Cassadaga

Yesterday I went to Cassadaga, a creepy town spiritualist community near DeLand, Florida. It was founded in the late 1800’s by George Colby, a medium from New York State. He was told by his spirit guide, Seneca, that he would establish a spiritualist community in the south, and so he did.

The entire town is an Historic District, and I believe the “camp” area is only inhabited by psychics and healers. I did see a couple of guys out fixing their car though, so presumably there are non-mediums living there too.

I like my historic sites to show evidence of  preservation but there wasn’t any. It looked run down and creepy. Kind of like the whole place is in need of a handyman and some Sherwin Williams. There was no old south quaintness or charm.

We walked through the main gate,  at Stevens Street, where the bookstore has information on tours, readings and spiritualism. We got there just before 5 pm though, too late to check it out. Across from the bookstore is the haunted Cassadaga Hotel. I don’t know if it’s haunted but that’s what I’ve read. Continuing on down Stevens Street is  Harmony Hall which is  home to many mediums, Colby Temple and Spirit Pond. There seemed to be an abundance of  old creepy statues in the yards,  and there were a lot of cats. In fact a black cat crossed our path in front of the temple.

There was a small, enclosed gazebo shaped building across from the temple where you can go to get healed.

I walked around by the spirit pond while E walked up another street. I had an unsettled feeling. When we met back up in the street E said some creeper had been looking out the window at her.

E inquired about getting a reading, but decided the medium was too expensive and too unfriendly. Maybe she was unfriendly because we had bad auras. I don’t know but I wanted to get out of there. Like it was seriously making me uncomfortable.

And that’s all I’ve been thinking about since then. And now I kind of want to go back. So it must be haunted and the spirits are calling me and I’m probably psychic. Which I already knew.

Egg

I don’t use much orange on eggs. This  color of dye is actually pumpkin and works much better for me than orange.

Texting during LOST, Des, Sayid, OMG, WTF

E: ARE YOU  EXCITED  YET? I am so excited that I tried to make coffee too fast & dropped my coffee pot. It broke.

Me: Oh no. Jack. Dont cut yourself. I hope i understand what happens.

E: Juliet!

E: I didn’t watch the review show

Me: Des!

S: Des!

Me: OMG

E: Oh shit!!!!

Me: OMG WTF

E: I’m so confused already

Me: Ditto

Me: Aunt S said wtf too

E: Sayid

Me: Juliet

Me: Who’s that?

E: Why is Jacob still alive?2 presents? Which one is earlier?

Me: Oh that’s Jacob. Huh? Where’s sun? Want sun jin reunion

Me: Enough ads. No clue whats goin on

S: Too many ads

E: I should’ve watched the review show. But I’m weirded out-who was possessing John’s body?

Me:  I had it on but it didn’t help

S: Says he heard we get 2 c hurli naked @ the end of episode

Me: Better be long chains

Me: These ads are bs

S: So why wasn’t sister on plane

Me: I thought she was elsewhere on plane. The all love 2 use john on plane

S: OMG

E: That was so sad w/John. Wtf does that mean from Charlie” “I was SUPPOSED to die” Where did Des go?

S: Glad sho didn’t end like that depressng

Me: Walt and his jackass father and claire not on plane? Different dimension?

Me: The mines of moria

S: Now the r tickin me off I say again WTF

Me: They went through the mines of moria without gimli

E: IT WORKED?!

Me: dazed and confused

E: What! Of course you’ll be in trouble-Sayid is the man!

E: I’m crying. How could they kill Sayid?

S: @ least Sayid got a hairwash

Me: But he’s in lax. hes going to find nadia

Me: Die on island cuz alive in la?

E: Hurley has the gayest lines.

S: 2 many others

Me: wtf

We’ve been here before

Wanted: library tutor. Must understand the complexities of my literary tastes and moods. Must remember books I’ve read before or tried to read before. Must be patient, kind and intelligent. 

Yesterday I checked out a promising looking book with cypress trees on the cover and Italy in the title. I read every memoir that’s written about Italy. I’ve read so many I don’t remember the titles anymore. A Valley in Italy, A Small Place in Italy, Four Seasons in Rome, Under the Tuscan Son, Pasquale’s Nose, A House in Sicily, If You Dream of Italy Read This Book, Another Book About Italy.

So after work I sat down with my book with cypress trees on the cover and Italy in the title and started reading. It sounded very familiar. Annoyingly familiar. I’d read this babble before. I’d started it and didn’t like it and didn’t finish it. 

I opened my next promising book that had Amazon in the title and a photo of a capybara inside. As I’d paged through the book in the library I had a vague sense of deja vu. I studied the photos, but I didn’t think they looked familiar. I thought I’d remember a book with something as odd as a capybara photo. I turned to the introduction and saw that someone in the book was named Darcy. Since the title contained the words The True Story of Five Men and their Desperate Battle for Survival, I assumed Darcy was a man. Darcy. Mr. Darcy. Kismet. I love you.

I started reading the book and it sounded very familiar. Annoyingly familiar. I’d read this babble before. I’d started it and didn’t like it and didn’t finish it. Maybe it gets better once he gets lost in the Amazon but there was something about the way the dialogue was written that turned me off.

I am now 0 for 2 and getting a little peevish. How is it that I chose the same books in a building with thousands of books to choose from?  Was it my attraction to cypress trees, capybaras and characters named Darcy? Was I flustered by the man who had asked me where the “index” was, mistaking  my insouciance for the mannerisms of an informed library patron?  

Very well, on to the third promising book, a book about the pirate adventures of Capt. Morgan. It has a lot of  blurbs with exciting words.  I often choose books with blurbs like “wickedly entertaining” and “reeking of authentic blood and thunder.” Some of the books don’t  live up to their blurbs. I don’t think I’ve borrowed it or read it, but I can’t be sure. 

I’m not certain. I’m not positive. I don’t remember. I couldn’t say. I love 3 word sentences that convey how little I know. 

I don’t always know what I’ve read or tried to read or grown tired of reading. I don’t always remember where I’ve heard or seen something.  I cultivate an air of ambiguity to disguise the gaps in my memory. Where’s the index? I need an ”index”  for my head.

Apple guys would you get on this please? An app for me that: 1)organizes things I’ve read and stores useful information I’ve heard or read but haven’t retained 2) does the things my brain is supposed to do but is feeling too rusty to bother with  3) prioritizes what to remember and what to forget 4) requires no purchase, installation or updates.

A brain-map-app to help me find things. I’ve  already written the slogan for it – Tap into my brain.

Eggs

eggs -eggs-eggs

The green one with the tree is a favorite. It’s simple.  On the other side it says “Would that the peace of heaven might reach you through these things of the earth”.

If you find a quarter on the sidewalk you must report it as income

I read everything. Cereal boxes, junk mail, directions, ingredients, warning labels, forms, business cards, tax publications…

Did I say tax publications? Indeed I did. Specifically IRS Publication 17. And its brilliance deserves to be blurbed.

“Deliciously uncertain – and satisfying. A gritty, unforgettable experience.”

Excerpts from Publication 17 (the only tax guide most individuals need)

Chapter 12 Other Income

Bribes. If you receive a bribe include it in your income.

Host or Hostess. If you host a party or event at which sales are made, any gift or gratuity you receive for giving the event is a payment for helping a direct seller make sales. You must report this item as income at its fair market value.

Kickbacks. You must include kickbacks, side commissions, push money, or similar payments you receive in your income on Form 1040, line 21, or on Schedule C or Schedule C-EZ, if from your self-employment activity.

Rewards. If you receive a reward for providing information, include it in your income.

Sale of personal items. If you sold an item you owned for personal use, such as a car, refrigerator, furniture, stereo, jewelry, or silverware your gain is taxable as a capital gain. Report it on Schedule D (Form 1040). You cannot deduct a loss

Stolen property. If you steal property, you must report its fair market value in your income in the year you steal it unless in the same year, you return it to its rightful owner.

seriously?

Ranch!

I like the way my memories are like a garage sale – cheap and I never know what might turn up.

These scraps both appeared last night on the “everything’s a quarter” table.

When I first got to college in Rochester I became obsessed with  a ridiculous TV and radio ad for Stroehmann Ranch bread. I’d never seen or heard of it before and it stuck with me the way a goofy ad sometimes will.  The jingle was something like “Breakfast, lunch and dinner – RANCH! – that’s our brand of bread.” la, la, la, la-la, la, “RANCH!” The last “RANCH!” was shouted with gusto and verve. It was perfectly ridiculous and I loved it. Stroehmann was part of Sunbeam or vice versa. The bread bag had a creepy little blonde girl eating a piece of bread drenched in butter.

I was so smitten with the ad that my new college friends began calling me Ranch. Sometimes we would even exchange ranch greetings on campus – “Hey Ranch- ” “How’s it going Ranch?”

A few years later when I was in love and dating Cosmo, before the  mid-life anvil fell on his head, he lived in an apartment in Olean. There was a Stroehmann bakery around the corner. Stroehmann made Ranch bread.  What a ranchy coincidence. Early in the morning a big truck would pull up to the bakery and unload flour. It was noisy and for a brief time a haze of flour hung in the air.

Ranch!

I am woman hear me swear

There is nothing quite like fixing a pocket door and drinking a gin and tonic afterwards.

Let me rephrase that.

Today I fixed the pocket door between my bedroom and bathroom and I rule the world.

For some time now this door has been getting more and more crooked and more and more difficult to open and close. The top of the door was flush with the jamb but there was about an inch gap at the bottom.

An inch is just enough for prying kitty eyes to peer in and enough for a quasi-perfectionist to freak out over.

So a few weeks ago I stood up on a chair and tried to figure out how to adjust the door. There was a plastic thing that rolled in the track and a screw and nut that were impossible to get at and some other wing-thing that stuck out. It didn’t seem possible to get any type of tool in there so I did what any normal homeowner would do.  I ignored it for a few more weeks.

After a discussion about screwed up pocket doors at work the other day however, I got all Olympian about it. ” I can do this. I can win the gold in this pocket door event. Or at least medal.”

So today I dragged the chair over again and tried a series of flat wrenches on the nut to see if I could raise the door. And I made it worse. So I tried turning the nut the other way. It was difficult because there’s no room to maneuver the wrench. Eventually however, I noticed the door hanging straighter and when I measured the bottom gap it was only 1/4 inch.

That’s when I made the announcement, “I’ve fixed the door. Come see it.”

My son came in, looked at the door, which was now almost flush, tried to open it, and it promptly fell off the track.

“Oh shit. Sorry, ” he said, and lumbered away.

“Oh!” I exclaimed, while thinking, “Well fuck me. “

Back up on the chair, I try to shove the door in the track. “I’m fucked, ” I say. There’s no way to get this plastic thing back in the track. But then a miracle. The door is back in the track. Lovely.  I give it a few pushes and pulls for good luck, and it falls off again.

I examine the plastic piece. Is it broken? I shove it in the track again. Pull. Push. It falls off again.  Times 3.

I draw a diagram of the parts and drive down to Babe’s hardware. In my desperation I totally abandon my “never ask for help or directions” rule.

“My pocket door was crooked. I tried to fix it. Now it keeps falling off the track. This is what the parts look like,” I tell the salesman.

We look at closet door parts. There is a discussion about the wheels in the track, whereupon I realize that I never saw  wheels but there was some unidentified piece at the end of the track. The screw and the plastic thing are supposed to be connected to the wheels, and they aren’t.

$15.50 later I head home with  a closet door 2 wheel hanger and an acme adjustable wrench.

Now I mean business so I get out the step ladder. I peer back up at the track, trying to figure out how I’m going to replace parts I can’t get to. There is a bracket that screws to the top of the door and no way to unscrew that bracket, and the wheels and screw and the plastic thing that fits in the track. And I think and I think and I play with the parts until I realize it comes apart. I can use the old bracket and slide the new wheels with the plastic thing onto the track and flick the wing thing and it will all lock in place.

In my excitement I install the new wheels and plastic thing easily before I realize the old wheels are still up in the track.

Old wheels off, new wheels on, trying to line the bolt up with the bracket and it’s not going well and the wheels keep moving.  I’m sweating. There’s grease all over my hands and greasy fingerprints all over the door and trim.

Son of a bitch! Why is this so difficult? This is a 2 person job and I am the only one at home.  The ladder’s not helping,  so I get back on the chair. As I’m pushing the chair slides on the tile floor and I almost take a tumble. My arm hurts and this is stupid, there’s got to be a way to do this and I’m bracing the nut with the wrench and pushing up on the door and trying to slide it in the bracket and shut this wing thing and then… oh glory. It worked. It fucking worked.

The door rolls forward and backward easily. The door smiles. I smile. I jump up and down a couple of times. I say a couple of swear words like “badass” and “you’re damn right. I fucking rule. “

I call my mom and dad to tell them how badass I am.

I slide the door a couple more times just because I can.

I rule. I totally fucking rule.

I will remember this day for the rest of my life. I’m sure of it. Women will say things like, “I had to wait until my husband changed the lightbulb,” or “I couldn’t get the garage door up because the power was out and it’s too heavy so I had to wait for my husband to come home ” and I will be all like “Yeah, well … I fixed my crooked and broken pocket door.  I  fixed it and no one helped me. And I rule. So…”

And then I will show them my silver medal.

Exclusive Magic 8 Ball Interview

Pat Robertson said yesterday that the earthquake in Haiti was the result of a pact with the devil Haitians made back when they were under French rule; this pact with the devil also being responsible for many other trials faced by the Haitian people over the years.

I sat down with Magic 8 Ball in a local bowling alley to get his opinion on the subject.

Me: Hey Magic 8. Let’s get right down to business. Is Pat Robertson insane?

Magic 8: Yes definitely

Me: Let me get this straight, you’re saying Pat Robertson is insane?

Magic 8: Signs point to yes

Me: Isn’t it possible that Pat Robertson’s merely mentally defective?

Magic 8: Most likely

Me: So Pat Robertson’s insane?

Magic 8: It is decidedly so

Me: And this is your opinion, that Pat Robertson’s insane?

Magic 8: As I see it yes

Me: I’ll give you a chance to clarify that statement. Are you saying Pat Robertson’s  insane?

Magic 8: Yes

Me: You seem pretty certain that Pat Robertson’s insane.

Magic 8: You may rely on it

Me: Magic 8, tell me honestly, do you think Pat Robertson is insane?

Magic 8: Without a doubt

Me: You’ve seen a lot over the years and we’ve come to trust your opinion on weighty matters. You’re pretty adamant that Pat Robertson’s insane?

Magic 8: It is certain

Me: Well thanks for your time Magic 8. I appreciate you sitting down with me to clear things up.

Magic 8: Most likely

Me: Uhh. What?

#42

Interstate, Ellenton, that huge confederate flag at the I75/I4 interchange, inflated Pikachu advertising a sale, field of strawberries coated in ice- the sprinklers still on, Dinosaur World, Fantasy of Flight,  cattle, more sprinklers, a dead deer, Mickey power line, Disney, Disney, Disney, Disney Casting, Holy Land Attraction, helicopter, Sea World, the Ferran air conditioner building with the orange outlets, Channel 2, outlet mall, St. John’s River, Cassadaga, Doug & Lil’s Potato Patch restaurant, Mr. Bills, wooden soldiers, sun, visor, sun, visor, sun, 57 miles, your BMW sucks and so do you, lavender smoke, pink clouds, birds, Brandon, Sun City, yellow sky, taillights, headlights, raccoon.