It's bad enough when you have your own REAL LIFE problems with having odd things happening within the walls of your home. But what about when they start to invade your dreams? Especially after two of your family members, yourself included, has occurrences in the same week, on different days?
The other morning, my oldest was up before myself and her siblings. Dad was already at work for his early morning shift at the store. The oldest has to be up by ten til seven to get ready for school.
On Wednesday, after I stepped in to the kitchen, she told me she had seen "someone" just a few minutes before I came up the stairs from the basement area, where my bedroom is.
I'd asked her to describe the person. She said that it was a male. No skin color noted to me yet (she's away with her bio-dad), and that he wore an "army suit" of camouflage. Depending on the actual colors of the suit, it may be military. Or it may be a hunter.
She said it only lasted a couple of seconds, and that she had seen him head on and he just looked at her, then vanished in to the air before her eyes.
I'd not told her, but I had an experience a couple days prior. But it was late afternoon and in the kitchen.
As I was minding my own business, and after shutting the fridge door, I had turned towards the stove. The blinds that cover the two kitchen windows were opened. One partially, which looks to the main street. The other, fully, and it looks to the neighbor next door.
Out of the corner of my right eye, I had a glimpse of what appeared to be someone gawking at me through the window facing the street. It was a shadow type head. No face to recognize. And when I'd turned to get a full view, the head darted back as if to not get caught.
I'd sensed it was a man. And if someone was to do that, then the LIVE person would have to do a "Spiderman" crawl up the side of my house and hang on for dear life to do what I had seen transpire.
It's just too strange. The two of us having these experiences like this can be a bit overwhelming. Emotionally. And psychologically.
But last night's dream I think sent me over the edge.
I'd gone to bed about midnight. One of those rare times that I wasn't THAT sleepy until then. I got in and nestled into the covers as usual and drifted off.
But then, everything went dark. A dark that I normally do not associate with. When I was finally able to get my eyes to adjust to the darkness before me, I felt the bitter cold of the air surrounding me.
It was at this point that I felt like I was in my own home. But not. It's as if I was in another realm. Another reality. Like an out-of-body type of thing was happening to me. Everything was so real.
That's when I felt the hand....
If you steal from me, I will HAUNT you down!
What is written in this blog, is of the author's own originality. It is the sole views, thoughts, and stories of this blog's author.
Showing posts with label personal. Show all posts
Showing posts with label personal. Show all posts
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Friday, August 12, 2011
Touches and Such..Active Home Again
This past week has been a strange one. Between one of the kids, my husband and myself, it seems that the house seemingly is "coming alive" again, paranormally speaking.
And when it happens to my husband, it is HUGE. He isn't a complete skeptic. Not anymore. Heck, he isn't even at 50/50 now. More like 75/25. I had blogged about one certain incident that happened to him a while back that almost completely reversed his polarity on the subject. But it wasn't enough to completely change his mind. I even tried cookies! (=
Anyways, between the three of us, it's been exciting. And a bit creepy. Let's start with the oldest, shall we?
She went in to the kitchen earlier in the week. It was mid-evening, just getting dark outside. She opened the fridge to find something. I think she was thirsty and looked around for drink. She said she closed the door to the refrigerator, with her hand on the handle.
Next thing I know, as I happened to be sitting here at the computer, my daughter comes in to the living room with a puzzled, shocked look upon her face, with her eyes widened. She asked if I heard a "knock" coming from the kitchen. I told her no...
That's when she exclaims that she heard a knocking coming from INSIDE the fridge! She didn't dare open it and she said it was loud enough that I SHOULD HAVE been able to hear it myself. She didn't go in to the fridge for a couple of days after the incident, thanks to it freaking her out so bad.
As for my husband, he had a strange, but not scary experience. Let's just say that I think that the "extra cat" of the house finally made it's presence known to him.
He was sitting here playing his POGO games, minding his own business the other day. Doing the usual thing. It was midday and wasn't doing anything out of the norm, per say.
Out of the blue, my husband turns around with a look upon his face that reads utter shock and disbelief. Then out comes, "did something rub up against my leg?"..I sat there, with this odd look upon my face. Like "what the hell are you talking about?!". Then I asked what it felt like. And he said like a cat was rubbing against him.
One problem...All three cats were OUTSIDE. Our Bearded Dragon, Gobi is NOWHERE near able to brush up against anyone in the manner my husband described. And all three of my kids are long out of the "crawling" stage.
So, we chalked that one up to the "ghost cat" in residence that I have seen (from the corner of my eye)on countless occasions. The strangest part is that it is almost a spitting image of my cat, Shadow. And it happens so quickly, it's as if the cat is elusive on purpose.
Then, the same evening as when my husband had his experience, I too had a strange occurrence of my own.
As a mom, you have this innate ability to sense things. Even with your eyes closed and having music blaring in to your ears with headphones on (as to drown out the crowd while TRYING to take a small siesta). This includes people walking in to the room and those walking past you in said room.
Once or twice before, I have written a post regarding Shadow People. They are dark-looking figures with no real identifying features. And they can be seen even in pitch black darkness of a room, being that they seem DARKER than the room that they appear in.
Never once did I actually SEE anyone/thing go past me. But I felt it's presence and I also had "seen" the shadow whisk past me through CLOSED eyes. One reason I knew it was NOT a living, breathing soul was that it walked briskly past me TOWARDS the side coffee table on my side of my bed. As if it went through the lamp and through the wall right behind me. The wall leads out to the basement foyer and stairs to go up to the main area of the house.
And, not only did it happen ONCE. No. Of course not! It happened three or four times. Almost back-to-back. Each time, I opened my eyes to see an EMPTY room, with the bedroom most-of-the-way shut (as I had it).
Stupid ghost! Bad enough my kids don't always leave me be to take a little nap. Now the ghost(s) have to bug the crap out of me too!
And when it happens to my husband, it is HUGE. He isn't a complete skeptic. Not anymore. Heck, he isn't even at 50/50 now. More like 75/25. I had blogged about one certain incident that happened to him a while back that almost completely reversed his polarity on the subject. But it wasn't enough to completely change his mind. I even tried cookies! (=
Anyways, between the three of us, it's been exciting. And a bit creepy. Let's start with the oldest, shall we?
She went in to the kitchen earlier in the week. It was mid-evening, just getting dark outside. She opened the fridge to find something. I think she was thirsty and looked around for drink. She said she closed the door to the refrigerator, with her hand on the handle.
Next thing I know, as I happened to be sitting here at the computer, my daughter comes in to the living room with a puzzled, shocked look upon her face, with her eyes widened. She asked if I heard a "knock" coming from the kitchen. I told her no...
That's when she exclaims that she heard a knocking coming from INSIDE the fridge! She didn't dare open it and she said it was loud enough that I SHOULD HAVE been able to hear it myself. She didn't go in to the fridge for a couple of days after the incident, thanks to it freaking her out so bad.
As for my husband, he had a strange, but not scary experience. Let's just say that I think that the "extra cat" of the house finally made it's presence known to him.
He was sitting here playing his POGO games, minding his own business the other day. Doing the usual thing. It was midday and wasn't doing anything out of the norm, per say.
Out of the blue, my husband turns around with a look upon his face that reads utter shock and disbelief. Then out comes, "did something rub up against my leg?"..I sat there, with this odd look upon my face. Like "what the hell are you talking about?!". Then I asked what it felt like. And he said like a cat was rubbing against him.
One problem...All three cats were OUTSIDE. Our Bearded Dragon, Gobi is NOWHERE near able to brush up against anyone in the manner my husband described. And all three of my kids are long out of the "crawling" stage.
So, we chalked that one up to the "ghost cat" in residence that I have seen (from the corner of my eye)on countless occasions. The strangest part is that it is almost a spitting image of my cat, Shadow. And it happens so quickly, it's as if the cat is elusive on purpose.
Then, the same evening as when my husband had his experience, I too had a strange occurrence of my own.
As a mom, you have this innate ability to sense things. Even with your eyes closed and having music blaring in to your ears with headphones on (as to drown out the crowd while TRYING to take a small siesta). This includes people walking in to the room and those walking past you in said room.
Once or twice before, I have written a post regarding Shadow People. They are dark-looking figures with no real identifying features. And they can be seen even in pitch black darkness of a room, being that they seem DARKER than the room that they appear in.
Never once did I actually SEE anyone/thing go past me. But I felt it's presence and I also had "seen" the shadow whisk past me through CLOSED eyes. One reason I knew it was NOT a living, breathing soul was that it walked briskly past me TOWARDS the side coffee table on my side of my bed. As if it went through the lamp and through the wall right behind me. The wall leads out to the basement foyer and stairs to go up to the main area of the house.
And, not only did it happen ONCE. No. Of course not! It happened three or four times. Almost back-to-back. Each time, I opened my eyes to see an EMPTY room, with the bedroom most-of-the-way shut (as I had it).
Stupid ghost! Bad enough my kids don't always leave me be to take a little nap. Now the ghost(s) have to bug the crap out of me too!
Monday, May 9, 2011
Big Grandma's Story
My husband's Grandmother is lovingly known as "Big Grandma". No, not because she's "fluffy". But because she is a Great-Grandma. So when we tell the kids that we are going to HIS grandma's, we tell them we are going to "Big Grandma's", or as my son now lovingly calls her, his "elderly" Grandma (lol).
Yesterday, we went over to her place to give her our Mother's Day gift of a re-blooming lilac plant and the school pictures I'd promised her. We met up with my husband's parents there and my MIL got her new yard flag and her pictures of the kids as well.
As myself, Big Grandma and my in-law's were sitting around, talking, Big Grandma told us something that honestly, made my jaw drop. My MIL took more stock in it though than my FIL did, as I watched the expression on his face as BG told her amazing story.
Per her count, BG has now had two times of this experience happen to her. But in two separate locations of her house. Remember too, BG is 86 years old, that she is now a widow and lives independently and is for the most part, sharp as a tack.
Big Grandma usually doesn't go to sleep until the wee early hours of the morning of the next day. She is an avid bookworm. So, she will read a good while, then turn the TV to something and finally drift off to dreamland.
But apparently one night, as she was not really tired and by her account NOT asleep or dreaming, she witnessed something out of the ordinary. Especially to her.
Standing just a few feet from her, near the dining table, which sits in the spacious living room by it's large windows, stood a faceless woman in period dress, with a bonnet and long "house dress" from what sounded like the Pioneer days of the 1800's.
This faceless woman said nothing. Did not move or come towards BG. BG said she just stood there. And apparently was there for a good length of time before fading in to the thin night air before the old woman's very eyes.
A while later, as in sometime after the first appearance, this woman in period dress, who again was faceless, was spotted in BG's bedroom, as she laid in her room, trying to fall asleep for the night. Again, she was awake by her account. And she remembers exactly what the woman was like from the time before.
By what I understand, before the house was there, in which they've (her and Big Papa, before his passing earlier this year) lived in their home for a good 25 years, was nothing but pasture. And quite possibly a log cabin home (think Little House On The Prairie home) was there way before their home was placed upon its foundation. And this lady that BG witnessed coming to visit her was fitting in with the possibility of such a thing happening before her home was there.
By what I heard, shockingly of course, seeing as I never have seen, heard or even thought of Big Grandma being the "type" to believe in such things as ghosts, it sounds an awful lot like a residual haunting. Like whomever lived in that area of the land before is just trying to retrace the steps of a place that is no longer standing.
The lady figure never, in either instance spoke according to BG. Just stood there, "looking" at the frail lady with her faceless body, only to fade in to nothingness before her very eyes.
I'd love to figure out how to find more information about the land that the house currently stands upon. This could get QUITE interesting.
Yesterday, we went over to her place to give her our Mother's Day gift of a re-blooming lilac plant and the school pictures I'd promised her. We met up with my husband's parents there and my MIL got her new yard flag and her pictures of the kids as well.
As myself, Big Grandma and my in-law's were sitting around, talking, Big Grandma told us something that honestly, made my jaw drop. My MIL took more stock in it though than my FIL did, as I watched the expression on his face as BG told her amazing story.
Per her count, BG has now had two times of this experience happen to her. But in two separate locations of her house. Remember too, BG is 86 years old, that she is now a widow and lives independently and is for the most part, sharp as a tack.
Big Grandma usually doesn't go to sleep until the wee early hours of the morning of the next day. She is an avid bookworm. So, she will read a good while, then turn the TV to something and finally drift off to dreamland.
But apparently one night, as she was not really tired and by her account NOT asleep or dreaming, she witnessed something out of the ordinary. Especially to her.
Standing just a few feet from her, near the dining table, which sits in the spacious living room by it's large windows, stood a faceless woman in period dress, with a bonnet and long "house dress" from what sounded like the Pioneer days of the 1800's.
This faceless woman said nothing. Did not move or come towards BG. BG said she just stood there. And apparently was there for a good length of time before fading in to the thin night air before the old woman's very eyes.
A while later, as in sometime after the first appearance, this woman in period dress, who again was faceless, was spotted in BG's bedroom, as she laid in her room, trying to fall asleep for the night. Again, she was awake by her account. And she remembers exactly what the woman was like from the time before.
By what I understand, before the house was there, in which they've (her and Big Papa, before his passing earlier this year) lived in their home for a good 25 years, was nothing but pasture. And quite possibly a log cabin home (think Little House On The Prairie home) was there way before their home was placed upon its foundation. And this lady that BG witnessed coming to visit her was fitting in with the possibility of such a thing happening before her home was there.
By what I heard, shockingly of course, seeing as I never have seen, heard or even thought of Big Grandma being the "type" to believe in such things as ghosts, it sounds an awful lot like a residual haunting. Like whomever lived in that area of the land before is just trying to retrace the steps of a place that is no longer standing.
The lady figure never, in either instance spoke according to BG. Just stood there, "looking" at the frail lady with her faceless body, only to fade in to nothingness before her very eyes.
I'd love to figure out how to find more information about the land that the house currently stands upon. This could get QUITE interesting.
Saturday, April 9, 2011
This Blog's Been Haunting me..And A Blog Hop
As of late, I haven't had any what I would call TRUE paranormal experiences. So I can't really write from MY perspective of close encounters or experiences. And if that is at times the case, I at times will post a video or an article about a Paranormal topic, and then give my thoughts, views and opinions.
When I do the latter, it can often times be time consuming. And after not really getting any feedback I felt it was time to stop writing on here for a while. And I stuck to my guns in that regard.
And in doing so, I hope that with the lengthy hiatus, I have managed to give my readers a good break, along with myself. So I'm looking to start back up writing on this page. Either of my own happenings or of paranormal things that I find of interest to talk about.
And feel free to join me over at the Weekend Wander over at For The Love Of Blogs as well.
It's a wonderful community of bloggers from all kinds of spectrums of writing.
Have a wonderful weekend, and I'll be writing again in here VERY soon!
When I do the latter, it can often times be time consuming. And after not really getting any feedback I felt it was time to stop writing on here for a while. And I stuck to my guns in that regard.
And in doing so, I hope that with the lengthy hiatus, I have managed to give my readers a good break, along with myself. So I'm looking to start back up writing on this page. Either of my own happenings or of paranormal things that I find of interest to talk about.
And feel free to join me over at the Weekend Wander over at For The Love Of Blogs as well.
It's a wonderful community of bloggers from all kinds of spectrums of writing.
Have a wonderful weekend, and I'll be writing again in here VERY soon!
Monday, March 14, 2011
The "I'm Okay" Sign That I Recieved Was "Unconventional" To Say The Least
As readers on my other two blogs (The (Not Always) Happy Homeaker Diary and The "Mental"-ist Mom) know, my husband's grandfather had passed away almost a week and a half ago.It was expected, but hard on us all, none the less.
About an hour before he passed away, my husband and I had made it to the house (where he died, as he requested) to say our final goodbye's and let him know that it would all be alright and to "just rest now". Within ten minutes of getting in the door of our home, after getting the kids from a friend's house who watched them while we went to him, we got "the call" that he had expired after suffering health-wise the last couple weeks.
After telling the kids that their great-grandfather passed away, and answering their questions, it was time for them to bed down for the night, seeing as they had school the following morning. Then, not long after, I decided I too needed to head off a bit earlier than normal for bed, being it was such a long, "strange-feeling" (as if I KNEW that death was going to be imminent and VERY soon, as did some other family members as well).
I'd gotten down stairs and hit on my main bedroom light, rounded my bed and touched my touch-lamp to go on to the middle setting. From there, I proceeded to ready myself (and the bed that was calling my name) to slumber.
Suddenly, the touch-lamp had ON ITS OWN, before my very eyes, went up to the high level setting. Never before did this "glitch" happen. Never. I couldn't find any reason for the lamp to turn it's self up of it's own volition. And myself and nothing else was close enough (or strong enough of touch/force) to make the lamp set its self.
Suddenly, like a natural reaction, out blurted from my lips, "Okay Papa, I got you. We are okay and thanks for the sign".
Yes indeed, I even surprised myself after the fact that I just so calmly stated what I had and that I (instinctively) knew that it was him, telling me he was okay. It's as if Big Papa wanted me to get the message (so to speak) as to put Scott (his grandson who he shared a VERY close bond with) seeing as Scott would "take my word for it".
Since that time, I haven't gotten any "feelings" of Big Papa hanging around. Be it here in my home, or at the home he shared with his wife of 62 years. I think that Big Papa is at peace, and happy. He has reunited with his youngest brother who passed in December, his parents and other family I'm sure he'd missed over the years.
But to get the "sign" from him (which yes, I truly believe it was Big Papa and not a malfunction of the lamp) felt wonderful. Made me realize that indeed he DID think of me and love me as one of his own.
About an hour before he passed away, my husband and I had made it to the house (where he died, as he requested) to say our final goodbye's and let him know that it would all be alright and to "just rest now". Within ten minutes of getting in the door of our home, after getting the kids from a friend's house who watched them while we went to him, we got "the call" that he had expired after suffering health-wise the last couple weeks.
After telling the kids that their great-grandfather passed away, and answering their questions, it was time for them to bed down for the night, seeing as they had school the following morning. Then, not long after, I decided I too needed to head off a bit earlier than normal for bed, being it was such a long, "strange-feeling" (as if I KNEW that death was going to be imminent and VERY soon, as did some other family members as well).
I'd gotten down stairs and hit on my main bedroom light, rounded my bed and touched my touch-lamp to go on to the middle setting. From there, I proceeded to ready myself (and the bed that was calling my name) to slumber.
Suddenly, the touch-lamp had ON ITS OWN, before my very eyes, went up to the high level setting. Never before did this "glitch" happen. Never. I couldn't find any reason for the lamp to turn it's self up of it's own volition. And myself and nothing else was close enough (or strong enough of touch/force) to make the lamp set its self.
Suddenly, like a natural reaction, out blurted from my lips, "Okay Papa, I got you. We are okay and thanks for the sign".
Yes indeed, I even surprised myself after the fact that I just so calmly stated what I had and that I (instinctively) knew that it was him, telling me he was okay. It's as if Big Papa wanted me to get the message (so to speak) as to put Scott (his grandson who he shared a VERY close bond with) seeing as Scott would "take my word for it".
Since that time, I haven't gotten any "feelings" of Big Papa hanging around. Be it here in my home, or at the home he shared with his wife of 62 years. I think that Big Papa is at peace, and happy. He has reunited with his youngest brother who passed in December, his parents and other family I'm sure he'd missed over the years.
But to get the "sign" from him (which yes, I truly believe it was Big Papa and not a malfunction of the lamp) felt wonderful. Made me realize that indeed he DID think of me and love me as one of his own.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Two Experiences/Encounters and an Award.
First of all, I shall thank the Academy for this prestigious...Oh wait, wrong award. My bad! Seriously though, I have been bestowed my FIRST EVER award for my ParanorMel blog. It's nice to have it recognized, even though my follower base is under twenty. But who's counting?
I have been given the Paranormal Community Leadership Award by Jessica Penot over at GHOST STORIES & HAUNTED PLACES where Jessica blogs about different places, buildings and homes that are (supposedly) haunted. I highly suggest you give her blog a look-see for yourself. You will NOT be disappointed. I guarantee it.
Thank you SO much, Jessica! But other than you, I have no other bloggers to pass this along to that have not already received it, seeing as I cannot find many good blogs of Paranormal interest. If you know of any, shoot them my way, would ya?
Now, on to the next...As Jason and Grant from Ghost Hunters (which I missed last night, due to crashing from exhaustion last night) like to say at the end of every episode.
On November ninth (I wrote about this the next day on ParanorMel's "Like page over on FaceBook) my husband made all of us go eerily quiet. He heard something coming from the attic. After seeing that all three cats were downstairs or outside, and all of us humans were accounted for, he KNEW it was not a sound that was man or animal made. Especially seeing as the windows were worked on last year to no longer be opened or to let drafts in.
After he mentally figured out what was going on, then my husband finally admitted to me that it was NOT the first time that he had happened upon the sound. Mainly made during the three to five o'clock hours of the very early morning, before he leaves for his differing shifts at work.
Strangely though, this apparent reoccurrence was never even heard by myself or the kids when it happened as we sat at the dinner table. Only my husband had heard the sound. Then he went in to explaining about it and he grabbed a pencil. He started to move it back and forth in a playful manner. The wood could be heard rolling as it went between his fingers.
This is when I admitted about sometimes hearing the footsteps outside the bathroom, in the main upper hallway as I shower, with no other people in the house. And I also admitted to seeing once again, the little boy of about my son's age, and my oldest daughter's height standing the basement foyer's landing.
Now, for the most recent thing to happen to me.. And it was just this past Tuesday.
For the first time ever, since being in the area of Central Virginia, I had gone to Thomas Jefferson's Poplar Forest. You can take pictures of the outside grounds and in the discovery rooms. But there are no pictures allowed to be taken within the retreat home. If you wish to take a gander at the inside of the mansion and learn more about Thomas Jefferson's Poplar Forest retreat, CLICK HERE.
All was well and good with me. That is, until our first stop for within the home was the basement. The wine cellar was also located down there. You can no longer go down in to it, seeing as the stairs had long rotted away and had to be removed. But the original brick is still on its floor, though it is pulling up and the bricks also have now started to rot.
Looking at the old Wine Cellar, I got struck with a "feeling". A feeling of being watched. I knew then, that on this Fifth Grade trip, we were not alone with the Tour Guide that was appointed to us. Even looking across the way, to the other side of the basement, it felt uneasy. I didn't SEE anyone or anything. But I could certainly tell that the energy was static-like. We were being watched. By whom, I cannot say.
Was it by Thomas Jefferson himself? Or could it have been Or could it have been Hannah? She was one of Jefferson's most devout slaves of their time. It could have possibly been even James, who was the "overseer" to the fellow slaves, who was entrusted as the headmaster above the other slaves of the Plantation.
While I cannot say for sure, all I know is that I felt that "someone" was keeping a close eye upon me, the children that were in our class and watching that the homestead was not being abused in any way that would tarnish the look and feel of Poplar Forest.
I have been given the Paranormal Community Leadership Award by Jessica Penot over at GHOST STORIES & HAUNTED PLACES where Jessica blogs about different places, buildings and homes that are (supposedly) haunted. I highly suggest you give her blog a look-see for yourself. You will NOT be disappointed. I guarantee it.
Thank you SO much, Jessica! But other than you, I have no other bloggers to pass this along to that have not already received it, seeing as I cannot find many good blogs of Paranormal interest. If you know of any, shoot them my way, would ya?
Now, on to the next...As Jason and Grant from Ghost Hunters (which I missed last night, due to crashing from exhaustion last night) like to say at the end of every episode.
On November ninth (I wrote about this the next day on ParanorMel's "Like page over on FaceBook) my husband made all of us go eerily quiet. He heard something coming from the attic. After seeing that all three cats were downstairs or outside, and all of us humans were accounted for, he KNEW it was not a sound that was man or animal made. Especially seeing as the windows were worked on last year to no longer be opened or to let drafts in.
After he mentally figured out what was going on, then my husband finally admitted to me that it was NOT the first time that he had happened upon the sound. Mainly made during the three to five o'clock hours of the very early morning, before he leaves for his differing shifts at work.
Strangely though, this apparent reoccurrence was never even heard by myself or the kids when it happened as we sat at the dinner table. Only my husband had heard the sound. Then he went in to explaining about it and he grabbed a pencil. He started to move it back and forth in a playful manner. The wood could be heard rolling as it went between his fingers.
This is when I admitted about sometimes hearing the footsteps outside the bathroom, in the main upper hallway as I shower, with no other people in the house. And I also admitted to seeing once again, the little boy of about my son's age, and my oldest daughter's height standing the basement foyer's landing.
Now, for the most recent thing to happen to me.. And it was just this past Tuesday.
For the first time ever, since being in the area of Central Virginia, I had gone to Thomas Jefferson's Poplar Forest. You can take pictures of the outside grounds and in the discovery rooms. But there are no pictures allowed to be taken within the retreat home. If you wish to take a gander at the inside of the mansion and learn more about Thomas Jefferson's Poplar Forest retreat, CLICK HERE.
All was well and good with me. That is, until our first stop for within the home was the basement. The wine cellar was also located down there. You can no longer go down in to it, seeing as the stairs had long rotted away and had to be removed. But the original brick is still on its floor, though it is pulling up and the bricks also have now started to rot.
Looking at the old Wine Cellar, I got struck with a "feeling". A feeling of being watched. I knew then, that on this Fifth Grade trip, we were not alone with the Tour Guide that was appointed to us. Even looking across the way, to the other side of the basement, it felt uneasy. I didn't SEE anyone or anything. But I could certainly tell that the energy was static-like. We were being watched. By whom, I cannot say.
Was it by Thomas Jefferson himself? Or could it have been Or could it have been Hannah? She was one of Jefferson's most devout slaves of their time. It could have possibly been even James, who was the "overseer" to the fellow slaves, who was entrusted as the headmaster above the other slaves of the Plantation.
While I cannot say for sure, all I know is that I felt that "someone" was keeping a close eye upon me, the children that were in our class and watching that the homestead was not being abused in any way that would tarnish the look and feel of Poplar Forest.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
ParanorMel may become a Ghost of the Past soon...
Lately, I have been seriously thinking. Thinking of what to do, when it comes to the blogging world.
I have this blog, as well as my main blog, The (Not Always) Happy Homemaker Diary.
For the most part as of late, I write, and I write, and I write. Yes, primarily for myself. Just to get out what I want to or that I need to.
As for ParanorMel, it is for those wishing to know that they are not alone, can relate to others and feel free to share their stories without societal persecution.
But the more I think about it, the more I see and compare, I think that my blogging days are coming to a standstill.
I'm wondering what the use is, anymore. Is it the fact that I don't blog on practically a daily basis? Is it because I don't hop on to every single Blogging Carnival out there? Is it because I don't comment on EVERY page I read?
I don't do cliques of any kind. I will have a buddy's back in their hour of need. And I will stand up for the underdog. But I don't care to always do or have the 'in' thing, be in the 'in' crowd. I love doing my own thing. And that also comes in to play within the writing world.
My great-grandmother was a famous Chicago Christian-based playwright. I have Mae Questel in my lineage, whom provided the original voice of Betty Boop. I've also got Jean Harlow and President Theodore Roosevelt within my bloodlines. So what? I am certainly happy and proud of my heritage. But they do NOT make me who I am.
If blogging means keeping up with the Jones' in regards to Blog Carnivals and mass commenting to "get noticed" or read, then the TRUE meaning and art of blogging has gone to the wayside.
It should never be about who has the better blog posts, the better blog layout, and all the other hullabaloo I have witnessed in my time around here, since about November of last year.
I've seen where some say that they don't run in cliques and don't do 'one-sided' things when it comes to blogging. But I'm sorry to say, I noticed. And yes they are in these 'cliques', though I don't think their eyes are open enough to really see. But I and others do.
As for fighting between to 'adults' in the blogging world? I stay the hell away. I have my own problems. In the real world mind you. So what good does it do for me and my blood pressure to jump in the middle of a cat fight? Not any good at all. For all parties involved. I say let them two have at it, remain neutral and state that you REFUSE to get pulled in.
Now, seeing as I am pretty sure that this post to will get brushed under the rug (as in not even read), let alone even validated by another's words (I'm NOT talking about Angel or Alexes y'all), I'm coming to a point of where to go from here.
Is The (Not Always) Happy Homemaker Diary and ParanorMel going to survive and move on to the next post? Or should I cut my losses, and realize the fact that I put too much time and energy in to these two blogs, that they should just be killed off?
I'm more active at the school now, then before. My kids and my home take priority. As does my husband. Plus we have a trip and the holidays coming up.
Is it all really worth it anymore? This will be a hard decision, being that I *really* do enjoy writing. But at what cost?
I have this blog, as well as my main blog, The (Not Always) Happy Homemaker Diary.
For the most part as of late, I write, and I write, and I write. Yes, primarily for myself. Just to get out what I want to or that I need to.
As for ParanorMel, it is for those wishing to know that they are not alone, can relate to others and feel free to share their stories without societal persecution.
But the more I think about it, the more I see and compare, I think that my blogging days are coming to a standstill.
I'm wondering what the use is, anymore. Is it the fact that I don't blog on practically a daily basis? Is it because I don't hop on to every single Blogging Carnival out there? Is it because I don't comment on EVERY page I read?
I don't do cliques of any kind. I will have a buddy's back in their hour of need. And I will stand up for the underdog. But I don't care to always do or have the 'in' thing, be in the 'in' crowd. I love doing my own thing. And that also comes in to play within the writing world.
My great-grandmother was a famous Chicago Christian-based playwright. I have Mae Questel in my lineage, whom provided the original voice of Betty Boop. I've also got Jean Harlow and President Theodore Roosevelt within my bloodlines. So what? I am certainly happy and proud of my heritage. But they do NOT make me who I am.
If blogging means keeping up with the Jones' in regards to Blog Carnivals and mass commenting to "get noticed" or read, then the TRUE meaning and art of blogging has gone to the wayside.
It should never be about who has the better blog posts, the better blog layout, and all the other hullabaloo I have witnessed in my time around here, since about November of last year.
I've seen where some say that they don't run in cliques and don't do 'one-sided' things when it comes to blogging. But I'm sorry to say, I noticed. And yes they are in these 'cliques', though I don't think their eyes are open enough to really see. But I and others do.
As for fighting between to 'adults' in the blogging world? I stay the hell away. I have my own problems. In the real world mind you. So what good does it do for me and my blood pressure to jump in the middle of a cat fight? Not any good at all. For all parties involved. I say let them two have at it, remain neutral and state that you REFUSE to get pulled in.
Now, seeing as I am pretty sure that this post to will get brushed under the rug (as in not even read), let alone even validated by another's words (I'm NOT talking about Angel or Alexes y'all), I'm coming to a point of where to go from here.
Is The (Not Always) Happy Homemaker Diary and ParanorMel going to survive and move on to the next post? Or should I cut my losses, and realize the fact that I put too much time and energy in to these two blogs, that they should just be killed off?
I'm more active at the school now, then before. My kids and my home take priority. As does my husband. Plus we have a trip and the holidays coming up.
Is it all really worth it anymore? This will be a hard decision, being that I *really* do enjoy writing. But at what cost?
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Skidding on the floor. Nic Cage style.
It will be four years since we moved in to our current home, at the end of August.
At that time, the kids were starting school that week, as we were moving things from one place to the other. Before us, my brother-in-law and his brood lived here. And before them, it was their parent's rented residence.
Needless to say, it's jokingly become a "family tradition" that someone in the immediate family lives in this house.
While my husband's parents were here, I always felt a bit 'uneased' downstairs, in the basement. And it was set up pretty much then, how we have it now. Our bedroom is down there in the addition (kids are upstairs in the two actual bedrooms), our family area, and the kid's play area (which was then the sewing area for my mother-in-law).
From the moment the house became "ours", I felt something was off. But not just in the basement any longer. It extended in to the attic and even the main portion of the house. Primarily my son's room (that was the "junk room" when my in-law's had the place).
For the life of me, I couldn't place my finger on why I had these feelings of dread, only to have my son almost immediately after moving in, tell me that he saw the "Bearded Man" that looked like he was from "a long time ago".
Every so often, either myself or my son would hear what sounded like footsteps in the attic. Both day and night. And even to this day, I feel "watched" if I'm up there, with or without someone being with me.
Less than a week after shipping our boxes to our new home, I was seriously hurt. All the times over the years I had gone up and down those steps that led to the basement, never once did I take a tumble. That is, until THAT day.
My kids were on their way home from their first full week at their new school. At this point, I still had my youngest daughter home with me, being she was too young for Pre-K.
Of course, for security reasons, and to keep the wee one from slipping out the door, I kept the basement door locked tight. But I would go down to unlock it so the kids could come in from the school bus.
With Skyler watching TV (back then upstairs in the living room), I proceeded to start my decent down to the basement.
No more than three steps down, I felt like I had been shoved. I clearly felt what seemed to be like a hand on my back. Down I went the rest of the way on those stairs.
I literally rolled down. Not in a "tumbling" manner, or on my butt. If I had slipped, I would have fell on to my tail and backwards. Not go forwards, face-first and in a rolling motion (like tumbling in gym).
But I didn't stop there.
No sooner that I hit (and I mean HARD) the landing to the steps, I literally flew off. Only to skid across my carpeted basement floor. As if someone kicked me off of the bottom portion of the staircase.
If you have ever seen 'Ghost Rider', with Nicolas Cage (which is one of my favorite movies of his!), you will know what I'm talking about with the "skidding" on the floor. When 'Johnny Blaze' (Nic's character) is thrown from his now-alive motorcycle, on to the pavement of the Police Station's towing area, he skids across the cement a good number of feet before stopping and his hands start catching fire to begin transforming in to 'Ghost Rider' for the first time.
To put it basically, I was 'Johnny Blaze' for a brief moment in time. Only I had shag carpet, on top of cement flooring under my belly.
After being drug by some unforeseeable force of gravitational pull towards the basement door, I stopped short of getting my face slammed in to it. Only to pull myself up, via the doorknob and unlock both locks right as the kids were pulling up on the school bus.
For three or four days after the incident, I was so very sore. I had a few bruises, a scratch, I had muscle aches EVERYWHERE. I felt like I got ran over, then back-up on, only to be hit again. And when I told my husband about it, he (the skeptic he is, but not as bad now, as back then) said that I must have tripped over myself. Or that I slipped on a step.
But, even if I did either of those things, as my husband felt that I must have, I should NEVER have had any of the above happen.
And never again have I endured another experience in this home on those stairs as I had done that day. And it is a day, as well as an experience I will NEVER forget.
At that time, the kids were starting school that week, as we were moving things from one place to the other. Before us, my brother-in-law and his brood lived here. And before them, it was their parent's rented residence.
Needless to say, it's jokingly become a "family tradition" that someone in the immediate family lives in this house.
While my husband's parents were here, I always felt a bit 'uneased' downstairs, in the basement. And it was set up pretty much then, how we have it now. Our bedroom is down there in the addition (kids are upstairs in the two actual bedrooms), our family area, and the kid's play area (which was then the sewing area for my mother-in-law).
From the moment the house became "ours", I felt something was off. But not just in the basement any longer. It extended in to the attic and even the main portion of the house. Primarily my son's room (that was the "junk room" when my in-law's had the place).
For the life of me, I couldn't place my finger on why I had these feelings of dread, only to have my son almost immediately after moving in, tell me that he saw the "Bearded Man" that looked like he was from "a long time ago".
Every so often, either myself or my son would hear what sounded like footsteps in the attic. Both day and night. And even to this day, I feel "watched" if I'm up there, with or without someone being with me.
Less than a week after shipping our boxes to our new home, I was seriously hurt. All the times over the years I had gone up and down those steps that led to the basement, never once did I take a tumble. That is, until THAT day.
My kids were on their way home from their first full week at their new school. At this point, I still had my youngest daughter home with me, being she was too young for Pre-K.
Of course, for security reasons, and to keep the wee one from slipping out the door, I kept the basement door locked tight. But I would go down to unlock it so the kids could come in from the school bus.
With Skyler watching TV (back then upstairs in the living room), I proceeded to start my decent down to the basement.
No more than three steps down, I felt like I had been shoved. I clearly felt what seemed to be like a hand on my back. Down I went the rest of the way on those stairs.
I literally rolled down. Not in a "tumbling" manner, or on my butt. If I had slipped, I would have fell on to my tail and backwards. Not go forwards, face-first and in a rolling motion (like tumbling in gym).
But I didn't stop there.
No sooner that I hit (and I mean HARD) the landing to the steps, I literally flew off. Only to skid across my carpeted basement floor. As if someone kicked me off of the bottom portion of the staircase.
If you have ever seen 'Ghost Rider', with Nicolas Cage (which is one of my favorite movies of his!), you will know what I'm talking about with the "skidding" on the floor. When 'Johnny Blaze' (Nic's character) is thrown from his now-alive motorcycle, on to the pavement of the Police Station's towing area, he skids across the cement a good number of feet before stopping and his hands start catching fire to begin transforming in to 'Ghost Rider' for the first time.
To put it basically, I was 'Johnny Blaze' for a brief moment in time. Only I had shag carpet, on top of cement flooring under my belly.
After being drug by some unforeseeable force of gravitational pull towards the basement door, I stopped short of getting my face slammed in to it. Only to pull myself up, via the doorknob and unlock both locks right as the kids were pulling up on the school bus.
For three or four days after the incident, I was so very sore. I had a few bruises, a scratch, I had muscle aches EVERYWHERE. I felt like I got ran over, then back-up on, only to be hit again. And when I told my husband about it, he (the skeptic he is, but not as bad now, as back then) said that I must have tripped over myself. Or that I slipped on a step.
But, even if I did either of those things, as my husband felt that I must have, I should NEVER have had any of the above happen.
And never again have I endured another experience in this home on those stairs as I had done that day. And it is a day, as well as an experience I will NEVER forget.
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