November 29, 2016
6:54 p.m.

I usually post a Thanksgiving post, but just getting dinner done was a task this year.

Everyone got sick this year. One by one, down we went--vomiting, diarrhea, fever, body aches, then coughing and runny noses.

Yep, we were fabulous this year.

But I did it! I roasted a turkey, made some ham, did potatoes and gravy. My daughter peeled all the potatoes and baked a cake, bless her heart, and my other daughter made macaroni salad and green bean casserole, bless her heart, too. I even baked rolls. There were pies and whipped cream, and we all managed to eat a bit and keep it all down.

Then we just had a lazy afternoon and watched movies, and called it a day.

Off and on since, I have taken to my bed a lot of the time, trying to get well.

I have a sinus infection at this point, and I'm getting sick and tired of being sick and tired.

Anyway, there are no pictures of Thanksgiving this year, really. I'm a little upset with myself over that, but I'll give myself a pass this time. I mean, who wants to pose when they're sick?

But this is going to be my Thanksgiving post, because in spite of 2016 being an overall terrible year--I could make you a list, but I won't--there were plenty of things to be thankful for. A new granddaughter in March. That's a total of nine wonderful grandchildren, all of whom are healthy and beautiful and wonderful. Everyone has a job now--well, except me, but I am writing! Healthy family members. Roof over my head, and the heads of my family. (It leaks, but thankfully, there is a plan.) I have sold several copies of my book, which is pretty cool. So I have a lot of reasons to be thankful this year, and I really do thank God for all the blessings.

Cancelled my dad and brother two weeks ago due to illness. (The roof plan) They cancelled Thanksgiving week due to weather. Maybe they'll make it this week. Maybe it'll snow. I'm not holding my breath, but I would really like to go to Wyoming for a visit, and when things are done, I'm planning to go home with them for a while. I can't wait to see everyone!

On the super-plus side, for the month of November I participated in NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) to push myself to finish the book I'm working on, and I got my 50,000 words, so I am now a NaNoWriMo winner. Whatever else that means, I have over 200 pages written so far and I feel like I'm in the home stretch--until editing starts. Ha ha. I hate editing. That's the hardest part for me. There will most likely be more research before I finish, but surprisingly, I'm having fun with that.

It's almost December. Oh my gosh. Christmas is coming. I have no plan this year. Oops!

Take it easy, everyone!

Good night.

November 20, 2016
9:11 p.m.

Oh boy, I think I might live through this one!

Today I got out of bed. I ate some cream of wheat and apple sauce. I had a little coffee.

Today I managed to visit with the kids, feed the little baby, draw with the bigger baby and even got a little writing done.

Yay, me.

So, it's flu season. You go the doctor and get your shot, and then you catch the other strain. And that's if the shot didn't make you sick as well, which always happens to me.

We're close to a week in now. There are presently eight people in my house. It started with the baby. (The bigger baby. The little one doesn't live here.) Next came her older brother.

On Wednesday I had a free two night hotel room offer from the casino, so I took them up on it and went to Blackhawk. Good thing I did. I got sick that night, and so did my daughter-in-law, who was home. We have one bathroom, which would have been impossible, so at least the fates were on our side with that one.

When I wasn't in the hotel bathroom Wednesday night through Friday at check out, I was literally passed out in bed. I dragged myself up in the wee hours of Friday morning to soak in a hot bath, but other than that, I was basically useless.

At some point on Thursday I got dressed and went out for Sprite. I distinctly remember doing that. I had meant to do it all day. I was dehydrated and my stomach hurt, and I really, really wanted 7-Up, but no one ever has that anymore.

I don't know what time I finally made it out, but the sun had gone down.

Now, there had been a plan in place for my brother and dad to come down on Friday. My brother is going to help me with my leaky roof, God bless his heart. But there is no way on God's green earth that I am going to knowingly let anyone walk into my house full of sick people and catch a bug like this one, so I called them and said, "Let's rethink this!"

We're re-thinking it.

Of course, it snowed. And melted. And leaked. Meh!

Anyway, I had also planned to get some writing done while I was there, but nothing too productive came of that plan. I read over some of what did get done--wow, am I going to be editing! I mean, I managed to get a surprising number of words on the page, and there's some workable stuff. But...a little word to the wise: if you can't hold your head up, you probably shouldn't be trying to form a cohesive scene.

Heck, I should just be proud that I made it out of bed in time for check-out Friday morning. I had tea. I had some more Sprite. I took the bus home. And before I went to bed for the rest of the day, I even took the dogs out!

I have a blurred memory of yesterday, once again a-bed, watching bits and pieces of...something. A movie? The Librarian? Maybe. By then everything had changed from stomach to head, nose and chest. Believe me, it's been lovely. I wrote a little here and there, but mostly I tried to fix what I'd managed in my delirium.

Today, out of bed, I sent my stuff from my tablet to my PC and read it through again. Wow.

Like I told my daughter-in-law, my ghostly characters didn't even bother to visit me in my fever dreams. Oddly, though, a new character showed up and started his story, so I don't think it's a loss; it just requires big-time edits.

I have been participating in NaNoWriMo this month just for the kick in the butt to get it done, and it's a good thing I got something done, but gee whiz! I was hoping I'd already hit that 50,000 word target.

Nope! But I am counting every word I put in over the last few days. They cost me. This may be the hardest part of the book to edit, but it fits in the story and I don't want to lose that surprise character. He's pretty cool.

I guess no matter how you plan, you can get a big surprise any time.

My son thought he was going to get by with only the headcold part of this illness, but lo and behold--it got him tonight. Poor guy, we who have gone before him feel his pain.

In the meantime, my granddaughter has so far managed to escape the stomach-centric part of this strain, but not the headache and generally yuckiness. We were hopeful, considering how her uncle was doing, but now I am a little worried. Pray she escapes.

Daughter and son-in-law status: she has sad tummy and a giant pain in the neck--probably from sleeping crooked. He is cruising along like a superstar. Hopefully he will escape entirely.

Other daughter and son-in-law came today with their kids--they must have been crazy! But they said they have all been sick, too, so hopefully we are all over this in time for Thanksgiving. I'm sure we would all like to eat something tastier than Cream of Wheat.

Okay, so--don't catch this! Seriously! It really sucks. Stay well.

Good night!

November 13, 2016
11:54 p.m.

Wow, the moon! And tomorrow it will appear to be bigger than it has in decades.

People keep telling me that the moon IS bigger. Nope. Science, people. The moon is the same size--it appears bigger because the moon and the earth as passing closer together in their orbits than they have in decades. Objects appear bigger when they are closer to you than they do when they're further away.

What is it with education these days? Why do people put more faith in Internet memes than in actual scientific evidence? What will it take to get this country back on track with schooling?

When I was a kid, education in the United States was considered some of the best in the world. The USA no longer holds that record.

Why? What happened to this country?

I'd like to think that things could get better, but I have serious doubts; it doesn't seem like very many people actually care.

Music and art are cut from education programs at an alarming rate. Yet, both can contribute considerably to the math skills of students. So, why are they less important than football? It makes no sense!

The majority of schools are cutting the teaching of cursive writing because everyone these days uses a keyboard. How are the generations to come ever going to be able to read historical documents?

Penmanship is a thing of the past. I don't think my grandchildren have ever hand-written a letter or addressed an envelope. Everything is a text, and most of those are filled with misspelled words, incorrect punctuation and grammatically incorrect usage.

How are they going to get jobs when they won't even be able to write a resume?

Speaking of resumes, whatever happened to walking into an establishment, meeting the owner or manager face to face and asking for a job? Everything has to be done through a website; there's nothing personal about the process these days. Frankly, I don't really want to apply for a job anywhere that I can't go into in person and meet the people I'll be working for. Instead, I'm required to submit everything online, and the first people who contact me likely have never set foot in the establishment I'd work at.

I don't much care for the world we've created with our technology. It intimidates and frightens me. I feel that it makes it easier to treat each other badly. People think they can't really hurt or be hurt by those they never see. Cyber bullying? There's still a person behind that tech persona, and that person can still hurt or be hurt. Just because you don't witness that hurt face to face doesn't mean it doesn't happen.

Face to face interaction is going away; I have seen kids sit side by side on a sofa and text each other on their phones rather than interacting. It makes me crazy.

Here's a Thanksgiving plan for you: collect all the phones at the door, or at the very least, get every guest to agree that those phones will be used ONLY to take pictures. No calls, no texting. Eat your meal, talk to each other. Interact.

At the end of the meal, if you REALLY MUST, send your out-of-town family and friends a nice video greeting from everyone. Just one.

Here's my challenge: three whole hours without a tweet, text message, Facebook upload, phone call. Three hours. Then do your video, if you must. When you get home, share your pictures. Tell your friends about your food.

Most of all, tell them about the conversations you were able to have because you decided to shut down the tech for a little while and be people who look each other in the eye and share a connection that uses no plug-in.

After that little experiment, try it again at Christmas. And feel free to share your results with me--I'm really interested to see how it all works out. You might find out that Grandma has had a really interesting life, and that your uncle was a hero. You might find out that your cousin is a bit of an ass--but how would you know if all you ever saw was the memes he shares about football?

Get to know the people you should be getting to know. Unplug and enjoy them.

I challenge you: do it! See what you learn.

That's what I've been thinking about lately, and for me it will be easy, because I'll be with my folks for the holiday, and they're already unplugged.

I'm looking forward to it.

Good night.

November 11, 2016
2:55 p.m.

Veterans' Day has rolled around again. It does my heart good to see all the tributes to family members and friends who served this Country over the years.

I have several family members who served. One was seriously injured and spent the rest of his life minus a leg and his vision. Others escaped unscathed, and I thank God for that; they could have shared the fate of my great uncle, or lost their lives entirely, as so many in this country have done.

The unselfish act of joining forces with their fellow Army, Navy, Air Force, Marine comrades too often goes unpraised--even entirely unnoticed--by those of us they served to protect. Too many people have even gone so far as to chastise or ridicule them for their desire to protect this country from those who would gladly take our freedom from us.

This week has been a nightmare for this country. I say that not because of the outcome of this latest election, but because of the outcome of the outcome. Since Tuesday both major party's constituants have gone out of their way to make complete fools of themselves by propogating hateful acts across the country. This behavior has shown the rest of the world what they'd already begun to believe of us--that our country is filled with hateful, ignorant people and that we are doomed to failure.

And do you know what? They are right to feel that way! If something is not done immediately to quell the behavior of the people who are putting on this disastrous show of spoiled brattiness, entitlement and bullying, the whole world will shake their heads and turn their backs on a country they once admired and respected.

And we will deserve their scorn.

But, damn it, our VETERANS do NOT deserve it! We owe them better than this--this--outragous display. We owe them a debt of gratitude and humility and RESPECT!

And how do we do this? We stop acting like spoiled brat babies and GROW UP! We take what has been given to us and make the very best of it. We are still "The People" and we are still empowered to take control of ourselves and our futures, but we will not accomplish anything until we act like mature adults and get hold of ourselves and make the good things happen.

Show RESPECT for those who were willing to die for your freedom.

It is Veterans' Day. Take a deep breath, say thank you and then show them you mean it; deal with cards you've been dealt and make the best of it. You say you're proud and grateful--prove it. Make our veterans proud and grateful for you.

Okay, I'm done.

Thank you, Veterans, for your service. I really am proud and grateful for all of you.

November 10, 2016

4:57 p.m.

Fifty-five years ago today, the world was blessed with the birth of this lady right here: My sister! Happy Birthday, Melanie!!

A few years ago, Mel came to visit. We went to see Alice Cooper and had a great time. Then we went up to Blackhawk, CO so we could lose some money, and we had a great time again.

I never get to spend enough time with this great gal. I'm looking forward to spending some time with her later this month.
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I am getting excited because my brother and my father are coming next week. Time to repair the roof--YAY! The weather has so far been cooperative, so I am just hoping and praying that it holds out until the work is done.

And then--guess what? I am going to go home with them for an extended visit. It's so important to me to be able to spend time with my parents and family.

My daughter and her family are staying with me right now, and this visit away will make a little more room in my house for them. I'm so glad they are here. Starting over is hard, but they are making a good start. Getting the grandkids into new schools has been hard, though, especially the High School student. Changing schools is rough.

While I'm in Wyoming, hopefully I will manage to finish my book. I hope it's done before Christmas and then I'll start the editing process. For me, that's always the hardest part. It will be good to do it there--it's nice and quiet at my parents' house.

Oh boy, now I am laughing at myself--I don't necessarily work well in quiet. Sometimes it seems to me that I get more work done when the baby is running around like a whirling dirvish, giggling and screaming, than I do when everyone is asleep. A room full of people shouting at the video game they're playing is sometimes my best background noise. I've written a lot lately.

I am wierd.

But really, editing is a different story. Quiet should be good for that. Editing is hard; you find all your silly mistakes, you decide your scenes suck, you discover that your facts don't add up. Ugh! I never look forward to that part of the writing process. But it has to be done.
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6:00 p.m.

There's a "Jane the Virgin" marathon going on at my house right now. This show is so cute. I introduced it to my granddaughter so she'd have a positive role model in actress Gina Rodriguez.

When I was a kid, I had favorite actors, writers, and musicians that I looked to; it's just a part of growing up, I think. I still have favorites, as I'm sure you all do. Some of them are the same favorites I had as a kid growing up--for example, I will never NOT love Alice Cooper. I love him more than ever, but not for all the same reasons I loved him as a kid. I didn't know, as a kid, that he was such a good golfer, or that he was a good Christian. I didn't know he'd end up being a great husband and father. These are things I admire him for now, in addition to loving the music. As a kid I just knew that he kind of freaked my mother out, and that was a cool thing.

I think kids still choose their favorites based on the "Mom's creeped out" factor, but some of these so called "role models" are so inappropriate that I have felt the need to try to influence my kids and grandkids to choose some role models that are actually good. That's why I encouraged my daughters and granddaughters to watch "Jane the Virgin" and in the process get to know a good role model in the actress who portrays her.

Gina Rodriguez is college educated and an advocate for education. She has been honest with her fans regarding her health issues and weight issues. She is a Latina who has brought attention to the Hispanic community's contributions to the entertainment industry. My girls have always needed to know that it is not necessary to be a blue-eyed blond to succeed. My granddaughters also need to know that it is not necessary to dress inappropriately or swear like a sailor in order to be noticed. I admire Gina Rodriguez for giving them someone who really is appropriate to look up to.

And the show is so cute. So fun. So silly. We all enjoy it. We also enjoy the actresses who portray Jane's mother and grandmother. We think the baby is adorable. And on the super-plus side--there are some nice looking men! It's a win-win.

My plug for "Jane the Virgin": Now in its third season. Seasons one and two available on Netflix. Watch it on the CW. Enjoy!
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It's November 10th. I have still not turned the heater on! Wow!!

I'm cold. But not freezing. So, robe and blankets. No one else seems to be cold so far this season, so I can be tough, right?

(Said the wimp)
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9:25 p.m.

Oh, what fun! The kids are watching "Shrek". It's been ages since I saw this movie; it's still fun. I've been writing all evening, and now I think I'm going to take a break and watch with the kiddos.

Have a good night!

November 8, 2016
9:08 p.m.

Election day.

Feeling more than a little sick to my stomach.

Appalled and amazed that my country has come to this.

I totally expected this to be a close race. (Because I'm not really the eternal optimist people think I am.)

I HOPED it wouldn't be. I HOPED that the people of this once-great country would show some sense.

So much for hope.

Ugh!

Done. Over and out.

November 5, 2016

6:32 p.m.

Autumn is my favorite time of year, but I hate the time change, and it's happening tonight. Ugh!!

(I'm almost certain I've complained about this before, so I apologize in advance, because I'm about to complain again.)

I will never understand the necessity to change the time. Supposedly it adds an hour of daylight in the summer--it doesn't, there are the same number of daylight hours regardless of what time the clocks say it is. And in the winter, when we really need some extra daylight, we turn the clocks back so it gets dark by four in the afternoon in December. 

WHY????

I don't know about you, but I didn't appreciate walking home from after-school activities in the dark, and I really don't want kids in this day and age walking home in the dark. 

In my opinion, the whole thing is just dumb, dumb, dumb. It's already getting dark early enough, thank you very much. It's pitch dark right now, and it' not even seven o'clock. Who needs this happy crappy?

I can hear you now--"But you're a night person! Why do you care?"

I am one of those people who really, really need light. I need it. Winter darkness can literally make me a sad sack. 

Besides, this is no longer a country full of farmers, who supposedly benefited from daylight savings time. I don't know how or why; I already told you we have the same number of hours of daylight regardless of what the clock says. Farmers are going to rise with the sun and work til they can't see anymore regardless of what the clock says, anyway. 

So who is getting anything out of this arrangement? I don't get it. 

Ugh!!

So tomorrow at this time it will be 7:50 instead of 6:50. What a bunch of hooey!

Ridiculous. 

Okay, I'm done.

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Still doing the NaNoWriMo. I went to a "write-in" on Thursday evening, and it was kind of fun. However, I didn't realize I needed to take a lap-top or tablet with me--there are computers there at the library--so I ended up hand-writing. Ouch! Not so good at that anymore. I guess using a keyboard has gotten me pretty spoiled. 

Today is double word-count day, and here I am blogging instead of working on my book! I'm having to do a lot of research on New Mexico, and wishing I could just hop in a car or a train or a plane and go visit in person. The last time I was actually in the state was years ago, and I've never gotten to do a good tour of the area I'm trying to pretend I know about! Haha!

Science fiction is easier--I just make it up as I go. Who can prove me wrong when I say aliens hold my character in a white room, or whatever? But I'm certain some of my readers might actually know what the museum looks like. 

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Those who know me know that I am a pretty low-key person for the most part. I like drama only as a genre of books, television and movies. In my own personal life, I prefer everything calm, cool and collected. Totally predictable. No surprises, no conflicts, no drama. 

That said, things around here have taken an unexpected turn. 

Last summer I suddenly acquired a couple of little dogs. they are cute and cuddly and well behaved. 

Unfortunately, they are a make and female, and neither have been fixed. So for pretty much the whole month of October they were a nightmare come true. Never again. Snip, snip, Rex. Snip, snip.

Now my daughter and her family--all five of them--have joined us and the house is full.

I'd forgotten what full-time kids was like. Busy, busy. There's a teenager, and nine-year old and a toddler. Whew!

Did I mention busy?

My grandson started his new school this week and already made a friend in the neighborhood. My granddaughter should start in her new High School next week, and she's a wreck, of course. Changing schools is hard enough without having to do it mid-semester. 

The circumstances don't matter, except that there was drama. Ugh! I'm just hoping everything will go better now.

In the meantime, I do not have a toddler-proof home, and storage is a problem, so yesterday I bought a pantry from Lowe's and when my daughter-in-law started to assemble it, one of the parts was the wrong size. Jeez! It just figures, right? You trust that everything in the box will be correct, you know? What a pain. 

It's times like these, though, when I realize how much junk I've collected over the years that should have already been donated or discarded. I am such a pack rat!

So right now the kids are playing video games and the baby is pretending to play video games. My daughter and son-in-law are grocery shopping and my son and daughter-in-law are trying to get the correct part for the pantry.

Me? Trying to get a constipated little dog to poop. Poor thing. Can you give a dog a laxative?

Also trying to do research and write, but I am not feeling particularly enlightened or inspired at the moment, so I am griping about daylight savings time, family drama, Lowe's and constipated dogs. 

Wow, my life is so exciting!

Can I just add that election day is coming up? And the whole year has given my stomach ache a stomach ache! What a nightmare election year. The idea of the next four years has me feeling pretty low. 

So, yeah, not the greatest week around here. 

Wow, the grocery shoppers have returned. We need that pantry! Yikes! I hope they can get the part we need at Lowe's.  

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8:58 p.m.

Man, I can't catch a break. No part available, pantry defective. I think I need a nap. 

On the plus side, my brother is coming soon to fix my roof, and it's not going to be as bad as I had thought. Plus my dad is coming, and he ordered some of the materials as my early Christmas present.

I have the best family. 

No matter what. Just the BEST.

And now, I'm going to sign off before I can even think about complaining about something else.

Good night! 

November 1, 2016
1:09 p.m.

Oh my gosh, it's November!

This month I have decided to participate in NaNoWriMo--that means National Novel Writing Month. I am still trying to figure out how to properly use their web site.

I've actually been working on this book for awhile, but a lot of the work has been research. Now it's time to crunch out the words!

I was planning to release a small sampling yesterday, in time for Halloween, but life in the Shablo family intervened, and so the exerpt is late.

Before reading, here's what you need to know: the main character, Emma, discovered as a small child that she was able to see and speak to her deceased family members. Most came to her to reveal family history or to clear up misunderstandings. Sometimes they came just to help. When Emma was twelve, she was a lonely child with few friends, Suddenly, a couple of popular girls befriend her and invie her to a Halloween party. Her mother makes her a lovely gypsy costume, and she goes tp her first Junior High party.

     Jack dropped her off at Cherry’s house at seven that evening; the party was supposed to end at eleven, the latest Emma had ever been out.

     Cherry’s mother met her at the door, and greeted her by name. “Everyone is waiting for you!” she told Emma excitedly. She waved at Jack, who was sitting in the car, and closed the door.

     “Waiting for me? Why?” Emma asked.

     “Don’t be silly, dear! You know!”

     “I—I do?”

     The woman laughed merrily and led Emma to a door that opened to the stairway to the basement. “You look fabulous, dear! Down you go, now!”

     So Emma went down the stairs. Twenty-one faces stared up at her as she descended. She held her tambourine in one hand, her crystal ball in the other; she felt, for the first time, an actual moment of precognition: she’d been set up.

     Cherry and Candy advanced on her, smiling brightly. “At last!” Cherry cried.

     Candy added, “She’s here! Now we can begin!”

     “Begin…what?” Emma asked, dreading the answer.

     “Gypsy fortune teller, Emma!” Candy announced, and all the kids applauded. “Here’s your table, Emma,” she added, leading her to a small, round table covered with a dark cloth and laden with fortune-telling paraphernalia: a deck of tarot cards, a crystal ball, a pair of dice, feathers and rune stones.

     “What is this?” Emma demanded.

     “It’s your table,” Candy repeated. “You’re the fortune teller—tell our fortunes!”

     “I’m not a fortune teller,” Emma protested. “I’m a gypsy.”

     “That’s what gypsies do,” Cherry explained. “It’s okay, Emma,” she added. “We all came prepared to pay, if you want us to.”

     “Pay for what?”

     “Our fortunes!” Cherry pointed to the table. “We set it all up for you; it’s our theme!” Gesturing grandly she intoned: “‘Talk to the dead and learn your fortune!’” She smiled winningly. “We just knew you’d love it; you can show off your power!”

     “This is your theme?” Emma cried.

     “Sure!” Candy smirked knowingly. “You’re always talking to someone—at least you say you are--”

     “So how about a little proof?” Cherry added.

     “We’ve been watching you do it since first grade—“

     “So do it now, for us!”

     “It doesn’t work that way,” Emma cried.

     “Fortune tellers just call the spirits,” Candy said. “So do it. We want to ask them questions.”

     “It doesn’t work that way!” Emma repeated.

     “Just sit down, Emma!” Cherry whispered viciously. “You’re ruining the party!”

     “Cherry, I can’t call the spirits,” Emma argued.

     “See?” Candy spat. “I told you it was all a fake, Cherry!”

     “So you don’t talk to dead people?” Cherry demanded.

     “Yes, I do, but—“

     “Then do it! It’s a party, Emma; just do it.”

     “Cherry—“

     “She’s a fake, just like I told you,” Candy said. “I always said she was just talking to herself, trying to get attention.”

     “Attention is the last thing I want!” Emma protested.

     “Look, Emma,” Candy sneered menacingly. “We went to a lot of trouble to set this up. No one believes in your power, but we told them all you’re the real deal. So don’t mess it up!”

     “Is she ready yet?” a boy named Martin piped up. “I want to talk to my Grandpa.”

     Emma whispered frantically, “Why didn’t you ask me first? I could have told you! It doesn’t work that way!”

     “You said you had powers,” Candy accused.

     “I never said I had powers,” Emma shot back. “I talk to my family. My family.”

     “You’re going to do this,” Cherry told her.

     “Oh, no I’m not!”

     “Oh yes you are! Or we’re telling everyone you’re a big fat faker!”

     “So what? You’ve all been calling me that for years!” Emma retorted. “You think that’s a threat?”

     “If you are nothing but a faker, anyway,” Candy reasoned, “then just fake it now. Who’s gonna know the difference?”

     “I will!” Emma cried.

     “Told ya,” Candy said to Cherry. “I told you she’s a fake; I told you she’d wimp out.”

     “You should have told me,” Emma said. “If I’d known, we could have—“

     “Could have what? Figured out how to fake it better?” Candy sneered.

     “Figured out a better theme,” Emma muttered.  

     “You’re wrecking the party, Emma!” Cherry said. “Is that what you want? To ruin the best party of the year?”

     “No, but—“

     “Then just sit at this table and tell fortunes. What’s it gonna hurt?”

     “Cherry,” Emma growled through gritted teeth, “I have no idea how to tell a fortune. I don’t get a choice when spirits visit me; they come when they want to, not when I want them to.”

     “Just fake it like you always do,” Candy prodded.

     “I don’t fake it!” Emma cried. “And even if someone came, they don’t tell fortunes. They talk about the past.”

     “She’s a fake,” Candy declared firmly. “I knew it.”

     “Hey!” Martin hollered. “Are we gonna do this, or what?”

     “Shut up, Marty!” Cherry yelled. “We have to get ready.”

     “I’m not doing this,” Emma said.

     “Yes you are,” Candy replied. “I don’t care how you do it; you do it. That’s the whole reason we invited you.”

     “That’s why? To humiliate me?”

     “Big word, Emma!” Candy applauded sarcastically. “You even used it right! Mr. McKenzie would be so proud!” She poked a finger at Emma’s chest, and Emma jerked away. “No, stupid! We invited you for you! Everyone says you’re a fake; we were trying to help you. So you could prove once and for all you have powers.”

     “I don’t have powers,” Emma hissed. “I have a damned curse is what I have. And I don’t have to prove a thing—not to them, not to you, not to anyone!”

     “Of course you don’t,” Cherry agreed soothingly. “But we invited you to the best party of the year, Emma! Do it for us! We did it for you!”

     “Cherry, I can’t just—“

     “Just pretend. Fortunes are just a game, anyway, right?”

     “Just sit in the chair and pretend you see stuff in the crystal ball,” Candy cajoled.

     “Don’t ruin our party,” Cherry begged.

     “We did it for you,” Candy added.

     “The hell you did,” Emma spat. “You did it for yourselves! Either way, you’re not the ones who end up looking bad!” But she sat down. She sifted through the things on the table top and shoved the tarot cards aside. “I’m not touching this crap,” she added.

     “I have a Ouija board,” Cherry offered.

     “Don’t even think about it!” Emma shuddered. “You guys are going to hell,” she added, muttering.

     “What?” Candy demanded.

     “If you missed that bus, you’ll have to wait for the next one,” Emma declared dismissively.

     “What?”

     “Slow.” Emma shook her head contemptuously. “I’ll use the crystal.” She glared at the girls. “You better hope this all stays fake,” she warned, narrowing her eyes menacingly.

     “You don’t scare us,” Candy said; but she looked worried, suddenly. She glanced at Cherry, now not so sure of herself.

     Emma was furious; she wanted nothing more than to stomp up the stairs and call her parents for a ride home. There was also a part of her that was so hurt she wanted to curl up in a corner and cry. And the most vindictive part of her hoped that a ghost would show up—one who could bang on walls, rattle chains, moan dramatically and move things; one who could pull Candy’s and Cherry’s hair and make them scream; they deserved it!

     That wasn’t likely; ghosts, in her experience, just sort of stood or sat there and told you stories.

     Still…one could dream. And if they wanted a fortune—well, by God, she’d give them a show, at least. If that made them really believe she was nothing but a fake, all for the better. She knew she wouldn’t be hanging out with them after tonight, anyway.

     She put her own crystal ball in her lap; the one on the table had an elaborate stand, and in spite of herself, she liked it. She sat her tambourine on the table, near her left hand.

     She took a deep breath and let it out. She repeated the action. Then she frowned up at her former friends. “If you’ve got snacks and drinks, you better bring them. Fake or not, this requires a lot of energy.”

     Candy stared at her for a moment, and then darted off to the other side of the room. “Is it?” Cherry asked.

     “Is it what?” Emma countered.

     “Fake.”

     Emma stared at her, not blinking. “No,” she said. “Or…is it?” She raised her eyebrows inquiringly.

     “Emma, I—“

     “Shut up, Cherry.”

     Emma stared out into the room, a long recreation room decorated with small card tables covered with Halloween-themed cloths. A stereo was playing eerie music. In one corner there was a large tin tub; presumably, they’d be bobbing for apples at some point. In the other corner, a long table was set with a punch bowl and glasses, rows of caramel apples and popcorn balls, bowls of chips and dip and wrapped candies.

     Emma took another deep breath. “Martin?” she called. “I guess you’re first.”

     Cherry hurried off to help Candy.

     Emma had a plate heaped with pumpkin muffins, chips and dip. Candy had filled a goodie bag with candy, a caramel apple and a popcorn ball. Cherry brought her a steaming cup of apple cider.

     Emma sipped her cider and waved the girls away. They backed off and sat with their guests.

     All eyes were on Emma. She was terrified; she was trapped.

     Where’s a good ghost when you need one? 

     Martin sat across from her. He looked as nervous as she felt. “So,” he said. “You’re a fortune teller, huh?”

     “I’m a gypsy,” Emma said.

     “Candy says you can tell fortunes,” Martin told her testily. “Can you?”

     “I guess we’ll find out,” Emma muttered.

     “I really need to talk to my grandfather.”

     “Why?”

     “What do you mean, why?”

     “I mean, why, Martin? Ghosts do not just show up; there has to be a reason, and it has to be important.” Emma was flying by the seat of her pants, but this was something she knew for certain; if the reason wasn’t compelling—and not to the living, but to the spirit involved—they had nothing to say.

     “How do you know?” Martin demanded.

     “My great grandmother came to me in the middle of a school day to let me know that my grandmother—her daughter—needed help right away,” Emma told him. She’d never explained her abrupt departure from school during a snowstorm to any of her classmates before; Emma was not compelled to explain anything to anyone outside her own family. Martin was not one of the classmates who had been there, but several of them were here—Candy and Cherry, for two—and were hanging on her every word. “It turned out she had a heart attack,” Emma continued. “We went back to Idaho for over a month while she got well. But if my great-grandmother hadn’t come to me, she would have died, because she was home alone when it happened.”

     There came a sound of many gasps in the room, but Emma ignored it. “Do you think your grandfather has something important to tell you?” she asked. “Or do you just want to say hi and make him prove something to you? Ghosts aren’t interested in proving to anyone that they exist.”

     “But they said—“

     “I don’t care what they said! All I care about is your reason for being here. Why do you want to talk to your grandfather, Martin?”

     Martin stared down at his lap, muttering.

     “What?”

     “I said, because I miss him!” Martin cried, and his face told the story of someone still in the midst of grief.

     Emma nodded. “It hasn’t been long since he passed,” she observed. “Less than a month, I’d say.”

     Martin looked impressed. “That’s right!” he cried.

     Emma studied him; she could make some guesses, but she felt badly for him and didn’t want to make him feel worse. She forced herself not to glare at Candy and Cherry, and continued to make eye contact with Martin. He looked by turns grief-stricken, defiant and hopeful. Emma wanted to cry.

     “He wasn’t sick,” Emma said. It wasn’t a question; Martin exhibited all the signs of one who’d been completely taken by surprise by death.

     “No.” Martin agreed. “He was the healthiest guy I knew!”

     “I don’t think he’ll talk to me, Martin,” Emma said. “He has to come to terms with his death first.”

     “What do you mean?”

     “Well,” Emma said, “sometimes, when it’s sudden, ghosts don’t really know what happened to them…” Emma was thinking about a train crash and a ghost who had yet to visit her himself.

     Martin smirked; it seemed self-protective, really; it made Emma sadder for him. “Then why did your great-grandmother come to you?” he demanded.

     “It was different,” Emma replied thoughtfully. “She had cancer. She was really sick for a long time; she knew she was going; she was ready to go. Once she did, it was all better for her.” Emma sighed. “She came to tell me so; so I could tell my family. They needed to know she was better off.”

     “Maybe I need to know that, too!” Martin cried.

     “You already do know that,” Emma said.

     “No I don’t! He shouldn’t have—it wasn’t—damn it!” Martin had tears in his eyes, and Emma felt awful.

     “Accidents happen, Emma.”

     Emma looked up; her great-grandmother was there! Emma stared at her, hopeful for the first time that night. “What kind of accident was it?” she asked.

     “Tragic,” her great-grandmother said.

     “Stupid,” Martin said.

     “That’s helpful,” Emma muttered.

     “This is not a good idea, Emmaline.”

     “I know, Grandma.”

     “What—your grandma comes, but not my grandpa?” Martin cried.

     “Martin—“

     “Tell him to always check the safety.”

     “Grandma—“

     “Tell him!”

     “Martin. Martin!”

     “What?”

     “Always check the safety.”

     Martin’s mouth fell open. “How did you--?”

     “Tell him it was an accident.”

     “It was an accident, Martin.”

     “Tell him to stop blaming his friend.”

     “Stop blaming your friend.”

     Martin started to cry. “He’s not my friend!” he moaned.

     “His grandfather’s friend,” the great-grandmother clarified.

     “He was your grandfather’s friend. It was an accident. Stop blaming him.”

     “He—“

     “Stop it, Martin!” Emma knew she could take it from here; her great-grandmother was gone, at any rate. “He already blames himself so much that your blame can never hurt him. It was an accident!” Fully aware that every eye was on them, she leaned closer to Martin. He leaned in closer to her and she whispered, “If you don’t let this go—if you don’t forgive this man and go on—you’re the one who will suffer. Holding a grudge is hard work, and never worth it, Marty. Your grandpa has moved on; he doesn’t hold a grudge; he knows his friend would never have done it on purpose. He wants you to do the same.”

     “I don’t know if I can!” Martin sobbed. “I love my grandpa!”

     “I know you do. He knows it, too.” Emma put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “And to honor him, you need to let it go.”

     “I’ll try,” Martin whispered. He got up, turned away from everyone and ran up the stairs.

     Emma stood up and faced her seated peers, who were staring at her with a mixture of awe and fear. She pointed at Candy and Cherry. “You!” she cried. “I hate you guys.”

     “But you did it!” Cherry argued. “You—“

     “She’s a witch!” one of the girls gasped. It was Muriel, one of the kids Emma had known since first grade.

     “Shut up, Muriel!” This came from a new girl, one Emma hadn’t met previously.

     Emma continued. “This was all your doing! Do you think that was fun for him?” She pointed at the stairway. “He’s suffered a loss, and you made a game of his pain!”

     “Who’s next?” a boy Emma didn’t know asked, oblivious.

     “No one’s next!” Emma shouted, furious. “I never should have done this in the first place!”

     “But, Emma!” Candy cried. “The party’s just getting started!”

     Emma stared at her, jaw slack. “Are…you…crazy?” she demanded. “Or just stupid?”

     “Hey!”

     “I’m not doing this,” Emma declared emphatically.

     “Yes, you are!” Cherry argued. “We’ll tell the whole school what a fake you are!”

     A few of the other kids nodded, and Emma heard several say “Yeah, we will,” and “Just wait and see,” but she didn’t care. She snatched up her crystal ball and her tambourine and stalked toward the stairs.

     “Get back here!” Candy cried. “You’re spoiling all the fun!”

     Emma whirled around and glared at her, furious. “If you think using me to make a game of someone’s grief is fun, Candy, you’re one sick puppy.”

     “I didn’t know—“

     “You knew enough!” Emma spat. She shook her head, filled with contempt. “You should have known better!” She started up the stairs. She was startled to find the new girl right next to her. “What?” she cried. “What do you want?”

     “I’m going with you,” the girl said. “I don’t want any part of this!

Or any of that…that…mess!” She opened the door at the top of the stairs.

     Cherry’s mother stood there, looking distraught as Martin sobbed on the phone. “What did you do to him?” she demanded when she saw Emma.

     “Ask your kid,” Emma snapped. She regretted her rudeness immediately, but offered no apology.

     Martin hung up the phone. “She didn’t do anything, ma’am,” he sniffed. To Emma he said, “My dad’s coming.” He shuffled his feet, and his face reddened. “Do you want a ride home?”

     Emma nodded, surprised. “Yes, please,” she replied.

     “We’ll take you, too, Sasha,” Martin offered.

     The new girl smiled. “Thanks, Marty.” She turned and offered Cherry’s mother her hand. “Thank you for having us,” she said.

     The woman, caught off guard, shook hands with her. “Wait,” she told them. “I’ll get your treats!”

     “That’s not—“

     She darted down the stairs.

     “—necessary,” Emma finished weakly.

     “We’ll be right outside,” Sasha called to the woman, and the three of them went out the front door. “Whew!” Sasha added. “That was—“

     “Hell on earth,” Emma said.

     “Good enough,” Sasha agreed. “Are you okay, Marty?”

     “I’m sorry, Emma,” Martin said. “I didn’t know…”

     “I’m the one who’s sorry,” Emma sighed. “I never should have let them talk me into that.”

     “Guilt you into it, more like,” Sasha said disdainfully. “I heard them; they went behind your back and then made you feel responsible for the success or failure of their ‘great’” (she mimed air quotation marks) “party. Hmph!”

     “And I just made things worse,” Martin added, “because I really wanted to talk to my grandpa.”

     Emma shrugged. “Everyone has someone they want to talk to,” she said. “But—“

     The door banged open. “Here are your bags!” Cherry’s mother thrust goodie-bags at them. The kids took them from her awkwardly. They were stuffed with muffins, candies, caramel apples and popcorn balls. The woman looked flushed and harried. “Enjoy! Thanks for coming!” And she slammed the door.

     The trio looked at each other, and wandered away from the porch to the sidewalk. “Well,” Sasha said. “I’m thinking things might not be too pleasant in there.” She nodded toward the house, eyebrows raised dramatically.

     “Wish you were a fly on the wall?” Martin asked.

     Emma toed the sidewalk. “Not really,” she said. “The rumors will be flying on Monday. I can wait til then to find out what a fake and phony I am.”

     Sasha shook her head. “You’re not,” she said.

     “No,” Martin agreed emphatically.

     “You wait,” Emma told them. “There are a lot of kids in there. They’ll find a way to make this my fault.”

     “Emma—“

     “You’ll see.”

     Martin’s father pulled up next to them then, and they all climbed into the car. “Party’s a bust?” he asked.

     “And how,” Martin agreed. He proceeded to tell his dad the whole story.

     Stopping for a traffic light, Martin’s father turned to look at Emma. “Well, well,” he said. “I know your dad; he never told me you were so special.”

     “I’m not,” Emma muttered.

     “Don’t worry.” The light turned green and they moved on. “Being special just means you understand the hurts of others well enough to be helpful.”

     “Wow,” Sasha breathed. “That’s profound.”

     “Your grandpa was a wonderful guy,” he told Martin. “He raised your mom right; that’s how she’s managed to be so great to us. Right?”

     “Yes,” Martin agreed.

     “Your friend is right; he would never want you holding on to this. Let it go, son. His friend needs to let it go, too, but so far he’s not listening to us. Maybe…”

     “I’ll call him tomorrow,” Martin said.

     Emma started to cry. “Accidents happen,” she whispered.

     “Yes,” Sasha agreed. “Yes, they do.” She put her arms around Emma and patted her awkwardly.

     True friendships really can be formed in an instant. The three of them formed their own circle that lasted throughout their school years. Emma had never since longed for a greater circle of friends; she had learned that if you have one or two who accept you and believe in you, it’s really all you need.

    So there's your Halloween treat. I hope you like it. Please let me know.

     Happy (late) Halloween.

     Bye bye.