Okay, This Is No Shit…

I’ve already mentioned previously that I’m really fast, mentally. Fast as in, I have often decided how to react before people around me have registered there is a thing to react to. Fast as in, I haven’t been satisfyingly startled by someone trying to prank me in … well, ever. Fast as in, I’m not even ticklish. Well okay … anyway

And I’m the security detail. I’m the one with a gun keeping an eye on things from the back. Except when I’m sleeping. I guess I’m “that guy” you don’t want to wake up because it’s scary. Yesterday, DW came to wake me up a minute before my Naptime’s Over alarm would have gone off. Then she regretted waking me up because I realized it was her as I was on the way up, with a fist at full-cock and she didn’t want a face full of it. She said something like “Geez, just don’t hit me” after I had already not.

I can come out of sleep already processing circumstances, is the point – fast enough to not knock out someone who comes to awaken me, halfway through the activity.

Also, I can see in the dark. At least, I can see way, way farther into violet hues than a lot of people I know, and I can navigate with confidence when other people are in pitch dark midnight blackness. To me, our house at night with various LED indicators and clocks etc. is never really pitch black. And last night was a bigass full moon, so I could see – not well, but I could see what was going on in the house without switching on a light.

Okay so. background storytime is over for now. This morning I woke up at 04:-something AM and heard a noise that could have been a child sneezing and/or wandering about doing potty business. No big deal. Back to sleep. A few minutes later, a noise probably from the house settling, in the vicinity of my bedroom door. No big deal. Back to sleep. Thus often interrupted, I was sleeping badly. I don’t know what woke me at 05:-something but I woke up on my side, face pointed horizontally across the bed and off toward the door. There was a person there.  About as tall as the shortest of our children.

And completely white.

And translucent.

At this point, my brain is half asleep, and half has just started going 100 miles an hour, and the whole self is about 86% of the way toward losing its shit completely. Fucking ghost, right here in my bedroom and I’m trapped under the covers.

Okay self, SITREP time. Here is a translucent, child-sized, white-including-the-clothes person, standing next to my bed. Odds were pretty small, but the sleeping part of my mind said it still could be a child. I put out an arm to grab its shoulder. Maybe it would have been a half-punch-speed grab, but I was about to start freaking out here.

My arm went straight through this thing,I kid you not. At this point, I was at a loss for an appropriate response. The wakeful part of my mind was thinking it might have been a bad idea to have reached out and grabbed at this thing, whether it had been grab-able or not.

My eyes drifted left, to where my hand had gone. The whatever-it-is followed my eyes’ motion, staying in the same place within my field of view. Floating now over the foot of my bed. Okay 100% now for-sure this is not one of my children.

I closed my eyes. It was still there with my eyes closed. This did not make me feel better.

When I wake up in a nightmare, I repeat the Lord’s name quietly to myself. It’s often as good a prayer as I can come up with, plus I figure it’s at least a nuisance to whatever spirit might have decided to come mess with me, if that’s why I’m having a nightmare. So here I am “JesusJesusJesus”ing and I realized:

I was rolling around on the bed. I had been on my side. My eye was smooshed on one side by a pillow and the eye was recovering. I told the apparition, (said silently, to myself, in my head) “now you are going to fade away. you are going to start strobing and shrinking, and shrinking” and it did.  I recognized this as mental noise, it went away, and I chilled out. No big deal. Back to sleep.

I think, if I were a little slower, I would have pitched a full-scale fit right then-and-there. But I swung an arm, then rolled over on my back. No screaming, no jumping out of bed and dragging the covers with me, no waking DW up to a freaking-out husband. Thank God it was -literally!- nothing.

Yes, God Talks To Me

Every once in a while, I get an urge.  A hunch.  A feeling.  An inclination to act or to not act, with no apparent basis in circumstances at the time.  Then it works out beautifully.

I can be driving along in perfectly-normal traffic and I get the urge to change lanes.  If I don’t, I end up behind a mile of cars at a red light, and if I do I drive by a mile of cars in the “wrong” lane at the green light.  An instinct to take one step, and then something comes crashing down where my foot used to be.  Tonight, I was going to do some intricate wiring on an electronics project, and I had a feeling I shouldn’t solder the wires down until I was done routing them all.  And I made a mistake.  If it had been soldered, it would have been a minor disaster.  It wasn’t soldered, so it worked out fine.

God made the universe.  God made the Earth, Sun, Moon and Stars.  By His wisdom, at His will, all things consist.  He can turn the heart of a King at His will . . . but you don’t give Him enough credit to give the occasional hint to his children?

What the Hell, Austin?!

I don’t panic.  I can recall exactly one time I started to panic, then chilled myself out.  I was stuck, trapped in a confined space where nobody would have been able to rescue me.  After collecting my wits, I extracted myself.

Then today.  This morning, I was hacking up a lung, recovering from my recent sinus infection.  I thought.  I drove to Houston for the day, and didn’t think twice about breathing clearly all day.  Then I came back to the Hill Country.  Just past Washington County, maybe about Bastrop, and I had to fight off the onset of for-real panic.  My lungs were filling up with crap and I didn’t realize it until I had to calm myself.  I thought for a moment I was freaking out about driving through the gloaming, but I LOVE driving.  Dusk, dawn, day, night, rain, hail, fair weather, whatever.  I love it.  I wouldn’t panic about it!  It was my inability to respirate.


P.S., the drivers in Houston ALL speed.  Even the metro buses are going 15% over the speed limit.  But they are courteous.  Unlike the jerks on the road around here.

I’ll Be In Town All Week!

DW went into the laundry room and turned off the light.  The garage lights shine through.  She opened the door and switched off those as well.  And slammed the door.*  She came into the lighted living room, saw the lit-up dining room, and three bedrooms and a bathroom, all with their lights on.  And our house is adequately lit by the evening sun, which was streaming in through the windows.  She asked the family (all congregated in the living room), “Why are all these lights on?!”

This seemed like a good question which really should have a good response.  I racked my brains.  Earth Day was last week.  Last week for Earth Day, I frustrated her a little with my mode of celebration – which is of course, leaving lights on unnecessarily.  But that was last week.  I couldn’t say it was Earth Day again!

VFD: It’s Earth Day!
DW: I’ts not Earth Day.
VFD: It’s Earth Day every day!
The Zoo: LOL

*The door has a stiff weather seal around it, and you either have to slam or close gently and push with a shoulder.  Everybody slams the door, or else it stays half-open and you’re air conditioning the whole world!

Where’s that Drummer?

I needed a rimshot this weekend.  My baby sister is in college these days, taking (get this) EIGHTEEN hours of courses.  Not 18 this year.  18 this term.  She started to fall behind a little, and has dropped one course:  Calculus-based physics.

I told her that I couldn’t take that class because if I tried to go into the classroom I would bounce off the force field.  My dad said he could go into the class, which surprised me a little – but he followed it up by saying “but my head would immediately explode.”

We’re more on the mechanical side of things than the equation-based theoretical side, my dad and I!

Poor Little Thing

VFDDawg #2 is dying.

This is as expected, but the news has not been universally well received.

I have been telling the children for a couple of months now that the transition from 9lbs to 4lbs and lots of sudden gray hair likely meant the dog would not survive whatever was wrong with her.  Still, to have a Veterinarian say things like “chronic” and “liver” in the same phrase hit DW hard.  Not “come home before I shoot myself” hard, more like “I sound sad on the phone”.  Of course, the dying dog WOULD have to be her favorite of them all.  I, having been accused previously of being a stone-hearted bastard, took the news pretty well in stride.

Stone-heartedness notwithstanding, I don’t like unnecessary noises.  My computers have silent fans.  I oil door hinges that squeak.  Just now I had to do something unconventional to make VFDDawg #3 shut up.  He was whining and crying and putting him out to pee didn’t help.  All day he’s been lying down next to #2 and generally getting on her nerves, with her growling at him to leave her alone (which never works).  Their kennels are side-by-side and usually they sleep out of sight of each other.  The last couple of nights, #2 has been on an extra-soft pillow in a small animal carrier to keep her warmer than usual*.  This puts her farther from #3 than usual.  #3 was locked up because he shits the floor at night if not.  #1 was lying on the floor in front of the kennel trying to sleep, and #2 was in the little carrier off to one side.  #3 was whining constantly.  Just now I had a little game of musical chairs and put #2’s crate in front of #3’s door so he could see her.

He stopped his crying.  He was crying to be near his pack mate who probably smells like death to a dog (while smelling like dog to people).  He wanted to be near to her.  This is where I’d start up an argument with JT because he thinks animals have souls, but he “resigned” from work recently so I can’t push his buttons any more.  Oh well.

The extremely stone-hearted basterdly side of me just realized that, the smaller this dog gets, the easier it will be to knock together a coffin for her when it comes time for that.  Ha-ha-ha.

*because it’s colder than witches’ tits outside, and they sleep near a big window

Some Guys Just Know How To Sap The Life Out Of You

As I suppose is fitting for the blog of an archeology enthusiast, I have *very* slowly been reading through the archives of Detritus of Empire.  Here I was, with some movie marathon being ignored on the Idiot Box and Darling Wife scrolling down through Facebook posts, reading about this guy’s European vacation, when he knocked my props out.

That right there is a place to make me cry.

DW was LOLing at a picture of a dog in a bathtub while I was over here ordering my tears not to flow.  Those are part of the defunct works of either German or French soldiers long dead by now.  Dead, in fact, since 1916.  Notice how the row of construction sort of stops near the middle of the screen?  That was probably collapsed by one of sixty MILLIONS of artillery shells that fell on this ground.  An average of 150 per square meter.  A half million-ish men injured, a quarter-million-ish dead.  Right here in this grassy, flowered clearing in a forest, men were blown to smithereens once upon a time.

I know where it comes from, but I have a special dislike of death in general.  But when it comes to the deaths of men-at-arms, there is a special kind of hurt I get inside.  I would like to go to Verdun.  But I would not like to have any company.  I think I might need some extra water bottles, too.  Cry enough, and you’ll get dehydrated.

It’s That Time of Year Again

That time of year when we all wish each other a Merry Christmas while watching the juniper trees pollinate the air so heavily it looks like the hills are on fire.  My neck of the woods had a count of about 5500 grains per cubic meter.  Tens of thousands of grains of pollen in most folks’ mucosae isn’t a problem.  For me . . . it’s a good thing I had the day off from work yesterday, because I was pretty much useless.  If this sort of thing keeps up, I’ll have to go see an allergist, because this is ridiculous.