I can’t believe I haven’t posted much lately. I was doing so well. Things have been so hectic lately what with the ghost and everything. I know, I know, I was supposed to continue the story of the ghost and tell you what she wanted from me. And I will, just… not tonight I’m afraid.

I’m only home for a few minutes right now and then I’m off to help Dad interview a dead guy. Mom was supposed to go but she got called out of town on some kind of Wiccan emergency. She was tight-lipped about it, but when the coven calls, she has to go. We’re used to it. So Liam is downstairs in the truck waiting for me while I gather up a few things. Some stones, a raven’s feather (Dad was out of them) and duct tape. No the duct tape isn’t involved in a raising ritual but the gearshift knob fell off in my truck and I thought I could MacGuyver it back on until I have time to glue it or something

Crap, there the horn. Liam’s so impatient. I’ll write about the ghost soon, I promise.

Things have been calm for the past few days. There’s been no movement on the Zombie Bill and so we’re in the planning stages of another protest. But I think I will keep the details of that to myself. I really don’t want a repeat of what happened at the last one.

I was just thinking today about how out of the norm my life might seem to the casual passer-by to this website. I mean, yeah ok, there have been some unusual events happening to me all my life beginning with being named ‘CherryPop’ but that’s a post for another day :)  Although, I am shocked, SHOCKED I tell you, to discover that sometimes strippers go by my name. Who knew? Thanks Mom!

But seriously… I went from a cute toddler to a cute toddler who needed bodyguard to protect me from the baddies out there. A zombie bodyguard. A zombie bodyguard who died saving my life. If you’ve read my previous posts, you may have deduced that Liam is the zombie bodyguard in question. And if you’re new to my site, well, Liam is my zombie bodyguard. He’s always nearby and over the years we’ve grown into being friends. I’ve learned to listen to him when he tells me to duck, and he’s learned that I can be a stubborn <insert expletive here> when I want to be. We deal.

So yeah. Occasionally I have to hide or go on the run depending on who’s after me. Sometimes I make a stand. I’m tired of running to be honest. Sometimes I work the Wicca with Mom. Sometimes I speak to the dead with Dad. But other times we’ll all curl up and watch a ballgame or have barbecues with friends.

I don’t really now where I meant to end up in this post. Sometimes I just write, you know? No telling stories, no talking about how I ran out of toothpaste this morning.  Just a ramble. It’s nice. Sometimes.