Gone to the Dogs

Checked in on my blogs today. I didn't mean to let a couple of years go by. What happened to the me that used to check on my blogs almost daily? Twitter, Facebook and dogs.

My life experienced a paradigm shift when I retired. I not only retired, I moved back to the States after 30+ years living overseas to a state and city where I knew two whole people other than my husband and son. I was no longer going in to teach daily, with the intellectual jolt and interaction with students and colleagues. I experienced culture shock. Eek. As great as it was not having to go to work each day, I also lost my reason for getting up and getting moving. I had health issues that needed to be addressed. I could have written posts about my difficult assimilation and my gall bladder issues, but I decided to spare you my misery. Are you bored with this paragraph of my life? I am. Bleach.

Moving on. I continued tweeting on Twitter. Compared to blogging, which takes hours, tweeting 140 characters is easy and fast. Feedback is quick, and plucking out interesting news, links and points of view out of the Twitter feed kept my attention much better than looking at a blank writing field and trying to fill it. But, too much Twitter made me twitch, so I even stopped doing that. Facebook kept me in touch with friends I had left behind, and it still does.

But, what mostly happened to me is that my life went to the dogs: young dogs, old dogs, puppies, shy dogs, happy-go-lucky dogs, well-behaved dogs, dogs who needed basic training.

Bogart on our deck, trying to hide under a chair.

It all started with a blurry photo posted by a new acquaintance on Facebook of a depressed young dog named Bogart curled up in the fetal position at the Blount County Animal Center where volunteers' efforts had not managed to get him to adjust to life at the shelter. He was about 7 months old and had spent his life living in the wild with his mother and brother. He wasn't eating and was skin and bones under his long hair. He was unadoptable and the outcome for him was not promising. I looked at that photo and thought, I think I can help him.

And that is a tale in itself, how I went to the shelter and registered as a foster, how Bogart would not walk on a leash and pooped and peed in fear when my son picked him up to carry him to our car, how he almost immediately escaped our fenced yard, how we tempted him back (salmon snacks), how each day for a month we focused on finding ways to help him make the small, gradual progress that eventually lead to him trusting us and us adopting him and renaming him Mr. Guster (AKA Gus, AKA Guster Longfellow).

George and Guinness, therapy pups.

Part of our therapy included bringing home a couple of bull mastiff puppies (George and Guinness) who found Guster fascinating. If he ran away, they ran after him. If he hunkered down, they climbed on top of him or hunkered down next to him. They helped him make a big leap forward into learning how to be a dog who loves humans.

After they left to be adopted through a rescue in Pennsylvania, other dogs and puppies came and went. In one year we fostered 34 dogs and puppies. Some stayed a few days, others a few months, depending on the need. Two sick little puppies did not survive. It has been an adventure that has introduced us into the world of animal shelters, rescues and dedicated volunteers who try to save as many lives as they can.

Guster, formerly Bogart, playing tug of war with shy Maxwell as Jadzia watches. Guster has moved from being the dog who needs help adjusting to the dog who helps other dogs adjust.

My screen saver shows me images of the much-loved doggy souls who have passed through our door, pooped in our yard or (in the case of puppies) on newspapers in our kitchen floor, curled up next to us on our couch and given us lots and lots of doggy kisses.

They told me when I retired, I would find something to do. It's more a case of they found me.

I occasionally watch an episode of a ghost hunting show, and my belief that the dead try to communicate with us from time to time has not changed, but I have long since lost interest in looking at picture and videos with which people try to prove the existence of ghosts. Boring and mostly bogus.

My life is focused on the living now, on those who need my help to stay alive and not become doggy ghosts before their time.

From left, son's dog Jadzia, rescued from an abusive airman who planned to dump her on a country road because he had orders for England and his attempts to house train her by beating her were not getting him the results he wanted; former foster dog Maxwell, another abuse victim who came to us a very shy dog, foster failure Guster who spent early life struggling to survive in the wild and has progressed from being depressed and afraid of all humans to my new BFF, Gidget, the only one in this image we acquired from a breeder, who acts as a therapy dog for many of our fosters, and current foster dog Precious who came to us looking like a plucked chicken suffering the effects of extreme neglect. She has her own Facebook page: Saving Precious

Faking a Ghost Photo EZ as an iphone app

Adding a ghost to a photo used to mean learning how to use a program like Photoshop on your PC, but now all you need is a smart phone like the iphone and a smart app.

The photo on the right was supposedly taken by a builder and passed off as the ghost of a schoolboy watching his old school be demolished . . . yeah, yeah, soppy story, truthful witness . . . all fabricated, but it was published in a couple of newspapers, who admittedly, are very lax these days about checking sources or verifying, well, anything, before publishing.

One example, of a little girl in a plaid dress in the stairwell of a railway station, was submitted to Aussie Ghosts in April 2010, and the poster honestly believed that it couldn't have been edited because his friend took it with his iphone. It turns out that in January 2010, just a few months earlier, an iphone app called Ghost Capture was introduced, leading to a rash of little girl in a plaid dress sightings. The app currently has 20 images that can be inserted, moved around, faded in, etc. to create a convincing effect with which to scare your mom or amaze your more gullible friends.

The photo on the left of a little girl on a ship was submitted to the Aussie Ghosts forum to show that the one on the right of a little girl in a train station was a fake created with the iphone app called Ghost Capture. SOURCE

To download the Ghost Capture app, go to this link or download it directly from itunes. There are other similar apps and I'm sure there will be more as fast as enterprising entrepreneurs can create them.

You can view the top 10 submissions of "ghost photos" created with this app at Top 10 photos http://ghostsdontexist.blogspot.com/2010/03/scariest-photo-contest-finalists-vote.html

Have fun, but don't be fooled.

Thanks for Reading

Just a quick thank you to everyone who has stopped by my blog and read my posts. It's been a rough and stressful year for me with my energies being focussed on other demanding enterprises, and I haven't had much time for blogging, but summer is here, which means a much needed break for teacher me. I have also taken action to simplify some aspects of my life, so I hope to be able to bring my blogs up to date in the next few weeks and have more time to spend on them in the next months. Thanks for stopping by.

Vampires Walk Among Us

This Easter there are those who will rise early to greet the sun or celebrate Christ's resurrection in church wearing new clothes, perhaps even a traditional Easter bonnet. People, whether Christian or not, will have hidden eggs for their children to find, and saved a chocolate bunny for themselves. This year there have been and will be a trickle of zombie Jesus jokes on Twitter. I write about vampires.

I was tempted by the zombie comparison (the dead rise and walk among us), but as usual, it is the fascination that some people have for vampires that fascinates me.

I recently got an e-mail from Amazon, quickly deleted, letting me know the fourth installment of the Twilight series is out or about to be out, whatever. I didn't read that far. I've done my annual pondering of the idiocy of those who watch the TV shows and spend good money on the books and movies, demonstrating fervent devotion to the concept that vampires are sexy, and to be desired, even though the whole concept is about Bloody Marys, literally.

This year I have compiled a list of the non-fiction vampires among us we really need to worry about.

The Westboro Baptist Church. Those blood-suckers protest at the funerals of our fallen soldiers. They give Christians and Baptists, with whom they are NOT associated, a bad name.

The ministers of the Christian Right. They are loud, they are on TV, they have mega-churches and rock bands, and lots of pretty families following them, but thankfully, they are still in the minority, at least outside of the South. Why do I think they are vampires? Because they are self-righteous, patriarchal, sexist, narrow-minded, Old-Testament despisers of the rest of us Christians who would suck the freedom to think, reason, and choose right out of our life and our country if we let them. It is their way of life, their interpretation of the Bible, their version of marriage, or you go to Hell. Homosexuals are evil. Science is bad. Evolution is a fairy tale. They're going to fly up into the clouds like pure white doves, and Jesus is going to come down with a bloody sword and show us the rest of us what's what. They are Puritans in living color who flock to the XXX porn shops along the Interstate, and get their jollies watching sexy vampire movies.

The Tea Party movement, or Teabaggers. They get their unfair and unbalanced news from Fox, and are typically white and xenophobic. I used a big word, xenophobic, because most of them, if they read this, will have to look it up to find out what it means. They remember something, something about the Boston Tea Party and the Declaration of Independence, and the rest of their opinions are spoon-fed to them by real vampires like Glen Beck, Rush Limbaugh, Brunette Barbie Sarah Palin, and the vampire rulers who hide in the dark pulling their strings. Teabaggers don't handle paragraphs or logical sequential reasoning well, so if you just pepper your discourse with words like FREEDOM, SOCIALISM, SOCCER MOM, TAKE BACK OUR COUNTRY, and RELOAD, they will rise up, poorly-spelled signs in hand, and follow you anywhere. So, not zombies, not quite vampires, but starring in a supporting role.

The previous two Easters, I wrote about the vampires in your personal life you need to avoid, the passive-aggressives in the home and the workplace, but this year, I'm feeling political. I take it personally when idiots try to suck the freedom out of our country in the name of freedom. The distinction between real news and propaganda have become blurred in the media. Smart people need to learn the difference. I don't know that there's much we can do about the dumb people. Like the poor Jesus told us about, they will always be with us.

So, this Easter be a smart people.

The Dork Anthem

The joker with the guitar used to be a student in my Spanish class back in the day, and it's nice to see him having so much fun and providing so much delightful wackiness for everyone else. Enjoy the video and if you like it, please share the YouTube link with your friends. Spread the word. It's okay to be a dork in high school. Later on, the jocks will work for you!

You can see more videos of Dave and Brian HERE or visit their website HERE.

Night Noises

We all know that houses can produce unexplained noises in the night, and we've learned to dismiss most of them and go back to sleep. I remember a year ago when I was sure there was someone in the house with us, because I thought I heard a door close upstairs, but later I was able to rationalize that our windows were open and I probably just heard the next-door neighbors opening their front door.

There have been a couple of incidents I am hard put to explain. The first happened several years ago and involved a pile of ashes on our dining room table. We were preparing for a Christmas Eve dinner with guests, and I had put a new white tablecloth on the table. We left the house and went to the commissary (grocery store for you who are not military-connected) to pick up a few last minute things, and when we returned an hour later, found a pile of ashes, about a tablespoon's worth, on the table, on top of that pristine tablecloth, an incongruously neat little pile of ashes where ashes could not possibly be. We were never able to solve the mystery of how they got there. No fireplace, no light fixture above the table, no signs of forced entry, no reason for the ashes to be there. The former resident of the house, who had died in the middle bedroom of cancer, had been a smoker. Had he dropped in for a visit, or for a smoke? We'll never know.

A few months ago we moved to another house. Last night I was sound asleep when I woke a few minutes after 3 a.m. to a loud crash in the kitchen, just down the hall from our bedroom. I stumbled out of bed, and accompanied by my two dogs who mistakenly thought it was morning and they were going to get something to eat, felt my way to the kitchen.

I was groggy and did not even think to feel for the light switch in the hall. Since the light switch in the kitchen was on the far side of the room, I stood peering into the darkness until I spotted something round and dark lying in the middle of the floor. When I picked it up, I found that it was a small frying pan. But how had it ended up more than 3 feet from the drying spot on top of the dishwasher where I had set it after washing it the night before?

My husband's reasoning: it must have fallen off the counter and rolled there. Possible? Certainly, but it doesn't fit my memory of where I set the pan, which was not near the edge, the lack of earthquakes in our vicinity, and my memory of the sound I heard, which sounded like something had fallen flat on the floor, not rolled or scooted or bounced. So, natural event or ghost cat or ghost chicken (poultry-geist)? No way to know for sure.

Well, the pan was unharmed, so no point worrying about it. . . unless it happens again! Cue spooky music.

Increased Traffic

Cartoons by Andertoons

With understated wit, cartoonist Mark Anderson has taken a humorous look at one possible consequence of the public's increased interest in the paranormal.

The desire to contact spirits and a new sport called ghost hunting, which used to be of interest to only small segments of society, have attained popularity and become mainstream. Could this possibly lead to decreased bandwidth in the spirit world? Probably not, but it's a very funny cartoon.

Do you ever wonder what the ghosts who haunt sites visited regularly by ghost tours think about the increased traffic? Do the spirits there gossip and joke about the wide-eyed tourists who parade through their homes with flashing cameras after the crowds have gone home? I hope so. Somehow, I feel it's only fair to complete the circle. What goes around comes around, you know.

Debunking the Poltergeist Fakers

Here's another great debunking video from Patrick Doyle. I love the way he studies the fakes and then reproduces them. It's hard to argue with the results. Most intelligent people can figure out by the way people "sell" their videos, often with their outrageous claims of proof or elaborate set-ups with spooky music in which they tell us things like "this is the most haunted house in the most haunted city of [fill_in_the_blank], but most of us don't have the time or know-how to actually figure out how they did it and call them out.

Most of what is on YouTube or other sites, whether video or photographic evidence, either has a perfectly natural explanation or is being manufactured as a practical joke on you. Seriously, don't be gullible. Question everything. I especially like one quote Patrick used in this video: Extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence. Don't just take someone's word for it.

Watch more Haunted Hoax episodes HERE.

Hopeful Christmas Greetings

Warm wishes for a safe, healthy and happy
Christmas and New Year.

I realize that there is no guarantee that any or all of these things are part of your life right now. We all know that sometimes bad things happen to good people, and that is out of our control. But, we can all look for opportunities to support those in need, whether family, friends or strangers.

It is the goodness of most people that I find to be the most reliable constant in the universe. Trust in that. Look for it. Be a part of it, and we will all get through the hard times together.

In Transition

I have missed this blog, missed writing, missed looking to see who has been visiting, and what topics they have been reading about.

My life has been consumed the past couple of months with uprooting myself from our house in the German village where we lived the past 22 years into a rental house in another village, one I already regret moving into, but that's a side issue to be posted under Crazy German Landlords on another blog.

We did a lot of the moving ourselves, and trying to do that and work full-time has been grueling, so there has been no time to wax philosophical on this blog, but hopefully, that day will be coming soon.

The boxes have been emptied, which is not the same as saying everything is in place, but we are close. It took two weeks to find my husband's toothbrush. Now, the hunt is on for the battery charger for my camera and my box of checks.

10 Signs You've Overdosed on Church

For those of you who still have a sense of humor about church (a good sign), a friendly list of warning signs to watch out for to keep you walking in the light, rather than being blinded by it.

I realize some of you may now feel obligated to pray for me or hate me, depending on how deep in the water you were dunked, but if those who still believe in science and reason get a chuckle out of this, I'm okay with that.

Your Facebook status constantly brags
about how "blessed" your day was.

You smile all the time,
whether you feel like it or not.


You spend less time with your family than you used to,
because you are so very busy doing the Lord's work.

You can quote from all your favorite scenes
in the Left Behind novels.


You home school your kids,
so they won't be exposed to sex or science or thinking.


The last romance novel you read ended with a baptism,

instead of an orgasm.

You hold hands and pray before eating lunch at Applebee's.

You covet your neighbor's Bible cover.


You take your kids to see the dinosaurs
at the Creation museum.


The sheep in your church are all the same color.

Places where I snagged the images (the sheep are mine)

Have a Blessed Day
smiling teens
Church lady
Dear to Me
Gay lesson interruption
1994 Rapture sign
Bible cover
Charles Darwin's Night at the Creation Museum (Mad Magazine cover)

Mystery from the Attic

This summer we have been not only painting and doing other house improvements, but also trying to go through our possessions in preparation to moving. Yesterday my husband started going through the stuff in the attic.

At the top of the stairs there is a small door that leads to storage space under the roof eaves. In that space, over the years, we have stored old suitcases, computer boxes and pet carriers. To my hubby's surprise, when he opened the door yesterday, he saw straight ahead of him sitting on top of one of the pet kennels a cardboard tray containing what appeared to be a child's project, now fallen apart.

He brought it to me and we marveled, not just at the project, but at how it came to be sitting on top of a pet carrier in our attic. That space in the attic is not one we access frequently, but we have been in and out of it many times over the years to put things in and get things out and neither of us had ever seen this object, let alone place it on top of the pet carrier. He also found 3 pairs of German socks rolled up on the floor next to the kennel. We are both sure these objects were not there previously. They just appeared.

That evening, I sat down to watch television and take a look closer at our mysterious object. I was amazed at the number of small items I saw and how much work someone had at one time put into the creation of what I now saw was a model of a church, what church where, I still don't know. Perhaps a reader will know.

I sorted through the pieces and tried to make sense of them, taking pictures as I went. I was particularly taken with the church steeple with its clock and the angel perched on top of the little oriel window (a small bay window that projects from a wall). Regluing the oriel to the steeple was the first act of restoration I did.

At first I thought the little round pieces might represent people, but as I looked at the roofs of the building, I saw little white squares where it looked like the bases had once been glued, and I decided out that they belonged on the roof like those onion shapes on the top of Russian churches.

I found stairs going nowhere, although on one side, there was a platform and around it what I decided were columns that might hold up a roof, and I also found a four-sided pyramid roof to fit on top. One metal rail was in place and I was able to replace its twin. But, the stairs on the other side, still lead nowhere. Whatever object was there, is lost.

I worked my way through the mess, replacing what I could, discarding small pieces whose purpose I could not determine and finding that the little trees and bushes crumbled into dust if I tried to pick them up and put them back in place. To my delight, I found small images of people, perhaps drawn, perhaps cut out and mounted. I love the group of men standing there looking at the church. Aren't they delightful?

I also found along one wall an image, that when I turned it over, turned out to be a couple of lovers, sneaking a snuggle outside the walls.

There is also a woman on a bench that I had trouble getting to sit up, but I also found amusing. She's also holding her arms out wide. What's that about?

When I declared a finish, I was left with a smattering of extra pieces that I tossed and a lot of dust which I gently blew away, and I'm sure not all is as it was, but I hope that the spirit of the person who created this or placed this in our way (because how else do you explain it's mysterious appearance?) is happy to see it somewhat restored and not lost altogether.

I've put it together, now what? I can't say I really want to move it and take it with me, or leave it permanently on my sofa table, so I'm open to suggestion. It's not a museum piece, just a child's project once saved, then lost, now found again by a stranger. Placing it here on the Internet may be as close as it will come to immortality.

Miss Me - But Let Me Go

This wonderful poem, Miss Me - But Let Me Go, was found in the pocket of a dead British WW1 soldier. The author is unknown.

I place it here in honor of my good friends, David and Frank.

When I come to the end of the road
And the sun has set for me,
I want no tears in a gloom-filled room,
Why cry for a soul set free?

Miss me a little – But not for long
And not with your head bowed low,
Remember the love that we once shared,
Miss me – But let me go.

For this is a journey we all must take,
And each must go alone,
It’s all a part of the Master’s plan
A step on the road to home.

When you are lonely and sick of heart
Go to your friends that we know,
And bury your sorrows in doing good works,
Miss me – But let me go.

Mr. Clark has animated many more poems and short literary treasures and you can view them HERE.

Don't Count on Tomorrow

Friday morning, I got up with the only plan for the day to drive to Zwingenberg an der Neckar for Frank's funeral. You can read about Frank's memorial service here.

One death of a friend was quite enough, but when I checked into Aussie Ghosts, I discovered a message posted by the son of one of our treasured members, Ghostlaird, that his father had passed away. What a shock I had. We had just exchanged messages the night before. He wanted some help interpreting a tarot card reading he had done online, and I told him I was tired and sore from painting my kitchen and I would get back to him tomorrow.

But tomorrow didn't come. It's not a big deal that I didn't do this. It would not have changed a thing, and certainly would not have forecast his imminent passing. In fact, any guesses I made about the cards would have been way off, since I expected them to be about a future in this reality. It's only now that I know the outcome, that I am able to see their meaning. It was an amazingly accurate reading.

But this post isn't about tarot cards, a subject I've had very little experience with and know only a little about. It's about remembering that we only have today. Ghostlaird, whose real name is Dave, had every expectation of being here today, as did my young friend Frank. But that isn't what happened. For whatever reasons, they both finished what they had to accomplish in this life and have moved on to another state of being, one out of our reach for now. I treasure both of their friendships, and miss their company.

As we were settling down in bed last night, my husband said to me, "Call your mom."

"Why do you say that?" I asked.

But the answer was obvious. So, call your mom (or dad), tell your kids you love them, hug a friend, share that sentiment you've been holding onto, because you only have today.

You can't count on tomorrow.

So long, Frank, and thanks for all the fish

I've had life and death on my mind a lot this past week.

A young man, a former student of mine, recently (May 29, 2009) wrote on his page on Facebook:

Now I lay me down to sleep, pray the lord my soul to take.

If I die before I wake, thanks a helluvalot for the friggin' warning!

G'night, ya'll.

He was just being funny, and I still enjoy remembering the irreverent cheek with which he addressed this old nursery rhyme and most everything else in life. However, a week after writing this (June 8, 2009) he died in his sleep. I'm not making this up. Yes, it is ironic, but when it is someone you care about, who cares about irony?

Frank was a young man I was very fond of, a clever, funny individual, barely out of his 20s, a joy to his friends and family, unexpectedly gone early.

This past week also saw a baby born to friends, a young couple about the same age as Frank. Both events occurred with days of each other, baby Charlie coming into this world on Friday, Frank leaving it three days later.

Here's something else odd that seems to tie in to these events. Unknown to me, Frank died sometime Monday night. In that last dreaming state before waking Wednesday morning, I had a vivid dream during which I flew. I've had flying dreams before, but only rarely. Years go by between flying dreams for me.

In the dream, I and another woman were teachers charged with assisting young people learning to fly. In my waking life, I am a teacher, and the symbolism here fits my beliefs. Isn't that the job of parents and teachers, to give our children wings and help them fly?

The other teacher and I each had a small group of young people, teenagers by the look of them, who were holding hands on top of a steep hillside. We sprang into the air with them and then let go, but after hanging in the air for a few seconds, they started to drift down again like balloons leaking air. This reminded me of astronauts on the moon, where the gravity is weak, who were able to take big leaps, but did not lose that gravitational bond with the moon's surface. I watched the young people kick off again as soon as they were close to the surface, float up, drift back down, kick off, and repeat the process, basically taking big hops down the side of the hill. But, none of them were able to actually fly.

Finally, we all reached a path that ran horizontally across the downward path. We had started walking along the path, basically through with the lesson, when I impulsively stopped, leaped straight up with my hands in the air, as one would when diving off a diving board, leveled off and flew over their heads. I was showing them that one could fly if one just believed one could. I flew down the path for a bit until I reached a bend in the path. The path took a sharp left, and straight ahead there was another drop off. As I flew out into the air past the turn, a young man joined me in flight and together we did a couple of loop the loops in the air. Then, that part of the dream ended. I thought nothing of it when I awoke, except how nice it had been to have a flying dream.

I took my shower, went downstairs, ate my breakfast, and then my husband told me that Frank was dead. I did not believe him. I thought he was fooling around or that Frank, who was very witty, had written some clever comment on his Facebook page, but he said, no, Frank had died in his sleep.

And then I looked at that dream with fresh eyes. I'm not terribly psychic. I don't think I've ever had a dream that could be called precognitive, but that this dream may have been about Frank or dreamed with Frank, I have to wonder. There is no way to know for sure, but I wish I'd gotten a look at the face of my fellow flier. For, it seems to me, that one who was once earthbound as we are, finally achieved flight.

Coincidentally, I am also reading Deepak Chopra's book Life After Death: the Burden of Proof. One of the stories that he tells from Indian tradition is of a wise man who asks a young woman, "Do you remember ever not being alive?" Of course, she doesn't. None of us remember not being alive. We only remember being alive, not the point at which our lives began. He goes on to tell her that our parents tell us the first great lie, that our life began when we were born. And if we believe THAT lie, that life has a beginning, then we will believe the other lie, that life has an ending.

I have long believed that we were alive in spiritual form before we entered our current physical bodies, and it is only that mortal shell we inhabit that dies, not the soul. Nothing can kill the soul. It is eternal.

It doesn't stop me from grieving the passing of my young friend, gone too soon from my life and the life of his parents, family and friends, for it is a separation we did not ask for. I miss Frank, but it is comforting to know that he has found his metaphorical wings.

The image at the top of the post was Frank's last profile image on Facebook.

Where Everybody Knows My Name

Everyone should have a place to hang out, and in this digital age, people are spending more and more of their time hanging out online. What seemed inconceivable just a few years ago is now the norm. Many, if not most, people with computers and online access have a presence on not just one, but multiple social networking sites.

So, where do I hang out?  For keeping up with friends, family and former students, I visit Facebook every day. I'm sensing some pressure to join Twitter, but so far, have resisted that one.  I may get sucked in there one day just to keep up with my kids, but not yet. I haven't been able to figure out the attraction of tweeting. Maybe it has something to do with my not having a smart phone or being able to text at the speed of light.

It is on forums that I have met and made friendships with people all over the world who share a common interest. I hang out at the Aussie Ghosts forum, where we have been lucky enough to attract a really sweet group of people. Jemm, one of our moderators, recently put together this composite image of some of our active members that I think is really cool and I thought I would share it with you. 

Great job, Jemm.

S.M.A.P.I.S. Finds the Funny

There's a new ghost hunting team in town. S.M.A.P.I.S., The Southeastern Michigan Alliance of Paranormal Investigators Society, is in search of Grandma's urn. Ever since their leader, Rodger, heard his grandmother's ghost whisper Find us, in his ear, it has been their motto, and the source of the name of their show, Ghost Finders.

Rodger is a ghost hunter by night, plumber by day. . . . [he] prides himself on his almost completed book, The Search for Paranormal Phenomena: a Guide. He often quotes himself with relevant passages from it. He aspires to make SMAPIS a national venture, envisioning himself as the president of a huge, non-profit organization from which he makes a huge profit.

Hmm, sound familiar? A nice cross blend of Ryan and Jason/Grant.

Mary is an assistant fourth grade teacher by day. She works at a quaint public school in rural Romeo, Michigan. She is a true believer in all things paranormal.

Of course, she is. Cute as a button, witchy but with a clear complexion. I like her.

Simon is a Radio Shack manager by day. . .  the resident skeptic of SMAPIS. He tries to keep Rodger and Mary on track as they tend to think everything they pick up must be a ghost.

Every group needs one to give the illusion that real science is happening.

Randy works at the corner gas station by day and/or night. He is the official SMAPIS gopher, and supervises the setup and breakdown of equipment on location.

He's the comic relief, apparently. I wonder if he has any tattoos?

Visit their website to learn more about the team: http://smapis.com/bios.html

I'm not sure who is responsible for this, but they are having a great time spoofing the popular ghost hunting shows. I like the way they mimic the camera angles of the shows, that wide-eyed look from the night vision camera, the guys sitting around a table going over the evidence and saying, What the hell?,  one of them looking sincerely into the camera and telling the audience for the millionth time what an EVP is, etc. I realize there are some Republicans who still think that Stephen Colbert is one of them. But, those of us with finely-tuned funny bones get him, and we get this, too. Enjoy the show.

Ready or Not

I was lying awake a few nights ago during that time between waking and sleeping when one's brain is on idle, but the engine is still running. I suddenly realized that the game of Hide and Seek is a metaphor for life. Not the game itself, just the part where the seeker says, "Ready or Not," just before coming after you to see if you are truly well hidden.

Life is like that. Babies probably aren't ready to be born and no parent feels truly ready for the birth of the baby, but it all happens anyway, Ready or Not.

Most of our life is like that. We rarely feel truly ready for anything, but somehow we manage to swallow our fears and take the next step, jump off the high dive, get behind the wheel for the first time, step out on stage and sing, all the while hoping for the best and praying we don't fall flat on our faces or make a terrible mess of things.

As is life, so is death. Ready or Not, it comes to us. Some people have the good luck to see death coming for them from afar with time to pack their spiritual bags for departure; others are caught mid step, disbelieving that they are not still there on the sidewalk on their way to work.

The best way to deal with death is to accept it as inevitable. Only then are you free to live.

The fear of death follows from the fear of life. A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time. --Mark Twain

Some people are so afraid to die that they never begin to live. --Henry Van Dyke

To live in fear of death is to live in fear. Who wants to live in fear? Just accept that you will die some day. Stop fighting the idea. None of us knows when it is coming for us. The best we can hope is that when it comes, we will accept it with grace as a transition, and not be one of the foolish ones wandering the earth not knowing they are dead. Just like everyone else, one day we will all get evicted from this body, Ready or Not.

Porcelain Ghost

This poem is the result of digging through the piles of words in a magnetic poetry set.

It's a poem, so I won't analyze it for you. It's like a joke; if you have to explain it, it's not any good. I leave it up to you to apply your own interpretation.

To learn about magnetic poetry, click HERE.

Vampires R Us

For Sale on Etsy

Last year for Easter, I wrote about vampires. This year I find myself, oddly enough, thinking along the same lines. What is it about Easter and vampires?

Easter is about death. So are vampires.
Easter is about defeating death. So are vampires.
Easter is about life everlasting. So are vampires.

Easter is about love everlasting. So, according to the sign for sale on Etsy, are vampires.

Thinking about buying the cute little sign? Come a little closer and let me whisper into your ear: 

Really? Only a vampire can love you forever?  Does that mean your mommy and daddy don't? Not God, not Jesus, not Mohammed, nobody but a blood-sucking vampire? Did your boyfriend dump you and now ordinary isn't good enough? Feeling under-appreciated and hoping a vampire will see what nobody else sees, that you, like Bella, are really, really special? Are you hearing how pathetic this sounds? Wake up, get real, get over whatever it is you need to get over and return to the land of the living!

Moving on . . .
Easter is about the last supper. So are vampires.

Your last act is to be their supper. Yum.

Vampires are all the rage right now in books and movies. I get far more people coming to this blog because they google something about vampires than about ghosts or spirits.

Let's face it, the vampires are moving in. They're taking over. They're slowly insinuating themselves into every aspect of our lives. Is there some kind of conspiracy going on here? What is it going to take to get rid of these guys? 

The myth of the vampire is about questions we want answers to:  life, death, immortality. You can get some answers if you go to church, but hey, let's be honest, it's different information depending on which church you attend, or synagogue, or mosque, or temple. The basic story is we get life after death. What it's like and how you guarantee yourself a good picnic spot in a peaceful meadow as opposed to an uncomfortable one next to the river of fire and brimstone varies depending on the source. No wonder people are confused. Too many messages and too many messengers.

Besides, getting preached at on this topic in church isn't nearly as much fun as watching a vampire movie or reading a novel. With vampires, you get some of the same information with titillating sexual innuendoes thrown in for free. So what if it's bogus information. It's catching on.

Vampires haven't made much of a move on Easter yet, but I sense it is just a matter of time. Check out the following merchandise being marketed at Etsy where this little critter formerly known as "vampire bat" is trying to appeal to Easter shoppers merely by adding some cute bunny ears:

Easter Bat

Will it work? That's up to you. He's adorable, isn't he?