when he's not here to deal with it. Like the time the limescale remover that he told me to put in my dishwasher actually ate the dishwasher and turned my kitchen into a lake. Or how he left me the first week we moved out here and being a city girl, I'd never heard coyotes. I nearly wet myself in fear. But it's whatevs. He's got a job to do.

So I'm sitting alone Monday evening. Sean is at a scout meeting and Mo & Dylan have just gone to bed. I fire up the DVR to watch a Lifetime movie (don't judge, it was about an artist who talked to an imaginary friend), and I'm maybe twenty minutes in when the phone rings. It's Mike.

Mike: Sorry. I know the baby is in bed. But is Sean there?

Me: It's Monday night. He's never home on Monday nights. (you'd think the man could get this schedule down. Sean's only had scouts on Monday nights for the last like 9 years.)

Mike: Shit.

Me: What do you need?

Mike: I needed him to go down and unlock the Cook's Cabin.

Me: Why?

Mike: The DE who was going to move in last week just called to see if I'd unlock it, but I told him I was up here. So he said he'd stay in Polar Bear as originally planned, but I think I locked it when NYLT left this weekend.

Me: Okay. I'll go down and unlock it. Which key is it?

Mike: You'll have to check that yellow sheet and find it.

Me: What yellow sheet?

Mike: The one on my desk. Or maybe the other desk. It's there somewhere.

Me: It's on top the printer. Alright, got the key. Do you have a flashlight somewhere? It's hella dark out there.

Mike: Um, somewhere. But the outside lights on the cabin and dining  hall are on so you should be okay.

So I go out and get in the car and drive down to the parking lot, where I find the gate closed and locked. At this point, I have two options. I can drive back to the house, call Mike and try to find the key to the gate, or I can just walk the rest of the way to the Cook's Cabin and unlock the door. I figure walking will be faster. Its about five feet into my walk that I realize it really is hella dark out. And I'm alone in camp. And there are dark woods everywhere. First, I start to wonder if coyotes or raccoons ever attack people. Then I start to worry about snakes. Then, as I'm passing the health lodge, there's a large commotion behind it, and I can make out the bushes shaking fiercely. Then I start to think about werewolves (again, no judging! I watched Teen Wolf that night). Then I speed up my pace and keep glancing over my shoulder. Then it dawns on me that is EXACTLY what people in horror movies do just before something really bad happens to them! CRAP. So I hurry to the safety of the lights of the dining hall, cross to cook's cabin to find...the damn door is already unlocked. WTF?

So I turn around and start the trip back to my car. I'm still uneasy and glancing around nervously. I mean, I have to walk right past the health lodge again. And by now, it's dawned on me that if a werewolf sees me, I probably look like a corn dog to him. I'm plump, juicy, awkward and slow. Might as well be meat on a stick. Yep, I'm the fair food of the werewolf diet. Fabulous.

I'm now also slightly pissed off. I made a wasted trek through the scary, dark woods at night. I get home and call Mike back.

Me: So the gate's locked.

Mike: No it's not. It's just dummy locked to make it look locked.

Me: Well I couldn't get it open.

Mike: Yeah you have to blah...blah...blah.

Me: Don't you think that would have been pertinent information to give me before I went down there?

Mike: oh, um, yeah?

Me: *Dramatic pause for effect* The damn cabin was already unlocked! I walked, WALKED through the dark to the cabin for you and it was already unlocked. You're lucky werewolves didn't eat me.

Mike: I was afraid of that. Wait? What? Werewolves?

Me: You thought the cabin might be unlocked and you didn't even tell me that? Do you know what I look like to a werewolf?? A corn dog, that's what!!

Mike: *laughing* A corn dog? *more laughter*

Me: You owe me big time, mister!

Mike: *still laughing* Okay,  pumpkin. I love you.

And the best part? That was only the beginning of the night of weird shit. I'll write about the rest of my evening later. And no, I never did get to finish the damn movie.

Stay away from werewolves and dark woods,
♥Spot

The one where I'm not on the verge of fortune and fame and I have Rickets

Guess what day it is? That's right, Saturday!! My favorite day of the week. Well, right now. During the summer that will change as Saturday becomes the day of the week that everyone is home. Right now it's the day of the week where I'm the only one home. So it's my writing day. That glorious day where nobody bothers me and I can stick to my own schedule. Which, of course, is actually no schedule at all. I write, I research, I read, and every few hours I get up to potty and grab a new drink or some food. It's like heaven. Well, heaven for writers anyway.

And while we're on the subject of writers, let me clear up some confusion. I do have a publisher wanting to take a look at my novel when it's finished. This is in NO WAY a guarantee of publication. I mean, she could decide it's the worst novel in the history of novels. (No wait, I'm pretty sure I read that one posted on the Internet somewhere) Anyway, it could conceivably suck. Or it could be good, but not fit her tastes. I mean, there are a million little "ifs" in there. And should the Universe favor me on that day and she does accept it? I'm still not going to be rich or famous. It's a small publishing company that does a lot of E-publishing. Which means that you would be able to purchase the book as a download or for E-readers. I think they do some print publishing based on popularity so there is a chance that it would make it to paperback. But it won't be a hardcover bestseller is my point. Not that first one anyway. Don't worry, I still plan to take the world by storm, I'm just sneaking in the back way. I'm totally cool with this, because personally I think that E-books are the wave of the future. You are immediately accessible to a global market. They are convenient, cheaper (both for the publisher and the reader), and more manageable. And it's not about the money (of course I wouldn't turn down the money), it's about making people leave the light on when they get done reading my book.

And speaking of leaving the light on...Lu and I tried Tina's nightmare inducing suggestion of cheese before bed last night. Nope. Another fail. Apparently I am nightmare resistant. Lu and I talked it over and neither of us has ever woken up screaming. I have woken up momentarily terrified. But never full on screaming. And I've read scary books my entire life. I've watched scary movies my entire life. I've had trouble going to sleep, had to turn a light on when I got up to go to the bathroom (hubby really gets cranky about this), jumped on to the bed from three feet away (you know, so nothing under the bed can grab me), and hidden my eyes as I drive past scarecrows. But I don't believe I've ever had a full on nightmare. I feel so gypped.

In other news, I have Rickets. Okay, maybe not Rickets per se, but a serious vitamin D deficiency. It's all the buzz on the health boards right now. That vitamin D deficiency is cropping up and causing all sorts of problems. Crunchy joints, anyone? So when I went to see the orthopedic doctor for my follow up knee appointment, I mentioned it to her.

Me: So I was told that I should get my vitamin D level checked.

DR: I was just reading an article on that last night! And my daughter, who's your age (gee, thanks for throwing my age in) had hers checked and she was significantly low. If it's low you have to take 50,000 mg a week for eight weeks and then 1000 mg a week after that, plus 1000mg of calcium.

Me: For real? Dude, that sounds like a lot. Can't I just drink milk or something?

DR: No, because the problem is that your body probably isn't absorbing it the way it should either.

Me: So I have Rickets?

DR: They did use Rickets as the example in the article, in the slide illustration.

Me: My mom used to tell me when I was little that I had to go play outside in the sun or I'd get Rickets.

DR: She was right.

Me: Um. No. I think she just wanted to get rid of me and my creepy imaginary friend for awhile.

DR:*crickets chirping*

Me: And now I have Rickets anyway so fat lot of good that did. At least the imaginary friend is gone right? I hope he didn't get Rickets.

DR: Okay, so I think we're done here.


Earlier this week the nurse from the Doctor's office called to report that I was indeed vitamin D deficient. They gave me samples of the Vitamin D and I have to take 10,000 mg a day Monday through Friday to make 50,000 mg per week for 8 weeks. Then it lowers to 1000 a day. Of course, I looked the whole thing up online, because enquiring minds want to know. This is the best article I found on the subject. I guess what floored me the most was learning that the sunscreen I use is totally blocking my Vitamin D absorption. So even though I spent hours outside by the ocean or lake or mowing the lawn, I'm getting zero benefit in the vitamin D department. The hell?! Now I can't even yell at my mom for not putting sunscreen on me when I was four and letting me get that horrible sunburn on my shoulders. Turns out she was doing me a favor.

It also amazes me that Vitamin D deficiency is directly linked to Fibromyalgia, a disease that I've been diagnosed with. So I'm pretty excited about what kind of effect increasing my Vitamin D may have on my physical well-being. I'm not convinced it's a miracle cure or anything, but even feeling a bit better helps. So I would urge all of you to think about asking for this test at your next check-up. I know I will be urging my family to get it done.

And that's it from me. I have scaring to do and the last weekend of a conference to attend. Hope y'all have a great weekend!
♥Spot

Burn, baby, burn.

So it's been a busy week. I've been to town three times this week, when normally I shoot for once. Tuesday was grocery shopping and dr. appt. Wednesday was job hunting with Sean. And Thursday was a dr appt for Lu and two medical tests for me and a job interview for Sean. Like I said, busy, not much fun and I'm exhausted. I'm also trying to get all the household things taken care of so I can leave for Myrtle Beach on Monday night. Where I plan to spend a week doing not a whole hell of a lot. Should cancel out the suckfest that was yesterday.

But Wednesday night, hubby had to burn down an old picnic shelter. They are making room for a new archery range to go in that spot and the old shelter had to go. He'd already dropped the roof, so basically it was the roof on top of the concrete slab with brush between and brush piled on top. So he texts me at 5:30 "Are you coming down to watch? We're ready." Um. Not really what I wanted to do, I mean it's really cold out, gonna be dark soon, and I don't feel well. But in the interest of being supportive and since he obviously wanted me too, I went. Couldn't talk Sean into it though. So I pull up and park on the side of the road and then walk out to the shelter. It's him and his volunteer F. Then some other people show up who wanted to come out and watch. So he lights it. There's no whoosh and it explodes in flame. I guess that's just in the movies. In fact, it's burning so slowly that I completely understand why the local fire department didn't see the need to be here. I'm bored. And thinking about the fact that I still have to make supper when I go in.

So I ask him "Is this it?". And he tells me no. Just to wait and eventually it'll get going really well. Then I tell him he should have reminded me to put long johns on because it's really cold. He assures me that soon the fire will be keeping me plenty warm. Yawn. Sure. But eventually one side catches really well and if you squat down and look through the rafters you can see the fire being sucked to this side. That was pretty awesome. And the next thing I know, it's really burning. And flames are shooting up in the sky. And I'm not cold. In fact, I've taken several steps back. And then some more because the front of my jeans are really hot. Now the fire is going in earnest and it is a sight to behold. I'm mesmerized. And then I remember that I'm scared of fire. Like really scared. Like I think it would be one of the most horrible ways to die ever. I think I might have died in a fire in a previous life. Probably I was burned at the stake. Then I think about this movie that I watched when I was younger called "The Legacy". And how this lady was standing by the fireplace and the fire leapt out and got her. I take several more steps backwards.

But honestly, the fire is beautiful. It is a wonder to behold. Looking at the burning rafters, it's almost like the flames are performing this intricate dance. They look like their moving in slow motion. It's almost hypnotic. And in places where it burns through the roof, the tar from the shingles catches and it rains down through the other flames. Little bright pieces of flame dripping down. Then I remember that hubby said we couldn't roast marshmallows over this fire because of the shingles. Not to mention, you'd need like a ten foot stick, because no way you're getting closer than that. So I find hubby.

Me: What about the shingles burning? Is that smoke dangerous?

Hubby: Well, I think it's okay as long as you don't go over and snort up a bunch of it.

Me: Really? Wow. Because that was totally my plan. Snort massive lungfuls of black poisonous smoke. Thanks for clearing that up.

He just looked at me. By this time the flames are shooting so far up that they are taller than the tops of the trees. I'm surprised the neighbors aren't worried and haven't called the fire department. Apparently they're used to it.

Hubby: Well, now it's a fire!

Me: Really? What was it before? Because it's looked like a fire to me the whole time.

Hubby: It was just a baby fire. Now it's as big as the ceremony fires we have for the OA.

Me: But it's summer time when you do those!!

Hubby: Yeah.

Me: But it's like super hot standing here now. It's like 90 degrees then!! Are you standing this close??

Hubby: No, we're standing way far back, but we're still sweating our balls off.

Me: Um. Why? (Wondering why the male species does strange things)

Hubby: Because it impresses the ordeal candidates. They talk about it for years.

Me: Really? Remember that time we were at the OA camp out and the fire was so huge that we were sweating to death and you got heat exhaustion? Yeah...good times. *shaking my head* Do guys ever think that bigger might not be better?

Hubby looks at the other two guys standing there. They all shake their heads.

Guys: Nope. That's just crazy talk.

Soon after I left and went home to make dinner. I left the guys standing around, staring at their handiwork, smoking cigars and patting themselves on the back.

♥Spot

Ghosties Again...

Ah, so I took a break from blogging yesterday. Sean is still got the cough he's had for ten days now and I wasn't feeling great either so we crashed on the couch and watched scary movies all day. And um..yeah...you guys know me too well...I did still do two loads of laundry, make beds, play laundry room CSI, make supper and shower and smell good. I know, my idea of a "lazy day" is slightly skewed. But it was a good day!

So for a horror movie update~ 100 Feet is a movie about a woman (Famke Janssen) who murders her abusive husband in self defense. She's sent to prison but then changed to house arrest. She can't move out of the 100 foot range of the alarm box without setting it off. As it's a huge ass brownstone in NY, this doesn't allow her to go outside. To make things worse, her husband's old partner (Bobby Cannavale) is pissed she killed her husband and harasses her to no end. But worst of all...the Hubby comes back in ghost form and returns to his habit of beating the crap out of her. I thought it was an okay movie. I wasn't ever bored and didn't poke fun at it. However, Sean gave it a thumbs down. He thought the girl was ridiculously stupid and that Famke Janssen is not only a bad actress but unattractive as well. I tried explaining that she used to be a supermodel but he didn't care. So I guess all in all this movie gets a shrug.

We also watched The Haunted Airman. This one is a BBC production starring Julian Sands and Twilight Heartthrob Robert Pattison. If your only goal is to stare dreamily at Robert for an hour and a half, rent this movie. If you want a good plot, solid acting, and a few jumps~ rent something else. The movie was confusing from the beginning. You never do really know what's real and what's a figment of Robert's mind. But he does a lot of that "brooding" look. An hour and a half of my life I'll never get back. Thumbs down from both of us!

Okay, on to an "October ghostie" story. And this one is PG so even Cynica can continue reading...

I live on 745 acre Boy Scout Camp. Of course a lot of it is timber and there's a 40 foot lake. There is a house on the property that was built 26 years ago for the last Ranger to use. We now reside in the house. Here's a pic:



Kind of got that snow white cottage thing going on doesn't it? It's deceptively small looking however. It's like an optical illusion or something, because once inside it's really big. Like 3600 square feet big. Anywho, it's not haunted. Not in the least. I'm not even afraid to be home alone at night. I can read ghost stories, watch a scary movie, nothing. It's safe.

But the garage is a whole other story. The garage is set across the drive from the house. It's one of those Morton buildings, you know made of metal and totally modern. And big. It's a two car garage. My husband insists during the winter that I park my car in there. Which does save on scraping off ice and snow and what have you. But I must admit that the garage scares the pudding out of me. The ground it sits on was where the original house on the property was located. It was an old farmhouse that was already there when the Boy Scouts bought the property over 50 years ago and of course the house was much older than that. I have no idea what the history of this property is but that is a spooky piece of land. Inside they built a little room in the front, but it doesn't extend all the way across the garage so theres a little cubby hole area (if cubby holes were 4 foot by 4 foot) in the front on the side. The light doesn't really reach this area so it's always dark, even in the daytime. And that is the area that bothers me. Not because it's dark, but because it feels wrong. Now, my hubby says it feels fine. And none of the kids seem to mind it either. But Mo's friend Alex, who's 20 and my "all things ghostie" buddy and another friend went in there one night close to midnight to see if they got any impressions. Both boys high-tailed it back into my house in 10 minutes. Yep. Creepy feeling.

Now, you'd think I could easily avoid this garage and that would be that. And now, I can. But when I worked outside the home, I worked retail. Which meant alot of my hours were at night. That meant coming home to a dark garage. Now, I'm no chicken. I didn't call my hubby every night and demand he meet me at the garage. Nope. (Not that he would have anyway...) I'd come home, pull down towards the garage, stop, get out and open the garage door (yeah, we lost the remotes) and pull in. Then, with the car lights still on, I'd get out and turn on the overhead in the garage. Turn the car off, shut the doors. Then I had a choice...turn off the lights and walk through the small room to get to the door. Or turn off the lights, make a mad dash out the large garage opening and pull the door down fast. Yep. That's the one I did. I would then walk all the way around the garage on the outside to get to my house. If I gone out the front door of the garage, theres a path straight to the house. An always cleared off path. Not me. I was that scared. I'd wade through snow, rain, whatever in order to bypass going out that door. I always felt like something was right behind me when I used that door. The hair on the back of my neck stood up and I'd fight the urge to look behind me (Never look back!!) or to break into a run.

One night, I came home late. It was pitch dark. In fact, hubby had forgotten to turn any of our outside lights on (and let me tell you people, the country is waaaayyy dark at night). So I did the usual, pulled up to the garage, got out and opened the overhead, pulled in. Then I gathered my courage, got out of the car and screamed bloody murder. Something had touched my hand!!! I nearly had a heart attack on the spot. Then I realized that the dog was out of her pen and had her nose in my hand. And was giving me the "why is my human screaming" look. Well, actually since it was so dark, I was pretty damn happy to have the dogs company. =]

So there you go. We've actually talked about doing some EVP sessions and taking some night photos in the garage. And the little cemetery from the slide show. If I get the gumption up to do it...I'll let you know.

good scares & night screams,
♥Spot