I was hoping this would happen when I wasn't here

Grandma's house going on the market. I'm having an oddly hard time watching it go. It's been in the family nearly 100 years. It's not a great house, nor a terrible one. It has the strangest energies, more melancholic than not. It's haunted and I dream of it often, always about dark magic. I've considered writing a story like that.

It's been recarpeted now and repainted. Almost all of her possessions are gone. We're working on the kitchen where she's hoarded so much stuff. And now I'm taking it to my place to hoard it too. I think I'll get rid of the black correl ware and kept the antique rose plates, a pie server/dish combo from Italy and the rest of the spanish-made pots. I'm taking the ladles and serving spoons she "liberated" from work. Did I mention she was a cook in a mental hospital?

I considered buying the house (as my father points out will be more than I can afford, as if he thinks Lucky Uncle and Mom wouldn't cut me a deal, no rather the opposite) if I had a job in the area. I'm not sure I would want to live there mind you but...you know. I keep looking for jobs in the area. None to be had.

I'll find that job the moment the house sells. because that is my luck, my timing, my life.

I tried to write a poem for the one charity anthology. If anyone wants more info on that anthology or to see my crappy attempt let me know.

London sings in honor of the Orlando victims

I waded through about a third of the articles relating to my herbal antibiotics research project and mine looks woefully like a h.s. science fair project in comparison. Sigh. I'm just not a researcher.

Attack of the killer Cicadas

The swarm of 17 year cycle cicadas is insane here in PA and they're much more aggressive than the ones at my place. These ones are deafening. They will fly at your head and did you know they make sounds other than that horrible droning? They can make a sounds like a crying cat and they scream when you touch them.

So I decide Kanda like flying things so I bring him out on the back patio. He doesn't even see one before he instantly runs for the door. LET ME IN! Oh so brave, my boy. Finally he sees one and must have it. He chases that for a bit, catches it and it screams. He panics. LET ME IN!

Tomorrow I shall try to record this.

And the storms have kept me in the house working all day but not on either of the two charity stories I want to do. ELD convinced me my poem didn't blow so I'll send it in.

I'm not sure I'll manage to get two charity stories because the one has like a week of turn around time only (um, thanks? I know we want to get this out there and get the money flowing but really?) mostly because tomorrow is my birthday and this weekend father's day so busy busy.