The Otherworldly

When this blog was in its infancy (its very much in the 3T stage now), I briefly shared an experience that is, quite possibly, the most eerie that I have ever personally encountered.

In honor of Halloween, I will share it again.

And tell another spooky tale that is real and haunting.

Happy Halloween, folks!

***********

My Freshman year of college, my roommate and I left Happy Valley for the weekend and headed up to Bountiful to my parent's house. She and I were ready for a break from the stress and the homework and our dirty apartment. A couple of our guy friends also came up. We were all excited for a change of scenery.

Plans were set to watch a movie in the basement. Since we were all in a rebellious sort of mood and because getting scared always makes for a good time, we decided to watch The Exorcist. None of us had ever seen it and, because we were good kids just looking to spread our Freshman wings of freedom, we lapped up the chance to watch a show that was still deemed taboo and off limits.

(Plus, my parents were gone so there was no adult common sense to stop us.)

The cassette was popped into the VCR and we anxiously waited for the story to unfold. It wasn't long into the movie when the air in the room started to not feel right and we knew (what we already knew deep down inside) that this was not a show we should be watching. I ran upstairs for something. When I came back down and turned the corner to where my friends were, I heard a deep, menacing voice. I froze. I looked at my friends and they were frozen too.

"Did you hear that?"

Nods all around.

While I was upstairs, they had turned the movie off. They had pushed the STOP PLAY button, shut the TV completely off and, as I was coming around that corner, we had all heard the same voice.

"TURN IT BACK ON."

I still remember the chills that ran the length of my body. It was very real. The voice was distinct and clear. We all heard the exact same message and we all lost all of the color in our faces.

And that, my friends, is why The Exorcist is still taboo and off limits.

And why Satan will never be invited into my midst again.

*********

The father of a boy that I dated in high school was responsible for cleaning and maintaining several chapels in Centerville. That was his full time job. As the occasion would arise, he'd have to work after hours in the evening. One particular night, he was finishing up his work, turning off all of the lights, and double checking to make sure the locks were all secure. As he passed by the chapel, he started to hear the organ play. The music was intense and elaborate. He figured it was some of the youth goofing off. The chapel lights were all off. He wanted to catch the pranksters so, without turning any hallway lights on, he opened the chapel doors quietly and slipped in. The emotional music continued to play. He felt his way to the light switches and flipped on the lights - ready to scare whatever hooligans were pumping the organ pipes. The lights went on. The music stopped.

And nobody sat at the organ.

True story.

*****************

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

Why Personally Writing 10, 476 Letters to Corporate Headquarters Pays Off...

I'm not sure if it's the Southern California girl coming out in me, but nothing compares.

Now, 4.2 miles from my home.

Hallelujah.

(Bless those onions.)

Protect Your Dental Floss...

...for there may be, lurking in the corners, a 2 year old who loves the minty freshness.

He'll pull it, lick it, then string it through the house.

(And sing a happy song all the while.)

A Space of His Own

Taiden couldn't be more enthused about his new room. He has an urban/industrial/skater vibe going on with a splash of BYU.

He's enjoying his independence in putting it all together and deciding the perfect spot for each and every thing.

(And, boy oh boy, are there a lot of things.)

The results are worthy of any 11 year old's approval.

This Elder (who doubles as a missionary bank) appears cheerful in his pursuit of converting those who have joined The Dark Side.

I wonder if The Church has ever considered Incognito Tracting?

Underdeveloped Tastebuds

Hard work should be rewarded.

Ideally, the hard work should be intrinsically motivated - the satisfaction of doing a good job and knowing it was done well being the prize - without any external carrots dangling above.

But when dealing with kids, I've learned this concept is sometimes a foreign one.

Two of my piano students (uh-hum, my only piano students) were challenged, by me, to learn to read all of the notes on the staff. You can't learn to read a book if you don't know your letters. Same is true in piano. Not knowing how to read the music staff makes for a difficult time playing Tchaikovsky.

I promised these two students (uh-hum, my only piano students) that we would go out for ice cream once they learned their notes. I did inform them that, as a former school teacher and currently the meanest piano teacher in the continental U.S., I was going to be tough when deciding whether or not they had, indeed, reached their goal. They had to rip through those flash cards as though their mellifluous lives depended on it.

I'm pleased to say that this week that goal was reached. Thanks to Elephants Get Big Dirty Feet, F.A.C.E., Good Boys Deserve Fudge Always, and All Cows Eat Grass, these two sweet girls accompanied me today to get some premium dairy indulgence.

The minute we walked in the door, the smell of waffle cones and gourmet cookies welcomed us. The ice cream case was lined with a wide range of flavors. A separate case contained Italian Gelato and Sorbets. Free samples were offered.

I sampled Chocolate Hazelnut. Fresh Coconut. Amaretto. Passion Fruit. Strawberry Lemonade Sorbet.

(Hey, there were no posted signs confining the number of samples to be consumed. My over analyzing is not limited to major life decisions, folks.)

I told the girls - sisters actually - that they could have whatever they wanted. Waffle cones, waffle cups, old fashioned sundaes, mix-ins, cookie sundaes, shakes, floats. Their hard work was much appreciated and their reward, if they so chose, could be grand enough to induce a sugar coma.

The younger of the two stepped up first. She had eyed the almost-fluorescent-pink-and-yellow ice cream affectionately named Cotton Candy.

"That's the one I want," she smiled.

I inquired about a waffle cone.

"I don't like waffles." More smiling.

Rather than point out the difference between a breakfast waffle and the ones on display in the shop (which are technically just a glorified ice cream cone), I just decided to be mute.

"Any toppings?" I encouraged.

"Um......................I want Nerds."

My gag reflex tickled slightly at this moment because I am a texture person. Food textures mean a lot to me and if the wrong combination is presented in my mouth - no matter how delicious the flavors - I can't partake.

I grinned at our ice cream artisan standing behind the counter patiently waiting for our order.

"I want caramel sauce too," she quietly added.

"Whipped cream and a cherry?"

"Yes, please."

Her older sister ordered the identical sundae - Cotton Candy ice cream, Nerds, whipped cream and a cherry - only she opted for raspberry sauce rather than caramel.

I ordered the Strawberry Lemonade Sorbet.

Their young palates thoroughly enjoyed their creations. They ate every last bite and didn't once notice the melancholy melty colors of the moistened Nerds.

(I wonder if Tchaikovsky ever ate Cotton Candy flavored ice cream?)

POST NOTE: This motivational tool for learning to read all of the musical notes on the staff will be available to any piano students that I have.

I have a few openings, uh-hum, if you know anyone who might be interested.

We Interrupt Our Regularly Scheduled Construction to Take Down The Wall

Welcome to our house, new addition.

We're glad you're finally here.

(And not just over there.)

Our kitchen table anxiously awaits its new positioning in the kitchen.

A new position that will center it more in the new dining area and allow it to breathe rather than being shoved up against a wall or the kitchen counters. Our chairs have been hammered these past several months. It's hard to be gentle and kind to your furniture when it is in your way all of the time. Once the flooring is all done, the table can relax and enjoy its new permanent residence.