It has been a crazy week

Though there have been signs that a ghost is around, nobody has approached me in any way. So, maybe it's not about me.

Anyway, Mimi still won't go into the dining room without me because of the ghost with a tennis racket.  I'm not going to force her.  I think Gigi would really like to be able to see this sporty ghost.  I think I would, too. 

I have a bookswap (for moms) meeting to go to at the beginning of next week and I'm trying to decide if I should take some of my duplicate works of ghost fiction and non-fiction.  I keep meaning to sell them; some are quite valuable.  But the space on my shelves is becoming prime real estate these days as I have no more room anymore.   The basement is already filled to capacity with boxes of books.  Last year, we donated about 12 boxes of books to someone who takes the money she earns by selling them and donates it to Haiti.  The year before, we sold a few thousand.  So, the bookswap idea works very well for me: I'm not taking up any more space and I get to read something new.

The moms who usually attend are mostly interested in "chicklit" but I've picked up some fantastic literature on occasion.  I can't wait.  It's funny, though, because only the person who hosts the event actually knows what I do for a living.  So, I might raise a few eyebrows if I bring along my extra copy of Ghosts on 87th Lane or something!

Damn!

I was really in the mood to watch a scary movie tonight but I won't usually do it without Scully -- and he decided to be responsible and do some work instead.

You know, back in the days of my youth, I had a rather dramatic ghost attached to me and to my family (because teenagers just aren't dramatic enough) and this is how it made its first appearance:

One night, my parents had decided finally that, at the age of 12 or so, I was old enough to be home alone and they availed themselves of the opportunity to have a free babysitter for my sister.

I, being home alone, decided that it would be a good idea to watch a movie on television that night. Clearly, I had no experience in this regard because I chose to watch, of all things, The Shining!

Well, as I sat tautly on the edge of my seat with my eyes glued to the TV, the metal garbage can in the kitchen became a drum for unseen hands and the kitchen fan suddenly started running without the benefit of the switch being turned on. I was shocked. I was terrified. But I believe I continued to watch the movie . . .

Anyway, I don't think memories of this early event have anything to do with my unwillingness to watch frightening movies alone. Strangely, the more comfortable I've become with the paranormal in my everyday life, the scarier the movies have seemed!

As soon as it gets quiet . . .

Tonight, we were watching, of all things, The Ghostwhisperer and, in the middle of the show, Scully and I decided to take a break for snacks, etc. So, I paused the show and, being the first back to the living room, waited very patiently.

Suddenly, there was a loud crash. I bolted up the stairs and over to the kids' room as Scully asked, "WHAT was that?"

They were both soundly asleep. I checked our bedroom, the hallway, etc. -- all over -- but there was no evidence of a crash. As I turned to go back downstairs, I looked over at my office: There didn't seem to be anything out of place. As I peeked around the door, I saw my laptop computer lying on the floor.

It had "fallen" from my desk. Either it jumped off or somebody helped it along the desktop to the floor.

O, would that I were omniscient. I didn't see or sense a ghost but, of course, that doesn't mean that a ghost isn't around. Hmmm. I wonder what's up . . .

Tonight's Houseguest

Tonight, as we four sat at the supper table in the kitchen, we heard the bells of the cat's ball in the dining room.

"Uh, what was THAT?" Scully asked.

"The cat," I shrugged.

"Uh, the cat's right HERE."

There she was, curled up on the bench beside him. Since we have no other animals, I got up and walked to the door of the dining room and peered inside. Nothing.

"I've been seeing a lot of cat ghosts recently. A lot," said Scully.

Our two cats died about four years ago and we continue to see them around. But Scully . . . He's come a LONG way since we first met. (Hence, the nickname.)

Selective Scare-dy Cat

So, in the previous post, I mentioned that I was generally unafraid of out-of-the-ordinary events.

Today, I'm thinking about the fact that I've seen objects levitate, balls of light, apparitions, ghosts; and, daily, I have ghosts in my dreams, ghosts asking for help, precognitions, premonitions of catastrophes, and accurate feelings of foreboding.

Through the years, I've seen a key melt in the lock of an intensely hot door on the other side of which there was no fire and no heat. I've watched a hanging plant swing back and forth so violently that I thought the hook would be yanked out of the ceiling (no wind, no windows, nobody home). I've had a ghost wake me up and thereby save me and my husband from being burnt in a fire. I've held a remote control while a television flipped through channels on its own. I've tried to shut off a television that came on by itself only to discover that it was in the 'off' position. Ditto a wall-switch-operated ceiling fan. I've even had banging on the walls, and footsteps on the stairs, that was so loud that nobody in the house could sleep.

These are only a few of the events of I've experienced. Clearly, I'm no stranger to the 'paranormal'.

Yet, I still need Scully to stay in the same room with me if I'm watching a frightening movie! That's right. I couldn't watch The Sixth Sense without dear Mr. Ghostiegurl himself being there holding my hand all those years ago. He was recently there beside me -- reading -- while I watched The Uninvited and I STILL had nightmares. And just a few moments ago, I aborted a solo attempt to watch another scary film . . .

Eyeliner, a highlight of my teen years . . .

I always thought it hadn't fazed me in the least.

At twelve, my family became unwitting hosts to what would generally be described as a poltergeist though, myself, I'm reluctant to use such a label. Although I did fit the conventional model for such experiences in the popular school of thought, I don't actually believe that a storm of hormone and emotion typical of puberty was responsible.

There was definitely energy 'focussed' on me but not only upon me. At different times, we were subjected to very terrifying experiences and, yet, I was strangely detached, more an observer who occasionally became annoyed than a victim.

I got a rush of adrenaline whenever my mother described the latest event to which she had been witness but that was it. I didn't want to run under my covers and hide.

When objects of mine were destroyed -- while I and the rest of my family were away -- it definitely niggled. I'd had a wall covered with my favourite posters culled painstakingly from magazines over a period of time. One day, returning from school, I discovered that every single eyebrow of every person in each poster (dozens) had been coloured over with black eyeliner. The posters were ruined! And my stick of eyeliner was lying on my dresser. And I wanted to blame somebody, anybody, even my stepfather who had been at work! But there was no one to blame. No one that I could see, anyway.

Again, I was shocked, my heart pumping as my eyes scanned one end of the wall to the other, but I wasn't truly afraid during this episode or during others (and there were many, many more both before and after.)

I find it interesting that I wasn't afraid.

Dear Ghostiegurl:

Question:

I believe my house is haunted. It dates back to possibly 1902 and mainly is drawn to my children which terrifies them. Can anyone help?

Answer

I love old houses. I think it's a treasure to have a century home. It's my experience that all houses are haunted regardless of age or location.

As to experiences, some people are more sensitive to changes in their environment and, therefore, can see and/or hear ghosts. Children are extremely sensitive in this regard.

It's natural for children -- for anyone -- to be afraid of the unknown. But, once the experience is normalized for them, children will usually settle down. By normalize, I mean that if children see that others are not afraid and are told that such paranormal activity is pretty common, they will take their cues from us. That being said, it's difficult to contain our reactions when a ghost pops out of nowhere or rocking chairs begin to rock on their own.

However, being the parent, you need to trust your intuition where your children are concerned. Just bear in mind that in my many years of readings and conversations, I have never once heard even third hand that someone was injured by a ghost.

Thanks for writing. Hope this helps,

Ghostiegurl.

Freaky Friday I

The basement was the worst part of our old house. It was old; the stone sweated. The floors were cold and bare and the only time we used this part of the house was to do laundry.

Personally, if I needed to get clothes, I would run down, race to the dryer, and get back upstairs as quickly as I could.

My sister -- six years younger than I -- had a different attitude. While she found it a creepy place, her friends wanted to play there and she ended up spending a lot more time in the basement than I ever would.

(When we first moved in, as I've explained, there were many paranormal events. I remember, especially in the early years, that my stepfather and mother would wake us up with their conversations. They heard loud, heavy footsteps starting at the bottom of the stairs and going all the way to the top, just outside the master bedroom. I heard them, too, but, more often than this, I heard my parents talking about the sound.)

One night, I woke up because -- two floors beneath! -- I heard sounds coming from the basement. It sounded like heavy wood hitting concrete or stone. As my parents and I sat and listened, we heard chop, chop, chopping sounds followed immediately by a hollow-sounding thud (wood on stone). This happened over and over and over.

My mother and I ventured -- on tiptoes, for some reason -- down to the kitchen and approached the basement entrance. The sounds stopped. This happened several times.

When I look back, I shake my head and I think how fortunate I am that other people experienced these events at the same time as I did . . .

I grew up with 'em . . .

We gave my younger daughter a very large, wooden, Victorian-style dollhouse. It's as tall as she is. The girls love it.

It reminds me of our old family home. We knew the house was haunted -- all of us -- the day that we moved in. At first, we heard footsteps that would wake us all up in the middle of the night. Eventually, it transpired that each of us heard the patter, and the laughter, of children on the front porch and on the stairs in the foyer. Over time, we were able to put names to the, er, faces via the city's registry.

Anyway, the most striking aspect of the children's presence was that it could be heard -- at exactly the same volume -- no matter where a person was in the house. It could even be heard above the din of televisions and stereos.

I heard running, as did the others, and the incredibly faint strains of "Ring Around the Roses."

Frankly, I was still more than a little frightened by the idea of disclosing my experiences to the rest of the family even though we all knew that the others knew about the running on the porch.

One shadowy afternoon, my mother was napping in her room and I was in mine. I heard her call me.

"Yeh, Mum?"

"Will you turn off the TV for me?" My mother didn't open her eyes.

"Oh, you don't want it on anymore?"

"I didn't want it on in the first place. It just came on again." This had been going on since my grandmother had died a few weeks before.

As I was talking to her and turning off the television, I asked her if she'd heard anyone.

"You mean the children singing?"

"Yes!" I was excited. I was relieved. This was good. "What song do YOU hear?"

"Ring Around the Roses."

My sister had heard it, too. And so began the dialogue that, for so many years, nurtured my intuition and perception.

I'm BACK! And Freaky Friday is here.

Well, I didn't actually go anywhere. But, after a 2.5 year hiatus, I'm booking reading appointments again.

It wasn't just burnout that caused me to want to stop that long while back: Having children, requiring childcare, etc. all played a part. Also, I was worried about the stigmatizing effect it might have on my children. But, I've worked it all out and, if I'm very discreet, it can be done.

The last thing I want to teach my children is to be uncomfortable with who they are; but, let's face it, childhood can be difficult where peer relationships are concerned.

My intention is to post daily but, additionally, I want to post weekly about a psychic or ghostly experience.

Let's start now: we'll make it Freaky Friday.

Recently, I had been hearing cupboards door slamming, people walking around upstairs in the evening and during the day. I called out (for I'm a lazy psychic) and asked, "Scully? Is that you?" or "Girls, are you running around up there?"

Of course, Scully was watching a video on his laptop with the HEADPHONES on and didn't even hear me, let alone budge from his comfy spot. And, the girls? They were asleep each time it happened.

No, I didn't think I was losing my mind. I didn't think this each time I felt a presence or when I heard a gravelly voice call my name.

Then, a day after the last event and week after the first, I received a phone call from my sister:

"I'm sorry to disturb you this late, but I just had to tell you! (Terri) died!"

I was stunned, actually. I'd known her for about 33 years. She'd babysat us daily. I'd grown up with her own children.

Then, a phone call to my mother:

"She died last Wednesday, a massive coronary."

"Oh, between 10 and 11 pm?"

"Yes, that's when they believe it happened."

Well, that's when Terri had started visiting me. Slamming my cupboards though? Let's just say, I'm not the most organized psychic nor am I the best housekeeper. She was organized, immaculate. In my own way, I'll miss her.

Dear Ghostiegirl

Question:

I have a friend who tells me she sees ghosts that are people and also animals. She says that in the past years the sights have been getting more clear because they use to be just a greenish yellow outline of someone, but now she said she can see what they look like and all. It makes me really curious to think why she sees them? And why cant I? I always thought it was very interesting and would like to see what it'd be like to be in her shoes one day. I was hoping maybe you could give me some answers and if maybe there's any way I could be able to have this gift . . . if I . . . I dunno, practiced or something, lol? Please help! I'd love to hear what you have to say :)

Answer:

Thanks for writing. I'm finally able to devote more time to answering questions since my younger daughter is older now.

I think your question is a good one. It has stumped and motivated so many paranormal researchers, parapsychologists, and other inquisitive people for many, many years. (I'll try to remember to post some links to the well-established, respected institutions devoted to such questions).

Some people believe that they have a special mental power that is often referred to as a "gift". It's difficult for me to support this because I'm pretty much a pragmatic person at heart.

I only have a theory (and I'm not a neuroscientist) but I believe that there is probably some portion of the brain that allows people to see ghosts and predict future events -- or some neural networks that develop -- via the experience of intuition. Everyone has intuition. The question is: why would it be stronger in some people than in others? My suspicion is that it has to do with early childhood development and the varying need to cope. Whereas everyone has intuition regarding their own lives, for some this intuition is more encompassing or comprehensive.

That being said, can others develop this? I don't know. I don't give advice in this regard because you just never know what the outcome may be. Personally, I pay attention to my dreams because ghosts often visit in this way. I always notice when things are askew in my home, when the temperature has dropped, when objects move, when there is an unknown odor. Also, my older child and my husband both report experiences, too.

Unfortunately, I've seen more than a few people become so obsessed with wanting to have a paranormal experience that it becomes unhealthy for them to continue to try. Also, I've seen people positively frightened after having the longed-for paranormal experience.

I hope I've been of some help.

--Ghostiegurl

Again with the door!

On Sunday night, I fell asleep at the same time as the girls did. At some point, I could hear the phone ringing downstairs. I decided not to answer it, feeling too tired. Besides, who calls a house with children so late at night? But the phone was persistent.

Then, the doorbell rang. I checked the time: about 10 p.m. I thought, "There's no way I'm going down there to answer that!" But, again, it persisted. Searching frantically for something to preserve my modesty, I grabbed my maternity hospital gown (er, it accidentally ended up in my suitcase last year) and ran downstairs.

I called through the door, "Who is it?"

"It's security, ma'am," a man answered back. "Are you alright?"

Ugh. He called me 'ma'am'.

"Yes, I'm OK." I opened the door just a little. How did I know if he was really a security guard from my security company?

"ALARM COMPANY has detected an intrusion alert. We need to know if you're OK."

That's when I noticed it: the absence of an alarm. That thing is so !#$@@ noisy, I would have heard it down the street.

"If you check Zone 102, you'll see the door's open."

I looked over and, surely enough, it was open. But I had locked it!

"Must have been the wind or something," he offered.

"Yeh," I said. "The wind." Except: I wouldn't have been able to secure the house if the door was insecure enough to have blown open in the wind. When the door is shut -- but not locked -- it is impossible to push it open.

A report was filled out. The security guard had checked the entire property, inside and under my car as well. He went room-by-room, door-by-door through the entire house. The only other people in here with me, he concluded, were two sleeping children.

I was a bit shaken. There were no signs of attempted break-in. Scully, being in the UK on business, was going to have a hard time believing this.

I waited until I knew he'd be awake before calling.

"What??@!" He yelled down the phone. "Obviously, you DIDN'T lock it. That's the only reasonable explanation."

"But I DID lock it. I went around the entire house locking up. You're telling me to convince myself that I didn't do something I can remember clearly doing. THAT'S insane," I countered.

He had to agree. But, why hadn't the alarm sounded? That's when he realized it wasn't an error on my part. The alarm had been set but had not gone off. I couldn't have set the alarm if the door hadn't been shut and it has been clearly established that one cannot push the door open when it's shut-but-not-locked. Ha!

I have to admit, before going to sleep, I had asked my spirit guides and relatives watching over us to give me a sign that they were with us because I couldn't see or detect them.

Not Gone But Maybe Forgotten!

It isn't really that things have been quiet around here for as long as my absence from the blog.

My house is periodically buzzing with ghost activity. Back in February, for example, every night for weeks, one or all of my baby's noise-making toys would be set off. One night, every single toy was blaring music across the hall from our bedroom in the nursery. One night, even I was freaked out and didn't get out of bed. Sometimes, the noise would come from Mini-me's room and she would come running out to tell me.

Just a few weeks ago, she told me about a man named "Cory" in her room who was looking for bad guys. He had a hard "green hat" and a gun and he was dirty. He also had a dog with him who helped him. When I asked if it frightened her, she said, "no" but she didn't think he would find any bad guys here. Then, just recently, I asked her if Cory was still around and she said that he had left to go to another family's house; in fact, to one of her friends' house, just to look after her for a while.

Premonitions are strong. But I've given up readings entirely because of the stress of childcare. I stopped after January, actually. I honestly had no clue before having the baby that trying to work inside the home as well as be a mother of two to very small children and work from home would be so difficult.

Lately, however, I've been able to read more often and I've come across some great titles that I intend to share at some point.

At any rate, I haven't disappeared. I guess I just needed a break.

Christmas Eve

On Christmas Eve, after everyone had just settled, I was alone in the living room. I scrolled through the music on our television/media centre and decided on Anne-Sophie Mutter's Beethoven pieces.

Within a second, I heard the Christmas tree behind me: it sounded as if it was shaking. I looked behind me and saw a single decorative bulb swinging wildly on the bottom branch and this was obviously the source of the noise. The bulb was swinging but ABSOLUTELY NO OTHER part of the tree -- including the branches -- was moving in even the smallest way.

As I sat there staring at the swinging bulb, it stopped just as suddenly as it had begun, but it wasn't a gradual loss of momentum: it simply stopped.

Immediately after it stopped, the same rattling sound came from beside me and in front of the sofa: I looked and saw that a frame on the mantlepiece had slid down and its picture -- of my grandmother as a girl and which had already had the word "me" written in her own hand just above her image -- had slipped out the top of the frame.

It was nice to know that my maternal grandmother was with me for the holiday.

Catching up a bit...

Strange things have been happening lately. Besides the usual, that is.

Last evening, I noticed that my husband had placed a newly-received wedding photo of his parents on the mantlepiece. Well, it didn't really fit in with all the other frames in that area. My scheme is black-and-white and the photo is colour, 1950s; my frames are gold trimmed and the photo is framed with brown wood. So, I took it down from the mantlepiece and placed it on the radiator, face down.

Later tonight, as I went into the living room to grab my laptop, I looked above the fireplace: on the mantlepiece--the opposite side of the now removed photo--a double frame of my husband's paternal grandparents was (1) face down and (2) upside down. Clearly, it could not have simply fallen over: It would have had to have fallen and then turned around. It's possible someone is trying to tell me something.

Well, it's my living room and if one of his grandparents is upset, that's too bad! I haven't had any impressions of his grandparents, so I don't know...

Also, I hear 'Mummy' being called, extremely faintly, when anyone old enough to speak is actually out of the house. My baby is only 6 months old. It's happened at least twice a day but I haven't paid much attention to it. Maybe I should.

I keep seeing someone standing near the garage but it's only out of the corner of my eye. If I look there, the image is gone. Mostly, ghosts come in my dreams and my dreams have been a bit 'noisy' lately.

I remember when my older daughter was quite a bit younger, she used to talk about "Ollie", the little boy, who lived in the backyard in my turn-of-the-century potting shed. She doesn't talk about ghosts anymore.

My husband says he often thinks he sees our deceased cat on the stairs in the basement for a split second and, when he looks again, the image is gone.

When I was pregnant, we had plumbers come in to fix the pipes in the basement bathroom. My husband tells me that one of them pointblankly asked him: "Who's really into ghosts around here?"

To which my husband replied: "Oh, that's my wife. She's a well-known psychic."

I apologize for the delay in responding to the dozens of emails that I receive. With a new baby, it's hard to find spare time. I will get to them, tho'.

Dear Ghostiegurl:

I was wondering do you see souls that have passed or do you only have weird things happen to you? I have had weird things happen to me all my life. It started when I was young seeing what I call 'shadow people' in homes or in the yards. Now that I'm older not only do I see shadow people but I also see people walking through my home, running in my yard.

It used to not upset me until they started to look more mutilated... I've asked them to leave but they never seem to go away. It's not always the same person either. I worked at a dentist office and in one room the lights would flicker; and, when I was there by myself the radio would turn on by its self and the creepy thing would be it was unplugged. No matter what station it was on it would play 'oldies but goldies'. I even have pictures of me at this job that the dentist took and there's reddish orange blobs around me. I'm from Ms and when I try to ask any one about what has happened, they always change the subject. I feel that i'm going kind of nutty, can you give any help?

Answer:

I've always seen/had ghosts around me and I've always had premonitions, precognitions, etc. happen to me. I've never seen "mutilated" ghosts at all. I don't know what to make of that. I grew up around ghosts and became quite comfortable as did my entire family-of-origin.

In all the investigations that I've done, I've advised people that it's better to learn to live with the ghosts and become comfortable with them. I just don't believe in rituals designed to get ghosts to leave. If the situation is uncomfortable, or if you live in constant fear, you may try to ask again. Or, you may simply ask them not to appear while you're around. If they're aware of you at all, in my experience, they usually listen. If they don't seem aware of you at all, ever, then you may just be getting impressions of the past instead of seeing actual ghosts.

In my experience, some ghosts use electrical appliances such as lights, tv, telephone and radio in order to make themselves known.

As you've no doubt experienced, it's not possible to talk about ghosts or psychic phenomena with everyone; in fact, many people are either too frightened, too skeptical, or too quick to judge someone as mentally ill. This kind of conversation can be liberating, so I hope you have or find some kindred friends and I'm glad that you wrote.

--Ghostiegurl

Just Moments Ago...

Gigi was lying down for her nap and I could hear from downstairs that she was finally silent.

As I started to allow myself to drift off, a sudden, loud bang startled me. I called up to Gigi and she was OK. (I almost ran upstairs but I'm not able to do this very quickly since I'm 6+ months pregnant. It was actually quicker to glean information from communication.)

"What was that noise?"
"I don't know."
"Was it in Mummy's bedroom or your bedroom?"
"My bedroom."
"You don't know what happened?"
"No, but Arthur [her talking doll] started talking very loudly and it woke me up."
"OK, where's Arthur now?"
"In my hand."
"Take him back to bed and go for a nap."
"OK, Mummy."

She was unfazed. I didn't want to alarm her by suggesting that anything bad or scary had happened. I still don't know what made that loud bang.

What's Been Going On...

On Monday, we kept hearing large "thumps" around the house. Scully explained that they were the products of construction work next door. I didn't agree. I spend everyday in this house -- right beside the construction -- and, what I heard was the sound of a heavy box being dropped on the front porch.

I was in the bath when I first heard it and thought, "F---! I missed the Purolator guy!" (OK, I swear when I speak to myself.) As I'd stepped into the bath that morning, I'd forgotten about the possibility of delivery. I was awaiting the arrival of the rest of my daughter's birthday gifts and was worried that I'd have to go pick up a large box at a postal outlet with a toddler and a stroller.

Anyway, I jumped out, got dressed and ran downstairs: there was nothing.

The thump occurred at least a few times again throughout the day and I ignored it.

What was very frightening to me -- and it is very unusual for me to be afraid -- happened as I was trying to rest in my bedroom while the baby slept. The air conditioners in our rooms were on but I heard the sound of my living room door open and shut (a door that leads to the enclosed porch).

"Hello?" I called out, leaning over the upstairs railing. Why? I don't know. It's not as if I think a burglar would shout back or anything but what else do you do?

A second later, I slipped down the stairs, ready to close a door or to call 9-1-1, only to discover that all three front doors were securely latched. In fact, the doors leading to the porch have an old-fashioned style of lock that requires much more digital manipulation than those of today. It would be impossible to open these doors from the outside.

Confused, for some reason I chose to ignore my impressions of my maternal grandmother and of another, different ghost. I mean, I saw them but just didn't think about them. It was the day of this grandmother's birthday (which I'd also forgot).

That night, with sufficient responsibilities to erase all-but-essential data from my mind, I went to bed after locking up and arming the house.

On Tuesday morning, I awoke and went downstairs. I couldn't help but scream. The porch door in the dining room was wide open!! How long had it been open? Anything could have happened to my baby, to us, throughout the night.

Scully came down to investigate, assured me that it must have been unlocked but I was unconvinced. I know that I'd locked that door. I know that I didn't open the dining room door at all throughout the previous days.

I believe that my grandmother is here but it's not her behaviour because the activity is uncharacteristic of other visits to others in my family. Someone else is here, somebody more . . . annoying.

Just the other day, last Thursday, I was doing laundry and waiting patiently for my load to finish. After an hour it occurred to me that I hadn't actually heard my washing machine in the longest time.

When I went down to the laundry room, I was astonished to find that the lid to the machine was up -- which means that the machine won't run -- and, thinking that I'd been careless and forgot to actually start the laundry, I went over to put the lid down.

At the panel, I saw that the load was actually almost finished -- meaning, that the load had been interrupted -- and the knob had been pressed down (which means the machine was turned off).

I hadn't been down there at all. My daughter doesn't go down to the basement without myself or my husband and there's no way that she could have reached the machine's lid anyway even if she'd stood on a chair.

So, in the end, I'd forgotten again who I am and what I actually do for a living: If there's one thing I've learnt in the past twenty or so years, when you're doing renovations, activity increases.

Out and About . . . Ghosts

It has been a long time since my post. Yikes! Times goes by too quickly.

Yesterday, I only had a few readings but they were great. I really enjoyed them.

Ellen Potter's Olivia Kidney and The Exit Academy arrived, finally, last week and I'm trying to find the time to read. I don't have any spare time especially since the weather started warming up this week.

We spent two days at the park last week. So, things like cleaning and laundry really were ignored. We couldn't help it, however, because once she realized how warm it was outdoors, my little girl wanted to go to the park.

There has also been a lot of garden/yard work: raking up leaves, etc. Watching everything come back to life is my favourite part of the spring season. This weekend, we turn the clocks ahead one hour. It's already very light outside at 6:00 p.m. but I can't wait until the skies darken around 9:30 or so.

There's a ghost who sits on the end of my living room sofa recently: a young man in his twenties with light brown hair. He's not there all the time but I've noticed him a couple of times.

It reminds of when I was a little girl. We lived in a townhouse complex and one of my neighbours was a family with two children. The mother fascinated me. She told me often about the ghost of her father in her car and she spoke most frequently about the ghosts around her home.

Seeing the ghost on the sofa reminds me of one of her stories. She told me that she was sitting on her couch one evening, sewing, when the ghost of a woman came down her stairs and sat down ibeside her. Apparently, she, the ghost, stayed there for a very long time. My ghost doesn't sit down; he is already there, on the sofa, across from me. (It's a sectional.)

I was only nine years old. I was friends with this woman's daughter -- whose other child was my sister's age -- but I spent more time in conversation with her than I did playing with her daughter. I loved her because she was so honest about her experiences: She didn't avoid conversation about it, she promoted it.

I'll always remember the story of the smoke detector. One evening, without obvious cause, their smoke detector on the top floor sounded. Thinking there was a fire, they went to investigate. When they were unable to find any reason that it should have sounded, my neighbour's husband grabbed a stepstool, trying to shut it off, and it did not stop. So, finally, he removed the circular top, took the batteries out, replaced the top. That evening, the alarm sounded again. This time, however, it held no batteries!