There's always another king on a Chess board.

Greta Hayley Says - The Cutes and Crafties

Hi, I'm Greta Hayley! I want to start out by saying hello to Mrs. Wilson. She is a very special lady that my grandma stays with sometimes, and she deserves a big hello from everyone reading this.

Now, onto business. In case you forgot all about me because my mommy doesn't post nearly enough pictures of me, this is me!

I know it's a silly picture, but Mommy says I do silly things all the time, plus, I didn't want to be selfish and just show you pictures of me just like this.

So in order to not seem like a selfish doodle-puppy, I included a picture of me with Play Kitty. He's cute, too. I mean, for a cat.

Anyway, Mommy has lots of stories to tell you, like ones about how crazy her week was the week before last, or about Aunt Bev losing her glasses, but she is too scatterbrained to blog right now, so I'm taking over for her. I'm a nice puppy, because I don't want her blog to get all sad and lonely while she's gone.

Mommy says that I am such a smart little puppy, and a con artist, too. I don't know what that last thing means, but I think it must be good, because she finds me awfully funny. Just like the other day when Mommy gave me a cookie and I made an "ick-ick" face and spit on the floor, so she got me the cookie she knew I'd like better, and I took it in my mouth, picked up the other cookie I spit out before she could, and ran away with both of them! What an adventure!

You know what else Mommy thinks I do that makes me smart and a con artist? I used to sleep in bed with Mommy always. I would jump up right as she was getting into bed and then hog the bed, and then she would make me move, because she said I had to share. I shouldn't have to share, because I am cute, but I guess I understand she's a human, which makes her bigger than me, and I don't want to fight with things that are bigger than me.

Since it's summer and it's hot, this is especially true, because Mommy puts a fan in the window right where I sleep to cool me off, but I don't like being too close to the fan, nor do I like Mommy's legs in the way of the fan, so I want to sleep on her side without her sleeping on my side. This doesn't work out well for me. But I figured it all out on my own.

When Mommy goes to bed, I go lay down on the floor at the edge of the bed. Periodically, I peak up from the bed and put my little paws on it. If she moves, I know she is awake. If she doesn't, I know it's time to put my plan in motion. I jump up on the bed while she is fast asleep and sometimes snoring, and then I lay down vertically on the bed. Slowly, I push my way closer and closer to Mommy until she is hanging off the edge of the bed and I am right where I want to be. Since she is so sleepy, she doesn't even notice until morning, and by that time it's time to take me potty and have me wake up for the day, so I still get my own way. I has a serious case of the cutes and crafties.

I am getting a little tired after all of this typing, so I am going to take a nap today. It's not that I need my beauty sleep, but every little princess needs a nap.

Come As You Are

I had another post planned for tonight, but I'm going to skip it for something more important. These days, I see so many people wondering around pretending to be something they're not. I'm not much of a makeup girl. I put myself out there pretty unapologetically. I figure that if I'm ugly without makeup, I'm just ugly, and makeup isn't really going to help. This is me. If you like me, you like me, if you don't like me, it's okay. Maybe this keeps me from getting a date, but eventually you are going to see me without makeup, and I'd rather know now what you really think of me. I'm just being up front. It's not that I'm unwilling to wear makeup, but I've had enough people see me for something I'm not inside and outside, and I'm just so tired of it. I don't want to hide behind anything anymore.

I believe as humans we are most vulnerable when we get out of the shower. That sounds dumb, but hear me out. We've got no makeup to hide behind, we've not done our hair. We are the core of what we really are. With that in mind, I decided to do something different, and I encourage you guys to join me if you'd like. I decided I was going to post a picture of myself post shower, no makeup, my hair still drying, crazy and not done, my glasses on, listening to music that fills my soul. The only thing I have on is Chapstick because I'm nearly Napoleon Dynamite when it comes to that. So won't you guys join me in just being yourself? You're beautiful just the way you are!

Older Than Your Daughter

I started out my weekend by getting hit on by a sixteen year old that didn't believe I was twenty five. How was your weekend?

Yeah, guys, that happened. But before I get ahead of myself, let me tell you about the ridiculousness that lead to that ridiculousness. If you think this post is going to be void of a severe amount of ridiculousness, you are wrong, my fine Squirrel Monkeys. Friday night, in fact, served as just a warning for how ridiculous the upcoming weekend and the beginning of the week was going to become. I should listen to these bizarre warnings, but I never do.

Friday night started out with a bang, and by a bang, I mean my friend asked me to go with her and do what all good single twenty five year olds do on a Friday night. She asked me to go to Bingo at the fire hall, naturally. I was a little sketch about going, but I decided to throw caution to the wind and have a wild night out. Heck, there was even someone going I didn't know, so with that in mind, I packed up my purse with jolly ranchers and cookies to make sure I could officially be considered a stranger with candy, and set off on my merry adventure. I even grabbed the keys to the right car the first time and didn't have to go back to the house, so I was golden, right?

Wrong. I arrived at the location just a mere three miles from my house and realized that I never knew there was a library there. I've lived here for nearly fourteen years and I do read, contrary to how this sounds. I parked on the wrong end of the building, but met up with my friend and the stranger, and then promptly presented her with candy and went through my whole stranger with candy bit. She was not amused, nor did she accept stranger candy. Her parents taught her well, but I was sinking already and the night hadn't even begun.

We made it to the fire hall, which was also having a carnival. The fire hall itself is bigger than the carnival area, so there were a few rides and games, but it was super cute. We walked around the whole thing, which was really tiring since it took us a whole thirty two seconds, and then went inside to play Bingo. And that's when we realized it; our idea of Bingo was not everyone else's. The people playing looked like death was favorable, and as we stood around and waited to get into the next game, we realized the lady calling the numbers would just randomly yell "new game," but no one had yelled Bingo. It was like they were just filling up their cards and getting new ones. Seeing as this was a dud, we headed back outside to talk to some of my friend's friends who were volunteer firefighters there.

As she was talking to her friends and I was just kind of hanging out, I happened to catch her telling one of the two guys running a booth a story that sounded like my own. I listened in because I'm a creep, and I realized she was telling him about me. He then proceeded to hit on me. He kept clearly making up ages for himself while my friend yelled, "YOU'RE NOT THAT OLD!" Because I realized early on he was clearly pretty young, it was actually quite amusing. I didn't know if I should have been flattered or not that a younger guy was hitting on me, but then he didn't believe I was twenty five, so I still couldn't make up my mind. The normal age people guess I am is between seventeen and nineteen, so this wasn't a shock, it's just that when you're twenty five, it becomes a little hazardous to be thought to be that young. However, when I'm much older and people think I'm much younger, I'm so taking that compliment and not correcting them.

As I turned down his hysterical but sweet attempt to pick me up, and we decided after less than an hour that the whole night was a bust, we headed off toward our parked cars, only for me to be told that the kid was actually sixteen. I have two things to say to this: I still got it and I like much older guys. My friend had one: "Don't go anywhere in Vegas alone. You'll end up as part of a child sex ring." I wish that sounded like it wasn't at all plausible.

I figure this night couldn't get any weirder, but just in case it changed its mind, I decided to head home from my completely insane hour out at the carnival at the fire hall. This was a good choice, because just as I turned on my road, the weirdest thing happened. Some lady was pulled over to the side of the road with her hazard flashers are, an older male teenager in the back seat and a younger girl in the front. She proceeds to start screaming at me at the top of her lungs, waving her hands, running out in front of my car, and trying to get me to stop. You guys all know how I am, and I knew something just wasn't right about her behavior. Not only that, but there were plenty of houses around she could have gone to for help, all with cars in their driveways, and don't tell me she nor the male teenager didn't have a cell phone of some sort. It was just that eery feeling when you know something is wrong. Normally I would have stopped and left my doors locked, but wound down the window a little and asked her what was wrong, and then gone home and called for help. But the way she was trying to stop me when everyone looked fine, and the feeling I had in the pit of my stomach caused me to keep going. I hope she was fine, but again, there were plenty of places she could have gone for help, plus, there were open businesses she could have gone to, which is what made it so weird that she was waving me down in that manner.

Nothing exciting happened for the rest of the night, so that pretty much ended the night that set the tone for the rest of my insane weekend and week to come. And if this is just a taste of it, I think you'll have to excuse me while I sleep through the rest of the week silently.

Saturday rolled around, and my day started off with me deciding to take being a stranger with candy into a different day, and also with my mom randomly calling me Squeaky Fromme. Apparently I was part of the Manson Family and tried to assassinate President Ford all before I was born, and didn't even know it. Isn't it amazing what you find out about yourself?

With my new identity behind me, we headed out to an old nearby town that was doing reenactments of court cases from the late 1700s. We figured this would either be really neat or really boring. Guys, it was the funniest thing ever. They didn't have a lot of volunteers, so the one guy played the bad guy all the time. Plus, they placed volunteers to be hecklers in the audience, and we were also allowed to heckle. Even though there weren't a lot of volunteers, there were still more of them than us, so we had a blast. The highlights from this include, but aren't limited to the following.

* The plaintiff called a witness to the stand. The witness was a woman in a funky period hat. As the woman testified, the guy sitting next to us decided to yell out that she was lying, because he had seen her around town with the plaintiff and it was clear they were having an affair. The woman asked what proof he had and how he knew it was her. He said it was the hat, because no one else had that hat. She countered back with the fact that what he said proved nothing since she was friends with the plaintiff. He then yelled, "You were wearing nothing but the hat!" Mind, this guy was not a heckler, yet an audience member. Even the judge and actors cracked up.

* The worst heckler was the woman who was the director from the historical society. She was awesome.

* There was a woman who was dressed up as a guy since they had less male volunteers, and was serving as the person who spoke and presented the cases to the judge and jurors before it started. I don't know what happened, but she had to leave in a hurry, so a woman took over for her. This led the guy who was playing the judge into a quite memorable speech. He stood up and very seriously said, "It was little known that back in those days men would dress like women and work in the courts to avoid being forced into the military." There wasn't a dry eye in the house from the laughter that brought, especially after he calmly sat back down as if he were totally serious.

*I called someone a liar. No one laughed.

*A woman was standing in for her husband at one of the trials since he could not be there that day. Really, they had just run out of male volunteers. As they handed out sentences to the two other males that were up for the same crime and being given guilty sentences, one of the hecklers yelled, "It's not looking good for you, Lady!" She was right, it wasn't.

* The one guy who kept playing the criminal was a card. The hecklers made sure that stuck. Every time he went up as the criminal, everyone would yell, "We've seen you before! You look familiar." The audience even got in on it. He did keep changing outfits, though, as if to fool us. Finally, though, on the last case, when everyone yelled it, he yelled back that we had not seen him before, and he knew this because he was a clothing designer and he was wearing a new shirt he invented called a t-shirt, and no one else had ever seen one of them before. Some lady yells, "IT WILL NEVER CATCH ON!"

*I want to go back when they do these reenactments again. Period. What really made the day was the excellent timing of the hecklers.

Compared to that kind of kick off for the morning, the rest of the day was pretty ho-hum. If I knew what was to come, I might have just hid out incognito style until the week was over. So I don't bore you all to death, because I don't want more dead people to deal with, I will finish this saga in the next blog, because today was the most ridiculous day in the history of days. It needs its own blog.

Life Unexpected

Lately, I have had a spirit who has been deeply affecting me. She's made me realize that you don't really know anyone or their story, and you can't judge them until you do. She's opened my eyes up to someone's life in a way that scares me, but lets me know that what I'm doing is so important. To keep from revealing her real name, I'm going to call her Little Miss Cupcake Pants, or LMCP for short. I have no idea why I call her that as a nickname, but I do. Because of her, this post is going to be about heartfelt and sentimental things, so if you're not in the mood for a bunch of mushy stuff, hide yo kids, hide yo wife, hide yo eyes, cause they telling lots of mushy stories up in here. I'm sorry, I love this guy. LOVE. I'm so sad he's gay. *Sigh* But I digress, because before I get into all the sentimental stuff, there's a few things I want to address.

The first is that I am officially published as a paranormal author online. You can go here to see the first in my series or articles that I’ve been asked to do. (If you can't access it without having to sign up for an account, let me know and I'll post the article on here.) I don’t know how many more articles there will be in this series; we’ll just have to see how it does and go from there. Let me know what you all think. I can't say enough how much I appreciate the wonderful person who approached me about doing these articles and has been posting them for me. Thank you!

Second, I have to address a comment that Miss Kitty made on my post called The Oompa Loompa Bridesmaidzilla, because it’s one of the funniest comments I’ve ever read in my life. Also, if you’re not reading her blog, you need to be. Anyway, Miss Kitty, I hope you enjoy the Adventures of Mom and Aunt Bev. I’ve actually had people ask me if I’d make Team Aunt Bev t-shirts. It mortifies and amuses Aunt Bev all the same, but she loves that section of the blog. Also, I have pictures of what my mom made me wear in the eighties. It was a terrible, terrible decade. When people tell me they like to dress like they’re in the eighties, I instantly wonder if there’s therapy for that. Maybe that’s mean, but seriously? And, by the way, you’ll be glad to know that they no longer sell this bridesmaids dress. I hope someone protested on the grounds that it had blinded them with all its ugly.

Now I shall move forward with the post. As I said, LMCP has really made me think about a lot of things, and included in that are the things that have happened to me in the past that made me the way I am. LMCP came to me because I had a similar experience in the reverse to her, and I understood what it was like to have someone try and kill themselves and try to stop them, but knowing that I never could. To know that someone is going to do what they want to do because they don’t feel like they have anything to live for is the worst feeling in the world, and LMCP knew I’d understand that. And, in a way, I think maybe helping her will help heal what I’ve been through as well. Sometimes my gift does more than I give it credit for or realize until it is all said and done.

In theory, part of me feels like LMCP and myself were meant to meet, and I know this is why she came to me. The only person I’ve ever loved tried to kill himself more than once. All he wanted was for me to lay down my guard and be with him, and I couldn’t give him that because I was scared. I felt like I had to save him, but I couldn’t save him. Nothing I could give him was enough to save him. Even though I know that the only person you can save is yourself, there’s still a certain something that is engrained in your head telling you differently. It says you have to be a protector, you have to stand by someone’s side, and you have to fight their battles for them. If only that were all possible, but it’s not. The only ones I can help are my spirits, and even then sometimes things go awry. They were once people, after all. They all still have their own distinct personalities attached.

One of the most common questions I get from people is why I do what I do; why I help spirits. It’s because I don’t want anyone’s life to end the way that LMCP’s life has ended; the way that my friend tried to end his numerous times, and there be no closure. What I do isn’t just about crossing over the dead, but allowing the living to move on, too; to know it’s not their fault someone has passed. When people think of a psychic medium, they think of someone who deals with the dead, but a lot of times it’s about healing the living, too. It’s about putting closure to a life ended unexpectedly. Losing someone in your life because of fate and having to find your way without them is the hardest thing to do. I’m just here to make it a little easier if I can.

Over my years of doing this, I’ve also learned that I can’t help every spirit that comes past me. Sometimes helping the spirit will cause self danger to the human who is not ready to hear the truth and can not deal with it. Sometimes bringing closure to a spirit by telling their loved one the message they have is not a possibility. If it destroys the human’s life, then what good did it ultimately do? At times, I have to find a compromise for my spirit, a way for them to cross over and leave the human at peace. Other times, I don’t even know their person. I used to think that was the worst part of this, but I’ve since learned that the worst part is knowing who a spirit belongs to and not being able to tell that person they’re needed. Not a lot of things truly haunt me, but that is one of them.

A Canary Yellow YouTube Channel

Today I decided to go and get myself a YouTube channel. It's not like I needed it; I was just bored. My ultimate goal with it is to be able to have people send me their paranormal videos and audio clips through it, but for now, it's chocked full of fun animals. Here's just a taste of what you'll see once I really get my mojo going with the channel.

A Day In the Mountains

Hello everyone! I hope you had a great Fourth of July. I cleaned and sat around with a bunch of cats and dogs. If someone makes a Twitter hashtag for lame, I'm sure I could lead up the fleet with that fact. But since that's a little depressing, I'm going to start out today's blog with one of my favorite pictures from I Can Has Cheezburger?

Am I really scrutinizing you with an intense scrute? One may never know. I just think this is the cutest thing ever, but I digress.

About a week and a half ago, us slowpokes finally got around to celebrating Aunt Bev's birthday by going to a nearby small town to peruse the shops. Because this involved Aunt Bev and my mom, naturally, I have stories, though Aunt Bev was particularly well behaved until we were on our way home. She didn't really do anything Aunt Bev worthy until then. I guess we're all entitled to our days of normalcy, no matter how disappointing that fact may be.

As we were leaving the house to head out, Aunt Bev shared her thoughts on the day. They were as follows. "I hope we see some dead people in this old town! That's why I wanted to go there!" This came just after I was saying that I hope the spirits are kept to a minimum considering the history of the town, because I didn't know how many more I could take at this point in time.

When we arrived at the town, we realized all the shops they advertised were really just one building with a bunch of stuff in it, so we continued about eight miles down the road to a bigger mountainous town that none of us had been to for awhile. As soon as we got into town, my mom and Aunt Bev did what they do best and announced they were hungry. Their stipulations were that they wanted to go somewhere different and that we should look out for anywhere that had a lot of bikers or truckers, because those were usually the good restaurants. I found them one, but they thought it was hinky looking and there were too many bikers, and they didn't want to eat there. My people are scared out of town restaurants. You can take them anywhere but out. We ended up at Ruby Tuesday, but not before I had a mishap of my own.

As we were driving back toward Ruby Tuesday, me still trying to find a different restaurant than what we had at home, I turned my head to the left and saw a place with both bikers and truckers, and that had several people sitting at tables near these big windows that made up the front of the building. I suggested we eat there, so we turned around to go back. It was a laundromat. I'll give you all a minute with that.

Look, in my defense, which I hardly have one, I didn't read the sign. I know I should have, but I was too busy looking at the people sitting at tables. What kind of laundromat has tables all in the front of it? You couldn't even see the machines because of them. Also, by the looks of the building, it used to be a restaurant that was turned into a laundromat. Look, I know I'm never going to live this down, which is why I shared it with you. You all may as well laugh too. It's fine. But someone out there, *points to Portia*, needs to stop comparing me to FIL. (Unless you're one of three or four people, you're not going to get that reference. I would prefer to keep it that way.) I am not as stupid as FIL. He does stupid stuff on a daily basis. I had a senior moment, no offense to seniors. That's just cold, Portia. That's damn cold.

After we ate our good, but expensive meal, we decided to go to a little shopping center filled with local shops and antique stores. This always sounds like a good idea in theory, but when you're a psychic medium, this never ends up being such a good idea. The first store was lovely, but I only got part way through it before I was hit by such energy that I couldn't continue into the store. It was very awkward, but it was fine, because I had these to entertain me.

For a brief moment, I wanted to buy them all and become the crazy lawn fairy lady. And by brief moment, I mean I'm still disappointed this wasn't feasible for me to do.

When those lost their sparkle and luster, I found this lovely little display. I sent this picture into Ellen Degeneres. I thought it was worthy. As Aunt Bev said, it's like the sign that says, "drinking can cause memory loss or worse, memory loss."

As we perused the rest of the shops, I found a lot of spirits that really wanted their stuff back or didn't give their kids permission to sell it through a consignment antique shop. Since nothing short of reclaiming their item and taking it back to their children and yelling was going to make them happy, I tried to ignore them, but also avoided some of the shops. That was until we came across a clothing store that sold only new clothes. I thought it was safe to go in there. I was wrong. This conversation erupted.

Mom: "Ooh, Dickies!"

Aunt Bev: "I LOVE Dickies!"

Then they wouldn't stop saying Dickies. Now get your mind out of the gutter, people. They were talking about these, but once we got out of the store, I can't say you would know that.

This incident was possibly only rivaled by us running into the people my mom works for, the people she never actually sees back home, but now that we're over an hour away, they were in the same desolate store as us. Someone has a sense of humor. I approve.

We knew we weren't in our town anymore when we walked around the shopping complex and found this as the backdrop. We were in the middle of nowhere and it was beautiful there. I instantly wanted to move, but realized that unless I was planning on living in a refrigerator box, lest I be lucky enough to snag myself one of those babies, it probably wasn't going to happen.

We headed out of that town without a shopping bag to our name and made our way back to the original town we had started in. The place was a neat old opera house and mill that had been made into twenty shops, which was really just shelves of stuff that apparently came from twenty shops, but it was neat. The biggest cause of ridiculousness didn't seem to be the dead people, though the place was well over one hundred years old, yet the lady in the parking lot who rode on our ass, pulled into the parking lot at lightening speed, cut us off, parked, left her car on and running and her turn signal on. This was understandable if Chicken Little had failed to deliver a message or she was at the hospital. The lady did all of that to buy a shirt with the name of the town on it. It took her forever to pick that damn shirt out, too. She almost broke something while picking said shirt out.

With all this excitement under our belts, we waited for shirt lady to leave and then headed back out of the mountains and toward home. We stopped at Dairy Queen, which seemed to be where it all went wrong, or maybe it all went right, depending on your view of things.

The trip to Dairy Queen started out with this sign, because it's Pennsylvania. We need signs for everything, except for road names. Those signs always seem to be missing, while these signs reign all over every dang there in the tri-county area.

I did, however, learn a very important lesson from this trip to Dairy Queen. I learned that you can't take old people anywhere to eat, and by old, I mean anyone allowed to hold their own spoon. Here's why.

We got our ice cream and headed out to the car to eat it. We're weird people. If we can eat it in our car, we will. It's cleaner there. As we're sitting in the car, Aunt Bev, who has a chocolate mocha shake, all of a sudden exclaims, "I just dripped something on me. I have no idea where it came from." We waited a few minutes. The wait didn't disappoint, because the next thing we know it, she says, "It leaked again! Where in the heck is it leaking from? I look like a slob!" She was honestly befuddled as to where the leak was coming from. To this day I suspect that shake.

But the best part of this might possibly be that my mom spilled something on herself at lunch, so they now had matching stains. By only the grace of God, we got home without further incident. I did manage to bring home a new spirit, though. She left kind of quickly. I guess I just wasn't her cup of tea.

Hide Yo Dogs, Hide Yo People, They're Setting Off Fireworks Everywhere Up In Here

Hello, everyone. I hope you're all having a happy Fourth of July weekend. If you aren't from America, then I still hope you're having a good weekend and enjoying the silence as fireworks do not fly across your skies and scare the heebies out of your dogs.

Before I even get into this post, I want to address something from the last post, as well as a comment made by the amazing Miss Zoe. (Sorry I added a y to your name when I emailed you. I had a half a migraine and was just done with the day and shouldn't have been emailing. You can kick me later.) I know the last post was a lot to take in, and as I've always said, I never ask anyone to believe me. I, too, can be skeptical and find I have to have proof of my own gift in which I trust, because that's just who I am. So when Miss Zoe left her comment, I appreciated it. I am going to look into prior residents of the house, which is well over one hundred years old, and see what all, if anything, I can find. Our area isn't exactly known for keeping records, and we've been trying to figure out information about Aunt Bev's house prior to her parents owning it to no avail. I don't expect miracles, but if I find them, I will keep you all updated.

But this is a safe place here where you all can share your opinions and beliefs, and as long as you respect me, I will also respect you no matter what your belief. I mean, I see dead people and typically like guys ten years or more my senior who have an assortment of mohawks, piercings and tattoos, so who am I to judge someone who doesn't believe? It goes both ways. All I know is this is my reality. It's weird to me that other people don't have these experiences, no matter how severe. I've done this my entire life and know no different. But I also know it's strange for people who've never done this or have never had an experience, and that's why I don't want to make this blog all about my experiences. I don't want to force it down anyone's throat. If anyone feels I'm doing this, please let me know and I will make a separate blog for these stories.

To wrap up this little PSA, I wanted to let those who are interested know that Nichole crossed over shortly after I wrote the last post. Apparently, my dog went with her. He can come back any time now. I miss him sleeping with myself and Greta.

To also follow up with something else I said that left people scratching their heads in confusion, I bring you my PSA about Vegas; Las Vegas. Sorry, I always wanted to do that. Anyway, I know a lot of you know about my health problems and are wondering how Vegas is possible. Please understand that I can, by no means, just go to Vegas. This is going to take clearance from five different doctors, and the only way I would be able to go in the first place is because I would be staying with a friend. I wouldn't be forced to go out everyday if I didn't want to. If I needed to sit down / sleep / take a day off, I could do that just like I could at home. The problem the doctors have with me working is that I didn't have the freedom to sit down when I know I'm going to pass out, or lay down when I can't keep going, or take a day off when I have to. If I go on this trip, I will be able to do all of that as needed. So it's not like I'm going on a normal vacation like anyone else would when they go to Vegas. I'm going to be far from the life of the party, plus I have to get permission from my doctors, and I have to magically come up with the money to do so, and my wonderful friend still has to want me, so this whole thing is just a maybe. I'm still sick and lame. It's fine. Whether the maybe works out or not, I am still eternally grateful to my friend for the offer.

Since it's the Fourth of July weekend and I have so much to do, this isn't going to be a real post. Okay, all of that is a lie. I have nothing to do, but I'm trying to send out some emails tonight and don't want to take the time to upload the pictures I want to upload for an awesome post I have about my day out in the mountains. Therefore, I'm going to share a bunch of random things with you that I thought were worth sharing. Some are funny little quips, others heartfelt truths. I hope you enjoy them.

* Over the years, I've learned that I should just introduce myself to people using the monologue from the opening sequence from Season 2 of Ghost Whisperer. And I quote: "I might be just like you, except that from the time I was a little girl I knew that I could talk to the dead. Earthbound spirits, my grandmother called them. They're stuck here because they have unfinished business with the living, and they come to me for help. In order to tell you my story, I have to tell you theirs." Or maybe this is more fitting. "I'm Cassadee Willows, just an ordinary woman from an ordinary town. I might be just like you. Except from when I was a little girl, I knew I was different. I knew they needed me. Is it a gift, or is it a curse? All I know is, I can talk to the dead." I don't know, you pick.

* I often joke that I'll be forever alone, just like the meme. And as much as I think that could easily be true, there's a lot I've learned from flying solo. One of those things is that a couple is only as good as the sum of its parts, and if each person isn't allowed to be their own person, then there's no substance there.

* I have no idea what we were even talking about to even get into this, but OBF and I both have mutual love for the Bed Intruder guy. We then realized that we mutually are able to come up with a ton of variations of "hide yo kids, hide yo wife" on a daily basis. Somehow, she came up with the following. "Hide yo bras, hide yo undies." And I finished with, "Those trannies are taking ALL the clothes." If I do get to go to Vegas, obviously you can understand the kind of time we're going to have. I'll try not to get arrested, but not promises. (But seriously, the only thing I could get arrested for is jaywalking, but with my luck, that would happen.)

* Giggling ridiculously is like being drunk. You make the same bad decisions in the euphoria of it all. Seriously, this is why I don't drink, but I do giggle ridiculously a lot. Maybe I should stop that.

* The other day I was driving into town to get some noms when I came across two bunnies. As I got closer, they didn't just pick up and run like most would. They looked at me in the car, looked back at each other, and then took off in separate directions. I think I interrupted a clandestine bunny meeting, and since it was less than a mile down the road for me, you better bet I'm locking my doors, locking my windows, because they're taking everyone on up in here. See, I told you I had about a hundred variations of the "hide yo kids, hide yo wife" comment.

* I've been asked to write up an article about myself for a friend of mine to post to a paranormal website. I will let you all know when that is finished and where you can find it.

I apologize for the short post that cleared some stuff up, but I've suddenly been distracted by some new Antoine Dodson videos and this is where my concentration ends. Everyone have a safe and happy July Fourth, even if you don't live in America. And remember, hide yo kids, hide yo wife.