The Blog Broad is busy. After completing several interviews for the cannabis blog I write, I recieved an email from a company regarding an upcoming sponsored blog post. Imagine my excitement at earning money from my blog. This is what we all strive for whether we admit it or not from the moment we first set up our sites.
I’ve been working on that piece all day and reviewing my notes for the cannabis blog I publish Saturdays.
What great feeling. I put a lot of work in to my blogs and social media. More than I ever have. So grateful it’s paying off.
I’ve been walking around with a stupid smile on my face today.
It’s a start.
In the meantime I’m still pecking away with a sprained hand and wrist. It’s really painful but I’m pushing through it. Not sure it’s a wise idea but I don’t have a choice. These blogs won’t write themselves. I looked into some speech to text apps but they’re not great. Tedious really. I can only get the free ones, the paid apps are probably better.
We had some flurries today in Saint John, NB. It’s been bitterly cold and windy. Ugh. It begins. The layers, the lace up boots, the hats, the cursing, the countdown to Spring. Fuck winter. Fuck it all. You can take your minus temperatures and frigid winds and shove them up your igloo. Not interested.
Thank God there’s wine.
Please check out one of my other posts, like this one and don’t forget to subscribe to my mailing list and follow me on Twitter @LezGeek
Typical Sunday here in Saint John. It’s cold and windy and grey. I started my morning hobbling out of bed. Didn’t sleep well last night with back, neck and wrist pain. My legs begun to throb around 4 am. I took Lucy out for her morning pee and poops. It’s sweater weather so I put on her pink and brown argyle. If you’ve never seen a mini dachshund in an argyle sweater, you just aren’t living life.
I sprained my wrist two weeks ago and tore some ligaments. It’s healing but it’s a painful process. I wasn’t able to blog much last week. I can’t really type well, more like keyboard pecking and my wrist aches the entire time. I managed to get in a blog post for the cannabis blog I write but only at the last minute and I needed help from my partner.
Enjoying some fresh coffee with “C” this morning and I got to feed some pigeons. Yes, a little known fact about me is that I love pigeons. I love the way they walk, I love the purple and gold and silver shiny splashes of color on their velvety plump little bodies. I also find the sound of their cooing comforting. Sure, I may not be the most popular broad on the block when I’m out there in there in my jim jams on the sidewalk crumbling crackers for the masses of swarming pigeons. Ask me if I give a shit though. I’ve only fed them a handful of times over the past 2 years so I don’t think that will do any harm. For a couple of brief moments I get to enjoy an urban glimpse of nature in its gritty glorious form. There must have been close to 30 pigeons at my feet vying for the biggest chunks of crackers, trusting me while I stood only inches away all cooing away in delight. Shit like that makes me smile.
I love animals. I love nature. I don’t get to enjoy it as much as I used to. We don’t have a vehicle so we’re pretty much limited to Uptown Saint John, but I understand and hear legends that New Brunswick is quite beautiful.
I’m going to catch up with my favorite bloggers today, doing laundry, while indulging in a PeepShow marathon. It’s fleece and throw blanket weather. We have the space heater on and my love put on a fresh pot of coffee and bacon. Grateful for these weekend favorites. Grateful for the birds today.
How was everyone’s weekend? Do you feed local animals or am I just a crazy ol’ Broad?
Well, that’s it for me. Call a priest. I’m burning this place to the ground.
While I was awake watching YouTube in bed with one earbud in one ear and my love snoring softly in the other, I was startled. No startled is an understatement- I nearly shit my Hanes was frightened.
We live in the oldest incorporated city in Canada, Saint John. It’s a port city that frequently hosts Cruise ships from all over the world. We live Uptown in a 139 year old building. It was originally a single dwelling, no doubt for a wealthy individual or family. Built in 1878, the year immediately following The Great Fireof Saint John, it’s constructed of fire resistant brick as is most of the original buildings here in Uptown Saint John.
I’ve spoken of the Rape Basementand how eerie it is down there. The reason I find it so scary is the fact that I’ve seen an apparition of an old woman down there as well as felt a male presence standing behind me. The old woman is clearly ill. Dark circles beneath her eyes and shoulder length wiry yet thinning gray hair. I’ve seen her in an old white nightgown with worn blue slippers. Often when I go down to do the laundry, I ask “C” to accompany me down, even if she just stands there and monitors me, it helps. Sometimes I cannot get out of that basement fast enough.
In addition to that, we’ve heard faint, what sounds to be Ukrainian. How do I know it’s Ukrainian? Because a) I am obsessed with all things Chernobyl and want to visit it before it’s completely destroyed. I have watched entire documentaries spoken in Ukrainian. b) I can pick out the dialect from complete strangers because c) I have been secretly trying to teach myself the language via the Duolingo app. I even think think that perhaps this is why she has showed herself to me. That and illness. We have that in common.
I have done some research on Ukrainian immigrants. It appears there was an influx of immigrants that arrived in Canada first 1891 and then again after World War II. They were logged through the ports. Even though many settled in areas like Manitoba, Saskatchewan and Alberta, some stayed here although I cannot find corroborating records as the Canadian government didn’t keep records before 1947 as Canadian citizenship wasn’t separate from British so Canadians were free to move throughout the British Empire. In an earlier search I did find evidence that there was a nearby building complex that housed immigrant women in the early 1900s but again, I can’t find the original article. It is very likely that this woman is/was Ukrainian.
One morning, “C” woke up to her extra pillow standing straight up over her. It wasn’t until she completely opened her eyes, the pillow fell back down.
This is not my first rodeo when it comes to Hauntings. I have had many experiences in the past seeing apparitions, hearing faint voices and collecting EVP (electronic voice phenomenon) recordings. I used to live near the waterfront in Downtown Halifax, Nova Scotia. There is a lot of energy there. It’s believed to be residual, leftover from the Halifax Explosion in 1917 which claimed close to 2000 lives that early December morning when the Mont Blanc, a French cargo ship packed with explosives collided in the harbour with a Norwegian vessel called the SS IMO. Nearly all the structures within 3000 (approx) feet of the explosion were destroyed. It was one of the biggest Maritime disasters ever.
Which brings me to this morning. It was around 2 am. There’s a sudden bump at the end of the bed. Much like we do when our bed pulls out from the wall, using our knees, we bump it back. That’s what it felt like. We’re both lying still and I can see my little dog in her bed to my left. That’s when I feel someone take a seat at the edge of the bed between my partner and I. NOPE!
I waited, I didn’t want to wake “C” up knowing her alarm was going off in 90 minutes so I laid there, close to her, frozen. I recite the Lord’s Prayer to myself and ask Jesus for help. I tell whatever it is, “I’m not interested, I’m sorry. I don’t want to see you.”
I laid there for 30 minutes. I hear the bubbling of the coffee maker I set before bed. It must be 4 am now. Fifteen more minutes and she’ll be awake and I won’t have to shoulder this burden alone. I debated on not telling her, to avoid frightening her. After some thought, I decided to tell her because if the situation was reversed, I’d want to know. So at 4:15 her alarm went off, she stretched and I blurted it out. “A ghost sat on me!”
It’s now 7 am, I have all the lights in the apartment on, and I’m on my second cup of tea while I write this. I can sleep when I’m dead.. or at least once the sun rises.
For your viewing pleasure, I have included photos of our historic apartment.
Have you had any paranormal experiences? How did you handle it?
Today was a day of scrambling. I also write for a blog advocating medical marijuana for my friend’s shop. For that blog, I interview patients of chronic pain, and other painful conditions that use cannabis as a means of medication and relief. I get their stories either over the phone of via messenger then condense in to an article.
I’ve been dealing with migraines the last few days that have left me feeling exhausted, nauseous and listless. It took me a couple of days to finally finish my draft. I was up until 2 am and back at it as soon as I woke up until about 1:30. I then sent a copy to the interviewee to make sure I didn’t make any errors in her story. After a couple of updates I finished. That’s how it goes. You finish writing, excitedly hit Publish then you realize you forgot something, or your photos aren’t spaced right, or you forgot to add a tag, or or or.
One of my Besties is town so I quickly shared my piece all over Social Media, it’s like leaving a fart in a room then hurriedly walking away.
I went for a drive with my buddy around Saint John and checked out some geographical beauties while we sipped our Pumpkin Spice Lattes and caught up. I love it when she comes to town. We’ve been friends since we were 13 standing outside our Junior High during a bomb threat. Trauma bonds you. Well not so much trauma as some kid who who was recently expelled or didn’t want to come to school or something ridiculous. It was the 80s. Not a lot of school violence at that time. The most vicious thing that happened at our school was that you would get made fun of and shunned if you got caught wearing generic footwear. If your parents bought your sneakers at KMart, you were in for one hell of a school year.
My headache is still looming. Pretty sure I need new glasses and having my head down for hours at a time kills my neck. I need to eat as well. “C” tells me I get kinda crazy when I write a lot. I often forget to eat because I’m so involved with what I’m doing. I have a flow and have to keep it going as long as I can. My sleep becomes erratic as well because all I can think about are things I want to write, or how I can improve my viewership, or change up my Social Media or or or. Does anyone else get like this? Maybe I’m some crazy genius trapped in a lumpy 43 year old’s body. Maybe it’s just a writer thing. Maybe I’ve had too much caffeine today.
Here. Enjoy some photos of Saint John.
Live Humbly, Be Charitable, Live Graciously,
Please Check out my other posts and follow me on Twitter @LezGeek
Today my love and I had lunch with her mother and two aunts, they’re in town for a few days. We hit up the Urban Deli which is one of the best lunch spots going here in Saint John. I had my favorite, the peanut butter burger fries and a Diet Coke. I know I know, it’s diet it has aspartame and all that shit but I love it and I limit myself to one a day. I usually crack my can (never plastic) of liquid gold in the afternoon when I start to feel sluggish. It perks me up and it’s oh so cold and bubbly (we call it picky in our house- oh so picky). I often quote a scene from Family Guy in a highly caffeinated voice, “If you see the green shirt go around 30 times in 5 minutes you get to have a Diet Coke!”
Lunch was delicious. The peanut butter sauce snuggled the bacon on my grilled burger before it ran deliciously down my fingers and hands. So juicy. We strolled the city market while we waited for our table. The ladies checked out all the crafts. These women are serious about their crafts. They have entire rooms full of fabrics and craft supplies. They can make anything. They’re like a team of sewing MacGyvers really. Afterward they critiqued the crafts which was funny. “The craftsmanship was NOT worth THAT price.” Or “That’s not how you make a hat really but..” We stopped by The Baking Stone which is a little corner spot bakery that offers an array of sweeties. At 5 ladies deep, two of which PMSing, it wasn’t even discussed. We just kind of all congregated in front of the glass displays of desserts. Much like when you were a kid during the Christmas season looking at all the window displays of toys at the mall. I showed much restraint after having a fight with a pair of zip up capris prior to going out. I balled them up and tossed them in the closet like “take that evil pants! You can come back out when you can behave.” Now, I can’t be sure because I have no corroborating evidence, but I suspect someone has broken into my apartment and switched out all my pants for identical pants only a size smaller. I settled on one cannoli. Gotta make it count right?
I was up late blogging last night and out during the day, walking around in the sun so I’m already getting tired. I started yawning at 5pm. Starting to have that pain shooting down my neck again. Ugh. So sick of wearing Magic Bag scarves all the time. I do laundry for a neighbor of mine and told him I’d do it tonight which I am now regretting. Our laundry room is in the basement. Our building is 140 years old so the basement is dark, cold, dusty and creepy as shit. It looks like something out of a horror movie actually. I prefer to do laundry during the day, I refuse to go down there after the sun goes down. We call it “the rape basement” because it looks like a place that perverts would love with it’s dim light and many dark corners. “C” says it looks like something out the Saw movies. I have included photos for your viewing pleasure.
I didn’t intend to write a lengthy post today. It was mainly just to have written something. Anything.