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Tuesday turned out to be something of a disaster.

See, I was supposed to be at home by 2:30 to drive Ashes' best friend to the bus station in Providence, for her ride back to Springfield. She had been at our house since Saturday, celebrating Ashes birthday. It had been a great four days, including a huge pool party at Green Victoria on Sunday.

Her bus was leaving at 3:15. 3:15, dammit! And I knew that, but work ran late...and then on the way home, I was stuck in a freak thunderstorm...and Ashes was none too quick about getting out of the house. The bottom line: as we were pulling in to the bus station, we watched her friend's bus pulling out. And, there were no other buses headed to Springfield that day. Meaning, I became the designated bus driver. Toot toot!

Well, there went six hours of my life. At least we had a lovely talk with her parents.

This is kind of a long way of getting to my point, which is that because I was home way later than expected, poor Corb had to fend for himself. Feed the animals, order Chinese food (his message to me that day had been: "Remember that day on August 18, 2015 that you bought be Chinese food?" Well, I couldn't.), build an adition to the deck, sit by the TV and play couch potato.

By the time I came home at around nine, I found him sitting in his favorite chair with a blanket wrapped around his legs. I could immediately tell something was up. He looked pale as a--

"Ted," he said. "Something happened again."

"What do you mean..." And then I paused. "Oh."

I haven't spoken about the ghosties that live at Green Victoria for a while, mainly because there hasn't been much to tell. But parties always seem to bring out activity around here, for some reason. Just last year, for example, at around the same time, we had an incident in the basement. From the look on Corb's face, this time was no exception.

"I was just sitting here eating my supper and watching TV. There was this quiet spot during the show, and clear as can be, I'm not lying, I heard a woman's voice over by the stairway saying 'Hello.'"

I could feel the hair on my arms kind of stand up. "Hello? What did she--"

"It wasn't really loud, but clear as can be. She sounded like an older woman. And then, the dog starting barking like crazy, staring straight at that area. Kyra wouldn't stop for about five minutes."

The stairway. That's where we've seen most of the activity, and the dog has reacted before to strange things like that. But this voice, acording to Corb, was different than the dark spot we saw back in October.

"She didn't sound unfriendly. So I wrote to Chase on Facebook..."

Chase is one of the former owners of Green Victoria. He once sent Corb a long message documenting all of the ghosts he encountered in the house. We've seen or heard several of them.

"...and he asked me if it's been a year since we've been in the house. That's how long he says it takes them to show themselves."

We've lived in the place almost two years, but Chase never remembers that. He's apparently good at tracking ghosts, not keeping track of time.

"So what did he say?"

"He says he thinks it's probably one of the original owners of the house. Either a Carpenter or a Horton. He says she's very friendly, ahd she's the one that will touch your hand if you ask her to, nicely."

Well, THAT's not going to happen any time soon. But Corb did do some research that night and discovered that Mrs. Adelaide Horton, the original owner of this house, died on the same day (different year, of course)  he was born. So maybe there is a connection.

As a matter of fact, Corb's birthday is coming up in a few days, too...

Maybe Adelaide wanted to send her best.
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Last night at around three in the morning I woke up with a start.

The kitten wiggled a little next to my feet. Carefully, I lifted myself up out of the bed and headed for the bathroom. It sucks getting older. Then, once relieved of my burden, I headed to my study, which is located down the hall, right next to the stairway that leads to the dark spot.stairs 3

I don't know why I think of it that way. Corb once said that he was sitting in the living room one time with the lights off and he saw what looked like a dark cloud hanging around that area. It's the one part of the house that neither one of us like hanging around.

Both the kitten and Oliver were standing outside of the den as I padded my way down the hall. Both were staring intently down the stairs, as if there was something fascinating that was absorbing their attention.

"What's going on, guys?" I said, probably too loudly, given the time of night. Trying to chase away the goblins, I guess. I moved to the edge of the stairs, looked down. Nothing to see. The room downstairs was dark, save for the night lamp that I neglected to turn off when we went to bed.

I turned around to sit down in the den. And as I turned my back, I distinctly heard the snapping of fingers on the floor below.

What the--?

I didn't have the nerve to go downstairs to find out what was going on. Instead, I turned the lights off and headed back to bed.

Fast forward to this morning. Corb had already showered and left for work, and I was alone in the house. I woke up, fed the zoo, and put Kyra on her leash to do her morning constitutional. I brought her to the edge of the house, waited for her to go pee. Then I moved to the other side of the lawn and started walking her through the sweet clover that smells like blueberries (I have no idea what it really is).

Just as she was about to do her doody, she looked up. She barked, focused on the house.

"What's up?" I asked. "Come on, let's get this--"

But she was no longer interested in going to the bathroom. She strained at her leash, looking to move back to the house. She kept staring at the picture window that offered a view of the dark spot, barking away. I followed her back into the house. She made her way directly to that dark spot and stopped barking the minute she reached it.

No more barking. She stopped immediately, as if nothing had happened.

Conclusion: the dark spot doesn't like us going to the bathroom.

I guess I should be freaked out by this, right? Not really, though. My house doesn't really scare me at all. I'm still convinced there's nothing evil or too scary about the place. But what is it about animals and their ability to see beyond the things that our eyes are blind to?

I'm kind of grateful I'm not a dog. But on the plus side, we are going to have one hell of a Halloween party here.

PS: My book, Pictures of You, is available as a free Kindle download today and tomorrow! Check it out if you haven't already.

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Ringo

The party on Sunday went quite well. We had a ton of guests over to celebrate Ashes' 21st birthday, including the special guest appearance of this not-so-little guy, whom we named Ringo.

There's nothing like the guest appearance of a Beatle to keep your dog entertained! Kyra spent almost an hour following Ringo all around our yard, while we sat around talking and feeding the fire in our penis-shaped chiminea. I didn't have to worry once where she was or what mischief she was getting into. She was too fascinated by where Ringo was crawling or what he was doing. Every so often Kyra would use her snout to move him back to our table, and we'd all lift our legs to keep the June bug from crawling up our jeans. Because I like Ringo and all, but having to touch him would completely freak me out.

So now I want to get a bunch of these clicky clacky bugs for dog entertainment value. Whenever I want to take Kyra out and not have to worry about what she's up to? Voila, June bug! The only problem would be, where would I store them?

There was one weird aspect to the day. For some reason, after everyone was gone and I was cleaning up, I realized that the lights in the basement were on. When I went downstairs, I realized it wasn't just one light, but every single light. You have to understand, these are the kind that you have to physically walk to and pull the string down to turn them on, meaning that someone had gone downstairs and manually switched on every light down there, and then decided to go back upstairs without turning them off.

A thoughtless guest? Possibly. We checked around and couldn't figure out who had been down there. What's weirder is that Josie had been nervous about Kaeden going down the stairs and had closed the door leading to the cellar and locked it around three in the afternoon.

But who would go down to the cellar to explore our place, and then just leave things undone like that? I even double checked our bulkhead, just to make sure that hadn't been tampered with, but it was locked securely. Nope.

Maybe it was just one of our ghosts making themselves known? The place does seem to have weird things happen when there is a lot of activity taking place, or excitement. The last few strange instances I've witnessed have taken place while I was having really intense conversations on the phone. One time, the volume control on our TV suddenly went from mute to the highest setting for no apparent reason. Another time, I started hearing an old Ella Fitzgerald song playing upstairs, from no radio source that I could find. Then I went back downstairs and it started playing again.

I've decided that we have party ghosts here. Hey, that's not a bad thing, right? I'll take a martini-swilling party ghost any day of the week. They are much, much friendlier, I think.

Tonight I have my meeting about Jesus Christ Superstar with my two partners in crime, the artistic director and my musical director. More on that later.

I continue to keep plugging away with my writing, too. The rewrites for Late Night are coming, but the tone is bothering me. Have to keep working at it.

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