Ghost Hunters and Two Dickens Stories in One: What a Deal!!!!!

Master has the heat down again. I had to find my house shoes, (a southern term according to my dear wife. It endears me.) my feet were freezing. I look over and she is crocheting a thick yarn blanket sitting under a thick yarn blanket. It’s so cold the dog is hid under the blanket. I turn on Iron Chef America and instead of cooking stuff they have the chill battle going on! Ugh! I feel like Bob Cratchet before Scrooge changed. I’m hunched over with my tight little pants and my over coat on whilst checking the coals for an ember to hold in my hand. Anybody want to send more Snuggies I could use one!


Actually, it is cold but not due to anything my wife has done. I also searched out my house shoes in order to warm my feet up because I am telling you, if I am cold, it’s cold.

Had a good day at work: Very successful meetings with a lot of team work and one mindedness.

Fish are fed, kids, me, my wife, dogs and cat all taken care of and tucked in bed. The cat I hear is lying in the middle of my bed right now. He’ll be down soon to perch on my blanket or Snuggie.

Tonight Keira put together a letter. One of her things is to write letters to us and seal them up. She brings them to us and stands there waiting for us to open them and then right as we do and we are about to unveil the surprise she says “It’s a pikcha!”

“Ah it is. Good job Keira.”

In this case, she wanted to send it to Grandma. So I staved her off a bit by saying, “I don’t know Grandma’s address.”

She said “What?”

I repeat myself and she says, “Who does?”

“Mommy.” I say.

“Oh. I be right back.” She ran over to mommy and had her write the address on the envelope and then came back to me pointing to the ledge where mommy’s keys were for the mail box. She wanted that firkin letter put in the box and now!

So we got the keys and I took her to the mail box to put her letter in. She was very proud of herself and is expecting correspondence from the grandparents now. Trouble is, the letter had no postage and I went right back out and put it in my pocket. As cool as it would be to send that letter, we need to be a little more organized next time and make sure it is a legitimate letter with a sealed note or picture; a stamp would be good too. And then we can really send something from Keira. This letter might get flagged and searched for Anthrax or something.

End result, she’s happy and feels good about the letter and the post of it to our mail box.

Have you ever HEARD a cat come down the stairs. I mean you hear him lumbering along but cant see him.  If I didnt know it was him I would be on the road looking for something to record EVP's for Ghost Hunters.  (EVP is Electronic Voice Phenomenon.  THats for Mel.) 

Oliver is so weird. He is a cat and is supposed to be all agile and fast as well as stealthy. He’s clumsy, loud, getting large, slow and agility is not in his near family tree and apparently a pyromaniac. (See previous stories a few entries ago.

I’m sitting here right now and hear he is tired because I heard him thump on the floor as he stretched. Isn’t he supposed to be quiet? Then out to the landing he strolls as I hear a groan and some claws and then here he comes, lumbering down the stairs like a tiny hare with a big ass! Thump, thump squeak on each step. What the heck? You’re a cat dude!

Now he’s on the pony wall staring at me wanting food. He’ll get mad in a minute and come sit on my lap and stare at me as he paws on my stomach saying “Hey Jim, remember that stuff over there y the sink? I could take care of some of that for ya. I don’t have thumbs so I kinda need ya in there with me and then I will leave ya alone. Just a little hep…hep I say. My name is Oliver! Some more please suh!”

Lord. Lets feed the cat. I need some water anyway. Till tomorrow y’all!



XO ILY YM