Driving Down My Highway Of Life

I have been deep in thought about parenting-both my fails and successes lately. I have been compiling a long list of my parental guidelines that I implemented over the years, mostly because my husband keeps telling me to write a book (as if anyone would care about anything I write! haha!). Now that the kids are older it is fun (sometimes) to reminisce about their youth and what they thought about it all.  As I write down something that I thought would be interesting to add to the book that will never come to pass I'll ask the kids what their thoughts and views are on the subject.

It was fitting that this popped into my memories today because it is the people of our past that make us who we are today. These can be positive or negative influences but they are influences nonetheless. It is how we deal with our past that truly makes us or breaks us. You can only control how you deal with situations-driving yourself to your own happily ever after, taking detours, small swerves, letting passengers in (kicking some out), and car repairs along the way.  As you drive down the highway of life you'll notice that the road you turned off of sometimes blurs into the distance.  It isn't that road of long ago you focus on, it is the one in front of you that demands your attention.  

This image is me on my wedding day.  I wore my grandmother's dress.  My mother wore it before me.  My grandmother died of breast cancer when I was still in high school.  I can still remember the tears squeezing out of my eyes in study hall when I was left alone to my thoughts.  She was only at my wedding in spirit, and I sure hope she is smiling down on me.  I almost didn't wear her dress, since it did not bring my mother's marriage very much luck.  I almost felt it was cursed, but I decided to take the risk..it was about that time in my life when I finally hopped into my driver's seat of my own life and I haven't looked back since.  It is such a freeing feeling, to know you have control over your own life.  The flowers (and other adornments) I wear in my hear every day represent that freedom.  I know people look at me funny when I wear that crap on my head in public.  They make ME happy, and I'm driving damnit!  

My Haunted Hangout

A few years ago, I was sitting in the room where we watch TV along with my rescue dog, Lola.  It is our hangout room and we spend most of our time there when we are in the house.  Lola jumped up from her bed, where she had been soundly sleeping, and sat in the middle of the room and stared at the wall.  She would wag her tail occasionally, but for the most part she just sat still and stared.  After a few minutes it started getting creepy, so I tried to get her attention.  She would not break her stare on the wall.  It was as if she didn't even hear me calling out to her.  I called louder and louder and she still didn't move.  I finally grabbed her and ran out of the room.

Since that day, Lola will not leave that room unless I tell her it is OK.  She stops at the edge of the room and waits patiently until someone coaxes her out telling her she can leave.  We jokingly say, "The ghosts are keeping her in the room,"  but it isn't really a joke, because we really believe the ghosts are keeping her in the room.

As if the ghosts in the room weren't enough I went and bought a haunted painting.  It was so pretty at the vintage store...and it spoke to me.  I couldn't leave it there.  I don't typically do a lot of 'frivolous shopping' but something told me I had to buy this painting.  So I did.  After my hubby hung it in the  haunted room, we realized it was haunted.

Hubby was watching TV underneath the haunted painting.  It is a very large painting, and heavy too. Unbeknownst to him, the painting slid down the wall and landed right beneath his head-AND HE DIDN'T EVEN NOTICE.  When I came in the room I asked him why on EARTH he left the painting laying precariously on the back of the couch like that-he turned around and was completely baffled how it could have happened without him knowing!  The strangest part of this is that my husband has no recollection of this.  My daughter and I cannot understand how he cannot remember as we discussed it at great length afterwards.

More recently I heard, what I thought, was my daughter talking on the phone from that room.  I ignored it and went on with my day.  She had been watching TV at the time in there.  She came out and said she had heard a noise, like the door closing, but the dog was in her bed and the door hadn't moved.  She sat back down, and as she watched TV again she felt cold slipping all over her.  She had to use three blankets and was still cold. 

I swear we aren't scared of this room at all.  Nothing has caused us to feel fear, quite the opposite.  I talk to them sometimes and tell them to go away or to please stop sometimes, but nothing feels frightening. Heck, I swear they helped guide my crochet hook with my latest pattern, A Haunted Hook:  Tessellating Stained Glass Afghan!