Grey Lines

It's muggy and hot today making it difficult to do much around here.

My dreams have been steeped in the past but not in a bad or unpleasant manner. People, places and shades of my former self have been revisited as if it's meant to be a gentle reminder of how I arrived here. Issues that had once been stamped in black and white were actually grey and I was surprised upon waking.

It must have something to do with my sister visiting for extended lengths of time and the past coming up in our conversations.

Alabama's ashes will be here tonight and, then, we need to decide what we want to do with them. This is something I've never had to do before. We loved her, our grey cat, and respected her deeply.

The last comical memory that I have of her occurred about a week before her death: while in the front yard watering the gardens, I caught a grey glimpse scuttling through the hedges. My first thought was that Alabama had escaped from the house.

"Oh, no!" I thought. "She's not supposed to be outdoors." I ran alongside the bushes until they ended at the driveway, hoping to catch her and take her back inside.

Imagine my surprise when the grey line of fur became black, then black with a white line along its body and then definitely not my cat.

"Aaaaaack!" I jumped and ran inside.

Ghosts

Gigi wanted to watch The Backyardigans. If you haven't watched it: the central characters engage each other in imaginative play and the show is predicated upon the idea that they can be anything of their choosing.

We only had one episode recorded: "It's Great To Be A Ghost." The music of this cartoon is, in general, excellent: polka, jazz, rock, etc. This particular episode featured a 1920s soundtrack and great gothic outdoor scenery as well as a detailed, decrepit house.

The opening title song in this episode is my favourite of their entire repertoire.

Anyway, today, there was a ghost in my backyard and one in my bedroom. The bedroom ghost was actually my maternal grandfather and he was there for only a few seconds. I'm definitely not getting along with my mother at the moment so that might explain his presence.

I figured out why I didn't perceive anything when Gigi's musical toy went off a little while ago. I think it could be a manufacturer's program to attract attention to itself if it has been unused for long periods of time.

I'm glad that it's actually Friday now. Even though it's my busiest day as Mummy and Psychic and Housewife, it's still the promise of a weekend.

My sister has come up to babysit while I do all my readings this week. It is such a great help and she insists that she won't bail on me again. Please keep your fingers crossed for me.

Just Rambling

Wow, I've been neglecting this blog lately. Forgive me. I've been so busy trying to get organized that I appear even LESS organized.

I can't believe the number of paranormal-inspired television shows that are coming up in the Fall. Apparently, people find it quite funny that I don't watch these kinds of shows EVER.

That being said, I absolutely loved Dead Like Me and Six Feet Under: these series were darkly comical, tongue-in-cheek and too short-lived. Dead Like Me was not picked up for a third season and Six Feet Under ended last week in its fourth season.

Movies are another story entirely. I enjoy a good film. I love those crafted in the gothic genre and avoid the blood-and-gore horror.

While Mini-Me sleeps, I think I'll see what's new on Video-on-Demand.

Digging In

I threw myself into work yesterday and dug through piles of paperwork and correspondence with clients. I actually got caught up! I can be so damned efficient when I'm postponing grief.

I think the stress of not having things done was getting to be too much for me. I couldn't enjoy my rare spare time knowing that there was so much to do. I should hire a secretary.

I really felt the pull between motherhood and working: Mini-Me was being babysat in my home and I was working on the floor beneath. She would call me. When she came down the stairs at different points, she would run to me and ask to be held. Of course, I held her and I felt guilty for wondering why my babysitter wouldn't keep her entertained in her large nursery as I had requested: wanting to work and wanting not to want to work. At times, I really wanted to send the sitter home and just hold my baby some more.

I just knew that if I could plough through, things would be better for all of us. There would be more of me to give my family.

I spoke with Scully about my desire to take a month off to do nothing but write while I have childcare. He agreed that it would be a good idea. Unfortunately, that only leaves January since I'm already booking into December. A writing vacation! Well, it won't really be a vacation but I look forward to it with the same kind of enthusiasm normally reserved for such occasions.

I just discovered that my mother inadvertantly referred two clients to me today. They called for appointments and mentioned having spoken with my mother. My mother has it that she was talking about me to someone else, was overheard and that's how it happened.

Alabama, c.1990 - August 16, 2005



This morning, after a long illness, our other cat passed away.

She was very old for a cat and a dear friend. She always reminded me of a little old lady.

We will miss her.

Still Relatively Common

Grandma had diabetes. She had tremendous difficulty in sticking to a strict diet. In the late 80s, she came to live with us.

My mother converted the dining room into a bedroom by adding both a bathroom and an extra set of doors: Grandma slept right beside the kitchen.

In the middle of the night, it wasn't uncommon to hear her scrabbling across the kitchen floor and opening the fridge.

By day, she always seemed so slow and lumbering but, my father maintains, by night, she practically ran to the kitchen once everyone was in bed.

She died in 1989. During my sister's stay this week, I was reminded that, to this day, people still hear her making her way to the kitchen and they swear that they hear the fridge door slamming.

The Armchair Director



This is a disappointment in general. There are some truly fantastic, Hitchcockian spins but it doesn't deliver in the end. In fact, it doesn't really deliver in the middle either.

My suggestion? Remake it, use the fantastic gothic elements more fully and leave some questions unanswered.

Of course, I've been a little irritable since I finished my readings tonight.

Back At the Family Manse

My sister has reported more activity back at my family's home.

(1) Last week, at the beginning of the month as she turned off the television in the living room with the remote control, it turned itself back on and this happened three times throughout the week.

(2) Back in July, the kitchen cupboard door closest to the stove swung open slowly. There were no breezes, the windows were shut and the cupboard door had been latched.

I can remember these events from my time living there: the television was the most annoying. No matter what television, no matter in which room, the television would always come on by itself or shut off by itself or change channels. There was no predicting when this would occur but I would end up reading instead or watching the channel that "it" selected. Do our ghosts have control issues?!?

I've Looked At Clouds From Both Sides Now...

We're all still grieving poor Avery's death. It was so sudden and unexpected. The grief is pulling at me, making it hard for me to do anything. It feels as if I'm trying to walk in deep water.

I didn't want to do my readings on Friday. Then, when I met the people, I was glad that I had done the readings.

One of my clients was a soldier who had been to the world's political hotspots. In the past, I didn't think that I could put myself in the boots of a soldier but I found myself doing so quite easily.

There are some psychic similarities between soldiers and psychics: we both carry around images that most people will never see or have to see.

Though I couldn't ever imagine myself in the role of a soldier, I have grown spiritually through reading for him. He was, in fact, a very spiritual person. I think the fact that I'm not a flake and, in fact, that I am quite practical, impressed him.

Immediately afterwards, instead of "decompressing" as I normally would, Scully and I took Mini-Me to the park for some swinging and sliding. It was nice to get out in the evening but I still carried all the readings around in my head and it made me irritable.

Note to self: do some kind of mental exercises after a day's worth of readings.

My Beloved Cat

My beloved cat died yesterday.

This illustrates perfectly that I oftentimes have no prescience when it comes to my OWN life.

We were all saying good-bye to our other cat, Alabama, who appeared to be dying of renal failure. With the farewell over, my husband put her into the vehicle and drove to our animal hospital.

I looked behind me at the back porch and saw something small and dark for a second near Avery, then it disappeared.

Not a second later, Avery let out a howl of sorts. I ran over to the back porch because it seemed as if he might have had a hairball. I didn't think he was dying: it hadn't even occurred to me. After some few minutes, I realized that he was gone and I called my husband.

He was waiting in the Vet's office with the other cat when I reached him.

"Avery's dead!" I shouted.

"What? What are you talking about?"

"Hurry home, honey. Avery is DEAD!!!"

It was an unbelievable day. Scully stayed home from work and we were all sick with grief. I had to explain to our two-year-old daughter that Avery "was sick and had to go stay with other cats now." I think it helped her to process the absence without unnecessary detail that could frighten and confuse her.

After she went to bed, we held a tiny funeral for him.


Avery, June 1995 - August 2, 2005