Apparently I’ve posted 99 times on this here blog of mine, making this my 100th post. I feel like I should break out the diapers and Metamucil, but instead I’ll raise my prune juice in a toast to the whole blogging world. Seriously, I just found out about this shit like 4 or 5 months ago and here I am celebrating 100 posts. It’s enough to bring a tear to my eye.
So in honor of my birthday (?) I’ll post links to my favorite 100 posts
Just kidding, I’m far too lazy for that. I do have a ghost story though (yeah I know, Halloween is so yesterday – whatever).
My dad’s dad died when my dad was only 19 years old. He was a train engineer and was involved in a crash when all the lights of the train went out and two trains collided. My parents met when my dad was 28 so obviously my mom never met his dad. My sister Dizzy was born June 2nd 1982. This is all relevant, swearsies.
My mom and dad had brought Dizzy home from the hospital and were soundly sleeping a few days later when the baby began crying. My mother threw on her robe and padded down the hall to soothe her. She decided to head downstairs and sit in the rocking chair while she nursed Dizzy.
Suddenly she heard a knock on the door. It was 2 in the morning in the middle of June but when she opened the door there was a man standing there dressed all in white and a blizzard raged on behind him. My mother said he looked like the Glad man. He told her he had come to see his grandaughter so she let him in.
She made them tea, let him hold the baby, all the while thinking she was in the middle of a very strange dream. Eventually she went back upstairs to bed.
In the morning she went downstairs to find the half empty teapot, two teacups in the sink and a layer of snow on the ground.*
* contrary to popular belief it is NOT normal for it to snow in June here. If you look at weather records however, there was a snowstorm in June 1982. When my mother described the man to my father, he said: “that’s my dad!”.