At it agin

Oh la, it has been a while. Michigan contains ferocious appetites for literary inventions and lists of laser cowboys. I hope to meet you someday, Michigan.

Today is Tuesday and the clouds from the hurricanes cover the sky in voluminous skirts of moisture and electricity. This northern clime is only receiving piddling bits of rain compared to the rest of the country, but it clears the air and I appreciate the cooler temperatures. One feels like wearing clothes again.

I have joined a juggling club that meets once a week, for although I can do a cascade with three balls, it is one of my heart's desires to learn clubs. Nine year old children can do clubs, if they're precocious...me, I'm dedicated and ambitious, so that counts also even though I don't have my nine year old reflexes. I think there's enough time between throws for some error, just as with the balls. After the first meeting, I'll come up with a report.

Everyone is fine, the fall crops are abundant thanks to the voluptuous summer rains, and I tell you, the best potatoes for mashing in these parts is the flavorful Chippewa. It's been mashed potatoes every night this week just because. I mixed in a rutabaga for one supper, today there was a supplement of Swiss chard. Just a farm girl at heart.

The house I grew up in is haunted, but there is a chance it might land in my lap. Dad, who is still alive and better not have any idea of haunting anyone after because he's a pain in the ass and I would not ever be able to go to the bathroom again in my life thinking he could see me, has left everything in his will to my brother. Well and good, fine by me, no contest with any of it. Brother doesn't want the house and suggested that Dad give it to me. Me! I could possibly have a house again. I would take it in a heartbeat.

But, there would have to be a communication between me and whoever whatever visits there. A whoever I can deal with, you just make room for them and clean house, dish out a little respect. If it's a whatever, well, then I may ask for assistance from one of the folks from LilyDale, the psychic community near Lake Chautauqua. Let me grow my vegetables and leave me the hell alone. Really, there is nothing in the spirit world that will harm you like in the movies. No.

Sometimes it can be a pervasion of despair that hangs over the area and leeches off of any mind that is filled with sorrow itself. There are people like that, emotional vampires; it would not surprise me in the least to find entities beyond who do the same. Just cause you're dead doesn't mean you become an automatic saint, I wonder if there aren't lessons to be learned in that part of the cycle as well. Who knows. But if I do get the house, there will be room for everyone who respects the house rules. I already bought a cast iron door knocker.

You all get to sleep and put an extra blanket at the bottom of the bed in case there is a chill tonight. Sun is long gone, and the crickets are quiet in the cool night air. Dreams have been filled with finding sea shells, or coins on the ground. Maybe tonight I will think of interior paint colors and beebalm. Peaceful night, Michigan.