I want to encourage everyone to get out and vote today!

It is your right as an adult citizen of our republic.

It is your privelege to have your voice heard.

It is your responsibility as a member of our society.

Remember, no vote, no voice.  You don't vote, you don't have the right to say anything about how our country's run!

VOTE TODAY!  It's your civic duty!

STAND UP AND BE HEARD!

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I want to apologize for being MIA the past week or so.  I am really sick with this flu/cold YUK thing and this has been the first time I've been at the computer in at least a week.  I'm not getting any better so I'm not sure when I'll be back in the swing of things.  I just wanted to let you all know I'm not neglecting you... well, at least not anymore than I'm neglecting everything in my life right now.

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I thought I would warn you all about something that's currently making the rounds.  In the past two weeks I've received emails supposedly from two banks that look official and have a link to the actual bank website at the bottom of the email.  They are asking me to click a link within the email to confirm my online banking name/password.  Thing is, I do not now, nor have I ever had an account with either bank.

If you receive an email from your bank (or any other bank... the two that I received were from Wells Fargo and Wachovia) DO NOT CLICK THE LINK.  Instead, go to the bank's website and forward it to the email fraud department.  There will either be a link on the front page or in the privacy/security area.  I have confirmed that no bank will ever email you looking for your information or to confirm your account.  If there is a problem with your account, they will call you on the phone/send you a letter asking you to go in to your bank and straighten it out in person.

THIS IS A PHISHING SCAM, FOLKS... be really careful because it looks legit!  I could easily have been fooled, had it been MY bank!

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  I could not have had a better day today!

I met Lem (she's a riot, people!  I laughed so hard I have a headache tonight!) and we snooped around a couple shops and my favorite cemetery today.  It was a lot of fun.  It was also really great to interact with someone in real life that I don't have to downplay the whole paranormal thing with lest I'm considered a fruitcake.

Then... a friend of mine and I decided to see if we could get into a psychic development course given by a well-known, greatly respected local psychic (really well-known... like nationally known and not Sylvia Browne... who can afford HER?) and I emailed enquiring about the course and Ms. famous psychic popped an email right back to me this moment, not twenty minutes after I sent one to her, saying what she needed and should she add us to the list!  EEEEE!  I'm very excited now!

I'm never gonna sleep tonight!

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First I blogged on how I was going to go find my sister  and everything seemed set for me to go ("Finally..."), then I blogged about the angel in disguise who told me right where she was buried and now the conclusion.

 I went on out to South Dakota and had a pretty good time.  I stopped in Pierre on the way out and got her records in all of five minutes.  Then, having forgotten how depressing Pierre was (all the hotels are on the main drag and it's sort of dumpy and ugly even though other parts of the city are beautiful), we drove on.  We ended up in a small, locally-owned motel in Wall (I'd recommend it to anyone... it's the green one by the gas stations and the Dairy Queen just off I-90) where we did the touristy thing and wandered around Wall Drug.    It was... interesting.  The world's largest tourist trap built out of nothing.

Friday morning we went into Rapid City, had breakfast and went to the cemetery.  My sister was in the baby section.  I found the section easily but then didn't find her stone immediately.  I started searching methodically row by row and was getting quite upset (there were a lot of sad little cement bricks that just said "infant _______" and many of them were broken or unreadable and a few were missing altogether even though it was obvious that there had been one at one time) when my friend just kind of wandered off and walked straight to my sister's stone.  I was upset at the prospect that she might be lost to time forever... and that whatever babies were there and you couldn't read the stones for whatever reason WERE lost to time. 

It appears that my grandmother never forgot her.  Sometime in the late 80s she went through and replaced the stones in our family plot with a specific type of flat stone (there's the family monument and then there are flat plot markers).  My sister's stone matches those in the family plot all those many hundreds of miles away.  I'm betting that Grandma went ahead and ordered one for her when she did the rest.  I don't think my father knew about that.  He didn't mention it when he told me the rest about her.  I'm glad she's got a durable stone... I wish I could do the same for all the rest of the babies there.

I don't know what my friend was expecting but I guess it wasn't the reaction I had.  She was running around trying to give me "private time" while I just really went there, took a couple pictures of it and was ready to go about my day.  Of course it was important to me... obviously... I spent several hundred dollars and drove over 1000 miles to do it but I don't really see much point in howling "my sister" and having some sort of emotional breakdown over the headstone of someone who lived for three days over 50 years ago. I did what I needed to do... I brought her into reality from the land of conjecture and storytelling.  I will remember her on her birthday and the anniversary of her death (September 14 and 17) even though I probably won't do anything special to mark the occasion.  I will remember what her short life gave to my father and me all those years later.  But I'm not going to make a fool of myself in a public place over her.  I'm just not that kind of person.

After we finished up at the cemetery we toured around the Black Hills a little and went out to the Badlands National Park at sunset.  I got some awesome photographs... I'm sure some will turn up here and there as I go through them (I took about 150 shots... it's going to be a while before I've picked through them all).

And, if you're ever in Rapid City, South Dakota in the Mountain View cemetery... go on over to lot 38, walk out by the tree standing all by itself and look for a dark grey granite plot stone with a pink/red granite border that says Susan P______ and know that at least that one baby isn't forgotten and never will be.

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While I was preparing for my trip to SD next week to find my sister (in my "Finally..." blog), I stumbled across some resources that I didn't find or were not there last time I searched online for any record of her.  One of those resources was a volunteer who looks up offline records for people doing genealogical searches.

That wonderful woman... she went down to the courthouse and found where my sister is buried... to the plot number!

I'm going to find her!  I'm also crying so hard I can't see what I'm doing right now!

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This one's a little off-topic but sort of in the whole genre.

I am finally able, after six years of wanting and delaying, to complete a personal errand that's going to take me out to the Black Hills (about 800 miles from where I live).

My father was married when he was quite young and in the air force.  After the Korean War he was stationed in Rapid City where his wife's family was from so he was able to have his wife near him. They had a beautiful, perfect little girl.  My father was absolutely overjoyed to have a daughter and I can just see him being the proudest papa ever.

 Unfortunately, the little girl died suddenly under mysterious circumstances a few days after she was born (at the time mothers and children stayed in the hospital for about a week after birth... so this occurred in the hospital in the nursery).

As you can imagine, my father was absolutely devestated.  He blocked most of it out of his mind... he couldn't remember the date of her birth, only that it was in the spring... and wound up having a bereavement discharge that autumn when his wife divorced him.  His whole life fell apart in an instant.

I'd known since I was a small child about my sister.  I'd unfortunately named one of my dolls the same name and my father went ape over it... so of course my mother (his second wife) had to explain what was wrong with the name to me.  My father never told me about her, though, until he was in his final illness.  Forty-some years later no one could really tell me the details.  As time passed after his death it became more and more important for me to have a record of my sister... that she never be forgotten... right now only my stepmother (his third and final wife and the love of his life) and I remember her.  I wanted something to put my hands on that I could show my children... "this girl was your aunt and she was precious to your grandfather, don't forget her."

 I contacted South Dakota and inquired about birth records, being told that a multiple-year search would be fairly expensive.  I then contacted the pentagon, searching for his service record thinking the information would be in his record somehow.  I was told that his records were lost in a fire in 1974 that destroyed many service records.  I made a few more inquiries and thought I was going to have to give up the search or pay hundreds of dollars for a records search.  This all happened in 2004.  Early last summer I received a short letter that stated the date and place he enlisted and the date and location of his discharge.  Hallelujah!  I could put together a reasonable timeline and instead of hundreds of dollars it might be ten minutes research!  So I started planning a trip to South Dakota.

 You might ask why I need to go out there when I can order the records over the internet.  There is a grave in Rapid City.  My father showed my stepmother where it was and I am familiar enough with the area to know what cemetery she spoke of when she described it to me.  I want to see my sister's grave.  I want record of my sister's grave as well as record of her birth and death.

 After almost four years of squeezing every penny we had a little surprise financial windfall today.  My husband tells me I can go.  I'm still going to be running as cheap as I can (gas, a campsite and food from home over two nights and one weekday) but I can go!

I'm thinking someone pulled some strings for me.  And... my sister awaits!

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Today in the midst of running errands (including getting my Mother's Day present from the mooks) we stopped at a local grocery store that we don't usually go to.  I don't normally go there because it's pricey but I wanted to go specifically today to pick up a spice mix that isn't available elsewhere and to buy a couple of their reusable canvas grocery bags (we're really trying to use reusable bags instead of paper or plastic bags from the store)/

So we're wandering through the store, almost done with our shopping and headed for the frozen food aisle to pick up a pizza for supper (so I didn't have to cook).  When we exit an aisle at the back of the store my little guy asks "who's that?"  and points in front of us where the dairy cases are.  There wasn't anyone there so we just said "there's no one there sweetheart" and kept on walking.

All of a sudden a little kid grabs my butt and pulls on the back pocket of my jeans.  I jump a little and reach down to grab the rugrat's hand (our little one's three and a half) but he's not there!  I turn to look and my husband and rugrat are a good ten feet behind me!  Of course my husband asks me what the heck's wrong with me.  Any sane person would after seeing their spouse jump a foot in the air and grab their own behind in the middle of a store! 

I told him that I felt our son grab my butt (something he's been doing lately... he's been goosing people or blowing zorbits on people's hips and laughing at how he "farted" us) but obviously he couldn't have! 

So now the question is... is the local luxury grocer haunted?   Who grabbed my rear?  It was obviously a child's hand... but what child?

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A while ago (actually... looking at when I blogged on it on another site... a year and a half ago) I was having a repetitive dream that culminated in a full-blown panic-attack inducing nightmare.

Here's part of the original posting on it so there's some background:  "Last night after I went to bed, I had a HORRIBLE nightmare. I was in my
mother-in-law's house, but it wasn't her house (it was her house but
the house didn't correspond to what her house really looks like) and
there were evil or extremely angry spirits in it haunting it. I have
had nightmares about this particular house several times over the
course of the past few months. Most of the time it was MIL's house, but
one time it was my aunt's house. The house in the dream is always the
same, I could practically draw a floor plan of the place by now. Every
time I have a dream about it, there's something not right about the
house and every time I dream about it, it gets a bit more frightening.
Last night I was there with some people I knew in the dream that I
don't know in real life. We were looking for something or someone (it's
not that I don't remember, it's that it was vague in the dream) and
going up a hidden staircase from the basement to the third floor attic.
I had a sick feeling that something was chasing us and wished us harm
the whole time. The activity seemed centered around the hidden
staircase, the attic and a room in the center of the second floor that
had doors leading off of it to hallways that led to the other rooms on
the second floor. This room in each of the dreams has featured
prominently, has always been a center of activity, and has always
disappeared and reappeared during the individual dreams. I finally
called off the search and made everyone come to the main floor to
leave. I made the decision because my MIL had disappeared for several
minutes and reappeared with a playbill from the victorian era in her
hand. Unfortunately, the name of the play (which I think is important)
didn't stick when I woke up but I can almost see the cover of the
playbill. It looked new even though I knew it was more than a hundred
years old and she was all dusty. When we reached the main hallway,
Frankie (or Freddie) was missing. I "knew" he was in the central room
upstairs. I insisted everyone stay behind where it was relatively
"safe" and went up to find him. I have a vague recollection of their
following not very closely up the stairs. He was indeed in the room,
floating several feet off the floor (the ceilings in the place are like
15 feet high), obviously in pain and in some sort of trance. I tried to
scream his name but my mouth was kind of glued shut (like someone had
their hand over my mouth). I screamed "MMMPFH FREDDIE, FREDDIE" over
and over again. I had no idea I was dreaming (I have lucid dreams
unless they're either astral travel in disguise or precognitive) until
my husband (in real life) came into the bedroom and woke me up. He told
me I'd been screaming for at least a minute and it must have been
pretty high because I'm an alto and my 11-year-old's voice hasn't
changed yet and he thought it was coming from the boy's room. He sleeps
with our 21-month-old because the little spoiled brat won't sleep
independently... so he sleeps across the hall from me and next door to
our older boy. It was loud enough that I woke both him and the baby up.

So.
Now I'm kinda worried and kinda freaked out at what the dreams could
mean. When I woke up I was dizzy and disoriented (I went to the
bathroom to pee and crashed into several walls because I couldn't keep
my balance). I recall, vaguely (interestingly enough I remember the
dream vividly and hardly remember being awake), that I said that I
think it has something to do with "Spencer", my MIL's ghostie (he came
with the house) and that he must be trying to tell me something."

I haven't had any inkling of the dream since that night... until last night.  Last night I was, once again, in that house.  This time my family and I (with the conspicuous absence of my older son) were living with MIL in the house.  My younger son's bedroom was one of the "danger" rooms and had a school room/playroom that was only accessible through his room off the side.  Both his room and the school room were filled with junk (not an unusual thought... DH's family all exhibit packrat tendencies).  In the dream I needed to go get my son for something (dinner, I believe) and I went into his room for the first time since we'd been living in the house... which in the dream seemed to be about 6 months at that point.  He wasn't there and I had this horrible, crushing anxiety that something bad was about to happen.  This is all of the dream I had... I segued into something else at that point.

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