My ghost etiquette isn't up to par...

Let me just preface this by saying I'm not someone who's easily frightened. Jump out at me, and I'm scream like a girl and get a bit of a shock, but in general, I'm not a scaredy-pants. The only movies that had any sort of lasting effect on me were The Woman in Black and The Exorcist, and even those didn't leave me laying awake at night or anything (who am I kidding? I didn't sleep for days!! ... I kid... one day, tops).  I'm not scared of being out at night, or in the dark, or aliens or clowns, or whatever it is that kids these days are scared of. My sister and I, and later on, our Ma, had heard voices at my grandparents old house, and odd as it sounds, it wasn't something that seemed scary. What I would best describe as voices from another room: you could hear them, but you couldn't understand them. Earlier this week, I decided I was going to go down there (the house has been empty for several years) to finish stripping the paint from a door that I had started last summer (yes, yes, I know, slack. But the house isn't regularly heated so I wasn't working on it). It was finally a mild day, so I turned the furnace on, and headed down there with hounds to do some work. I was there for about 15 minutes, and the hounds were alternating between walking around and sniffing everything to laying on the floor. Royston walks into the living room, over to the corner sniffs around the table, stops and looks at me, just turns his head and stares, just as the windmill music box starts to turn and play (you have to turn the windmill to play the music). That struck me as a little weird, but I figured y'know, there was no heat all winter, the mechanism is just warming up and started to play (I'm ignoring the dog connection. Cause I want to. So I am). So I'm working away for the next few hours, listening to music, stripping layer after layer I after layer of paint off this door (the house was built by my grandfather's uncle, and the door under the stairs is something from a ship (scavenged, stolen, who knows), complete with the hand carved brass "Lamp Room" plate), when I realize the music doesn't sound right. I go check out the cd player, and the dogs make a beeline for the door, and I realize that the music is alternating between playing normally, and fast forwarding. Rocco's pawing at the door and looking over is shoulder as if to say, "If you don't open this, I'm making my own way".  Needless to say, if that door hadn't opened, I'd have helped him. (To be clear, I cleaned up what I was doing, and picked up my mess before I left, I did not run out screaming. Not so far as you know).

Artist's depiction of the actual event.

Two days later, my cousin and I went scavenging around the old house where our grandfathers grew up (that's my grandfather sitting on the steps, so this was taken around 1914-1917). I'll spare you a depressing current picture of the house in its dilapidated state, and just say we were looking to save

This is actually not the spooky house. Never mind the children of the corn.

anything that could be used and (much to my father's chagrin, as I'm using his garage), I made some great finds.

The saved in the nick of time mantle.

I didn't know I could feel this way about a hinge. Gorgs!!

The "I have a dream!!" dresser.

Stay tuned, this is going to be a bookcase.

Sewing has been kind of put on hold for a bit.That bag should get finished annnytime at alll...

Also, I've been dreaming about gardening. Is that weird? Tomorrow I have to take a look at my seeds, and see what I need to plant early.  EEEEEE so exciting. Stay tuned for a list of what I'm planting  (you're on the edge of your seat already, aren't you?).

What's everyone else up to? I'm linking up to Somewhat Simple, so if that's how you found your way here, well, hellooo. :D