STRANGER DANGER

Years ago (and I mean many years ago), my friend Jill and I went to see a scary movie.  At the time I was living with Jill, her dad, and her grandmother.  Another friend of ours was visiting from out of town but instead of going to the movies with us, she opted to go to a Saturday night church service.  I wish I had gone with her instead.

The movie When A Stranger Calls, scared the bejeepers out of us both  and neither one of us would sleep in her grandmother's room because it had a closet in it.  We begged our friend to sleep in there instead (contrary to the original sleeping plan)  until she finally rolled her eyes and acquiesced  to our demand.  You see, in the movie a young girl is terrorized by a psychopath while she babysits.  Some guy keeps calling and asking if she has checked the children yet.  It turns out that the creep is making the calls from inside the house and although the babysitter is saved, the two children she was looking after did not fair so well.  Fast forward a number of years and the babysitter is having dinner out with her husband when she receives a phone call at the restaurant  from the psychopath asking her if she's checked the children yet.  She rushes home to find her kids safe but just before she turns out the lights for the night, she decides to check on her kids one last time.  They're fine and she climbs back into bed.  She rolls over to find herself face to face with the psychopath.  Scary.

Why am I telling you all this?  Well, over thirty years after watching that stupid movie once, I still find myself thinking about it almost every time I climb into bed when Ian's gone to bed before me.   In fact, I check that it is Ian in the bed before I climb into it.

The other night I retired for the night a good hour after Ian and slipped quietly into bed.  I lay there for a few seconds then realized that I hadn't checked to see that the man in the bed was actually my husband.  I slowly turned over and my heart skipped a beat.  The man in the bed was considerably shorter than Ian and he wasn't making Ian's usual deep sleep breathing noises.  A scream almost escaped my lips but then I heard his deep even breathing and with my eyes finally adjusting to the darkness I could see that the outline of the body in my bed was indeed Ian, he was just sleeping lower in the bed than usual.

This is why I flat out refuse to watch scary movies.  My vivid imagination needs absolutely no help.

ANALYTICS

If you thought a terrorist cell was checking out your blog, would you report it to the FBI, CIA,MI5 or Canada's less well known intelligence agency the CSIS? hmmm... I wonder if the agents are called Csissies 'cause that would be like an oxymoron right?... well trimmed men with jacked up abs trained in hand to hand combat being called sissies.   I digress.

I was looking at the analytics on my blog and noticed that I had a number of hits from places like India, Sri Lanka, and the UK.  I like to pretend that I am a semi famous blogger whose blog is read all over the world (it kind of is if you count the odd friend I have living or traveling overseas) but I noticed something interesting about the statistic... all the hits were for the same page...the one that included a picture of a nuclear bomb going off.  Have I stumbled upon something?  Am I about to thwart a dastardly plan to blow up the USA? Is a SWAT team going to come crashing through the windows at any moment to confiscate my computer?  Will a black sedan with dark tinted windows drive up slowly next to me while its occupants jump out and grab me off the street in broad daylight?  Has my imagination run away with me again?  Most probably but if I go missing, you'll know why.

ME & TIRED

I don't function that well when I haven't had enough sleep.  My family would agree and say I get cranky but really I don't, I tend to get quiet (mostly because I am busy biting my tongue because just about everything they do drives me crazy).  Fortunately for all of us, I usually manage to get adequate sleep except for when Ian is away like he was last night. It is then that my hyperactive imagination kicks into high gear and my sleep is fitful to say the least. Needless to say I was a little tired today.

While chatting to a young friend at church this morning I noticed she seemed a little down and not her usual bubbly self.  I asked her "Why so glum?"  My son Matthew answered for her "She has a pretty legitimate reason."
"Oh?"
"Yeah, her dad died yesterday"
I knew that.

Later in the day, I took three of my grandkids to a birthday celebration for a one year old.  They had a great time and were especially thrilled when they received a little bag of goodies each to come home with.  I piled them into the car and was half way to their house when I heard a little voice from the back of the van.
"Uh oh Nona, I'm not buckled in!'
I immediately stopped the van and buckled William in.  He is usually so good at reminding us if he is not properly buckled into his seat but I think he was distracted with his bag of goodies.
"hmmm" I said "do you think we should tell mommy and daddy about this?"
"I'm telling them as soon as I get home!" was his reply.
Apparently, I wasn't getting away with it.
It was when I turned the corner onto the street they live on that I realized that I hadn't buckled Maia into her car seat either.
Imagine how excited I was to go in and make that confession to their parents.

I'm laying low for the rest of the day.

SIGNS

After my last post a friend asked if I had seen the movie Signs.  My answer to that question is yes and just recently too.  That would explain why I was  totally slightly freaked out when our baby monitor receiver made some crackling noises when there was nobody else in the house except my husband who was sound asleep (I checked).  I wasn't brave enough to go upstairs and investigate the source of the noise but crossed my fingers and actually hoped that it was a mouse wandering around looking for something good to eat.   My paranoia increased a notch or two as in the light of day I worked up enough courage to go into the room with the baby monitor only to discover that the monitor wasn't even plugged in. Great, just when I was starting to feel comfortable about staying in the house by myself when Ian is away.  I immediately went downstairs and unplugged the receiver.  I keep reminding myself that I do have an overactive imagination and that I need to use the logical side of my brain more often. Easier said than done.  Just ask my boys about  making them run all the way home from the movie theatre with me upon hearing some rustling in the bushes after watching Jurassic Park.  What?...it was dark... and we'd just finished watching Jurassic Park... and there was rustling... in the bushes... it could have been velociraptors... seriously... it could have been.