USED BOOK SALE...ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK!

I heard about the used book sale at the library and planned on going.  I was looking forward to it until the morning of, when for some strange reason I found myself obsessing over it.  What had been something I was excited about for the past three weeks had suddenly turned into an anxiety-ridden thought, and I almost felt like there was a reason I shouldn't go.  Should I arrive early but wait in the car, or wait at the doors?  Should I carry with me the books I need to return and do that first when the doors open, or do it after I've already browsed the book sale?  Would it be better to be there first thing, or go later instead?  I didn't know why I was feeling anxiety.  I knew it wouldn't be a large book sale, being held in the small meeting room of the library.  Perhaps my anxiety was only due to the fact that I'd be disappointed over not finding anything I wanted.  I psychically scanned to see if that was going to be the culprit, but it didn't seem so.  My anxiety seemed to be coming from other people, as if I were feeling protective of something.

I arrive just ten minutes before the doors open and I see a very long line of people at one of the library's two front doors.  In typical human behavioral fashion, I stand at the end of the line even though I have no idea why there's a line in the first place.  I notice that most everyone has either one or two cardboard boxes or several large tote bags, and it doesn't take me long to realize that the reason for my apprehension and anxiety was due to the fact that this crowd who'd beat me here to the book sale wasn't here for the same reasons I was.  I was merely looking forward to taking my time browsing the books, reading the backs of many, and selecting only those that captured my interest.  Everyone else was here to shove as many books into their boxes and bags as they could for the sake of turning around and selling them at a higher price somewhere else.  Ugh.

I was instantly annoyed at this realization although pleased to solve the mystery of this morning's unusual anxiety.  The aggravating feeling I'd been sensing in my energy, I now knew, was because of all these people who'd also been excitedly planning on coming to the book sale, and their intention and my intention were definitely not in alignment.

The line kept forming long past me.  Of the two men directly behind me, the middle-aged one using walking canes that could barely help him ambulate was doing most of the talking between him and his younger buddy who didn't seem as gung ho to be there.  For the next several minutes he gave his buddy the detailed skinny of the art of used book selling with such haughtiness you'd think he'd invented it himself, which made me wonder why his younger friend didn't already know all this since they drove together.  Was he this guy's son and Pops was teaching him the family biz?

He pointed out that so-and-so was at the front of the line, and then ironically, so-and-so just happened to turn and notice them and began walking toward us.  "Are you here to find your fortune?" the (what's a nice way of saying crippled?) man called out to him cheerily, to which he replied he was doing the usual, just scouting out the sales.

Then ensued a brief monologue from annoying crippled cane guy (yeah, I'm not being nice anymore) about how such a small book sale sure had brought out a big crowd, but that's what happens when there are so few book sales this time of year until the bigger ones come in the summer, and how no one thinks spending four hours on the road is worth their while going down to the Springs on the chance they might not find enough bargains.  "I don't mind spending $300 if I know I'll make it back eventually and it stocks up my supplies for the long term, but I'll only do it if I think it's worth the effort."  The man from the front of the line was cordial, nodded and agreed, and then went back to the head of the line.  Then, to someone else in line, the gregarious man with the canes called out and uncreatively repeated, "Are you here to find your fortune?"  The other book dealer came over and shook his hand and then less enthusiastically replied "no" because he didn't expect to find anything good at such a small book sale.   But he requested that if they saw any art history books, could they grab them for him.  And after he went back to his spot in line, the man with the canes who was still talking nonstop said to his buddy, "Do you think all these people are finally catching on to what we've been doing for years?"  (Ok, at this point I wanted to grab one of his canes and beat his smug arrogance with it).

It took all the strength I had not to turn around and ask if it had ever occurred to them that some people just like to go and browse books, hoping to find something interesting to read because not everyone is a here to buy books to make a profit?  I was genuinely irritated to the point of shaking my head and biting my tongue so as not to say something to these guys.  I knew it wouldn't do any good.  By the looks of half the people in line dealing books was obviously what a lot of people do, but I felt sorry for the rest of us who had been naively excited about a little used book sale!

Once we got inside, I was also feeling sorry for the young mom who had her newborn in a stroller.  And the mom who had brought her preschooler.  And the much older man with one eye who had come only because his wife wanted to.  Once we were inside I saw why everyone had lined up outside.  The room was so small that it had an occupancy sign that said 73, and someone was clicking a counting device as we filed in.  Not everyone got in.

It was literally wall to wall people, save for the space being taken up by tables.  This was no fun at all.  I wasn't able to stand there reading each title and picking up books to read the jacket, let alone kneel down to go through the boxes of books underneath each table.

I was trying to move with the flow of the crowd and find a spot near a table (hard to do since I had to have my purse in front of me instead of behind me because every time someone passing me bumped into it, it almost knocked me backwards) but then someone stepped on my heel, suddenly freeing my foot from my shoe mid-motion of a step which nearly sent me airborne.  Had I not caught myself I wouldn't have gone far.  The nearest person to catch me was only 9 cm away.

The one-eyed man was lucky for being so tall.  He was able to stand in one spot and see over people's heads, but I had to systematically alternate between standing on my tippy-toes or leaning over to stick my head in between two other heads.

The young mother with the big baby stroller wasn't fazed, although I could tell that if she had known what this was going to be like she would not have brought her baby or the stroller with her.  But it wasn't until another woman carrying an armload of books tripped over one of the stroller's wheels that she decided to leave.  The load of books came directly down over the baby, whose mother fortunately caught them and shoved the books back into the other woman's arms.  The young mother didn't say a word but gave her a look that said "I so would have smacked the hell out of you if those books had hit my baby."  The other woman didn't say a word either but looked like she was thinking, "Wow that was close but it wasn't my fault."

This is too crazy, I thought.  I abandoned my hopes of a fun day of used book browsing for myself and decided to see if I could just get something for my daughter and get the heck out of there.  Abby had told me that if I saw any of the Hunger Games books to please get them for her, which I promised to do and to which I added that I'd channel my inner Abby and get her anything else I thought she'd like.  So I was determined not to leave this madhouse without at least something.

I managed to stand on my tippy-toes and found that the Teen section was all the way across the room, in the corner.  No one else was over there.  I squeezed myself through the crowd to the corner and immediately found the first two books to the Hunger Games series.  (Yay!  Small victory!)  I also grabbed Abby a couple other books I thought she might like.  I took the same way back through while worming my way to the front and bumped into the side of the tall, one-eyed man.  He was still standing in the same place he was before.  He reached his arm out around my head, so that my face was now in his armpit, and he grabbed his wife's arm and said, "C'mon, we're leaving!"  He was not happy.

I finally paid and left.  Later after school I brought Abby back as I assumed there wouldn't be a crown then, but much of the selection was gone.

As much as I love books, that's not something I'm going to do again.  I felt sorry for the older people in this community.  Coming to a used book sale where a book is a dollar is right up their alley; searching for books to buy on line from these vultures who jack up the price isn't.  Browsing shelves of books, seeing old ones you know or new ones you don't know, it's all part of the fun I was expecting to have until I found out it's been ruined by people taking advantage of an old and outdated pastime! I'm glad the library makes money that way, I know they need it, but I wished there was a way they could stop the vultures and just let people enjoy themselves.  Then again, that's what the library is for.  (Except for me.  The three-week checkout isn't enough time and I always have to recheck my books out.  Plus, books hold energy.  If I enjoy reading a book I also enjoy the energy I felt while reading it, and so I want to keep it.  Is that just me??)  After I left I happened to run into Mom, who'd just checked out some books.

"What's going on over there?" she asked me.  I told her about the vultures but that at least I got some books for Abby, and she said she just wanted to check out some books before the big snow storm heading our way tomorrow.  Mom said she doesn't like buying books, where would she put them all?  That made me chuckle.  I happen to love buying and having books.  I'll never get one of those electronic book readers.  Holding a book and turning the pages, there's just something about it. My favorites are those trade paperbacks, the soft cover books that are larger than the old pocket paperbacks, because they're easier to hold.  And books smell good too, you know?  They have that book smell that I love so much.

Well, there are still a couple good places I go to get good used books that isn't on line, where there are no vultures, and where I can stand browsing and reading book covers and taking my time.  And I'm not telling where they are.

HOW DO YOU PERCEIVE?

What do you consider a sign?  How would you recognize or psychically sense an energy presence?  Do you believe that spirits interfere with technology to get our attention, especially when we are thinking about them? 

Last night in a conversation with my sister-in-law on the phone long distance, we got on the subject of ghosts.  Not a big surprise.  If you’re around me, that’s typically what the conversation will eventually turn to.  But I’m also not surprised that my family has all had their fair share of paranormal encounters as well.  Every now and then we retell our stories.

I was relating to my sister-in-law, Sonya, my recent experience of the cold mass energy that I experienced in my backyard.  She asked what I thought it was but I had no idea really.  “Maybe the way I experienced it is just the way that I experience ghosts, spirits, and energy,” I said.  She wondered, though, why I felt it actually bump into me rather than the sensation of going through me.  Our discussion led us to believe that we just each have different ways of experiencing things and that it’s different for all of us.  Sonya said she typically experiences the fragrance of flowers when there’s a presence.  

Wouldn’t it be nice to just know more, know what or who it really is, rather than just be able to report the details of the experience?  It’s fun to have paranormal experiences, but it would be great to know exactly what’s being experienced.  Sonya asked if I write down all my experiences.  I said yeah, I do.  I write down the date, time, what I was doing, what I was thinking, feeling, etc.  I just write as many details as I can think of.  Sometimes it’s all I can do to help me learn more about a phenomena and how I sense what I’m able to.

Telling Sonya of my experience of the spirit energy encounter in my backyard reminded me back to many years ago when I was visiting Sonya at her apartment.  Must be nearly 20 years ago.  She was standing in the kitchen getting a snack for my nephew when I got up to walk into the kitchen too.  Suddenly I was stopped by a loud, roaring noise passing my head and the feeling of a strong wind rushing toward me, hitting me in the face.  It was so strong and unexpected that I naturally closed my eyes.  Even felt my hair being blown back.  A moment later when I opened my eyes, I said, “Whoa, what was that?”  Sonya hadn’t experienced anything, hadn’t even heard the loud, roaring noise. 

On the phone she said, “Maybe the thing you felt in the apartment and the thing in your backyard are spirits attached to a place, the area.” 

“Or maybe it has to do with me, a spirit just trying to get my attention because I’m able to sense things,” I said. 

Back then, at the apartment, Sonya and my brother had several paranormal experiences themselves.  I lived in one of the nearby apartments in the same complex with my now-ex.  This had been before we were married.  Reminiscing about way back then reminded Sonya of one of the most intense ghostly visits she’d ever had.  A friend of ours who was in the army with my brother had a younger sister named Katie who died just 9 days after my wedding day.  She was only 19, and while in a Westernaires show fell off her horse and was killed instantly but was continued to be dragged for several minutes before anyone could get to her.  It was a horrible tragedy.  We were all so struck by it, but I can’t imagine what our friend, her older brother, was going through. 

In my conversation with Sonya on the phone, she recounted to me that a couple days after the accident she had a visit from Katie.  She described brushing her teeth and then suddenly feeling the temperature in the room suddenly dropping even though it was July.  Then suddenly thinking of our friend’s sister even though she knew it wasn’t her own thought.  “It was just like she was there,” she said.  Sonya ran out to the living room, then ran into the bedroom to wake my brother.  But she said it was like something was keeping him asleep.  Normally he awakens so easily but she just couldn’t wake him.  Then she felt our friend’s sister suddenly communicating to her, “but it was like all this information coming to me so fast, all at once.” 

I told her, “In my experience, I call that ‘getting a download’,” and Sonya laughed and said, “Oh yeah, I was getting a download all right, big time!” 

She described the feeling of her interpretation of what she was getting, being that our friend’s sister wanted everyone to know she was all right and that she was happy.  She didn’t want anyone to worry about her.  Sonya then described an overwhelming feeling of being told to just lie down and sleep now, which she did.  I asked Sonya to tell me again exactly what she experienced, what exactly she’d  received in the message.

And that’s when my cell phone suddenly went static.  I could tell that Sonya was speaking but I couldn’t hear what she was saying.  I interrupted by saying, “Sonya, I can’t hear you.  Can you hear me?”  I waited.  Then went into the house, trying to find a spot that might make it clear up.  Still static.  After a couple minutes I could hear her say clearly, “Can you hear me now?” 

I let her know that I missed her entire response.  She said, “That was weird!  I wasn’t even moving, I’m in the same spot.  I guess she’s letting us know she knows we’re talking about her!”  We both spoke our acknowledgements for her presence in our conversation, and then Sonya was able to repeat what she said.  The message to her that night had been an adamant request to please let her family know that she was happy and at peace, that it was very important that they know that.  Sonya also interpreted the message to mean that Katie had been trying to get through to her family but their grief wasn’t allowing them to feel her presence yet, which was why she was so adamantly making herself known to Sonya.  Sonya confessed she waited several years before telling our friend of the encounter. 

So, was that static interruption a sign that Katie’s spirit was acknowledging her presence as we talked about her?  I think so.  I believe in acknowledging signs wherever you can get them.  It’s the shift in consciousness that really matters, not the sign itself.  I thought about Katie’s message, how death for the departed really does bring peace.  I really do believe that.  It’s just so hard for us here to understand it, when we want so badly to hold onto what we have.  It’s hard to imagine that kind of shift of consciousness upon death, but so comforting to know it exists.

INVISIBLE FLYING MASS

I generally write from a perspective of what I believe my psychic, paranormal, and spiritual experiences mean according to what makes sense to me. I fully accept that there's often more to the picture than I'm aware of, and that's ok. For what I am aware of, I take full responsibility for my beliefs and theories and what I care to share with or teach others about my experiences and as such, if I'm wrong then I'm wrong. However, I won't know what in my belief system of personal life experiences I'm wrong about unless and until something else happens which changes those beliefs. And sometimes, an experience comes along which is so strange that I not only have nothing to compare it to, I also have no idea what to make of it. I'm not one of those people who has to derive some answer or theory for every experience. I go strictly by what I sense and feel in my awareness. And sometimes, something is just strange and paranormal with no explanation at all.

 I've learned from previous experiences the way in which our minds can sometimes create paranormal activity. If we are interested in something, that spark of energy created by the conscious mind will have the effect of bringing more of the same energy into our awareness. And, the more energy you consciously expend on a particular topic, the more that very topic will appear in your experience of life. We seem to transmit or create that which we think most deeply consciously about. Another phenomenon of the power of our consciousness reaches so deep into the core of our being we aren't even aware of its presence. It has to do with what we allow ourselves to believe is possible or not possible. They are not conscious beliefs but instead lie deep within the core of the identity of our being. If one of those beliefs is challenged, the consequences are a direct experience in one's physical life to give the experiencer the opportunity to judge for himself what he wishes to continue to believe. Our belief structure is continuously tested this way, for what other better way to learn, alter, or expand one's own consciousness if not for direct experience with which to make a conscious decision?

 Any time I really get interested in a subject, particularly if I'm poring over it, reading what others have experienced and what they tend to believe and theorize, that's when my own experiences really start happening. Many of my psychic, paranormal, and spiritual experiences have patterns and constructs which I never have to question or challenge. But my list of odd ones for which I have no explanation is growing.

My latest weird experience of the paranormal occurred a few days ago. The only trigger I can attribute to challenging my consciousness was an email which had been sent to me a few days prior. It's topic was about elementals, fairies, and other nature energies. The sender appropriately introduced the subject matter with the caveat, "Some will see this as fantasy, BS, and a challenge to their reality.” I laughed because I knew right away I was amongst that group. I skimmed the email but found nothing of interest to me. I simply don't want to waste my time and energy on things I have no use for, no interest in, no experience with, and no understanding of. If something doesn't fall into one of those categories for me, it's a waste of my time. I'm pretty picky about what I choose to focus my conscious awareness on.

But a few days later while enjoying the morning home from work, I became interested in having fun with the squirrels in my backyard. I sometimes pay more attention to them than I have been lately but this morning I really wanted to create some activity outside. I have several bird feeders set up, and of course my handmade squirrel feeder. I take great delight in supplying the squirrel feeder with various treats and then watching the squirrels scamper from all directions. They've been used to the homemade squirrel feeder for a few years now, and on the occasions when I neglect to put food out there for them, the squirrels do a run-by along the top of the fence, stopping for a second to peek in, see nothing's there, and scurry along their way. I doubt that the food I provide is saving any lives out there. Those crafty squirrels have plenty of marks to hit if mine happens to be empty. We call the fence line their freeway because of how fast they run their errands along it. When my neighbor behind me took down the fence to repair and replace it, he was nice enough to let me know he'd re-attach my squirrel feeder "or whatever it is" when he was done. I thanked him, not at all embarrassed about my homemade contraption. It isn't the most sophisticated of things but it serves its purpose nicely, made simply from a milk crate and bungee cords, with a large ceramic-pot drain plate for the food, and on bad-weather days shingles (which have blown off my roof) cover the top and sides of the crate to keep the food dry. On good-weather days I take off the shingles to give more view during those speeding drive-by's. I wouldn't want to make the squirrels go out of their way only to find there's nothing on the plate that day.

This particular morning I was setting out sliced apples and leftover hotdog buns. One squirrel was dangling from my duck-shaped bird feeder and scurried up into the tree as I approached. Another who was on the ground eating from a dish of sunflower seeds became startled and scampered up the fence post and sped off on the freeway. I know they watch me from the big evergreen tree to see what I'm doing. I once came upon a squirrel who was more interested in eating than in being frightened, and he refused to move while I filled the plate. He even allowed me to hand him a piece of bread! He took it politely from my fingers and then turned his back to me while he ate.

After I placed the bread and apples on the plate, I felt such a sense of peacefulness because of my enjoyment of it all. I'd been in particularly a good place emotionally lately, able to go with the flow and take life's ups and downs in stride. Not usual for me as I tend to worry or plan ahead more than I'm able to just enjoy the moment. But on this morning, I was definitely enjoying the moment. Perhaps that carefree state of mind is another catapult into strange phenomena. The next thing I knew, I was startled by something I heard right beside me to my left. It was something like a rustling sound and I turned to look. There wasn't anything there. The small ornamental pear tree beside me was still. It hadn't been the wind. It was a very still, peaceful-weather morning. But something had moved as if coming up next to me. I felt as if I were looking someone right in the face. Just then, it moved. I'm not even sure how I know something moved since I couldn't even see anything, but I was aware that I had widened my eyes. And a couple seconds later I was hit in the head by a flying mass of energy that seemed to run into me on purpose. It bounced off me, nicking me in the top of my head with force, the size of my fist. At the point of impact I felt the most freezing cold temperature I'd ever felt. Whatever had hit me was very cold. It hadn't been painful, and I hadn't any sense of fear or malicious intent. In fact, whatever this mass of energy seemed to be, I imagined it was playfully mischievous. My only sensation was that this had been a conscious and deliberate attempt at interacting with me. For what reason, I have no idea. I stood there a few moments more waiting, wondering if something else was going to happen. There had been no breeze. My hair, face, and the rest of my body felt nothing...no wind or change in temperature. The playful clunk in the head I got could have felt like getting tapped with a tennis ball except for the extreme drop in temperature feeling it left on my head. I touched there, felt nothing. The cold feeling quickly vanished.

So, what was this mysterious thing? I still have no beliefs or theories about it. I just chalk it up to another strange phenomenon that I have no explanation for. The one question that intrigues me the most, is how is it possible for a pocket of energy to have mass, to sustain or propel itself mid air, to exist independently of any physical construct, and to contain its own temperature so drastically different from the air around it? For all intents and purposes this thing was invisible, yet by all the laws of physics it really wasn't. It had all the characteristics of a physical object, a conscious being with intent and purpose, yet to my eyes there was nothing there.

IF WE HAD OUR OWN REALITY SHOW, THIS IS PRETTY MUCH WHAT YOU'D SEE

So the kids and I were at Walmart and we pass by the 4 x 4 x 4 foot box of DVDs for $5 each. We stop to look, hoping to find The Emperor’s New Groove, knowing how slim the chances are that we'll find it there. We each take a side and start digging but the DVDs have nowhere to go. A man walks up and starts looking through them too.

Me: They really need to organize these better.

The man: Yeah. We need to put them in a cart or something as we look through them.


(The kids nod. The man leaves to go find a shopping cart).


David: This is why I hate shopping. It's a waste of time, and these are old movies anyway. Oh look, Clone Wars, cool!"

Abby: David, you're so funny. "I hate this, this is stupid. Oh look, Clone Wars!"


(The man comes back without a shopping cart and starts digging again).


Abby: Oh my God my pile almost fell over.

David: That's because there's no way to balance our stacks.

Me: Well that's why I'm holding them as I look, but it's getting to where I can't hold anymore.

Abby: Mom, you're going to drop those.

David: I'll push these back over here.

Abby: I dug a hole. Look how deep my hole is! I bet my hole is deeper than David's!

Me: I feel like we're just pushing these DVDs around. I keep getting the same ones.

David: Oh look, another Clone Wars!

Me: David, do you want Clone Wars?

David: No.

The man: Here's a good one. You'll like this one. It's a good movie.


(The man hands my son Platoon and leaves).


Me: Well I'm done here. We'll never get through them all. You guys can keep digging. I'm gonna go look at the shoes.

Abby: Well if Walmart rented me out, I'd spend all day fixing and organizing this mess and I'd make it a really good system so that people could look and find what they want.

David: Really Abby? How much would Walmart rent you for?

Abby: Oh I don't know, I'd do it for $35 an hour or so.

Me: If they "rented" you? Don't you mean "hired" you?

David: What other stuff can we rent you for, Abby?

Abby: Shut up. I just mean if I worked here I'd be really good at organizing this.

Me: I'll be in the shoes.

CONFESSIONS OF A DIABETIC

I'm not sure who actually reads my blog. I know my kids don't. They haven't even read my book, just skimmed it looking for the parts where I mentioned them. I have something to confess because this was just so bad, and tonight I realized how bad it was. If anybody I know reads this, go ahead and let me know. It will be a good reminder of what not to do.

A couple days before Christmas a friend of mine stopped by to drop off a little plate of fudge. The kids left Christmas Eve to spend the night with their dad for an early Christmas morning flight to Florida for a week. That fudge was just too tempting. She had cut it into very small squares and I figured it would be ok to enjoy a little each night, but I admit I knew that I shouldn't be enjoying such a sweet treat. After a few days I realized there were only three pieces left, and what if the kids wanted some when they got back? Maybe they wouldn't have remembered, or maybe they wouldn't have cared. But I decided to replace it. I'd just make up my own batch, cut them into little squares and fill the little plate again.

I scoured the Internet for fudge recipes. Do you know how many different recipes for fudge there are? I had no idea what ingredients my friend put into hers. I'm not a baker so baking ingredients, amounts, and what can be substituted for what go way over my head. I picked out an easy-looking one, and actually I think it was called Easy Fudge. Milk chocolate chips, butter, condensed milk, and walnuts. I was impressed it even set up. But it didn't taste like fudge at all. Tasted like a chocolate bar. And the consistency was a little weird. If they sat out on the counter too long they began to melt. So I perused the Internet once again. I found one that seemed a bit more reasonable. Powdered sugar, cocoa, milk, vanilla, and nuts. It's been in my fridge for two days and it's still runny. Tastes ok, but you have to eat it with a spoon.

Ok, so I had to call my friend. I complimented her on the fudge and asked if I could have the recipe. "Oh sure, I bet your kids loved it huh. It's not for you though. Way too much sugar in it. I hope you didn't eat any."

"Yep," I lied.

She told me she wasn't sure what went into it without looking at the recipe. It was her mom's, she said. "Mom has this exact way she does it and you have to really follow the directions." She gave me explicit instructions such as how to heat it slowly, stir constantly, etc. "You don't want to scorch it and you don't want it to come out grainy." The next day she emailed me the recipe. I'm not sure what grainy means when you have 6 cups of sugar in there already.

My God, she wasn't kidding, it was sweet. I shouldn't have been eating this stuff! I couldn't believe how much sugar this recipe called for. I followed the instructions to a T. It actually took an hour and a half! I had no idea it took sugar, butter, and mlik so long to boil. And I thought I was never going to get all that marshmellow cream stuff out of the jar. They really need to invent an easier way to do that.

Well, it turned out great but I don't think I'm ever going to make fudge again. That was way too much work. I honestly have more fun mowing the lawn. No wonder I hate baking. It's so much work! All that stirring and scraping, and then everything is sticky, ugh! I found marshmellow cream on my cupboard door, the stove handle, and places I didn't even go near. It's fun making a pot of chili, and way less messy. Fudge is just unfun.

So the fudge is cooling in the fridge, and the kids don't get home until tomorrow afternoon. I should be able to get it cut into those tiny little squares and refill the little decorative Christmas plate my friend brought over. I'll just tell the kids I wanted to make more, which wouldn't be a lie. But this is definitely the last time I make fudge, and the last time I eat it! After seeing what all goes into it, I can't with a good conscience allow myself to indulge in that stuff ever again.

By the way, her mom's secret recipe? It's right on the back of the marshmallow cream jar. Same as the back of the evaporated milk can too. Only difference was she had doubled it. Thanks to my thinking I could get away with eating some fudge and then simply replacing it, I now have three pounds of it to get rid of. If my kids don't want it, I'll have to just bring it to work or something, but I'm not touching that stuff again.

Oh, and my mom did that to me once too. All my growing up years I raved about her potato salad, how it was the best I'd ever tasted. She always smiled and said thank you, appreciating all the compliments. When I got married I told my husband how good my mom's potato salad was and that he just HAD to try it. Finally one day after I don't know how many years of being married, I begged Mom for her home made potato salad recipe. I told her she might as well teach me how to make it while she was still alive. No need to take the secret to her grave! She was surprised that I thought she'd been holding out on me til the day she died or something. She said, "Well it's just on the back of the Kraft Mayonnaise jar."

CHRISTMAS, A PSYCHIC FEELING, AND FLOWERS IN HEAVEN

I took a couple extra days off work this week to spend with my kids since they're out of school for winter break. I decided to let the kids have their Christmas presents on the 20th so they could enjoy them during the days leading up to the actual holiday because their dad would be flying with them Christmas morning to Florida for a week.

We had a good week of snacking, TV watching, game playing, and general lazing about...We're now on Season 4 of our Bones DVD marathon. Had prime rib. Started Settlers of Catan, Traders and Barbarians, and realized halfway through the game we weren't playing it right so we left it out on the kitchen table for another chance to get our heads on straight about it. It's still there. Had chicken and dumplings. Realized it would take longer than one evening to learn how to juggle; Abby gave up entirely. Had spinach and artichoke parmesan dip. Saw Indiana Jones and The Raiders of the Lost Ark for the first time and discovered I do better with movies that have more dialogue than action but will give the other three a try anyway. Ate hummus. Loved the huge rose quartz crystal rock lamp my kids bought me. Had DiGiorno's. Painfully found out that the 27 dollar "Shock Ball" game my daughter wanted so badly isn't going to be played with because my children, after seeing my already nerve-damaged hands take the first zap and hearing the bad words that unintentionally came out of my mouth, are now too afraid to touch the darn thing. Watched Limitless, loved it. Had home-made enchiladas. Video-taped the three of us trying to get a Slinky to work; ironically none of us could. Finally figured out how to play Simon Flash. Had more Grapples; after trying these, I will never go back to regular apples again. Stuck a ruler in the still-falling snow, 10 inches already. Munched on peanut M&Ms. Realized we don't know the first thing about playing poker, but David thinks the professional-style poker chips are really cool anyway. Made a McDonald's run and came home with an extra unpaid-for Big Mac; finally an error in our favor! And we got my son's game room cleaned up and organized. No, this wasn't all in one day. Four days. I just appreciate the little things that make me happy. I really do.

I had to return to work Christmas Eve. Hadn't been there all week, so I missed out on the catered Mexican buffet, the box of See's Famous Old Time Candies, and the box of Nancy Adams Assorted Chocolate Pretzels. Don't get the free chair-massage either. Oh well. I had fun with my kids.

Something was sticking out of my desk drawer. It was a note, folded and stapled. I assumed it was a thank-you note from my co-worker for the comfy slippers Christmas gift I left for her before I left work Monday afternoon. I figured she hadn't gotten me anything and wrote a nice note instead, which was fine since she usually gives me any of her extra diabetic supplies she doesn't use. Like test strips...a real commodity to me. But when I glanced at the note wedged into the crease of the drawer, I suddenly got the feeling of "cash". It wasn't something I heard or saw in my mind. It was just a feeling. The feeling of cash. I thought to myself, now why would she have put cash in that note? That would be unusual and completely unnecessary. I wouldn’t even want my co-worker giving me cash for Christmas. That’s just weird. I want money just like everybody else, but I don’t want someone just giving it to me.

I recalled that on my walk into the building that morning I was reminded of a psychic experience this summer where my guidance directed me to quickly look up at a woman’s baby and at that very moment I saw the woman drop something from her purse. By the time I reached the spot where it fell, the woman was far away, enough so that if I had wanted to keep it I could have, except that it wasn’t the right thing to do. It was a hundred dollar bill, and I wouldn’t have kept it. I knew my Guidance directed me to it for the woman’s sake, not mine. But on the way into work as I remembered that experience, I wondered why I never have psychic guidance toward money. That would be exciting, but I’d only want it if it were truly meant for me. I wouldn’t want someone to lose it in order for me to gain it. I know, too, that my psychic Guidance isn't a frivolous thing.

Well, “cash” must have been on my mind for a reason, and maybe only because I’d been sort of worrying about it lately and been a little broke this Christmas. There’s no way there’s cash in there. That’s just too weird, and I’d feel weird accepting it even if there was. I turned on my computer, logged in, opened up all my applications, and made the coffee. Finally I pulled the note from its hiding spot. I couldn't get it opened without it tearing a little where the staples were. In it was a 20-dollar bill. Her note began “Merry Christmas” and said that instead of buying flowers for her sister in Heaven, she would rather the money go to me.

What a generous gift, and it didn’t feel weird to accept it because I was so touched by her sentiment. Cash for that reason was different, and humbled me a bit. In return, I sat and closed my eyes, imagining a beautiful bouquet being delivered to her sister, wherever she was, imagining her receiving them as a thank-you from me for my being the recipient of a beautiful gesture in her honor.

And then I thanked my Guidance for reminding me to trust. I didn’t need a hundred dollar bill. Twenty was enough of a little nudge to remind me that by trusting my feelings, I’ll always be in the right place at the right time for the really important things in life.

GHOSTS AND SPIRITS

I've been so busy lately...wanted to get another excerpt out there before too long, so here you go. This is one of my favorite parts.


Because I've had so many experiences perceiving nonphysically which have gotten excellent verification that my perception was real, it makes me all the more confident in trusting other experiences where I'm not so fortunate in having any kind of verification at all. It's just not always possible to have physical-world verified proof that an experience is real, like when Bruce nonphysically visited me in my car, telling me he was at the spiritual Meetup helping give me confidence. To me, no proof was necessary. If I am lucky enough to have Bruce's spirit visit me in that way after his death, imagine how happy I'll be. I'll be happy enough to continue living out the rest of my life knowing we survive after death and that our loved ones are never really gone.

Similar to sensing energy of the living is how we can also perceive visitations from someone deceased. I've been visited a handful of times by my dad after his death. One visit in particular was later verified by Bruce in an interesting way. Something neither of us was expecting, but it gave us both doubtless belief that Dad's spirit had indeed paid a visit.

Because of my spiritual beliefs about life, death, and the afterlife, I was able to handle my dad's death much better than I had previously believed I would. Although it was of course sad not to have my dad around, and sad for my mom to be lonely missing him so much, I knew that Dad was ok. The only thing that changed was that Dad was no longer physically living. And I guess it's because of this good attitude toward Dad's death that I don't always feel that he's actually gone. It's not until I think about it that I realize he is dead. It's been over a year since his death and I periodically will think, "Oh I need to call Dad and ask him about this." Or,"I can't wait to tell my dad" something. Or being disappointed at arriving at mom's to visit and realize that Dad isn't there. I can't believe I still forget that he's dead.

But on the other hand, I've had several visits from him since his death, so that's another reason I've been handling his death so well. You know it's funny....when he died, I expected----and wanted----to have the kind of visits from Dad that you'd expect of a typical ghostly presence. Nothing spooky, but just maybe having something move to get my attention, or seeing an apparition. The only thing I had that even came close to that kind of visit was one day while sitting in my bedroom thinking about Dad, a notebook fell off my shelf. I'd asked Dad to give me a sign, and I guess this was his way of doing it. I wasn't impressed and actually said, "Come on. Dad, if that's you, can't you do something more impressive than making the notebook fall?" It had fallen with a loud whop onto the floor, and landed a little farther away than what one would have expected. It definitely seemed like a deliberate sign. When I told Bruce about the incident he said, "Let me get this straight. You ask for a sign, you get one, and then you complain about it?" I laughed. It's not that I wasn't excited. I just wasn't impressed. I realized that those kinds of signs weren't what I really needed---or wanted---anymore.

Both my mom and brother, however, have had remarkable experiences. Mom once saw my dad's presence as a mist walking through the kitchen. She immediately thought of my dad and she thought, "Jack, is that you?" On another occasion she was watching television, changing the channel to something she doesn't normally watch but was something my dad would have watched, Cats 101. She doesn't know why she left it there but she decided to sit and watch anyway. Suddenly, she heard my dad laughing....physically out loud, she heard his voice. It made her turn quickly toward the sound of it, almost expecting to see him sitting there. She’s also felt his hand touch her shoulder.

My brother's experience was similar to mom's mist experience. Why I haven't seen something like that, I'm not sure. But I have had several visits from my dad, both during out-of-body experiences and while physically awake.

One such experience, while physically awake, happened while I was standing in the kitchen at the stove, making a sandwich. Suddenly, I felt my dad's presence as if he’d just walked into the room. Instinctively I lifted my head and looked forward, although I wasn't looking through my physical eyes but my mind's eye. I could see my dad, and felt him, behind me and slightly to my right. He came up around my right side and moved into the space right in front of me, so that Dad and I were right in front of each other, despite the fact that physically in front of me was the stove. At this point I had learned enough to know not to brush it off or debunk the experience, so I just went along with what I was feeling and perceiving. In my mind I said, "Hi Dad!" I went with the notion of just treating this experience the same way you'd treat a phone call that you weren't expecting. The phone rings, you answer it, and begin talking to whomever's there. I treated this visit like a phone call. In my mind I began telling Dad of the events of the week, sharing with him what I'd been feeling or going through. And in my mind Dad was there to listen, comfort me, and give some advice. I didn't have a real word-for-word response from him but just a feeling in general of what he wanted to say and convey to me. I enjoyed it and allowed myself to believe it was a real experience.

It wasn't until a few days later when I relayed the experience to Bruce over the phone that I got verification that it was a real experience. I told Bruce, "Hey, guess what! I had a visit from my dad!"

"Oh yeah? What happened?" Bruce asked.

"Well, I was in the kitchen making a sandwich, when I felt my dad's presence come into the room. I was so excited and just went with it, didn't question it or talk myself out of it, you know? I just acted as if he was really there, and I just talked to him like it was real even though I didn't really hear or know what he was saying to me. I just felt him there and imagined what he was saying. I wish I had something to really verify it was real, but I just went along with it as if it was. I think that's a big step for me."

Bruce went quiet for a few moments, as he does sometimes. He is so gifted at shifting his focus of awareness that when he does that it makes me feel like he's put the phone down and left the room. Finally Bruce casually said, "So when you were having this experience, were you standing up, like facing the counter top?"

I wasn't sure why Bruce was asking me that in the middle of my story, but I said, "Yeah, sort of. I was actually standing at the stove."

"Oh, ok," he said. Then he got quiet again. I expected him to be expressing happiness and encouragement about my experience and the way that I handled it, my old way being that I would have brushed it off before allowing myself to accept it. But I was used to Bruce being silent on the other end of the phone while he's nonphysically sensing something, so I waited patiently.

Finally he said, "So when you felt your dad's presence come into the kitchen, did you kind of feel him come up behind you and sort of move to your right, and then come around to stand right in front of you?" When Bruce said that, I was the one who suddenly got quiet on the phone.

"Yeah, that's exactly what happened. How did you know that?" I knew that I hadn't yet explained those details to Bruce.

In his smug way he said, "You're not the only one your dad visits, you know."

Still not up to speed of what Bruce was talking about, I asked, "What do you mean?"

He said, "Well while you began telling me about your experience, I suddenly got a vision in my mind seeing you standing in the kitchen. At first I thought I was just envisioning your story while listening to you, but then I realized that I was actually given this vision from your dad. When you stated that you weren't sure if this was a real experience or not, that's when my vision started and I felt your dad's presence with me. In the vision, your dad was showing me that he approached from behind you, came up on your right, and then stood right in front of you. He did that to make sure he'd get your attention because your experience of it would conflict with your physical surroundings. And the reason he showed me the vision of how he appeared to you was so that I could describe it to you to give you verification that this experience was real. See, you're not the only one your dad visits."

I could feel Bruce beaming his smug smile through the phone. Finally I managed to say oh my God and how I wasn't expecting this. I was stunned. "Bruce, that's amazing. You mean just now when I began to tell my experience, my dad was right there with you giving you the vision of it?"

"Yep. I thought it was a clever way for him to give you verification that what you experienced was real. He's here with us in this conversation because you were going to tell me about it. It was his way of giving you something to make you feel it was a real visit from him," Bruce said.

"Wow. I thought just realizing I was feeling his presence was amazing enough. I mean, I knew it was a big step for me in accepting this type of experience as real, but I didn't expect you to get a visit from Dad to verify my experience. That's so cool!" I was just so excited and pleased about this.

This is one of the things that makes my friendship with Bruce so special. He's always surprising me!