Weight Loss: 3.5
Pounds Lost To Date: -0.5 pounds
Pounds from Goal Weight: I think not
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Ghost Hunting
In keeping with my goal to make sure I maintain fun social activities in the midst of managing my father's chaos, I went on my much anticipated Queen Mary Paranormal Ship Walk Tour this past Sunday. We were originally planning to go in January, but a bout with the flu (my first week at my new job!) took care of that. Thank goodness. The tour starts at 8:00PM and lasts 3 hours and is not available on Saturday evenings. We were scheduled to take the tour on the Sunday of a long holiday weekend. That meant no rising early for work the next day. There's nothing like rolling out of bed at o'dark hundred with only a few hours of sleep to remind me that I am no longer a spry twentysomething and need at least 7 hours of sleep to be intelligible for work the next day.
I finally remembered to take my digital camera, but there are no pictures of this tour. Why? I was trying to catch orbs, a physical manifestation of the ghostly presence, and my camera was aimed less at people and more at the area where our tour guide (a psychic) said she could sense the ghostly presence. Other people on the tour did get photos of orbs. Unfortunately, I was not successful in my attempts. Photos of rusty doors abandoned storage rooms are not nearly as exciting without an orb in them so I deleted them from my camera.
Some background on the Queen Mary and why it is known as one of the most haunted places: The Queen Mary was built in 1934 and was named for the mother of the current ruler of England, Queen Elizabeth II. It could carry a passenger load of 3,000 with a crew of 1,000. It could hold twice as many people as the Titanic.
During World War II, the Queen Mary was painted grey (the Grey Ghost) and was used during the war efforts. She carried up to 15,000 military personnel and prisoners of war during a single trip.
Other than slicing through one of the ships escorting her during the war effort, the HMS Curaçao, the Queen Mary did not see a lot of death. Our tour guide explained that many of the phenomenon that has been experienced over the years is due to psychic imprints. This is when a memory of something is left behind and will occasionally replay like a projection. It's about as ghostly as a showing of Pollyanna at the drive in movies.
However, there are known "hot spots" that are haunted by actual ghosts (there are said to be about 150 ghosts). There are even signs posted around the ship designating areas in which there have been ghostly sightings. It's these areas we visited on the Queen Mary Paranormal Ship Walk Tour.
Our first stop was at Cabin B340, which is haunted cabin on the ship. It is said to be haunted by a murdered purser, and is a spot of poltergeist activity. As such, guests are no longer allowed to stay on here. It's one thing to spend the night a room that is haunted. It's another to be rudely pulled from the bed and knocked about.
Our guide gave us the spiel about the room. We turned the lights off, and we waited. Nothing happened and I did not feel anything particularly supernatural. Neither did our tour guide or anyone else in the group.
Our next stop was Boson’s Locker, which is several feet below sea level. Boson’s Locker is the site where the Queen Mary once sliced through the HMS Curaçao. The Queen Mary was not permitted to stop for survivors, and the 348 men onboard the HMS Curaçao drowned.
The path to Boson’s Locker is quite creepy. It's rather dark - you are encouraged to bring flashlights for this part of the journey - and you go down several flights of stairs through old storage areas to get down to Boson’s Locker. This area is way below deck. Anything you hear down here (e.g. footsteps, pounding) is not going to be someone from the living world because you're too deep below deck for that.
Once again we turned off the lights. This time, our tour guide felt more than one presence. A female nurse and a male. There was also lots of knocking, which would be the ghosts of the sailors of the HMS Curaçao pounding on the ship to get in. Several women felt something brush up against. My mother was among a few that saw a strange light. Lot's of people got pictures of orbs.
I saw nothing and felt nothing except a strong urge to run my finger across my stepfather's cheek while we were sitting still with the lights off to see if I could fool him into thinking it was ghost. I also got no orbs in my photos. Pity.
After Boson’s Locker, we went to the First Class Swimming Pool and the Dressing Rooms. The history of this area is funny because both first class and third class used the same swimming pool, but not at the same time (second class had their own pool). After third class finished, the water was drained, the pool scrubbed down, and then was refilled so that first class passengers would not get third class cooties.
The First Class Swimming Pool is reportedly haunted by the ghosts of two women who drowned there. People have reported the sounds of splashing (there is no water in the pool) and have seen wet footprints leading from the deck to the changing rooms. People have also reported seeing the ghost of a young girl, Jackie, who drowned in the pool during the ship’s sailing days.
When we walked into the First Class Swimming Pool, there was doll in a red dress sitting near some shelves. People bring toys for Jackie to play with; the doll belongs to her.
We split into two groups because there were too many people for everyone on the tour to visit the Dressing Rooms at once. One couple walked into a storage room and ran out screaming when some metal railing in the room started rattling with no one nearby. They were quite shaken.
Once the first group to visit the changing rooms came out, we told this story and they went running off to investigate. They also noticed that the doll was gone. A quick investigation uncovered that no one had taken the doll - or would confess to taking it - despite dire warnings about karma and the tackiness of stealing from a child (even a dead one).
The changing rooms near the pool are the source of negative feelings detected by numerous psychics. You're supposed to go into a stall (the doors have been removed) and have a seat while they turn the lights off. Coward that I am, I decided to squeeze into a stall with my mother (yes, I know I am lame) and hold her hand.
The changing room is not considered an actual haunting. Our guide referred to it as a vortex, and said that there are rumors that it contains some type of doorway into another reality. Apparently, it also allows ghosts to move from one area to another. The room is very dark, even with the lights on, despite the fact that it's painted bright white.
We did not get an explanation of what caused this vortex, but people have reported seeing the outline of a male and female ghost as well as shadow shapes (dark patches in vaguely humanoid form moving through the darkness). The only dark shapes I saw were of the other people on tour. I did not see or feel anything in the changing room, but I did realize that this would be a good place to hide and jump out at someone if one were so inclined.
After we came out of the changing room, we walked up to the second level of the pool to make our way to our final destination. That's where we came across the missing doll. It was on the floor in the corner, as if someone had dropped it while running.
Our last stop was to the engine room. This room is haunted by one of the famous ghosts on the Queen Mary, John Pedder. John was quite the practical joker, and it is this trait that lead to his death at the young age of 18 back in 1966. He was crushed to death playing chicken by a watertight door during a routine drill in 1966.
His bearded, coverall-wearing spirit is seen often near the door, walking through the adjacent corridors. There is lots of knocking on the walls, flickering lights, and the sound of an elevator running. There certainly is a working elevator, but it was not in use during the tour. It also ran for a lot longer than one would expect it to take an elevator to go up three floors.
The tour was enjoyable even though I experienced minimal psychic phenomenon. I am thinking of going back for GhostFest if I can get anyone to go with me. There are way more haunted areas aboard the Queen Mary than the few spots we visited, and this is exactly my kind of fun.
I finally remembered to take my digital camera, but there are no pictures of this tour. Why? I was trying to catch orbs, a physical manifestation of the ghostly presence, and my camera was aimed less at people and more at the area where our tour guide (a psychic) said she could sense the ghostly presence. Other people on the tour did get photos of orbs. Unfortunately, I was not successful in my attempts. Photos of rusty doors abandoned storage rooms are not nearly as exciting without an orb in them so I deleted them from my camera.
Some background on the Queen Mary and why it is known as one of the most haunted places: The Queen Mary was built in 1934 and was named for the mother of the current ruler of England, Queen Elizabeth II. It could carry a passenger load of 3,000 with a crew of 1,000. It could hold twice as many people as the Titanic.
During World War II, the Queen Mary was painted grey (the Grey Ghost) and was used during the war efforts. She carried up to 15,000 military personnel and prisoners of war during a single trip.
Other than slicing through one of the ships escorting her during the war effort, the HMS Curaçao, the Queen Mary did not see a lot of death. Our tour guide explained that many of the phenomenon that has been experienced over the years is due to psychic imprints. This is when a memory of something is left behind and will occasionally replay like a projection. It's about as ghostly as a showing of Pollyanna at the drive in movies.
However, there are known "hot spots" that are haunted by actual ghosts (there are said to be about 150 ghosts). There are even signs posted around the ship designating areas in which there have been ghostly sightings. It's these areas we visited on the Queen Mary Paranormal Ship Walk Tour.
Our first stop was at Cabin B340, which is haunted cabin on the ship. It is said to be haunted by a murdered purser, and is a spot of poltergeist activity. As such, guests are no longer allowed to stay on here. It's one thing to spend the night a room that is haunted. It's another to be rudely pulled from the bed and knocked about.
Our guide gave us the spiel about the room. We turned the lights off, and we waited. Nothing happened and I did not feel anything particularly supernatural. Neither did our tour guide or anyone else in the group.
Our next stop was Boson’s Locker, which is several feet below sea level. Boson’s Locker is the site where the Queen Mary once sliced through the HMS Curaçao. The Queen Mary was not permitted to stop for survivors, and the 348 men onboard the HMS Curaçao drowned.
The path to Boson’s Locker is quite creepy. It's rather dark - you are encouraged to bring flashlights for this part of the journey - and you go down several flights of stairs through old storage areas to get down to Boson’s Locker. This area is way below deck. Anything you hear down here (e.g. footsteps, pounding) is not going to be someone from the living world because you're too deep below deck for that.
Once again we turned off the lights. This time, our tour guide felt more than one presence. A female nurse and a male. There was also lots of knocking, which would be the ghosts of the sailors of the HMS Curaçao pounding on the ship to get in. Several women felt something brush up against. My mother was among a few that saw a strange light. Lot's of people got pictures of orbs.
I saw nothing and felt nothing except a strong urge to run my finger across my stepfather's cheek while we were sitting still with the lights off to see if I could fool him into thinking it was ghost. I also got no orbs in my photos. Pity.
After Boson’s Locker, we went to the First Class Swimming Pool and the Dressing Rooms. The history of this area is funny because both first class and third class used the same swimming pool, but not at the same time (second class had their own pool). After third class finished, the water was drained, the pool scrubbed down, and then was refilled so that first class passengers would not get third class cooties.
The First Class Swimming Pool is reportedly haunted by the ghosts of two women who drowned there. People have reported the sounds of splashing (there is no water in the pool) and have seen wet footprints leading from the deck to the changing rooms. People have also reported seeing the ghost of a young girl, Jackie, who drowned in the pool during the ship’s sailing days.
When we walked into the First Class Swimming Pool, there was doll in a red dress sitting near some shelves. People bring toys for Jackie to play with; the doll belongs to her.
We split into two groups because there were too many people for everyone on the tour to visit the Dressing Rooms at once. One couple walked into a storage room and ran out screaming when some metal railing in the room started rattling with no one nearby. They were quite shaken.
Once the first group to visit the changing rooms came out, we told this story and they went running off to investigate. They also noticed that the doll was gone. A quick investigation uncovered that no one had taken the doll - or would confess to taking it - despite dire warnings about karma and the tackiness of stealing from a child (even a dead one).
The changing rooms near the pool are the source of negative feelings detected by numerous psychics. You're supposed to go into a stall (the doors have been removed) and have a seat while they turn the lights off. Coward that I am, I decided to squeeze into a stall with my mother (yes, I know I am lame) and hold her hand.
The changing room is not considered an actual haunting. Our guide referred to it as a vortex, and said that there are rumors that it contains some type of doorway into another reality. Apparently, it also allows ghosts to move from one area to another. The room is very dark, even with the lights on, despite the fact that it's painted bright white.
We did not get an explanation of what caused this vortex, but people have reported seeing the outline of a male and female ghost as well as shadow shapes (dark patches in vaguely humanoid form moving through the darkness). The only dark shapes I saw were of the other people on tour. I did not see or feel anything in the changing room, but I did realize that this would be a good place to hide and jump out at someone if one were so inclined.
After we came out of the changing room, we walked up to the second level of the pool to make our way to our final destination. That's where we came across the missing doll. It was on the floor in the corner, as if someone had dropped it while running.
Our last stop was to the engine room. This room is haunted by one of the famous ghosts on the Queen Mary, John Pedder. John was quite the practical joker, and it is this trait that lead to his death at the young age of 18 back in 1966. He was crushed to death playing chicken by a watertight door during a routine drill in 1966.
His bearded, coverall-wearing spirit is seen often near the door, walking through the adjacent corridors. There is lots of knocking on the walls, flickering lights, and the sound of an elevator running. There certainly is a working elevator, but it was not in use during the tour. It also ran for a lot longer than one would expect it to take an elevator to go up three floors.
The tour was enjoyable even though I experienced minimal psychic phenomenon. I am thinking of going back for GhostFest if I can get anyone to go with me. There are way more haunted areas aboard the Queen Mary than the few spots we visited, and this is exactly my kind of fun.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Sharper than a serphents tooth...
What started off as a promising day ended so badly.
On Saturday, I took the 2007 tax paperwork for myself and my father to my accountant. My taxes were, as usual, done in no time flat because I am a anal retentive nerd and I keep my records current all year long.
After a long conversation with the accountant, we filed the taxes for 2007 for my father with an extension and I left the office determined to get the documents I needed to complete his taxes for 2005 and 2006.
I then ran my other errands and then stopped my father's house to make a note of the final repairs that needed to be done before the house was ready to sale.
The home was filled - and I do mean full - with furniture. There was clothing and appliances and sheets and towels and lots of furniture.
Imagine my shock in entering a house that I had worked so hard to clear out only to find it full again. For a second, I thought that I stepped into a time warp and found myself in the past. Then I actually looked at the stuff and noticed it's a lot better quality than anything my dad ever had and realized I was still in the present.
Imagine my further surprise when I checked the locks, and found that they were all secured. The keys were recently changed and I had not yet dropped off the new set to my father. I had no idea how this stuff got into the house.
I walked outside (I had no idea whether some random person would be entering the house) and called my father. It turns out his friend, Gary, wants to purchase the house and moved right in despite the fact that the house has not gone on the market and that I have not finished clearing it out.
The stupidity in selling a home not to the highest bidder but the only bidder is staggering. Not to mention it makes it infinitely more difficult for me to clear the house out when I have to work my already crowded schedule around a tenant.
I decided that this, added to the long list of other problems, is reason enough to rescend the power of attorney and let my father wallow in the storm of drama that he seems to enjoy so well.
Monday, February 18, 2008
Weight Check - Feb. 16, 2008
Weight Loss: None (I gained four pounds)
Pounds Lost To Date: -1.5 pounds
Pounds from Goal Weight: I think not
Pounds Lost To Date: -1.5 pounds
Pounds from Goal Weight: I think not
Monday, February 11, 2008
That’s Why I’ll Use Gloves from Now On
It's amazing to me that, despite having no children, I still am not able to set aside enough time over a weekend to take in a movie.
This past Saturday I had an early appointment with my housekeeper, Anica, to take her out to my father's home to have her sort through the last of his belongings remaining in the house and have her clean it in preparation for the home going on the market.
I had been hoarding boxes for the better part of a year like some crazy old woman stockpiling on catnip and kitty litter. Both the trunk of my car and part of the backseat where piled high. This should have been okay as it was going to be Anica, her "assistant" and I. So of course, when I pick her up, she has another person with her. This forces me to turn back around, drop the boxes off in my garage, and go back to pick everyone.
Fortunately, both the realtor and the locksmith were running late too; I met them at the house on time.
After the locksmith has changed the locks, I went back home to get the boxes. I made a stop at the car wash on the way back; I refuse to drive a car that is dirty. I have friends with cars that are so filthy, one could practically grow tomatoes on the roof.
When I get back to the house, Anica stammers that they found a snake in the garage. The conversation goes something like this:
Anica: There was a snake in the garage.
My eyes open wide.
Me: My nephew kept a boa constrictor in an aquarium in the garage. He was supposed to get rid of it. Are you saying it's still in there?
Anica:
Me: In the aquarium? Wow, it really is junky in the garage. I did not even see it. I'll call animal control to see if they will come get in.
Anica: No. It's in a pillowcase.
Me: Alive!! My God was it roaming free in the garage!?! This is not Animal Planet. I am so sorry.
Anica: No, It is dead.
Me: Errrr...where was it?
Anica: In the pillowcase. We reached in the pillowcase to see what was inside. We found the snake.
Anica: It stinks.
Me: Eeeew! I am so very sorry. Thank you for putting it in the pillowcase.
Anica: It's been dead a while.
Note: I evicted my nephew at the end of December. It is now February.
Me: Ummm...I'll find out how one gets rid of a snake, outside of digging a hole in the backyard and burying it.
A lot of investigation work and a few hours later, I have determined that the snake can be thrown in the dumpster which is arriving in a few days. It was, indeed, the property of my nephew who was holding it for a "friend." No explanation has been given for how this friend was supposed to Houdini himself into a locked house and remove the snake.
My brother thinks I should drive out to Westminster, hurl the snake over my head as if I am Anya Major throwing a sledgehammer in the famous 1984 commercial by Apple, and try to throw it so that it wraps around my nephew's head. I think he has highly over estimated my throwing ability as well as my psychological stamina. There is a reason I asked Alicia to double bag the snake in a Hefty Steel Sack bag and throw it away in the dumpster. I am not touching it.
Obviously, my housekeeper and her friends are getting a rather large tip when I pay them. This is in addition to the profuse apologies I already gave them.
Background Noise
Ages ago, I sent my cousin, Bradford, a happy birthday e-Mail. He and I had not communicated in a while, but I wanted him to know that I still wished him well. The next day I got the terse reply, "Fuck You."
There is about a 12 to 14 year difference between Bradford and I. It would certainly be fair to say that there is a generational gap. However, I don't think there was ever a time when it was appropriate to respond to a perfectly polite e-Mail with vulgarity. I will admit to being a little hurt at first, as well as confused. Was his reply a critique of the poem that I had selected or the font? Perhaps he resented the fact that I communicated with black font as opposed to something more multi-cultural?
Regardless, his message, while blunt, was certainly clear. I immediately set up a rule to send all future e-Mail messages from him to my trash can, and forwarded his e-Mail on to my best friend as an example of why I avoid most family functions.
I received an e-Mail from another cousin, Terri, a few days ago. Bradford is in jail on drug-related violations (prescription medications). His spending time in prison is a certainty. Only the length of the sentence is in question.
I am sorry that my bright, young cousin has gone down the same path of addiction that took his father away from our family. Knowing that he did not kick his drug habit after all definitely puts his earlier e-Mail into perspective.
There is about a 12 to 14 year difference between Bradford and I. It would certainly be fair to say that there is a generational gap. However, I don't think there was ever a time when it was appropriate to respond to a perfectly polite e-Mail with vulgarity. I will admit to being a little hurt at first, as well as confused. Was his reply a critique of the poem that I had selected or the font? Perhaps he resented the fact that I communicated with black font as opposed to something more multi-cultural?
Regardless, his message, while blunt, was certainly clear. I immediately set up a rule to send all future e-Mail messages from him to my trash can, and forwarded his e-Mail on to my best friend as an example of why I avoid most family functions.
I received an e-Mail from another cousin, Terri, a few days ago. Bradford is in jail on drug-related violations (prescription medications). His spending time in prison is a certainty. Only the length of the sentence is in question.
I am sorry that my bright, young cousin has gone down the same path of addiction that took his father away from our family. Knowing that he did not kick his drug habit after all definitely puts his earlier e-Mail into perspective.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Weight Check
Weight Loss: 2.5 pounds (hurrah!)
Pounds Lost To Date: 2.5 pounds
Pounds from Goal Weight: I think not
Pounds Lost To Date: 2.5 pounds
Pounds from Goal Weight: I think not
Thursday, February 7, 2008
Life Lesson
Life Lesson: The reason old people are so evil? It’s because we are granted a certain amount of patience over the course of our lifetime. By a certain age, we’ve used all our patience up.
This is an old story, but I am using it for the Life Lesson for my first blog post.
My father granted me Power of Attorney yesterday so I could begin putting his affairs in order. One of my first tasks was to collapse his multiple accounts and different banks into one checking account and one savings account.
I can only visit the bank on Saturday s until my contract with is up. Thus, it took me two weeks to take care of this simple task.
To be fair, I did visit the last bank later in the day. Why? I had to drop my father’s car off to get an estimate of the cost of repairing the damage (Please, God, let me find the auto insurance information soon) and visit another bank first.
I arrived at Trifling Bank about an hour before closing. This bank has no on working at the desks. I waited in line for the teller and introduced myself. I showed her the Power of Attorney document, my ID, and my father’s ID.
The teller had never before seen a Power of Attorney document, and implied it was something I made up for nefarious purposes (note: my father and I have the same last name). Okay. I am patient because she appears to be in her early twenties. Lord knows that banks do not train their employees and she’s rather young to have encountered this issue in her own family.
I ask for a manager. The teller leaves. After about a twenty minute wait, the manager comes back and says she cannot help me. I will have to come back during the week once they have had a chance to view the Power of Attorney document with their lawyers. Why?
The manager has never heard of a Power of Attorney document either. She does not know what powers it grants me. Hello!?! You are a bank manager and you have never heard of a Power of Attorney? Could you be any more incompetent?
Fortunately, I had the bright idea to visit another branch of Trifling Bank the next weekend. This one was staffed by an intelligent teller and manager that were able to help me.
I ended up closing my father’s account at Trifling Bank with his blessing; neither one of us believe in supporting the stupid. I sent Trifling Bank a long letter detailing my unhappiness and why.
It should come as no surprise that I never got a response.
This is an old story, but I am using it for the Life Lesson for my first blog post.
My father granted me Power of Attorney yesterday so I could begin putting his affairs in order. One of my first tasks was to collapse his multiple accounts and different banks into one checking account and one savings account.
I can only visit the bank on Saturday s until my contract with
To be fair, I did visit the last bank later in the day. Why? I had to drop my father’s car off to get an estimate of the cost of repairing the damage (Please, God, let me find the auto insurance information soon) and visit another bank first.
I arrived at Trifling Bank about an hour before closing. This bank has no on working at the desks. I waited in line for the teller and introduced myself. I showed her the Power of Attorney document, my ID, and my father’s ID.
The teller had never before seen a Power of Attorney document, and implied it was something I made up for nefarious purposes (note: my father and I have the same last name). Okay. I am patient because she appears to be in her early twenties. Lord knows that banks do not train their employees and she’s rather young to have encountered this issue in her own family.
I ask for a manager. The teller leaves. After about a twenty minute wait, the manager comes back and says she cannot help me. I will have to come back during the week once they have had a chance to view the Power of Attorney document with their lawyers. Why?
The manager has never heard of a Power of Attorney document either. She does not know what powers it grants me. Hello!?! You are a bank manager and you have never heard of a Power of Attorney? Could you be any more incompetent?
Fortunately, I had the bright idea to visit another branch of Trifling Bank the next weekend. This one was staffed by an intelligent teller and manager that were able to help me.
I ended up closing my father’s account at Trifling Bank with his blessing; neither one of us believe in supporting the stupid. I sent Trifling Bank a long letter detailing my unhappiness and why.
It should come as no surprise that I never got a response.
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