You Will Be Remembered

Today would have been my grandma's 84th birthday had Scleroderma not taken her. For those of you who don't know me well, you don't know that my grandparents had an extremely large hand in raising me. My mom was a single mom going to school full time to try and make a better life for us, so most of those first outings and first times after the age of two or three were with my grandparents. Cancer took my grandfather eleven years ago, though sometimes it seems like just yesterday.

My grandma was a strong woman. She wasn't ready to pass when she did, but Scleroderma ruined her heart, destroying the right side completely.  Her body just couldn't hold up any longer, though her mind was strong. She passed suddenly in the winter of 2009. Though we knew her time was coming, we had gotten a call one morning that they had found her in her apartment still breathing, but she was gone before she reached the hospital. 

She was more than a grandma to me. She was a confidante, a best friend, and a lot of times she played the roll of mom. Not a day goes by that I still don't think of her and miss her. Last year I wasn't strong enough to post a tribute to her, and this year I'm crying the whole way through it, but I want her to know that she will be remembered.

 

 This week has been particularly hard, not just because of what today signified, but because our beloved kitty Lila also passed on Tuesday. We had, had her so long that we couldn't even remember when we got her. She was an older kitty, but also in good health, until one day she wasn't, and the next, it seemed, she was gone. Pets are truly part of the family and it's been hard getting through this week without her little meows and leg hugs around every corner.

   I know I owe some of you comments on your blogs, and I thank you all for the comments on mine. I promise I am getting there. Please bear with me until a few wounds start to heal. I'm going through some other things involving my gift and in general am having a trying time this week.

Emails From Aunt Bev

Last night, Aunt Bev and I were having a conversation via email. At some point, she casually dropped a line saying that the computer insinuated that she was stupid. One thing led to another, and I got these words back from her.


WTF!!!!!!! Smart Ass Computer!!!!!  Settle down, Bev and go to bed. I won't be able the sleep now I'm so furious.

That's right, inanimate objects really can make you that angry. We now have proof.

Shut Up, Self!

I know I owe you all part two of the plumbing story, but let me just fill you in on the last week of my life. Or, as I like to call it, proof that I need to shut my mouth.

As you all know, I'm a psychic medium. If you don't know that, you're probably new here, and in that case, HI! Welcome. Look around, stay awhile, do a little dance, whatever. This little glitch in my hardware makes my life hectic as it is. Usually I shush up about it in person so that I don't end up running myself in ragged circles trying to help everyone and their mother, brother and sister. I get enough emails about this sort of thing and have enough lined up as it is that I don't need more things. With this in mind, I was clearly wearing my dunce cap last week.

The week started out with my friend having a case involving an ancient Indian creature bothering her sibling who was living on what was once land where Indians were massacred. It skipped right into the same friend having issues of the not so holy kind in her own home. So I had that to deal with going into the week anyway, and that just happened and was no one's fault. The rest was all my fault, so I should have quit the week with the paranormal while I was ahead. It was only Monday. We knew I was going to fall behind somehow.

I was doing good all day Tuesday and was still ahead, then Wednesday rolled around. I had to go to a dinner with the awesome Aunt Bev, so we decided while we were down that way that we were going to stop in the Historical Society and do some research on her parents' house, which has had all sorts of issues ever since Aunt Bev can remember. This was going lovely until the lady who worked there told me about a lady who had come in a day prior to research a property for paranormal reasons and how strange she thought that was that two people came in for that reason two days in a row. Then I realized it was my friend who had come in and that was all my fault, too.

When I feel like something is my fault, even if it's something odd, I start ranting. This is when someone needs to get a piece of tape like they do in those NoH8 photos and tape over my mouth. One way or another we got to talking about an old town here, the one where they had the really awesome reenactments of court cases from the late 1700s. One thing led to another and I ended up telling the lady from the Historical Society that I had felt someone watching over the one house there, someone with a hat, to which she laughed and said that was so funny because the former caretaker had died in the last few years and another medium had told them he was watching over the place. She turned me around and showed me a picture of him. He was wearing a hat. He always wore it.

This should be the part where everyone goes, "Oh, neat. Oh, nice." Don't do that, though, because the next thing I knew I was telling the lady that I can see the old town how it used to be in the 1700s with my psychic site, she was gleefully telling me that they had been trying to reconstruct the town to how it used to be but knew no one who could help them do it, and I was writing my name and number down on a piece of paper. The lady who is in charge of the town is calling me when she gets home from vacation at the end of the week. And I was assured that if I do a good job that they could use me for a lot of things. I'm going to just hold my applause.

If that didn't give me enough to do outside of my hours upon hours of emails and consultations with the paranormal a week, my mouth continued to make things worse for me. Friday, we decided to visit an old castle about a half an hour from here. I went prepared for spirits, because the original structure that still existed within the larger structure was built in the 1700s. Before that, there was a war waged on that land. As it turned out, that building wasn't my problem whatsoever.

With the town in disrepair, we struggled to find a place to eat there, and when we get hungry, you better get us to somewhere with food before you start looking tasty and we attempt to steal your lunch. It's a Mom, Aunt Bev and myself ism. We like food. There were rows and rows of buildings; a whole town's worth, but all were vacant and empty. Following signs and a tip, we drove a little ways outside of town to a super amazing old mansion that had a restaurant inside. I fell in love with the town, or lack there of, instantly, and was sucked into this house. It was so warm and friendly, and although it was clear spirits were there, it was a gathering place in life, as it was in death. There was nothing vicious, just a warm feeling that made me want to live in that house. I was sucked in.

While we were waiting for our food, the woman serving us let us wander around the entire house, which was to become a bed and breakfast, since we were the only ones there. This just enchanted me more. When we were done with the meal, she took us downstairs to show us the basement that used to be a pool, but was now turned into a tavern. I had kept my mouth shut about the spirits until one walked right past me. I got in a silent argument with my mouth in a sad and sorry attempt to get it shut, but it didn't work very well, and before I knew it I was asking the server if there had been any paranormal experiences in the house. Her exact words were, "Funny you should ask that..."

Also before I knew it, we had identified the man I saw by her showing me a picture and me saying, "Yes, that's him," and she was taking my name and number because the owners would love to talk to me about this. We were getting ready to leave when the owners just magically popped up, and just like that an hour and a half went by. In that hour and a half I learned that real alligators were kept in the basement, the woman whose husband built the house and had passed really hated one of their patrons, and the man who built the house and had passed really hated the whiskey they served since in life he made whiskey, but it was no longer available for sale. I also bored my mom and Aunt Bev and made the one owner miss an appointment. He was awfully cheery about missing that appointment though.

I'm going back this coming Monday to go through the house and tell them everything I am feeling and help them make the house a place where the spirits still want to be. They're awesome and understand that this isn't their house, they are just taking care of it. They welcome the spirits, as long as they're nice, and that house is filled with nothing but nice. They just want to make the spirits proud of what they're doing there, and since they're having weddings there, the original owner's wife couldn't be happier. I'm actually super excited about doing this, and I hope that the owners will let me come back from time to time. I loved them, I loved the house, and this is what I love to do. And hey, they even offered me free food. I don't charge for my services, but I will ALWAYS take free food.

I didn't even make it one more day before I opened my huge mouth again. Surprising, I know. On Saturday we were having a yard sale. Now, for those of you who don't know this about me, I'm convinced that yard sales spawned around the same time that Lucifer fell from Heaven. I just don't like them. So as the day is reining down on us and we have been sitting there for what felt like eight weeks, but was really more like five hours, we started to wonder if we were going to sell anything else or have to drag it back home. Just then, a woman in a red truck became our savior, and made me open my big mouth again.

Turns out, this lady was from a missing children's foundation in the local area, but they work nation wide. They were looking for any items we didn't want that they could sell to help fund the organization. I gave them everything I had left. In my line of work, I see a lot of kids go off the grid because the police run out of leads or their hands are tied, and this is where this organization picks up. This is something close to my heart, especially with my spirits that come through on a regular basis. A lot of them are lost souls because their bodies have never been found, and I have no idea how to approach the police about these girls without looking uber fishy. Being as people think I'm about seventeen anyway, fishy was not what I needed.

So, and I say it again, before I knew it I was telling this poor woman about my gift and dishing out my name and phone number. I was also telling her all about this one young girl that went missing locally of whose family I've been wanting to contact but didn't know how, and asked her if they could work on getting me in touch with the family or if they would help me follow up what I knew about the case. Ever since this girl went missing, I've wanted to bring her home so badly, no matter what capacity that may be in. I'm still waiting for a response.

The guy who runs the organization might think I'm nuts, but I hope he doesn't, because the lady all kinds of loved me. She assured me he would be in contact with me, and I hope is. I know I can be of help here, and I take responsibility for anything that happens on information I give, good or bad. I'm willing to be as hands on as I need to be with this. If he does decide to work with me, I have a feeling I'm going to be insanely busy like no one's business, and I hate dealing with families, because I never want to see anyone hurt. I can't imagine the kind of toll this will take emotionally, but if we can bring some kids home, that's all that matters. Sometimes they don't come home in the way that you want them to, but at least the families will never have to wonder any longer where their child is, and that's always been something I've wanted to be able to achieve with my gift. This could also open a lot of doors for me to get some credentials and be able to go to the police about some of my spirits without them thinking I'm all fishy and such. I help the dead, and if this can open up a door for a better way for me to do that, that's all that's important.

Let's pair this with the fact that I have LMCP and her person to tend to on a nearly constant basis. That situation is so messed up. I have a feeling sleep is going to turn into a luxury, and I'll never have to leave my couch except for a few times here and there and still end up entirely busy. Too bad this job doesn't pay, but I'd never, ever charge someone for something that came to me for free. So wish me luck, you guys, and pray that I keep my mouth shut more often...or something.

Guest Blogger: Please Welcome Zoe!

Tonight I am going to do something totally different with the blog and present to you a very special guest blogger. You all may know Zoe from the comment section of this blog, as well as me linking you all back to her blog before. Not only is Zoe an avid reader and commenter of this blog, but she is also a fantastically wonderful person, good friend, and spectacular writer. You should all follow her blog and follow her on Twitter so that you can say you knew her before she was famous, because this girl is going to be HUGE. Not that I'm trying to tell you what to do...

A few days ago, Zoe and I were having a lovely conversation in which I confused her a bunch of times. I'm sorry, Zoe. Somehow in that conversation, I ended up reading a piece from her blog, and asking her if it would be alright if she would be a guest blogger and share that post on my blog as well. Luckily, she graciously agreed.

There are so many amazing things about this amazingly talented girl, and this piece shows every bit of who she is and what she stands for. If you stand for nothing, you'll fall for anything, and she's not the kind of girl who is about to go down without a fight. Plus, she loves Taylor Swift, so where can you go wrong? She brings awareness to something that has been in the media lately, but passed off by many: Cyberbullying. So, please, everyone give a huge round of applause for Zoe and remember to check out her blog and twitter.

I read some pretty disheartening and quite honestly horrific attitudes regarding cyberbullying today. Someone said that cyberbullying is a load of crap because you can always turn off the computer and go elsewhere. I am gathering, from what I hear and read, that this is the opinion of a few people. Yet those people I can tell have never experienced the horrors of being bullied online. Yes, you can ignore it. It takes a great skill to be able to move on and laugh off people harassing you, but once you get a hold of it, it's easy to master. But you cannot always pretend it does not exist. The opinion I read clearly lacks a huge misconception; what if the cyberbullying follows you to school? Then, are you capable of ignoring the comments, turning off your computer and going to hang out with friends like everything is okay? You can't. If those people are joining in the harassment and it continues off the computer you can't just smash down the lid or turn the off button on the monitor and ignore it. It eats you up inside. The longer it continues, the more the comments and the name calling persists, the more you come to believe it. How do you think babies learn? They see the repetition of adults speaking to them, encouraging them, and they adapt and believe and repeat themselves. It is exactly the same when it comes to bullying. The victims learn that the things they are labelled as are true. They come to believe everything the bullies say about them. When so many people constantly throw names and belittle them without relenting, they have nothing else to do but to consider that perhaps, if so many people are saying it, then it must be true.

People like the ones I encountered are entitled to their own opinions. But the only thought that went through my mind was how little they know of the truth. They can say "grow the fuck up and move on" all they like, but that is never the solution, and I can tell they have never been through the experience themselves. How could they say things like that if they had? They cannot understand the feeling of being completely and utterly alone, of feeling like you are the only person in the world going through this kind of pain. They cannot understand how so much builds up and cyberbullying is just the tip of the iceberg. I can't look at my old tumblr account because of how much hate I am getting on there, and that severely hurt me. Those grey faces didn't know who I was, and they had no courage to come out and say it to my face. The vicious comments left by others to put me down reaffirmed my thoughts that I was not an important person. You cannot tell people to grow up and move on unless you have been involved in the attacks. Unless you have experienced the heartbreak over feeling that everyone is against you, that people who do not know you hate you without any justification for it. Calling someone ridiculous for killing themselves over vicious bullying online is completely out of order. I know how it is to feel utterly alone. I know what it feels like to be scared to talk to anybody. I know what it feels like when everyone turns on you, both online and offline.

Another comment I read said that turning off the computer, deleting the messages, ignoring the website all together, these were all solutions that were “not that fucking difficult”. I felt sick when I read that. Did they understand what exactly goes through the victims mind at that point? Did they not realise that as soon as one person has seen the message, there is every possibility that the message would have been print-screened, sent across to everyone in messages berating their chosen victim? If someone else posts a comment about them, and that person is considerably more ‘popular’ than the victim, who do you think people are going to believe? The victim has no chance to properly defend themselves in these situations. And people telling them to “grow up” and “move the fuck on”, that’s almost as bad as what the bullies are doing. The victim doesn’t want to hear anything that seems remotely harsh. They want to be comforted. They want to be reassured. They need their friends to stick by them. When all your friends turn on you, it can get so much worse.

A lot of these comments seemed to centre on the ABC movie, “Cyberbully”. Many labelled it as a copy of “Odd Girl Out”, but “Cyberbully” actually modernized and brought the issue to the forefront of people’s minds, focusing strongly on the bullying that occurs on the internet, and particularly social networking sites. In fact, a large quantity of the people bashing this movie shared the opinion that bullying online is not an issue because nobody forces people to endure the internet; they can turn it off. They can delete things and report them, and it’s online so it’s not real—they can ignore it. Allow me to direct you to this page: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Suicide_of_Megan_Meier. Megan Meier was bullied online, mostly through MySpace. Not long after setting up her account, she received a message from ‘Josh’, though the actual perpetrator was her former friend’s mother, Lori Drew. Several people, mostly Lori, contributed to running the account. They would gain her trust and get information about her, personal information, to use against her because Megan had allegedly spread rumours about Lori’s daughter. Then the messages changed from being kind, to being insulting and cruel. ‘Josh’ told Megan she was not a nice person, and he didn’t want to be friends with her anymore. Several people posted bullitens about Megan saying that the world would be a better place without her. Later messages were sent through AIM, and Megan was found twenty minutes after, having hung herself. Now. Would you call that bullying ridiculous? Could you so easily say that she was stupid, and should have deleted the comments and not let it bother her? The bullying spread to the outside world. It did not just stay online. People in her school and the town began to turn on her. Imagine, just put yourself in her shoes, in the shoes of people everywhere around the world who experience this kind of bullying. It’s never easy to deal with and nobody deserves it. I am thouroughly sickened by people who have the attitude that bullying online doesn’t have a basis in ‘real life’. Comments like that stay with you for a long time. When people who you thought were your friends turn on you, you feel like you are the only person in the world going through this. You have no one to turn to.

I honestly think people need to reconsider the effects of online bullying. People who make comments like that will never understand unless it has happened to them or someone close to them. But it happens. The internet is the world of this generation; kids spend hours online. It’s like a whole other world to them. So yes, words hurt, regardless of how they are said or where they are said. If someone starts spreading ugly rumours about you and they do not even know who you are, you are going to be offended. When people gang up on you just because the ‘queen bee’ decided you were her next target. I want to direct you to this book: http://www.amazon.com/Odd-Girl-Out-Culture-Aggression/dp/0156027348. Rachel Simmons’ book does not focus on cyberbullying, but it helps to understand why girls in particular bully one another. As she says, “There is a hidden culture of girls’ aggression in which bullying is epidemic, distinctive, and destructive. It is not marked by the direct physical and verbal behaviour that is primarily the province of boys. Our culture refuses girls access to open conflict, and it forces their aggression into non-physical, indirect, and covert forms. Girls use backbiting, exclusion, rumours, name-calling, and manipulation to inflict psychological pain on targeted victims. Unlike boys, who tend to bully acquaintances or strangers, girls frequently attack within tightly knit networks of friends, making aggression harder to identify and intensifying the damage to the victims.” By no means was she, and by no means am I, saying that all girls do this. They don’t. But the evidence that it happens in undeniable. That book helped me to understand why girls bullied me, to an extent. I understood why girls bully one another, and I learned how to get over it. With my recent experience being bullied through the site Tumblr, I was fortunate enough to know how to deal with it. I may have left the account and made a new one, but I did not let it affect me emotionally offline. I was comforted by the knowledge that they did not know who I was, that they were too frightened to come off anon and say these things to my face. I had been through enough years being bullied that I could ignore it and pretend as if it didn’t really bother me. I may have shed a tear or two at their expense, but that was it.

Many people are not as fortunate. Your closest friend may be being bullied and you could have no idea. I’m not saying you should act like a spy. I’m saying that those people who make these claims that cyberbullying is ridiculous should approach the subject with a more open-mind, and a gentler attitude. You may go through your whole life without being bullied; it is entirely possible. But look at what it does to people. Just because you break down and cry over comments online does not make you emotionally unstable. You will never be prepared for it. You will never expect it. You do not think that it can happen to you, and you can say “shut the fuck up and move on” all you like, but when it does happen to you, a part of you will understand what goes through the minds of other people and maybe, just maybe, you will regret the things you said. Once more, I am not saying it will happen to you. I am saying that sometimes you have to go through something to understand it. Cyberbullying is one of those things that is so easy to ignore because it has a very simple solution. In reality, it is never simple. Words hurt.

Perhaps cyberbullying doesn’t feel real to some people because it is not physical. It’s not direct bullying in the flesh, therefore it is easy to ignore and pass judgements. But cyberbullying is an issue people need to take more seriously. Know that your words hurt people online. If you say something cruel, start spreading rumours, and more people surround the victim, they are going to be hurt. They are going to feel excluded, alone, depressed, maybe even suicidal. If they feel too ashamed to tell their parents, their mind is going to come up with a thousand scenarios to make everything disappear. In Megan’s case, this was suicide. In the case of many others, their escape was suicide, through bullying online.

If this is happening to you, I implore you to speak up. Tell someone. Anyone. There is even a website, CyberMentors, completely free to register and highly confidential. There are helplines who never mind listening to you. There are groups you can go to. If you are too frightened to tell your parents, write something down on paper. Leave it on your teacher’s desk. Give it to someone, an adult, who you find it easy to talk to. Rachel Simmons’ website gives you the opportunity to email her. You can contact me, if you want to. I don’t mind. I will listen, and I will try my best to help. 
http://mymindgoesfast.blogspot.com/ On my profile you can find my email. Nobody should be without help for this. What you are going through, if at all, is wrong. It hurts and it is very, very real. There are many other people who will gladly be there to listen. Just be brave, brave enough to click that send or request button. Brave enough to write that letter and leave it with someone you know can help. And as for everyone who thinks this is not an issue, I have this to say: please, open up your minds a little. Take a good look at what really happens online. Understand how these words hurt people. Acknowledge that turning off the computer is not always the best solution. Try to put yourself in a position similar to theirs. It’s not something that can easily be ignored.

A Full On Rainstorm

First off, I just want to thank everyone for sticking things out with me while I neglected my blog like it was a really horrible two cent whore. I also want to thank you all for putting up with me saying things like "two cent whore" and still coming back to me read my blog. Seriously, you all are either the most wonderful people in the world, or just a tad crazy. I hope it's a mix of both.

Now, allow me to take you back three weeks to this post. If you all will reminisce with me, you will remember that this post was just a lead in to the week that was endured between that Friday and the following one. I really meant to make the post following that one about the insane week I had, but then the things mentioned in the post directly previous to this took place, and I lost my shiz, my sanity, and my ability to even consider caring about putting the craziness into a blog. Luckily, I did regal my story of craziness to a friend of mine and saved the transcript. Therefore, you all will be reliving the insanity in technicolor along with me.

But before I even get into that debauchery, I want to say a few words about the last post. A lot of you ask me why I post my experiences such as that, and others aren't happy that I do, feeling as if I'm going to stir up more paranormal activity by doing so. I am careful about what I post, change names, and do not give specific details linking back to that person or spirit as to make sure that I do NOT stir up any more activity with my posts or give anything supernatural more power. I also don't post a lot of details for the same reason. I would never post something that is going to exacerbate activity for myself or anyone else involved in the case, if there do happen to be more people other than myself involved.

As for why I do it, one of the most common inquiries I get are from people who either have some sort of sensitivity, always knew, and are trying to figure out their experiences, or just people who have had a few isolated experiences, sometimes even just one, and are left feeling as if they need to take the first train to Crazy Town. I have had a lot of bizarre, yet finite experiences. I've questioned my own sanity. At the end of the day, though, the experiences are what they are. I post my experiences so that other people can know that this stuff DOES happen in the spirit world and that they are NOT crazy. Recently, a good friend of mine came to me with a situation very similar on the emotional side, plus similar in the experiences they were having, to the one I posted about last night. We talked things through, and that person is dealing with it as best as they can. I hope that I have helped that person in knowing that the experiences they're having are common, and I am here for them to talk things out and sound crazy to, because they're not crazy.

There's a lot of things that people like myself don't want to talk about it, and unfortunately one of those things is the truth. It's the pure facts of what really happens when you were born with this gift, and the things that make them sound crazy that they want to leave out, because they still want to obtain some sense of normality in their daily lives. I gave up on that a long time ago, so I'm not afraid to put it out there. As I said before, I am careful about what I put on here, but being a psychic medium, I know what to say and not to say to keep from stirring up energy or making things worse. But at the end of the day, this is still my sacred place. It started out as a little place that only I wrote to and no one read, and turned into a place to share thoughts with friends. Ultimately, I will post what I decide is appropriate for said blog, but I would also never give away personal details or anyone's information. I even change names to keep people anonymous, and that's AFTER I ask that person if I can write about them. I will continue to be open and honest with you guys, but make sure that there's some things that I may post for nothing by my own want, and appreciate when you read them and comment anyway. I love all of you.

Lastly, and before I lose you all to a nap, I also realized that in my own emotions and jumble that made up the last blog, a lot of people missed the point of it. I admit that was my fault. I can be a corny little creature when I start angry typing. The point of the last blog was not so much to tell you about what was going on in my life, but more to give you a glimpse into a situation of an innocent person who is deeply troubled by things that are not their fault. I never feel much for the living who revolve around my spirits, but this person seems to be the only exception. This is someone who really could use any extra prayers you may have lying around, and that was the message I was trying to get across. I'm sorry that it did not come out that way, but if you have a few extra prayers, please pray for this person. He will never know you're doing it, but he could really use a few extra prayers right about now. 

With that little P.S.A. out of the way, I feel I can now bring you guys into a whole new world of insanity. And by insanity, I mean the week that occurred post the post I linked you all back to earlier in this blog. Confused yet? Just wait. And because of all this insanity, this is post one of two. That's right, it's going to take yet another post after this one to tell you about all the insanity that occurred during one simple week. This post is just going to deal with one singular day.

The week started out well enough. I had an appointment, and since no one really particularly likes appointments of any kind where they're shelling out money, naturally, this was the day when wonky rocketed its way straight into my little world and planted itself here with plans and tricks up its sleeve. The morning started out well enough. I got up, got ready, just made it out the door, hit every green light there and made it there before anyone else. Don't cheer yet. From there I went to Target, used some coupons, then went to Wal-Mart and finished my grocery shopping also with coupons, sliding into home base before 11:30 in the morning. It was going to be my lucky day. Go ahead, laugh. We all know all good lies start out disguised as lucky days.

I happily brought all of my groceries to the house and started putting them away, most likely be-bopping to some Taylor Swift song I was singing aloud. As I stopped to take a humungous breath for my big finish, I noticed our water heater making a strange sound. I would be lying if I said I wasn't a bit suspicious about this, especially considering that our hot water heater had appeared to die two days prior, leaving us the only people who were glad for the ninety degree weather when we had to get a freezing cold shower. With all the squeaking and gurgling our water heater was emitting, I was afraid it was turning into some zombie that was going to eat me while I slept. Luckily, it wasn't nighttime anytime soon, but unluckily, I was the only one home and unfamiliar with whom the water heater version of Ghost Busters was. So naturally, I texted my mom.

Also naturally, my mom was befuddled. Afraid that if I tried to mess with it, it was going to end me and my remains would never be found, I decided it's better just to let the angry water heater go until a professional can look at it. And by a professional, I mean my mom. This was a spiffy plan, except that while I was on the phone with her, I was washing out some dog bowls and accidentally, out of habit, turned on the hot water, even though I knew we didn't have any. I happened to catch this mistake right away when the water burned my hand. Oh, you find it odd too that we've spent two days with absolutely no hot water and suddenly our water heater begins to morph into a zombie and our hot water is back without not one person touching the water heater? I can't imagine why.

Since I didn't know what in the heck was going on and didn't want to argue with the hot water heater that was now giving me hot water, nor become a casualty of it since it wasn't too far fetched to think it was a zombie, I decided to move on with my day. I had enough paranormal emails to keep an OCD person busy for the next month, so I decided I would start digging myself out of the hole they had put me in when they all arrived in my inbox and spazzed it out. You think this would be simple, but no. This, too, is a story within a story.

Much like the water heater had an existing problem, it was the same with the internet. The previous day, I had a few issues with my internet. I was able to stay on for about an hour before it would crash out on me and I had to reset everything to get it going again. Eventually, I gave up trying to be on it for the day, but then got on later that night with not a problem. I thought whatever was going on was just a glitch and had corrected itself, but that's not my life. The same thing started happening all over again, only I wasn't even getting an hour of the internet this time before it crashed. Then, finally, it just wouldn't come back up at all no matter what I did. I was internetless in Pennsylvania, and it didn't feel so good.

Left with no other options other than the understandable suicide to save myself from what I inevitably had to do in order to get my internet back, I chose to be strong and call Verizon. This is usually a debacle in which I get someone who I can't understand and tells me their name is Suzy, when their name is really Oshimisa Hosomo. Look, I like Oshimisa, I really do, but I just can't understand Oshimisa, which is always problematic when trying to fix things over the phone. I would have gotten into an online chat, but you can see how that would have gone with no internet.

I went in expecting the worst and ended up getting schooled. Apparently angels work at Verizon and I just happened to come across one that day. Very patiently, this angel of a man listened to me when I told him how I had reset everything, realized he didn't have to take me through all those steps again, avoided it, and went right into testing the line and found that the jack was bad. He skipped all the unnecessary, just do it to amuse me crap, and cut straight to the chase. I took the modem into another room and to another jack and I was back in business. Then, when that was done, I slyly asked him if my neighbors hacking into my internet could have anything to do with the way my internet was being reset, to which he told me yes and proceeded to fix my internet so that it ran on a password that, once saved, was changed to algorithms. Since it's impossible to hack and algorithms, the neighbors would no longer be able to hack any of my passwords and slide their way into my net. I nearly jumped through the phone and proposed to this man before hanging up with him. You would think it was my lucky day again, but no.

Now that I was off my phone, it was time to move and set up my wireless internet in the other room that was with a working jack. It didn't matter what room the modem and wireless airport were in, because we'd be running off the wireless. Easy peasy. Except, as it so turned out, my mom's computer was so old that it was without wireless internet capabilities. Previously, it had been hooked straight into the modem, because I had been too lazy to set it up for wireless. It didn't matter, though, because my mom has a desktop of which sat directly next to the modem, so it wasn't really an issue, nor did she have a need for wireless internet. But now she did and didn't have it. We were going to have to buy a wireless internet card and pray that I could figure out how to install it, or somehow find a way to move her computer, along with a metal desk that weighed more than I actually think we would be capable of moving, into a room where she didn't want to be.

I completely panicked, wracking my brain to come up with some solution to this. After about an hour, I realized I was just dumb, so dumb, in fact, that I needed Antoine Dodson to come sing to me about it. He never did show up. What showed up in his place was my brain. My mom worked for Verizon for seventeen years. She knew how to change a jack, therefore, she could simply change the one that was bad out and I could set everything up just the same as it was. I felt extremely stupid over this and decided that I should probably never be allowed in public alone, though people always seemed to think it is alright if I were. Silly people.

Since things seemed to be looking up and back on track, I got back online to continue answering the emails I had started out answering before this entire debacle took place. This was all well and good until my email wouldn't send anything. Nothing. Nada. My internet worked, but my email was PMSing. Over two hours went into trying to figure out what was going on, only to find out that Verizon-Yahoo changed some policy about their porting through Mac mail and I had to reset all the ports in order to get my email to send. Clearly it was too hard for them to send out an email outlining this because they probably have secret cameras set up in their customers' homes and just laugh when this stuff happens to people. Bastards.

After this was all sorted out, I figured that the day really couldn't get more crazy and that I had earned a bathroom break. This was clearly a lie, because as soon as I went back in my bathroom, I heard the sound of water running. No, I wasn't me going to the bathroom. Don't be funny. I have no idea what made me do this, but I lifted up the vent in my bathroom only to find it filled with water. This led me on the epic quest to find what other vents were filled with water. Turns out it was only the one in my bathroom and the one in my mom's, however, the curious whooshing sound seemed to be coming from the laundry area in our kitchen and right next to the water heater.

Let's just stop and take inventory of this situation for a second. First we had no hot water for two days. Now we have hot water suddenly, but our water heater has presumably turned into a zombie and there is the sound of water pouring out of somewhere, and it's obviously going in our vents. Obviously it was time to call in a plumber, which we did, but since it was already almost five, there was no way someone could get there immediately. And you would think this was the worst of the problems this insane day could throw at us, yeah? Wrong again!

As we're minding our own business and I'm sweeping the floor, the vacuum suddenly just stops running. I go over to the outlet thinking that the plug just pulled out, but then I realize the air conditioner is out, too. As I begin checking out the outlets like a detective, I realize that our main outlet that holds all the important things in the living room, such as our television and satellite box, was also not working. Our porch light was also out. I tried everything to figure this out, including messing with the electrical box, but since I'm so obviously not an electrician, I was not so surprisingly stumped by this.

Flabbergasted and defeated, we came to the conclusion that since the one outlet had been acting a little confused the day before, that it probably just went bad, and since the other outlets were on the same connection as it, it probably knocked them out, too. And then I went into my mom's room and her fan wasn't working suddenly. And, you guessed it, this is when I realized that the outlets in her room, as well as my closet light were not working. The living room, where the first offending outlet started all the problems, and my mom's bedroom were on two different sides of the house. At one last ditch attempt at confusion, my mom decided to play with the electrical box. Everything turned back on. I guess it just hated me.

So that was my day. And keep in mind that this all happened within twelve hours. And if that wasn't good enough for you, we still had the pending issue of the plumbing to deal with. Just wait until you all hear this story. The crazy week from the dark depths of the trickster of the universe was only partially over.

I Will Drag You There. Do You Hear Me?

Hi all. As some of you may or may not know, I am having a spirit problem of epic proportions over here, which has halted my regularly scheduled updates. Because of one spirit, I am now minus my gift, or my super powers, as I prefer to call them for laughs, my spirit girls, and mostly all of my sanity. You know what I do have, though? I have every medical issue that said spirit's living person is having.

I know what you're all saying over there. But Cassie, don't you have medical problems? Yes, I do, but this crap isn't mine. How do I know that? A: Never had these symptoms before, and I think I'm over getting new stuff at this point. And B: I just do. Don't argue with your friendly neighborhood psychic. It will get you kicked. I'm sorry, did I say friendly? I meant polite and kind and appropriate at all times. Yep, everyone laughs when I say that. I'm so offended. Lying isn't funny.

In this person's defense, he's gone to the doctor. I'm pretty sure my absent spirit girls pushed him there, but he went. His meds worked for two days. For two glorious days, I wasn't coughing, spitting up tiny particles of blood, having respiratory problems and having chest pains that rivaled an elephant parking itself on me. It was kind of amazing, and then BAM! And he's all, complain, complain, complain all over Twitter about his medical issues, but did he go back to the doctor? No, he went out of town. Jerk. And yes, I totally follow my spirits' people on Twitter if I feel it's necessary and have to get a message to them. Gotta love how easy the internet makes stalking. It does, however, make it easier for me to find my spirits' person. Not that I'm stalking them, but I digress.

So as I'm sitting here tonight for the second late night in a row, coughing like a maniac with no sore throat, and totally unable to breathe like a normal person and all that jazz, I finally broke. Desperate to flip out at someone, I decided to be intelligent about this for once, knowing that I'm not really shy and am totally capable of doing this. I turned to my beloved and rad friend, Cephelia Jackson (I will never tell if this is her real name or not. Secret keeping is the only super power I have left.), to remind me that what I was totally prepared to do was not sane. She's like my little sanity keeper. It's worse than being a zoo keeper, and she doesn't get paid enough. See: She doesn't get paid at all. It's probably not legal.

I politely told Cephelia Jackon my issue after about an hour of complaining, and asked her to remind me that it is not sane to write this person a direct message on Twitter and lose my shiz on them, because seriously, I can have medical problems all on my own. I even went as far as to type my short, albeit, to the point letter to her. I think so you can really get a grasp on how much this sucks right now, it's mandatory to share this letter with you. It's pretty epic, if I do say so myself. Which I do, so I'm probably the only one that thinks this.

"Hi, You don't know me, and I don't really care. If you do not go to the doctor, I will come there, drag you there, and then sit in the exam room while you change into those snazzy gowns with no backs and watch. I will grab you by your ear and I will drag you. If I have to beat you over the head with something and drag you there, that can be arranged too. Trust me, I'd be doing us both a favor. Because if you are okay with feeling like this, you are a dumb ass, but that's fine. However, a one hundred and twenty pound girl's body can not take the same shiz as a two hundred and twenty five pound man's body. How do I know all of this from clear across the country and without being a stalker? Because I have LMCP (His spirit.), and bitches ain't dumb after they die. So really, don't make me come over there. It's two women, one dead and one alive, against one man, and that will never, ever end well for you."

Okay, so in retrospect, that was a terrible, terrible letter. And in reality, I would never, ever send something like that to someone, but I think it's fair that I'm super annoyed that he won't go back to the doctor. It's because he knows something is really wrong and is afraid, and I get that, but obviously this is a man who needs friends who care about him, because he doesn't have anyone who really gives two flying farts about if he's well or not. I will be fine and this will be gone in another hour for me. It will come back later, but it usually doesn't last more than an hour or two. He's dealing with this pretty concretely. So guys, although I normally don't ask for this, can you all pray for this poor kid? Seriously. I don't think he needs any more issues than he already has, and right now I just feel really bad for him. Maybe if we all send good vibes his way he'll, you know, go to the doctor.

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.

An Angel Named Nichole - My Newest Little Spirit

Before I even get into this post, I want to thank all of the wonderful new readers who have come along and commented on my blog. I am so humbled and so giddy over this, it's crazy. You've made my year! Also, as many of you know, there's been a running joke for about two years now as to if any men are reading this blog. I can officially report that I have at least one solid male reader. I guess that joke's out the window.

Let me just start out by saying that I had two other posts in line to put up before this one, and then yesterday happened and it changed everything. When I was a child, I had a very dear friend who I will call Original Best Friend, or OBF for short. OBF and I lost touch when I moved to another school district, but I always still thought about her. Rewind to all of these years later, and we found each other again. This is the only thing, I repeat, the ONLY thing Facebook is good for.

OBF had moved to Vegas, the place where I was once looking forward to moving to prior to getting sick. Imagine how delighted I was when I heard she was coming home for a visit and wanted to get together. I could hardly contain my excitement as we got together for the first time in about fourteen years, maybe even longer. I was worried we'd have nothing to talk about or have had grown apart, but it was like time had never passed. There we were sipping on our drinks, eating, and sharing stories all over again. Her mom was also there, and instantly I felt at home with the both of them.

Long story short, OBF's mom is moving out to Vegas with her to start a new life. She will be coming back to get the rest of her belongings and drive them cross country come October, and I've been invited to come back with her. Not only will she not have to make the trip alone, but OBF is gracious enough to put me up in her house for awhile so that I can visit! She is the sweetest person in the world, as is her mom, and I am working out the details as we speak. Hopefully I'll be able to go and spend some time with OBF. Yesterday just did not give us enough catch up time, and I miss her and her mom already! I'm praying that they have a safe trip back to Vegas!

While I was hanging out with OBF and her mom yesterday, however, we got to talking about my psychic medium powers and other things of the like. When I knew OBF as a kid, I never talked about what I could do in the paranormal world, so I wasn't so sure how she would take it. It turns out their family is also very much connected to the paranormal world, and her mom is also working on becoming a master at Reiki, which is beyond awesome.

As we were talking about all of this, it was mentioned that the house that her mom lives in was haunted. Immediately I got the name Nichole and knew she was a nine year old child that seemed much younger. I asked them if they were aware of this child, and they were not, but I told them I'd know more once I got to their home.

OBF and myself arrived before her mom, and I was instantly drawn upstairs. I was trying not to be too biased about the situation considering they had told me about the man who used to be in their attic, but I was being pulled there concerning Nichole anyway. When we got into OBF's old room, the air changed completely. It wasn't her room, but the door to the attic that was in her room that the energy was emanating out of. No matter where you were in the room you could feel the energy reaching out and wrapping its arms around you. It was awkward since energy doesn't actually have arms.

I asked OBF if I could go up into her attic, to which she obliged. There was one part of the attic of which she had never ventured back into because of the energy back there, and man it was strong. She said it was the side of the attic that the man had hung out in, although they felt they had gotten rid of him when they blessed the house. I agreed with this, but there was a much different energy pulling me back there, so she turned on the light and I ventured back into the depths of the attic.

As soon as I was back there, the energy became immediate in the corner of the empty shell of a space that I couldn't get back into because of the lack of floorboards. I could feel someone back there, hunched over and chained up in my mind's eye, yet I couldn't actually see her. I quickly realized that this was Nichole, and that she had been heavily abused.

Earlier in the day, OBF and I had talked about a dream she had regarding a young girl that fit the image I was getting of Nichole who had once been locked up in a mental asylum. The story slowly unraveled in that attic. She had been locked up, still wearing her little gown, but when they failed to fix her, what was done to her was something I had dealt with before, because it was common for the day over one hundred years ago. Not knowing what to do with Nichole, she was locked up in the attic and left to die, and die she did. But the reason she was the way she was, was only partially because she had a mental disorder, and had a lot to do with her father abusing her as young as two or three. It broke my heart to know that she was still being held up there by her father, a man who chose not to pass on so he could stay there and make sure she didn't leave the attic, as if she were the evil one, as if she would tell of his sins if she did.

Because I couldn't actually see her, I didn't know what to do, so feeling as if I were being touched by something in the direction opposite of where she was, and my arm facing her feeling as if it were being grabbed and yanked on brutally, I backed out of the attic and found myself on the stairs by OBF, and then the light was turned off. As soon as that happened, I could see Nichole. She had scooted out of her corner and was now crouching down where I had been. I said something to OBF, who said she could see lights in the place where I was seeing Nichole. I told Nichole that it was okay, that she didn't have to stay there and that she wasn't really chained up anymore, so she could come with me. I promised I wouldn't hurt her, and I'd get her out of there and never make her have to go back up to the attic again. Slowly, she trusted me and made her way over to us. I reached out for her and took her little hand, and I physically led her out of that attic, because she wouldn't have ever gone alone. She was too scared, but the man was nowhere around and I knew I had just one window to get her out of there.

When we got her out of the attic, she told me she never wanted to go back up there again, and I told her no one would ever, ever take her back up there again. She was safe now. She didn't want me to let go of her hand as I led her out of OBF's room and down the stairs to the living room, a place she hadn't been in a very long while. I assured her it would be fine, and assured myself that I was too tall for the job, having to lean toward her to make sure I didn't yank on her frail little arms. Although she was nine, she was behind in both growth and mental state. Physically and mentally, she seemed more like four or five.

Once at the bottom of the stairs, I put her beside the door so she knew that freedom was just steps away. When she sat down, she had a teddy bear, one that wasn't with her in the attic. She must have grabbed it from somewhere, a place that was probably once her room, or the last place it had fallen when she was being dragged up into the attic and to her doom. She happily sat there, glad to be free, and I again promised her she'd never have to go back up into the attic. In fact, she wouldn't ever have to be in that house again. When I left, I was taking her with me to her new home. Since OBF's mom was moving, there was no way I was about to leave her there with that man, nor did I have time that night to try and clear the house. The best thing I could do was remove her from the environment, leaving him trapped with no choice but to cross over, which hopefully he's done by now, or else he's just really pissed and alone in that house. Either way, good for him, because the last thing I promised her was that he would never take her to that attic again or hurt her. Little did I know I'd have to keep that promise to her in a very terrifying way very soon.

OBF and I spent some time talking while her mom, who had since been in and out of the house, was running some things over to the Salvation Army. I kept an eye on Nichole, who was in her own little world with her teddy bear, unaware of the world around her. At first I thought it was possible she was autistic, but she doesn't seem to display any of the other red flags other than acting younger than she is and able to amuse herself with certain items in her own little world. Eventually, we made our way into the room one closer to where she was, so that we were only about fifteen feet from her, if that. OBF's mom came home and we sat talking, Nichole still playing with her teddy bear.

While we were talking, I kept catching something out of the corner of my eye near the door. It looked like a man in a brown shirt, but for the most part I ignored it. The one time I did turn my head it ended up being the girlfriend of the neighbor in the other side of the duplex, so I was thinking it was possibly my imagination and the whole time I had been seeing the girlfriend. But then the man appeared in full force, and I turned just in time to see him bend down and grab Nichole, and I instantly knew this was her abuser, who, up until this point, I had not seen. I watched for a second to see if he dared try to take her back upstairs with us sitting so close and with him knowing that I could see him, but he did. I excused myself and shot out of the chair I was in, blocking the staircase. I had made her a promise and I wasn't going to let him drag her back up to her hell, because I knew if he did, it was possible I'd never get her back down now that he was in the house. I wasn't going to leave her there for eternity. I had made her a promise.

I yelled to OBF and her mom to let them know that I was as crazy as I looked, but I had to be. The man slid past me with Nichole, but I grabbed onto her little arm, just not hard. I stared down the man for several seconds, and he yelled at her, yelled at me, and tried to pull her away. I just kept staring. Angry, he realized that I was stronger than him and that he would not win, so he let her go and huffed his way up the stairs. I quickly got her off of the stairs, assured her she would be okay, and brought her and her teddy bear into the room to sit next to the chair that we that I was sitting in.

Questions were asked, and I explained to OBF and her mom what had happened. I didn't explain the man, but I didn't have to. OBF's mom then told us that earlier that morning there was a man in a brown shirt in OBF's room, and she had seen him. It was clear this was the same man, and he had been there with one purpose earlier, to make sure Nichole didn't make any noise up in that attic so no one would find her. She hadn't, and he left the home to see what was going on with things being moved in and out, people coming in and out. He didn't count on a psychic medium coming over and knowing she was there anyway.

We left Nichole next to the chair for a few minutes while OBF got up so that I could walk her through what had just happened. When I turned to look up the staircase, the man was standing there staring us down. I knew he didn't dare come back down the stairs as long as we were wise to him, though I didn't doubt he'd try and sneak down them and grab her if he thought we had stopped paying attention for even just a second. I took this opportunity to point to him and say, "You, Sir, are a douchebag." He turned and left the top of the stairs after that. I guess he's like the one guy I dated who got a text message from someone he worked with saying he was an asshole, which then caused him to cry and quit his job. He just couldn't handle the cold, hard facts.

When we turned to go back in the room where we had been sitting, Kristan was with Nichole watching over her. Now let me tell you a little story about Kristan. Kristan is one of my murdered girls who came from a string of girls who were murdered by the same guy. Most of the other girls have either crossed over or have proven to be extremely helpful when I am working paranormal cases and someone needs help. They will go out to people's homes and help a spirit cross over if I can not do so. But then there's Kristan. Kristan will go out of her way to not help you. She sticks with me at all times, probably because of this, and is highly hysterical and good for a laugh, which often ends in me looking like a nut ball who is laughing at the air. It's fine. In fact, Kristan had her panties in a bunch yesterday because she didn't like the restaurant we had chosen to go to. I had to remind her that she was dead, she wasn't eating anything, but it still didn't help, and she stayed and pouted in the car the entire time. But add a cute little child, and she was in that house being helpful quicker than you could say conspiracy.

Kristan played patty cake with Nichole while we talked some more and the men came to take the washer and dryer while the dryer was in mid cycle. When that was all said and done, OBF and her mom came over to my house to dry the towels that hadn't gotten to finish drying to all their glory. Before we left for my house, I explained to Nichole what was going to happen, that she was leaving the house for good just like I had promised, and that she was going to a new home, one where I would be and Kristan would be also. She wasn't allowed to go outside without someone holding her hand, so I led her to my car, opened the door, got her inside, and prepared her for her new home. I didn't put her seat belt on, though. I'm pretty crazy, what with putting dead girls that only I can see in cars, but I draw the line at the seat belt. Let me just ask you something. What exactly is going to happen if we wreck and the dead girl doesn't have her seat belt on? Exactly.

When we got to my house, OBF had to let Nichole out of the car, because she was sitting on the passengers side with her teddy bear and wouldn't crawl across the seat. OBF took it well, though, and even asked me if Nichole was out of the car. I took Nichole's hand again and led her up the steps and into the house. I introduced her to my mom, who didn't quite know what to think, and then as I showed OBF around the house, I took Nichole back into my room and tucked her in just like she had asked, though the dead don't really sleep. The whole time she was excitedly asking me if this was her new home and if she could stay, and if we really had all these animals, because she always wanted one and was never allowed to have one. I fell in love with her cute little smile and told her yes.

The remainder of the night was spent watching awesome videos with OBF and chatting into the night when we had to say our goodbyes, but hopefully not for long. I went into my room to change into my pajamas, where I was greeted by Nichole asking me if she could keep the puppy. I assumed she meant Greta, who had followed me into my room, and told her we could only share. She said she didn't mean her, she meant the white dog with spots who was just like her. Immediately I realized she was talking about Rodeo, our beloved dalmatian that died just a few years aback and is constantly causing Greta consternation by sleeping in her spot when we go to bed at night. I told her that she could have her very first puppy, and she seemed very happy with this.

When I woke up this morning, both she and Rodeo, who had cuddled together the night before, weren't in my room. In the middle of making my coffee, she showed up to tell me that Kristan had taken her and introduced her to a bunch of people who she was going to meet when she crossed over, which was going to be soon. Rodeo was going to walk her over with Kristan, and she was excited now that she was getting to know some people who would truly care for her, unlike her family had.

I had been wondering all night just how it was that I was going to cross her over. She's so cute and sweet, and I barely wanted her to leave, yet knew I was going to have to coax her to the other side. I didn't want to do it too soon and was planning on working my way into it now that she had just gotten into an environment where, for the first time in her life and death, she was finally happy. It turns out, Miss I'm-Doing-Nothing-to-Help-You, aka Kristan, is actually helpful if the person is under the age of thirteen and less than four feet tall. Who would have thunk it? Not I, that's for sure.

But I learned something in the last twenty four hours. I learned that even though I doubt it sometimes, I am doing something good with my gift. If I hadn't gotten to see OBF yesterday, I wouldn't have been able to help this little girl, and who knows how long she'd be stuck in the hell she was living in. Yesterday was pure fate, and I can feel that something bigger is going to come out of it. I also learned that Kristan actually is helpful, which is probably a shock to every one of my girls who has ever known her. Sorry, Kristan, but you know it's true.

What I have to ask of you all now, though, is that if you can spare a prayer for Nichole to please do so. Please ask that she finds her way in Heaven and is finally at peace. She is always welcome here, crossed over or not, but please help me pray that she finds a place where she doesn't ever have to come back to this earth for any reason, where she is happy and safe, where she gets all that she deserved to get in life and more. Please help me put this poor wonderful little soul to rest.