Friday, December 25, 2009

Another Update, I guess.

So it’s X-mas, I’m too lazy to type Christmas all the time. So far the divorce is going, well good. Since I’ve cut her out completely I haven’t really thought about her, been too busy. I guess that’s life never stopping. Been working on my truck, will get some pics when I get it done, I hope. Good news it is above freezing, bad news is I have a puddle of ice water under the truck about three inches deep.

I have a second interview Monday. It is for a very part time job, but is better than nothing. And nothing is all that is hiring here. So anything is better than nothing.

Household repairs are coming along slowly. I fixed part of the bathroom floor, got another section to replace, and have to build or get some new shelves. That may take a bit.

Tomorrow I am going to try and work on my truck some more. Really it needs some air in the tires, and the gas tank installed. Everything after that is me playing I think. Not necessary but little jobs I want to do, like the inside door panels, wiring a radio, and hooking up some electrical stuff.

So job and car coming along nicely I think. Not bad for just starting the second week, and dealing with the holidays. Also maintaining a personal life sort of.

I’ve been talking with a younger woman, like 7 or 8 years younger than myself on the phone. She seems sweet, and I enjoy talking with her. We haven’t met yet, but are talking about it soon. I’m not rushing anything, and have no expectations.

So I’ve been busy. I have got to do a little hunting, and got nothing yet.

I really helped myself by realizing, it wasn’t my choice for it to be over. A while back I was thinking, about how I was treated, with her cheating on me and such. I justified her actions, thinking it was me. But she hurt me, and she knew it was going to hurt me. It happened before. She cheated, well not technically according to her, when she broke up with me years ago she spent that very weekend with another man to whom she had been talking. So I’ve went through heart ache twice, I always let her justify it. But I wouldn’t do that to her, I want someone who will be as dedicated to me as I am to them. So she can’t fulfill that, she didn’t and doesn’t care.

So by thinking over everything, she doesn’t deserve me. I don’t want a history of her changing lovers when she gets bored with them looming over me. That and our dogs were like our children. Honestly, and she just gave them up. She gave up our kids. She gave them up because she couldn’t take care of them and have her relationship.

How can I be with someone that could give up their dogs, whom we have loved for almost 6 years? I can’t. She just gave it all up. Perhaps it was time for her to be selfish . . . no I can’t justify it, it was wrong. I wasn’t perfect, I admit that, but it takes two to make a relationship to work. She gave up; I deserve someone that won’t give up in the hard times.

But I rant. Thinking about things has really helped. That and staying busy. I was surprised the other day when I realized how long it had been since I thought about her. I think about my dogs and hope they are in great new homes, I think about my house I miss, but not her.

Things are getting better. I have new goals, budding independence on a new level, and my own life. I’m thinking of stopping smoking, but not until after the first of the year. That will be another battle. Right now I’m just hoping for a good night’s sleep, and a productive day.

I’m doing it. If I can, you can, anyone can. Thinking about it from a third part perspective can help.

Tuesday, December 22, 2009


So I’ve been here almost a week now, in Muscatine at my mother’s house. So far I’ve gotten unpacked sort of, my clothes must stay in bags. But everything else is done. The room is cleaned out enough to sleep in.
The starter was acting up on my car the day I left, but I got that fixed. Since then my car has been sitting. I’ve been working on the bronco. Haven’t got a real lot done, too cold and windy, but it needs done soon.
Tomorrow I have to put insurance on it regardless. I am going to redo the exhaust that will either be a horrible project or easy as pie. I have a piece of pipe and cherry bomb, but if it doesn’t fit it will be a pain.
I have an interview Thursday. Only a part time job, but it will be enough to pay my insurance and keep gas in the tank. Also once I get trained I will be able to pick up new accounts at the job.
So I have a job prospect, and the truck is getting finished. Once I get a car and job I will feel a lot better. Then I will have back some independence.
I have someone that seems interested in a date. I’m afraid being busy and not able to make time for her will drive her off. The past two times we were going to meet it snowed and tomorrow, it is snowing again and we were talking about a movie. She is a little young I have no expectations, but it’d be nice to hang out with non-family.
But things could be coming together slowly. I’m moving on, and every day is easier. After this short amount of time I feel pretty good, just imagine what the next few weeks bring.

Thursday, December 17, 2009

Dealing with my divorce

So life has changed. My wife has left me. Well we left each other. I took my stuff, tools and clothes, and left. She is up there. She found someone else. I guess I didn’t show my love enough. And it got to the point she wanted more affection, and found it. So we talked about sharing the house for a while, but I couldn’t take it. I couldn’t be there making her miserable, I want her to be happy, and me to be happy, that means one of us had to go.
I moved out. I came to my moms. Wow a big change, over an hour away in a town half the size. Left my home, to my old home. But things are different now. I’m not the same, I was a lazy teen last time I was here, and I can’t fall back into that. I need to keep my life going; I need to keep life happening.
So what do I need to do? Well my car, isn’t the best winter driver, and the starter is weak. So it may sit for the winter. I have a bronco that needs a little work. A break line, a gas tank, and then it will be ready to go. However it isn’t going anywhere without a job. The gas is going to kill me.
That gives me a vehicle, and next I can get the nova ready for spring time. So finding a job and the car is number one, or two.
I guess number one is moving in. I have bags all over my mom’s living room and in my car. The room I am moving into in has old carpet, drywall, inches of dust, and a broken window, it’s cold by the way. My mom’s house is condemnable. I have to help her out and catch her house work up and see what we can do from there.
So the living situation is little less than I’m used to. But it is a good motivator to stay busy. But I have to clean the room, 6 hours in and I’m about half way down. Going to finish it tonight.
But that’s my cluster f& of plans. Truck running, job, and moved in.
Ultimately I’m going to progress with my life, work, save, and live. I’m saving for land; I’m tired of being the one that has to leave, so I want my own land, my own place. I don’t care if I have to pull a trailer on the land while I build a house for a while.
Once I get those three things done (I’m working, with reliable vehicle, and moved in) I start on the next. I am quitting smoking, I am going to improve my mom’s house step by step, and since I’m not paying rent I will save as much as I can to invest in this land.
But the week before Christmas, and three days before my birthday I find out my wife loves another man. Hurray for X-mas. I really don’t’ want X-mas to even come this year.
That’s my update. The next couple days will be returning a lot of applications, fixing my truck, clean the room out enough for me sleep in. I’ll have no photos, as I lost the camera, but I’ll try and update here. Perhaps this blog has turned into a how to, or how not to survive a life changing event?
Wish me luck, I need it.

Wednesday, December 9, 2009

More black students punished than white, where to draw the line. (WIP)

Here in the great state of Illinois I live in, we are going to research why African American or black children get punished more often than white students in public school, and stop this. This stems from concern from a school district in the Chicago area.

I was a bit concerned when hearing this news. First of all this makes absolutely no sense. I researched a bit, a good thing to do before you begin any argument.

I found out the percentages of black adults in Chicago is (36.8%) to whites (31.3%) (City Data, 2008). Black families, even though more likely to be single parent households have an average of about 3 children, while white people have about the average of 2. (Social status and bearings, 2007).

So first of all we have more black children in the school districts, so more of them should be punished on average, that’s correlation. In Chicago the public schools contain a larger concentration of black children, while almost 10% of white students in the area attend private schools. (Educators Handbook, 2005). That increases the population of African Americans even more. If you have 15 rabbits, three gray, the rest tan. Which group gray, or tan would get the most time spent on them? The larger group of course, there is a direct correlation.

Away from the facts that larger base of black students means more of them will be punished due to population size. I heard a brief radio presentation on this, and some interesting comments. A teacher, I did not get the name or school district, but to paraphrase her “It’s not fair to punish them for what they can’t do.”

Evidently the minority teachers, as this teacher was, felt it wasn’t fair to hold black students to the same standards as white students. It is common knowledge that black families are more likely one parent, lower in SES standing, have a higher rate of abuse, and other difficulties that can make education harder, or even a second thought (Social Work Today, 2008).

But let’s look at that idea again. “It’s not fair to punish them for what they can’t do.” Is that a fair statement? Do some of the black kids have tough lives? Sure, but I bet some of the white kids do too. Is there a reason that black kids should be expected to do less for the same reward (education) as whites?

What this lady is saying is black kids can’t do as well as white kids.

What if I said that?

He can’t do it because he is black.

If I made that statement I’d be fired as a teacher, and declared a racist. Why the double standard? Do double standards really help?

If we ask the feminist movement they don’t. Look at the advances in women over the past few decades, the right to vote, work, the opportunity to be athletes, professionals, college educated, the right to be anything they can be.

But evidently we can’t ask the same of the black community, but they have to ask it of themselves, or else we are racist.

So It seems we need less discipline with black children in schools. The core belief seems to be it must be easier for blacks, or else it isn’t fair.
A harsh conclusion?

For years Chicago has tried public buses going to schools, offering scholarships for college to promising students, charting and re-charting to school districts to increase/decrease diversity. Look at national schools, American Educator, 2004) They now are trying to remove discipline.

I think this is a bad idea. It takes away teachers control of classroom, it doesn’t’ teach discipline, it reinforces bad behavior. But what could this lead to?

“At about 24 deaths a year, Chicago children
are being killed 24 times the rate that Chicago soldiers are being
killed in Iraq. Statistics from Military Genealogy Trails show that
during the five-year period between September 2001 and July 2006, six
soldiers from Chicago were killed in Iraq combat. In a startling
comparison, however, during an eight-year period between 1998 and 2007,
190 Chicago Public School children, mostly black, died in gun-related
incidents.” (Chicago loses more Black kids than soldiers in Iraq to gun violence, Now Public, 2007).

Whats wrong with teaching curricula, self respect, respect for others, disclpline, work ethic, and all the things that drive people to succed. I am not interested in being a fun paid babysitter that gives everyone gold stars. I am interested in teaching.

Thursday, November 5, 2009


Did some more work on the chevette a few weekends ago. Moved it from our house to my mom’s house to get it out of the way for winter. I bought a master cylinder for it.

Me and brother working on chevette

I put the new master cylinder on it, and went to bleed the brakes, blowing a rear brake line in the process. So now I have to wait to get the brake lines done.
The master cylinder removal was unhooking lines, unbolting the master cylinder, unhooking the linkage under the dash, bleeding, and reversing the process.

Chevette Master Cylinder

I bled the master cylinder in the car, by pumping the brakes with plugs in the master cylinder, took about an hour and half to get the air out of the master cylinder.

Three hoods up

I hooked the lines up, started to bleed the brakes, and blew the rear line.

My brother’s car was up in the air, waiting a transmission swap. My mom’s car needed a thermostat. And the bronco needs the fuel lines fixe, a brake line tightened, and the tranny put back together. So lots left to do. Bad thing is the cold weather is on the way hard and fast, so I am going to have to start picking my battles on what to fix.

Waiting on a transmission

Electrical Outlet

So last week our microwave stopped working, and we smelt burning plastic. So I unplugged it until I could look at it. I plugged it back in without the cover on, it threw sparks inside. Not surprising, it was from the 1970s and microwaves don’t last forever. So I left it plugged in and we started smelling the plastic again, the inside was hot. You could actually see a capacitor arching to a screw in the board.

So it was unplugged, and we got a new microwave.

Plugged in the new microwave and it didn’t work. Tried the new microwave in another outlet and it worked perfectly. So I took the plug cover off. The microwave surging had cooked the plug. The outlet had melted in the wall. The box was a little melted but still served its purpose so I left it.

Bad wall plug

It wasn’t as bad as it looked. I had an old surge protected outlet to replace it with. I’m not a fan of them, had them in my garage and just plugging in a welder will set them off.

Open box

So I took the old one out, the wires were not that bad, I wrapped the live wire in some electric tape. It had some bubbles in the plastic coating. But I wrapped it up and hooked up the outlet. I'm replacing the wiring from knob and tube and old strand wires to new ez pull wires piece by piece anyway so it will get changed in about a year.

Wall Outlet naked

I turned the power back on and nothing burnt down. Or shot sparks. So I plugged the microwave in and it worked. I left the cover off for a day to make sure the house wasn’t going to burn down, and then I put it back on.

Wall outlet finished

I like to think I saved the house from a fire.

Saturday, October 31, 2009

Greenwood Cemetery


So I’ve heard a lot of ghost stories about Greenwood Cemetery in Muscatine, Iowa. I grew up an lived in Muscatine most of my life. Greenwood actually gets a fair amount of foot traffic. Daytime walkers do rounds around the cemetery; the staff mows twice a week or so. How do I know?

I spent more time there than most people. The only people that may have logged more hours in a year than me are the people who sell head stones and services in the office right up front of the cemetery. First of all what series you ask? Well you can set up perpetual care, your tombstone get motor patched, cleaned, ect. You can set up a trust, a bank account that they control, it builds interest constantly.

That interest is used to repair the stone. So in fifty years you get a new marble base or something from the interest. But they work there during the day; I’ve spent more time there at night.

A few years ago I lived and worked in Muscatine. I worked for a local business and spent my lunch hours there, I’d eat, and walk, mon-fri. On my free time I’d go there, because rarely did I see someone, except the occasionally walker.
So I’d spend four hours or so walking for exercise, eating if I grabbed food, treating it like a park more so than a cemetery.

I illegally spent many a late night there. I changed jobs, and works third shift briefly, during this two month period I ate lunch there. I turned my lights off and drove in. I’d eat and walk around for a bit. Occasionally I saw some teens, burning candles and playing “Wiccan”, I know, I know, they are serious about it, until the phase fades.

But usually I saw no one. I did see police that drove by and shines the spot light in, but I never personally ran into one. I figured they’d tell me to leave, after all eating a sandwich in my work clothes while sitting the car doesn’t really spell trouble. But I never saw them. I did get out and walk around.

The main legend comes from the blue angel; I’ll talk about that in a bit. But I walked around the entire thing, the new graves, the children sections, the old graves the back corners, along the tree line right before the hill, on the roads, and out in between the graves. I almost tripped a few times, never on stones, but on branches.

Now I walked around before the tornado went through a few years back. The cemetery was loaded with big trees, provided good cover from the street, but leaves, sticks, and small branches were everywhere. Ask anyone that mowed it. But the trees really gave it a secluded feeling. I’ve been there since the tornado went through, it looks very different.

But that being said, I still could walk the roads through the cemetery in the dead of night with comfort. Even to the blue angel. The blue angel is in a mausoleum, it sits in the back, not really the back corner as described, but more in the middle, it sits about 75 yards back from the road. So it is a little walk.

I walked it in the day time, in the night time. By myself often, and would go right up to the glass and look in without question or fear. There is another mausoleum right next to it, to the left I actually like better. The stained glass, and tomb’s inside are beautiful, but it doesn’t’ have a statue.

The blue angel is a white stone lady kneeling with an arm out. She had a hand the caretakers would put a flower in, usually a plastic rose. In my childhood it was broke off. Legend says it was broke off because if the lady dropped the rose while you were there you would die. Someone broke it off to stop her from hurting other people.

Now I know the true story. The real story of how the hand got broke, and I also know the real story how the antler got broke off the deer at River Park in Muscatine. But back to the Blue Angel. I was child, and acquaintances of my family had possession of the hand. They ended up throwing it away, or tossing it in the river, not sure of the disposal out of fear of being caught.

They did not break the hand off to save people. They broke it off to try and use it as paraphernalia. That’s all I’m going to say. I don’t remember who or exact dates. I’m sure if someone really searches and finds this blog that had something to with or knew the people that got the hand, better than I did (I was only about 6), they will shake their head in agreement.

So I saw the hand, we visited the blue angel when I was young all the time. I remember adults talking about the hand, and it was very hush-hush, and I remember seeing the hand. It had nothing to do with the legend. If I truly knew who it was or could remember I’d give the details. But being so young it is all blurry. I can describe their house and what Atari games they had, but can’t even picture the people’s faces.

So the hand is gone. But many years later I tired of eating my lunch in a parking lot, so I started going back to the cemetery. I walked around, day or night, and never saw anything odd, ghostly, paranormal, or scary. I did have one scary moment.

I was by a mausoleum, Dr. something, can’t recall the name, but could take you right to the mausoleum. The mausoleum has about 6” wide by 3’ tall windows cut into it. The front has a big locked metal door. But you can look inside. It is a veterans grave. There are usually little flags, and there was a broom always in it. And the white marble was always gorgeous, but the floor was filthy and the broom usually knocked over.

One day I heard a cry. I paused and looked around. Then I heard it again. I was about twenty foot from the mausoleum. It could have been a woman, or a child. I walked toward the sound, as I tracked the random cries, it lead me toward the mausoleum. At first I thought maybe some kid got in and got stuck. But then I heard the odd long cry again. It wasn’t’ a kid, or even a person.
It was coming from the mausoleum. I went toward it, a little freaked out. I crept toward the window. No noise, nothing but quite. I peeked in, and boom a cat jumped out.

Just about gave me a heart attack. Little calico cat, fat and pregnant. I checked the mausoleum a couple days later and no kittens, so she must of just of been looking for a place to have them.

That’s the scariest thing I ever saw, day or night. I never saw a “ghost hand” of the blue angel, the sky never turned black, no screams, and no footsteps. All those claims sounds like some scaring themselves, of a group of teens who have it in their head they will see something.

In my life I’ve only saw one thing I couldn’t explain fully, but it does have possible explanations, it had nothing to do with Greenwood Cemetery. So if you’re going to look for ghost you will be disappointed, however there is amazing stained glass, and unique architecture to enjoy. And if you go in at night, there are deer, lots of deer.

Ghost Story, enjoy some fiction.

angel tombstone

For this blog I’d like to tell you a story. A story, I wish I had proof and evidence of, not only for you, but for me. There will be no car repair guides, how to on home repair, or anything else. I know that is my forte, but remember, I am a writer and I do write other things.

Since I am a writer (it still feels weird to call myself that) that’s what I do, I write. It is what I love doing, writing is a magical release of ideas to a format that you can share with even the coldest stranger, and not face rejection due to a paper veil.

In writing, I’ve found some stories to be priceless. Say a friend of yours desperately wants something stupid, like shrink-dinks. You don’t want to run around for hours trying to find these things, but you should go. While the ultimate goal is frivolous to you, in exchange, you get a story. You will go here and there, you will see determination, heart break, and a full story will act out before your eyes. Remember to go for the story, and life will be interesting.

That being said, I went for a story once, and I got a pretty amazing one. I wish I had proof, honestly, for myself more than you.

I went to a writers retreat offered by my college. Some stupid essay won me a spot. We went to a Victorian style home that was used for meetings, retreats, and rented out to whomever for probably some god awful price. I won’t give its location, or even a good description as you will find out why later on. The house was kept in its original condition. I heard rumors about how the family that owned it was murdered, and it was bought and kept as is from a family trust until this corporation bought it to rent out. But I wasn’t sure of how that worked until we arrived.

We took a bus, I, and a few other people, last names changed for this story of course... Professor Baudwon, a huffy puffy “I should be teaching somewhere bigger than this junior college” type. He was a bad teacher. He hated me because I had published a book and he had been trying for years. Michael Reeces, thought he was going to be the next big rich Stephen King, his writing sucked, clones of other stories with slight changes. Perhaps the Professor liked Michael because he knew his writing was going nowhere. Erika Tanner, a mother of one but you wouldn’t know it, she was young vibrant and probably won the award because she was hot. Personally Erika was haughty bitch, but she looked sweet and innocent on first glance. And Rachel Dune. Rachel was the mousy shy girl. She wasn’t’ repulsive or anything, but very introverted. She wrote a lot of what I’d call bad poetry, very woe is me, versus woe is us. I found Rachel’s wrote well, but it was clearly written for her, not an audience, not that it took away from her talent. In their way, everyone was a talented writer on this trip.

So we make it to the house, for three days we are to chat, explore, and write. Baudwon is the ring leader, me, Michael, Rachel, and Erika all to share this house and polish our craft. I never thought I’d learn anything, change my style, or anything else enlightened, I went for the story. Perhaps Erika’s daughter would get sick, and it would be a mad rush for her to get home. Maybe two people would hate each other and fight the whole time; perhaps Baudwon would relax and get of his high horse in some fleeting personality change.

None of these things happened of course. Instead I fell in love, but I will explain that later as well. The house was large, not huge, but large. It was three stories tall, sat on many wooded acres, and was well preserved. I am not going to lie, it was impeccably kept. The upstairs was divided by a center stair case; to the left of the staircase there was a library, an office, a bathroom, and the official office of registration, to the right of the staircase were four bedrooms.

Two of the bedrooms were plain; with black iron beds and brown faux wood dressers with a mirror. One had a few photos, they were the caretakers, and when they had to stay overnight they slept in that room. The other was just plain; it was called by Professor Baudwon.

The remaining two rooms had Victorian beds, large fancy wooden furniture, pale pastel color paint; one was the husband’s private bedroom, the other the wife’s private room. The original owners bedrooms, kept as they were still connected by a door for late night meetings.

When you came down the stairs directly in front of you was the front door, to the left was the kitchen, the dining hall, a bathroom, and a music room. To the right was a large meeting or family room with a bar. In the far corner was a dark hallway with doors on each side. As you walked down the hallway you noticed no windows in any of the rooms. To the right there were ten doors, 3 were closed. To the left in the hall where ten doors, 2 closed. All the open doors were identical rooms, plain black iron bed frames and cheap dressers.

Each closed door was a beautiful room.

The closed doors on the right were not as fancy; these were staff quarters from when the original owners lived there. The furniture was Victorian but not as fancy as in the upstairs bedrooms. The two rooms on the right, however, out shined the upstairs rooms. The furthest bedroom down was obviously a teen agers room with its selection of frills. It had a writing desk, hearts carved into the furniture legs, and a large bed. It was the oldest daughter’s room. The closest bedroom was just as elaborate. It was a little girl’s room, old teddy bears still sat on the bed, the room was light pink with green accents, a wagon, a tiny desk, and a tiny bed all sat undisturbed like they were waiting for the little girl to return.

We could do as we wished in our own rooms, but were only allowed to look into the original rooms. “No touching”, as signs on the door warned. The college paid a hefty security deposit, and Professor Baudwon reminded us of this several times.

I threw my bag in the bed room on the right, the one closest to the little girl’s room. Michael took the room after mine, and the girls choose the rooms across the hall. After we unpacked, all of us grabbed our notebooks,( this is before the age of laptops) and went into the family room.

I went to the bar in the back of the room and poured some unlabeled whiskey. The girls each worked away at some fruity drinks. Baudwon appeared and reminded us under age students cannot drink. I was merely 17 or 18 and in my head old enough, so I raised my glass in a toast and ignored him. I had been drinking for a while and I had built up a tolerance, but as the night progressed the girls became drunk.

Michael didn’t’ drink. Instead he stared into the fireplace, talking about a plot of his that sounded a lot like “The Shining”. Baudwon didn’t say much. The girls chuckled and talked about nonsense. I started to sketch the fireplace and room. Not the whole thing, just pieces I liked, such as the corner trim.

The main house, kitchen, bathrooms, parlor, and everything else had been kept in the Victorian style but with upgrades. They had track lighting, new plumbing, new carpet; they kept the elements of the design. The original bedrooms were not upgraded; they were kept complete and untouched.

After a non productive day one we went to our rooms. I had a good amount of whiskey in me so I was asleep quickly. I slept deep until I heard a knock on my door. I got up and opened it, to see three sets of eyes looking at me. The girls and Michael.

“Was that you?” Michael asked.

“Me what? I’ve been sleeping.” I responded confused as I wiped sleep out of my eyes and straightened my glasses.

“We heard a weird thumping noise.” Erika said.

I hadn’t heard anything, but I went down the hallway and looked in every room starting at the back. They stood close talking about the story of the house and the murders. I didn’t believe in ghosts, and to this day am 99% skeptical of anything paranormal. If something goes bump in the night it is usually me trying to find a bathroom.

I went and checked the rooms on the other side of the hallway and came to the little girl’s room. Her bed was tore apart, the wagon flipped over, the desk chair knocked over.

“Who did this?” I asked.

No one apparently, because everyone came out of their rooms together. We all had alibis. We went into the family room, I poured myself another drink. The girls threw wood on the coals to try and get a fire going. I looked at a clock it was 3:30am. Michael ran upstairs as fast he could to get the professor.

“So, no one did this?” Baudwon asked.

We explained how, one by one everyone came together from the start of the noise to the end. It wasn’t us. We discussed what could happen if one of us was caught vandalizing. Finally, he came to the story of the house, and that anyone thought this would funny, they were wrong and could be in serious trouble. I interjected that I wanted him to get to the story, I did not know it.

“Really? No one told you?” Baudwon asked me.

“I was told two days before this three day trip that I had won. I know nothing, except that we will be back Tuesday, meals and lodging are provided, and what little I’ve picked up from listening to conversations.”

I was told the story. A long time ago (the best way to start a story), a family lived here. Two parents with two daughters made up the happy family. They were very well off, and owned several factories in town. One rainy night, someone without reason broke in and killed the entire family while they slept. They found muddy foot prints, but never found the killer. The brother of the owner bought the house with estate money, saddened by the loss of his nieces he preserved the house, and stayed at it sparingly as a vacation house until his death. At his death the estate was bought by company who uses the house as a tax write off and rents it out to corporate events, or other meetings.

Supposedly, the house is haunted, by whom, or what isn’t known. Only that six sets of caregivers quit, before they made staying in the house optional. Now, the caregivers rarely stay overnight.

As the story finished a door slammed down the hall. With no lights down the hall we all stood and waited. There were no windows, anything in there would have to come out the hall way. I took an old gas lamp, and went to the hall, I was followed by everyone. I checked every room previously and left all the doors standing wide open. Only one was shut. The older daughter’s door.

I went down the hall; the guys came with me, the girls stayed in the family room. I crept down and opened the door. At this point I was actually worried. I didn’t know what was on the other side. But I turned the knob and opened the door fast. I figured I’d surprise whatever was in the room.

Nothing. Nothing was in the room, it was perfect. We went around with the lantern as the room did not have any light like the remodeled rooms did. Nothing inside.

I closed the door and we went down the hall. At this point we had all decided that it was late, and we were just freaking ourselves out. We went to pick up the little girl’s room, and call it night. Hopefully no one would be the wiser, and we could forget this.

After closing down the family room we turned on the lights in all our rooms, letting the light brighten the hall, and provided some light besides the lamp in the little girl’s room.

As we went in Ericka and Rachel straightened the wagon and toys, Michal and Baudwon organized the desk and moved the chair back. We heard the door open to the older daughter’s room.

Erika stuck her head out and screamed.

“Oh my god, I saw a girl, I saw her!” She went hysterical.

We all looked and saw nothing but an empty hall.

“You know those doors are like a hundred years old right, I’m sure the locking mechanisms are shot by now.” I reasoned.

We calmed her. It was late, she was going to sleep in the same room as Rachel, and that idea calmed Erika. I started making the bed, I pulled the sheets and blankets off that were strewn across the foot of the bed. I took the light bottom sheet and flipped it up in the air.

This is when things changed.

Erika was sitting down, holding Baudwon’s hand. Rachel and Michael stood at the upper corners ready to grab the sheet. As the sheet came down for a second it took the shape a little girl, as if she was lying below the sheet, before it fell flat.

I seemed to be the only one that noticed. I took the sheet, and got ready to flip it again.

“What are you doing?” Michael asked.

“Watch.” I said.

Again the sheet rose and fell, for a brief moment it looked like a little girl’s figure. A small girl 6 or 7, lying perfectly still face up. Baudwon stood up, and demanded we do it again, as he held the lamp close.

Again the same thing happened, this time Michael punched the sheet flat as it took form.

For some reason this pissed me off. I went over and grabbed his arm.

Normally I am not too intimidating, people look beyond me. I wear large clothes that make me look thinner, and I slouch or stand on one leg and I seem shorter. I am not aggressive in the least, but at this I stood tall my 6’1 260lb frame came to life, Michael realized I was not joking as I stared through him.

“What man? I don’t’ want that thing here.” Michael spouted angrily.

“It was a little girl, dead or not a little girl. The next time you want to hit a little girl why don’t come and try and hit me first.”

Michael squared up and I didn’t’ back down. “Better make it good.” I said.

Baudwon stepped in. He couldn’t explain it, but thought we should all stay in the family room. The girls ran out to the track lit room, and again stoked the fire as if the light was going to protect them.

Michael and Professor Baudwon both left; I gave the room a once over and followed.

In the family room I drank another whiskey on the rocks. The girls fell asleep on the couch, it was almost 5 am. Still dark, would be for another couple hours. Michael and Baldwin talked about what they saw, turning it into a story, over active imaginations, and other things that annoyed me.

I retired to my room, much to the surprise of everyone. I’d rather have a dead little girl staring at me than listen to the asinine conversation that was going on.

I took another round of liquor with me and went to my room. I shot the rest of the drink hard and lay down. I was feeling a heavy buzz and decided death itself couldn’t wake me up, but I was wrong.

I had just dozed off but curiosity kept making me open my eyes. I had the lamp going. It was flickering, about out of fuel. The only other light was a sliver of light coming from under the door. The family room and bar was still fully lit for the four.


Upon opening my eyes for an instant I saw a little girl. I shut my eyes before it registered. I opened them again, she was gone. I sat up, I finished the bit of whiskey that sat in my glass, and laid my head back down.

There she was. This time I sat and looked at the little Victorian girl. She was transparent, a shade of herself. She took a step closer, and moved with weight.

“Hello.” I said, not sure how you greet an apparition.

Her eyes turned black, and I thought for a minute she was going to scream, or become some sort of demon. But instead she smiled.

“Thank you.” The little voice barely audible came.

“For what?” I asked.

“Stopping that man from hitting at me.”

“No problem.”
She sat and watched me oddly, and I did the same.

“It is my sister slamming the doors, she doesn’t like strangers.” I heard the faint voice say.

“Your older sister?”

“Yes, and it is going to rain, she always hates that.”

“That when you guys . . . were murdered?” I asked, wishing I had stopped.

“Yes, in the rain.” The little girl spoke back, her voice still barely audible.

“What’s it like? You know dying?” I asked.

“You know all of those dark things you don’t have to be afraid of when you are alive?”

I squinted in thought.

“The bad things, the things you can’t see but fear.” She added.

I nodded.

“You have to be afraid of those.” She said.

“What is your name?” I asked.


“That’s a nice name Lilabil.” I said no idea why I called her Lilabil.

The ghost girl froze as if she was the one scared.

“My father called me Lilabil.” She said, then she turned away, “My sister, Alexandria, she is mad it is going to rain.”

Lilly disappeared. I heard screaming from the family room. Male and Female. I got up, it was 6:15, and the sun was on its way up. The second day was starting with a bang.

“She was here!” Erika screamed!

I went into the family room to find camp set up. We left tomorrow evening, and it seemed as though everyone was going to stay in the family room for the rest of the stay, except me.

They told me of a young girl, a teenage girl who stood in the doorway and looked at them. I found this an odd thing to be afraid of, but everyone was visibly shaken.
The day went without a hitch; no one saw or heard anything. Later as the sun set it began to rain. This changed everything. Doors slammed, we heard wails, and cries. I knew it was the rain, and just ignored it. I had a dog that cried when it thundered, so now we had ghosts that flipped out when it rained.

Everyone one else was petrified in state of constant fear hunkering, and hiding with every noise. Then a new noise appeared.

“Bang, Bang, Bang!” Came at the front door.

Baudwon ran to get it.

“You better not.” I said.

He opened the door a couple stood in the rain. Franticly they busted in telling us of how their car stalled. Baudwon agreed they should stay the night, and told them of the ghostly happenings. They said anything was better than the rain. As the couple came in from outside, the house went nuts.

The new people, the old people, all hid in the family room, watching the hall way. Wails, long cries, increased, doors slammed hard, everything rattled.

I recognized the crying. It was Lilabil. I got up, and as everyone tried to stop me I went down the hall. About two feet down the hall I was eye to eye with Alexandria, she passed right through me without notice, evidently I was no longer a threat, but doors slammed as she passed.

I made a B-line to Lily’s room. I did not see her, or hear her in the room. I crouched beside the bed.

“Lily, it’s ok. They are not bad people, they are not going to hurt you I promise, they are just as afraid as you are.”

I continued to comfort no one for about five minutes, then everything stopped, the house was quite. As the group came to find me, doors creaked, and some noises of the haunting experience stirred infrequently.

I sat by the bed and the group found me. Suddenly flashes started going off. Michael, this happening in the time before cell phones, digital cameras, had brought an old camera with a large flash powered by its own battery pack. He clicked two or three shots, and the house began to whir. I looked at what he was shooting. Above the bed on the pale pink paint looked like darker wet spots in a little kids hand writing, that spelled out “thank you” the last u was just forming. Click. The house began to get irritated; more over the protective teen age sister was getting irritated.

I stood up and yelled at Michael to get out. He refused; Baudwon stepped in saying we should get evidence.

“Evidence really? That’s what you want?” I retorted to the two.

I then punched Michael. He fell to the floor, as I yelled, “There is your evidence now call the cops!”

Everyone left as they thought I went crazy. But they didn’t spend much time in the hall, as slamming doors came closer and closer to them as they sprinted into the family room. I stayed put, the doors passed the rooms. I told Lily again, nothing to
worry about, and things settled.

For the rest of the night Alexandria must have stood by the hall entry way, if anyone came close doors slammed, pictured shook and fell, so everyone stayed away. I stayed in Lily’s room. I never saw her, but I knew she was glad I was there.

I fell asleep to be awakening from people yelling down the halls. It was the next day, the day to leave, and no one wanted to go down the hall way, so I had to pack up everyone’s bags and bring them out. On my last trip I said good bye, to Lilabil,
and to Alexandria, then I left.

The trip was exciting, and many people wrote horrible stories of plates flying, odd noises, chandeliers rattling, and creepy ghost girls. I wrote a story on love. I felt the love of a father in my heart when I saw that little girl. Dead or alive I wanted her to be safe and well.

Thursday, October 22, 2009

New Post Coming.

So I have been writing, really I have. Unfortunately it is for Math. I decided that I will post papers on request if I have one that fits the need. That's right all B or higher, research done on most.

So away from that I am working on three blogs right now, and two books. Well proofing one, skeleton the next. But two are on scary Halloween type stuff. The other a bit different. The book I won't elude to since I don't want to be copy right infringed.

But I have also done other things besides homework and writing. I finished that little horse riding toy I bought. It was grey, worn, and in a couple pieces with no handle. A buck fifty. I'm re stained it with dark walnut stain, put it together and reinforced it. Finally it is done, not bad an antique riding horse now in great shape for a buck fifty and a half n hour of work.

I sanded it, which didn't take much, after I took it all apart. I knocked out the old peg handles. And drilled a larger hole to hold an entire 1" dowel rod versus the little wood glued 1/2 handles with peg bases. I also put on a new the little rope. I stained it all the dark walnut letting them soak over night. Then I put it all back together, and took off my masking tape. Here is a bad cell phone photo, I'll try and get a better one soon.

I also found why your least favorite lighter always gets appreciated. That's right, many of you buy a bunch of lighters at a time, a four pack for dollar or something. You then carry your favorite lighter, and then want to go down through the pack. But you loose it for a day in your pocket or something, and you use a new one. After a while you have all the lighters out. At the end as they are all dieing your least favorite still lights, and you think, maybe I shouldn't hate this lighter (color, shape, etc) so much, they all died and this one is still going. You love your ugly little lighter. But you shouldn't it didn't really do anything special. You used your favorite, if you couldn't find it your second favorite, and so on. SO it never got used, it didn't last longer, it just sat around, it is the lazy lighter, that's why it choose to be it's color, shape, etc. . .

But that's it, I'll have more posts coming soon.

Friday, October 9, 2009

Fixing the grill.

I’ve been busy as of late. I cleaned out the house gutters, and installed gutter guards 99% of the way. They are the steel kind; you have to life the bottom shingle up to install. I got all but 2’ done. I ran out of screen, but bent the end down so nothing can get under it. Hopefully I can get the rest of the gutter screen done before winter.

I also finally fixed the grill. A few months ago I was grilling when I noticed part of the burner was shooting flames about two feet high. I turned off the gas and looked at the burner; it had a hole in it, to say the least.

Being late in the grill season I got a deal on a new burner. Installing it was an easy job. The igniter had long been broke; the new burner had come with a new bracket for the igniter.

I disassembled the grill. The dogs had knocked it over a couple times making the frame a bit wobbly. I took a couple pieces of wood and made cross braces to make it more stable. I took the actual grill off of the frame and pulled the igniter out. I took the old burner out, and replaced it with the new one. Installing the bracket for the igniter I had filed clean and fit into a not so perfect match bracket hole actually went without problems.

So it all came together, more stable than before, an igniter that was hooked up, and a good looking burner. I hit the grill with a wire brush to clean the grate, put new lava rock in, and finally hooked up the propane tank.

I turned it one, with a click of the igniter I had fire. So I am ready for my winter grilling sprees. Nothing is awesome as fresh grilled burgers in the dead of winter. I do only have half a tank of propane left, and icy cold weather may unmotivated me to replace it in cold winter weather.

As for an update on the guns I took a copper brush and cleaned the chambers of the mag cylinder, it shot beautifully, no stuck shells. Dead on, easy action. My brother shot a round off sitting on the ground, he just about deafened himself.

College is keeping me busy. I just had a big psych test covering such things as authoritative versus authoritarian parenting styles. I have a couple papers coming up and some homework to work through, but it won’t be so much of a rush since Monday is a holiday. I still am saving papers for possible blog posts, who wouldn’t want a ready made B+? I save them for future use, why do the work over again if you did it once already?

I came across this headstone on a walk. I found it humorous, thought I'd share it.

Tuesday, September 8, 2009

Labor day adventures.

So this weekend we did a lot of cleaning. Got the house about ½ way done. That means ½ still waits, but we are picking at it. Also we got to do some shooting, and a little work on the Aveo.

Heritage Rough Rider

So we went out and shot our new rifle, and revolver. Legendary shooting trip. The new rifle needs some oil, likes to jamb time to time. So I think a cleaning and oiling of the chamber will fix that. But once it starts firing it is a good little gun. The wife shot the hell out of it, really likes the way it shoots and sits. I too like it, easy to fire, holds about 16 rounds, tube fed.

I shot the hell out of our new little handgun. Heritage Western Rough Rider, cheap and gets mixed reviews. I love it. The sights are fixed and you have to aim slightly to the right to get the sights dead on. But who needs sights? I was shooting from the hip, and I was shooting off weeds at the stalk. Those little revolvers are so on, it isn’t funny.

12ga Slug

The three highlights included my mom’s boyfriend. I took a break action 12 gauge, and fired a slug out, then gave him a slug to fire out. I didn’t tell him how hard the 3” double packed slug was going to kick. He shot it and grabbed his shoulder, hilarious. The second highlight was him telling me to shoot this log with my 12 gauge when he threw it in the air. First toss he threw it straight up above him. I decided not to shoot and looked down to see him getting the hell out of the way. And lastly I was shooting my revolver at dragon flies in my mom’s pond. I was hitting around them, and then boom, got one with a .22 round drove it in the ground. Mom’s boyfriends reaction was priceless “Holys*t you just shot a dragon fly out of the air!”.

Like I said the little gun in on. If I can shot a dragon fly out of the air with a Heritage Rough Rider you know it is on. I had no problems with about 100 rounds or .22 I shot out of it. I went up to the .22 full metal jacket mags, only shot one chamber of them, 5/6 were fine. All shot, but one the shell wedged in the chamber and I had to use pliers to get it out. I put another round and the chamber is a little tight, perhaps there is a bur I need to get with a brush when I clean it. Otherwise we have a year warranty if a good bore cleaning doesn’t fix it I’ll send the mag cylinder back. But 1/106 rounds had a problem, that could of very well just been due to the fact the cylinders hadn’t been broke in.

.22 Mags

Shooting was fun, and then we came home.

Honey, the color of our old oil

The Aveo was due for its 3000 mile oil change. So I changed the oil. Easy to do on the car, everything is right where you can get to it. Only problem I had was the cat was hot, so I used pliers to tighten the filter, which is never a good idea, I scratched up the filter pretty good, but in 3000 miles it is going to be junk anyway. The new oil is 5-30, clearer than honey. The old oil was about the color of honey. Cleanest oil I’ve ever changed. I had to do the rest of the maintenance to keep the warranty intact. Checked the belts, the fluids, air filter, this was a pretty basic maintenance round. The book for the car has a chart right inside, what to check, with a box for date, mechanic’s initials, and notes. So that’s my record log of vehicle maintenance. But took out clean oil, and put in cleaner oil.

Math, Ugh

Then with the extra free time I’ve been doing homework this weekend. Finding odds from probabilities, then converting those into expected values, taking the expected values and apply them to controlled probabilities sets to find some (f/e) thing, which I found out if you just find the second probability or last probability in the control set that’s you answer. No idea how, or why, just it’s always correct. Also writing an essay which a is a plan to develop a longitudinal study to find the changes in sexual behaviors from adolescence to adulthood for psych.

Busy but fun weekend, except for homework.

I have all my papers I’ve written over the past four years saved . . . I think the lowest grade on one has a been a B so far. . . do you think I should post them as “references” on my blog?

Thursday, September 3, 2009

So my new I-9 CECT phone sucks. I have battery and charger issues, the screen has died twice and I’ve had to fix it. Be assured I voided the warranty for the good of the cause. Once it was working again it cooked a battery, then due to no fault of the new battery, but fault of the phone, the charger works poor, and the battery discharges fast. I only have charge for about 6 hours and if you let the phone die, it takes two days on the charger before it will even turn back on. Junk. Our cell phone plan renews in about two months and we get free phones then, so I need a back up phone. Rather than keeping a normal phone I decided to rig my own together. It was at this point at a flea market I found a nes controller. Boom nes controller = phone. I’ve seen images of one online, and didn’t figure it could be that hard. I had to find a donor phone. We had an old China Junk Fashion phone, just about the right size to use. The phone had a weak battery, horrible signal, and no one liked it. The tf slot was broke as well. So I took the controller apart, and the phone. I gutted the controller with a dremel tool. Next I had to tear apart the phone. I cut the phone up and trimmed the circuit board and moved some components around. The vibe module didn’t survive. I removed the camera to make the phone fit the case. I had to fine tune trimming out the controller, and it was hit and miss fitting the phone. I removed the screen from the phone and moved it up a bit. I marked out the screen, and marked out the keypad. I cut the phone to fit the keys and screen. I also cut a USB spot in the bottom so the phone can be charged by usb cord or power cord. Once everything fit together and I made a battery holder for the phone I tested it. No signal . . . I forgot the antenna was crap. I used the Tesla coil theory in a sense to boost the antenna, by making a copper coil and attaching to both antenna leads. After that the touch screen failed to work, so I had to micro solider two leads back together. I then pieced the whole together, and it works, not the best reception, but the phone works, charges, and is pretty neat. The TF slot still doesn’t work, but after I made a new mount the battery is working wonderfully. But here is my new back up phone.

And on youtube:

Update; and bought a revolver.

So lots going on, painting a room, making a cell phone, and college has started. Lots of crap on my plate and lots of projects left to do. I have a bench to refinish, the chevette to work on, I have to adjust my rear springs on the nova it is dog tracking a bit, keep up with homework, and live life. Oh yeah and put a gas tank on the Bronco.

So we’ve been painting. Painting a room a light green color, seems ok to me.


The wife ate some kind of spaghetti/pizza sauce that gave her an allergic reaction.
Took three days to get over it, then she ate it again for some unknown reason.

Food Allergy Rash

I’m building my own cell phone, because my new I-9 sucks. That will be a blog in itself. I’m building it inside a Nintendo controller. May end up pretty cool, or suck big time, we will see. My I-9 won’t hold charge for more than 6 hours then takes two days to charge enough to turn back on.

NES controller gutted

I’ve got a new rifle. Redid the stock, it was dull and very rough. I sanded, stained, and varnished it. Good little gun as far as I know, haven’t got to shoot it yet. It is the rifle in the pic, not the shot gun, had that break barrel for a while.

New Rifle, old Shotgun

Also bought a revolver. It is a little heritage, pretty good for under $200. Haven’t shot it yet either, but action is smooth, comes with 2 cylinders, fires any 22s, from shorts to mags. So cheap rounds equal more shooting. I check the sight with my bore sighter, they are fixed but pretty close, aims a little to the left if my bore sighter is correct. Should be fun to shoot, looks very old western and is simple in build.

Heritage Revolver

I'll have to get some target shooting in and post the reviews.

Wednesday, August 5, 2009


Sunflower Close up

I checked out our flowers today. I am getting baby tomatoes finally, but was curious how the flowers were doing. I was amazed the sunflowers are taller than I am. I shot some pics of the flowers beside out house. I didn’t however get pics of our tomatoes; I’ll wait until they turn red.

Big Sun Flower

So the sun flowers are about 8’ tall. They stand almost as high as the window tops. Big yellow flowers. We also have some other flowers, some I didn’t get pictures of, lots of lilies I missed.

Big Sunflower

But I did shoot some yellow, pink, and red flowers.

We be Yellow Flowers



Oh yeah and some metallic beetles that are eating leafs of one kind of plant (no idea what it is). But as you can see they are going at it pretty hard core. I should of got them and fed them to my toad, Mr. Toadsworth.

Beetle Sex


Toadsworth was the size of a pinky nail now he is up to the size of a thumb nail. But he can annihilate a dozen crickets overnight so it isn’t a surprise. I caught the poor little guy by the river. If you feel bad for him, he left a snake infested environment where the insects were larger than he was, to a comfortable home with no predators and a buffet of bugs. He is very happy, and doesn’t pee on you every time you pick him up anymore. So if you feel bad for anything feel bad for one of the snakes that would of got him, they lost a meal.

And here sits the Chevette, awaiting a brake part to come in. Notice the exhaust I ripped off pulling up our hill. Hard to believe that thing has a rebuilt engine in it.


We have been fertilizing with humus, and fish parts. Lots of fish heads and guts. The tomatoes get a lot of dog crap thanks to my three lovely dogs.


I was amazed at the flowers I never really stick my head around there, I just kind of mow and weed whack around them for the most part.
Ok I lied, lilies and tomatoes. But not the big white and pink lilies, only the orange. And I noticed I'm going to have to start watching my pics, already up to 25% of max uploads, wow!

Tomato Plant



Fall is coming, or Wishful Thinking?

Feels like fall is coming fast. That means bow season. I dug out my bow. Browning double cam Cobra. Yep, one of the old ones from the 70s, wood grain with a 50lb draw and 50% let off. After shooting with her the new ones just feel off. And even know the cobra model was only about 5 pounds, the new ones feel too light. The newer compounds aren't so bad if you like the caliper release, but I still like my fingers on the string just below the nocks.

Browing bow

It’s been a while since I shot her. Going to have to get some practice in with her, I know she shoots higher than you’d expect, and to the left. I don’t like sights on a bow, too easy to rely on, so I like to know how my bow shoots.
She is pretty quite. String whiskers help the string from “twanging”, and everything is tight.

My bow isn’t too accessorized. The quiver is stock, detachable if needed. The string whiskers were added of course. The rest is (I can’t find any more) a stick on plastic “fall away”.

The rest is nice, holds the arrow firm, but is flexible and thin enough to not get in the way of a shot, doesn’t move the arrow off course in the least. It just slaps in on release. I haven’t been able to find another one like it, but I am keeping an eye out.

No sight. Sights get tangled up, and bumped out of line easily. I prefer to know where and how my bow shoots. Though I do have a “sorta sight” It is a piece of tape, and about a half inch above, and half inch out to the left when you’re looking at it is where the arrow will land in the field. Up to 50 foot anyway.


I have my other stuff out as well. Taking inventory so to speak or what I need/don’t need. Skinning knife, check, deer pee, check, rope, check, and so on.


And of course broad heads. I love these three blade broad heads. Fires like a field tip making it easy to adjust from target shooting to kill shooting. They are easy to sharpen as each blade comes out.

But here I am waiting for fall to get here, hopefully this year I can get a good deer. If not with a bow I’m ready for shot gun season as well.

Mossberg Universal(I actually will use a HR slug gun, though I love my Mossberg.)

My tips? Keep quiet, deer can hear better than you. Keep clean, deer can smell (stank and cologne) better than you. Get close; most people take deer within 50 foot, despite the sniper like tales you may hear. Stay camo’ed. If you are on the ground, stay still and stay out of main view, wear a pattern that breaks up your outline.

If you’re high in the air hang some branches off your stand to break up its form. Deer hardly ever look up right above them, so go too high and you have an impossible angle, too low and they will see you as they come in. About 15’ is good. If your ground hunting with a shotgun, being low can help.

That being said I usually walk up on deer and they surprise me as much as I do them. At 50-25 foot they stop and look at you, sometimes run, but usually go back about their business and keep an eye on you. If you Move fast and they bolt. Move slow and they stay cautious. The young ones won’t run, one that has had a shot taken at it will be gone (probably before you see it).

If you find a rub, or drinking spot, deer are creatures of habit. They will be back, if they don’t see you good, if they do they may avoid the spot all together, if really interested they will come in slow and ready to bolt. Stay still, try and move when they aren’t looking. Then take your shot.

Always go for a kill shot, nothing sucks more than running down an injured deer, you can be on them for miles before they drop. All this sounds easy, but gets very difficult out in the field. That being said I’m probably breaking a copy right law somewhere but here where to shoot.

Deer Target

(Sorry Champion targets, but I used your name so that free advertisement)
Right above the front knee and back a little ways. In the chest area, a little behind the shoulder, but not too high. I say that because most people shoot high, so aim low, If you miss the heart you can still take out both lungs with a good shot, bow or round.

So fall here yet? I’m getting tired of kill rabbits. I wanted to put a picture of dead rabbit here, but you will have to look at my other posts, got to start watching my image hosting.