At first Ryan wondered how in the world I could be such a lousy housemate stomping around the house and slamming the fridge door all night long.  Simultaneously, on my side of the house, I was wondering the same thing fearing that Ryan was an insomniac that just raided the kitchen all night long.  We both witnessed that we were both extremely considerate of each other.  Ryan was impressed that I was so quiet so he couldn’t understand the slamming at night.

Because neither of us wanted to insult the other we just kept quiet until one day when we both blurted out at the exact same time – so YOU’RE not the one slamming the fridge.  We both apologized profusely for thinking ill of the other and then we set to work trying to catch the ghost or poltergeist in the act.

On Ryan’s side of the house the sounds were rather terrifying.  The master suite is like a mini apartment with a door that opens into a hallway with a door to the left that opens to steps down to a room off the garage.  That room is 26 feet long and has a door to the garage itself.  The garage is super large with two automatic doors, a door to the side of the house and one to the patio.  There is a trap door to a crawl space attic with thick, thick, extra thick insulation.

The suite has one wall with giant closets with folding doors.  There is a large window that faces the mountain with a large tree shading that side of the house.  The views are spectacular.

So, we are both at a loss as to how to scientifically explain the large banging sounds that were coming from the closet with the door closed, the sound of the door at the top of the steps opening and footsteps stomping the length of the room and the next door opening and closing.  How can we explain the sound of the door knobs jiggling after we locked everything and threw the deadbolts.  How do we explain the sound of something crawling in the attic space which sounds like it was in one side of the attic and within a second on the other side of the space!

How do we explain the sound of a man talking in the backyard near our shed when the property is fenced and cross fenced and it’s over 4 acres!  How do I explain the sound of my cell phone ringing from my bedroom while I’m in the kitchen only to find it’s TURNED OFF?  And then there’s the pet sitter’s account.  She got so freaked out she fled the house and refused to return while we were stuck in Ely three and a half hours south.

But that’s my house.  Meanwhile 5.8 miles on the other side of Lamoille Highway in the house my late husband used as an office and where he lived while in Spring Creek, there were the sounds of doors opening and closing, voices coming from the garage, music coming from the back room, and yesterday while day laborers were moving the last of the furniture from the house to a storage unit the garage door closed all by itself!.  I took them to lunch today after finishing up around both properties.

Frank was in the garage.  Ryan was not on the property.  He had the remote control for the garage doors with him.  All of a sudden the garage door closed with Frank inside the garage by himself!  Frank swears he was no where near the LiftMaster Wall Control.  Jeremy was INSIDE the house.  Later that day, I asked if Ryan had brought home the pizzas.  NO!  Sigh, so I drove over and to my horror saw BOTH garage doors wide open.  OMG.  That’s alarming.  I dashed inside and nothing was amiss.  I grabbed the pizzas and the brownies and got back to my truck and used my remote to close both doors.

            Today, all four of us had lunch in a local casino bar and grill and swore to GOD that the door closed by itself and that the doors were DOWN when the men left yesterday and I swore the doors were up at 5 p.m. Had my stomach not growled and I had I not wanted to finish off the pizzas, the house would have been left wide open all night!  OMG!

            BUT BUT BUT, those are all creepy events but wait for it.

            A lady named Alicia bought the hand-hewn pine log custom-made log bedroom set.  It was terribly expensive back in February 2006 when Harry bought it.  I was sad to see it go but neither of us wanted it.  Alicia arrived at the house with a friend and they hauled off the set.  Ryan helped and delivered the dresser to Alicia’s house.  He never thought he’d see her again.  So ,he was surprised when he was visiting his friend who owns a gas station near the bridge over the Humbolt.

            “Hey, I know you!”  “And I know you!  You bought the bedroom set”!  Ryan looked at Alicia and was afraid to say anything.  She had two black eyes, looked stricken and scared, and ill.  Her friend was much younger.  The two women darted looks at each other and shifted their weight and finally told what had happened.

            After Alicia got the bedroom set home on January 5, everything seemed fine but it didn’t stay fine.  Alicia and her friend were in the kitchen when all of a sudden the oranges that had been in bowl flew up into the air.  You read that right.  They FLEW UP into the air.  They gathered the oranges and put them back into the bowl.  As they both turned away they suddenly turned back and the oranges were no longer in the bowl.  Instead they were lined up in a row.

            Standard poltergeist story.  Nothing all that scary – well not if you know anything about hauntings.  But Alicia added the next tale.  Which road she was on, she left out.  She said she was driving 75 mph and without warning she found herself slammed into a concrete truck.  Alicia said she broke her fingers and was badly shaken up.  I didn’t have the chutzpah (audacity) to ask if the airbag went off and what the highway patrol had to say.  I did speak with Alicia’s friend who called me about the haunting.  My gut screamed that there already was a ghost in the brand new house before the bedroom set arrived and I was right.  In fact, it appears they were dabbling a bit.  But who knows?  Did the energy in the bedroom set piss off the already pissed off ghost?  Or is it because the area where the house sits is haunted.

            The house closing is on February 18.  I need to keep an eye on the place and pray a lot that the doors stay closed and the windows stay shut.  My late husband never wanted to sell the house and he told me this past summer the house was haunted when he moved in.  Mmmm.

Harry Leo Duran died, I believe at 2:30 a.m., on Monday, November 8, 2021. The Coroner wasn’t able to determine the exact time but that’s when I could no longer sense him. Before he died, he cancelled his life insurance policy, maxed out all of his credit cards, and drained his savings and checking accounts to zero. He was about to do the same with the pittances of his last remaining IRA accounts. At least $35,000 in gold coins was missing from his apartment and he had at least one $1800 watch stolen and his two $1500 bikes stolen from his apartment. Having seen what was on his phone, I believe one of his one night stands did him in.

I managed to unlock his cell phones and all of his devices because he had given me passwords over the years and Ryan clapped his hands in my face and said, UNLOCK and I did. It’s a Sufi technique actually. I didn’t know I could do it. The horror that set in after seeing videos and texts about the most vile of sex acts (toilet sex for instance), left me, to quote one of Harry’s favorite movies, on the verge of a nervous breakdown!

But Ryan kept me from losing my mind. HE packed up the apartment and the condo and got everything onto the moving trucks (two trips). There is a lot that happened in Vegas that is really bizarre but this post is about how I not only survived but how thanks to Harry dying, I got to meet:

1. A stripper who works as a waitress who told me about doctors and what REALLY goes on in Vegas that no one wants to know.
2. Harry’s junior high girlfriend via FaceTime. She’s a practicing witch and a powerful psychic. I didn’t even know they had kept in touch.
3. Harry’s eye candy (2018) who is now my realtor. If I wrote this up, you’d all demand I be institutionalized.
4. A man who wanted to buy one of Harry’s books at yesterday’s estate sale, who turned out to be just as obsessed with giants and Bigfoot as Ryan and I am. Tim is a pilot and he’s offered to take us up in one of his many planes to fly over sites we’ve been dying to see from the air in search of burial grounds of the red haired cannibalistic giants! And to fly over the Bigfoot Highway. Oh, and his father taught him how to dowse! I called Ryan and told him to get home as fast as possible as we were in the midst of discussing the Titans and the mound near our house. Yup, that was fun as the bitter wind froze my hands and blew my hair all over the place as I tried not to interject too much and not jump up and down clapping my hands like a fur seal.

Had Harry not died, I never would have met the lady suffering from crippling fibromyalgia and her twin flame much less done a healing session on her in my LIVING ROOM! I was kept on a tight leash and basically spent the past 12 years as either a caregiver at home or just a recluse that only left the house to buy groceries and pet food. The estate sale brought a lot of strangers into my house and suddenly into my life as well. A gorgeous gracious holy woman of Choctaw descent spent a lot of time in the house because she wanted to buy two of Harry’s breviaries.

I’m now friends with Jo Jo Jilbert the scrap metal artist who did a $10,000 portrait of Harry using a spoon for his head. I spent time at his studio in Vegas on the second trip. He’s putting Harry’s portrait into his upcoming show in March 2022 at Caesar’s Palace.

https://m.facebook.com/watch/?v=2492354877478638&_rdr

I got to interview David E Veliz who painted two oil paintings – one cost $3,000 and we thought it was of Gwen Stefani, and the other cost $6,000. I introduced him to the Bhagavad Gita since he asked how to become more adept at spiritual discernment.

The house Harry used when he was in Spring Creek, was burglarized around 5 in the morning on Saturday, January 15, 2022. The thieves stole all of the designer hats, glasses, watches, all the TVs, computers, and several other very expensive items. The woman dropped her Dotty’s casino player’s card. The neighbor who saw the White Dodge Diesel Ram back up to the garage failed to call me nor the police. I had him dictate to the Sheriff’s dispatch on my phone what he saw. Another neighbor recognized the name and sent us a Facebook profile photo which matched the description we got from the house sitter I had to hire. The woman came back and asked if he had seen her lost dog. He got the plates and memorized her face.

At the estate sale, a city police officer and his wife showed up and I was bitching about how awful our law enforcement is. He then identified himself. I showed his wife the screen shot and she INSTANTLY recognized the woman who is a known meth head. I will leave off here until she and her boyfriend are arrested and convicted.

Because I did not want to drive for 11 hours from Spring Creek to Vegas alone in January, I asked Ryan’s friend’s wife to go with me. She’s 13/16ths Shoshone. Ryan wanted her to help drive but she was exhausted. What she did do was keep me talking the entire time. I learned a LOT about how the U.S. government condoned the genocide of the Shoshone. I only knew about the Cherokee and Sioux. To my shame, I didn’t even know about Kit Carson’s slaughtering of Navajos. Kate is super psychic so we could compare notes on when we were entering haunted canyons. She had never been to the Fremont Experience. Alas, she couldn’t see the energy parasites nor the interdimensionals and demons. I could. I had a miserable time.

We had lunch at a FABULOUS restaurant in Washington, Utah off Interstate 15, called the Black Bear. The creepy irony of all this is Harry had said that as a gay man he was considered a BEAR. Don’t ask. Look it up. But he died a BOAR (PIG). THAT is a whole different type of “taste” that you need to look up in a gay underground dictionary and then have a barf bag handy.

The pilot who spent time with us today started off asking me if I knew the work of L.A. Marzulli. I almost felt insulted! As we continued talking, and he mentioned Antartica, I inserted that “Linda Moulton Howe” did a documentary on Antartica but we got interrupted. Had Harry not died, I NEVER would have met this man who could “see” me, who could throw energy (albeit I don’t think as far as I can) and with whom I could talk as fast I wanted and have someone keep pace. THAT was a blast!

I’ll omit the story about the lady who bought the hand hewn custom made log bedroom set that Harry bought in Ely, Nevada. I don’t think you all want to hear about how she and her friend watched oranges flying around the kitchen, doors slamming, and how she rammed a concrete truck while driving 75 mph and lived to tell the tale. Her experience with the paranormal might not have ANYTHING to do with the fact that the last night that Harry ever slept in that bed in 2018 just happens to be Ryan’s birthday and the day he brought up the puppies. That’s just a coincidence, RIGHT?

The pilot, however, said that the closet with the CDs contained spells and a dark evil permeated some of the objects in the house. And I should omit that F Buddy’s flight attendant friend for the past 25 years who helped pack Harry’s apartment and who is now Harry’s bulldog’s new owner has been sick on and off ever since November? Been tested twice for COVID – they don’t know WHAT’s wrong? I gave her the two super expensive Roman Catholic works of art he bought at the Container Park art store that went out of business – the two pieces I hated and refused to even try to sell? Nah, that’s not why she’s sick, is it?

There are a lot of other people I never, ever, EVER would have met had Harry not died. Some I wish I had NOT met, and others I am blown away that I have met. I’d perform the ritual depicted in Chinese martial arts films where liquor is poured on the ground for the dead but Harry was an alcoholic and his soul has been obliterated. Instead I offer a toast to whoever wrote the code for my avatar in the matrix. He/she- non-binary has one wry wicked sense of humor!

Joshua P. Warren works with a man named Brad Mulder (yup Mulder like X-Files. I ordered the Field X Wishing Machine and as part of the purchase price I got to talk to Mulder who pre-programmed my wishes. I wanted to lose weight and I wanted my neighbors from the pit of hell to move. The later was pretty out there. I also programmed Josh’s BAD BUSTER with the intention to rid my life of financial worries. And I used the MIRACULOUS PRAYER BOARD to wish for good health and to thank the universe for tiny blessings each day.

The Field X machine arrived and I wrote to Josh and Mulder

7:04:46 p.m., Friday, August 7, 2020 (Precisely 13.5 Sidereal time)

Waning Gibbous 86% Placed parchment with wish list into the Field X.

I also had made up a batch of Witch’s Black Salt and I used my old cinnamon broom to sweep the cul de sac between my driveway and the pieces of excrement that tormented me. A week later THEY PUT THEIR HOUSE ON THE MARKET. It sold almost immediately. I then used the Prayer Board to ask for a great neighbor. One that God would want me to have. VOILA, David moved in and he’s a true gift from GOD! Seriously, only the DIVINE could have custom made my neighbor.

But the financial worries and my weight dragged on. The fiends drove away from my neighborhood, as I told Josh, at 4:17 p.m., Monday, November 9, 2020 the neighbors from hell pulled away from the, pardon my French,shithole hauling what looked like the contents of a homeless shelter.

Fast forward one year. JUST A YEAR. NOT a decade, not a century. JUST A YEAR.

Harry Leo Duran, MD, Ph.D., Mph, a genius, a great doctor or a terrible one – it depended on the day, sometimes even moment in time since he could change on a dime, DIED in his sordid luxury apartment around 2:30 in the morning on Monday, November 8, 2021!

Duran had abused me for 26 years. We had met at Salmon Ruins on Bastille Day 1974 when my roommate said that there was this guy that was assigned to empty the wheelbarrows for the Tower Kiva who talked like I did. She said, and I quote: “I don’t understand anything you say. And I don’t understand this guy either YOU’RE PERFECT for each other!” And so she introduced us at lunch in front of the mess hall as he came down the slope from the Tower Kiva. (Why and how we actually got married is chapter to itself.)

We looked at each other and INSTANTLY recognized each other’s souls. His eyes sparkled. He was a skinny17 year old Chicano kid with long hair. I was a bronzed perfect size 10 20 20 year old green/blue eyed blond who wore Wrangler jeans, cowboy boots, and a knife on my belt at all times. We talked for hours. I had a cheap cassette player that I used to blast out next to my assigned pit. I played Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring, Native American Chants, Rimsky-Korsakov and every year in July Harry would comment that I introduced him to Carlos Castaneda and music he had only dreamt about. He could talk to me about any subject (although he bored me to death half the time). Timothy Morton’s hyper objects, Lovecraft’s writings, UFOs, skinwalkers, Tibetan Buddhism, Eastern Orthodox hesychasts, Idries Shah’s many books, Manly P. Hall, lucid dreaming – you name it. He’d often look at me and spook because he saw ancient versions of myself sitting on the couch. He was afraid of me and he hated me towards the end to the point where he tried everything he could to make me commit suicide.

And the one thing that was making me ill was the fear that he had drained all of our savings. He said he didn’t trust me so he created a Capital One 360 account (ING) that won’t let you have a joint account. Harry lied and said there was plenty of money when in fact he was maxing out his credit cards and he had drained $500,000 in savings paying for boy toys, plane tickets for boy toys, paying for a boy toy’s apartment, expensive wine and hard liquor. He basically ate and drank and EFFED every dime he made.

TERROR set in when I made him give me access to his Capital One account when he got sick in October. First thing I did was make myself beneficiary. In August he wanted to consolidate his two pittances of an IRA into one so he made me create a Charles Schwab account and well, I made myself beneficiary.

I set up the rollover from one but the second one required a notarized signature and he never got around to it.

Once the larger fund had rolled over he told me to initiate a wire transfer taking a third out. For whatever reason, it triggered a Schwab fraud lock. He was locked out and so was I. I tried everything I could to get them to talk to me. NOPE. But finally, I got someone to tell me what to do. Fax a NOTARIZED letter with his driver’s license and a request to unlock it. He did that. I wrote the fax. I even had him drive and go in the ONE Schwab office in Vegas to expedite it.

The fax seemingly went into a black hole. He called and spoke with a supervisor the first day he started to show signs of COVID on October 23. The lock stayed. He told me he was going to withdraw the ENTIRE amount and I could go F myself.

He got sicker. His oxygen dropped and continued to drop. And then he died.

HE DIED ON MONDAY, NOVEMBER 8, 2021! The monies transferred into my account TODAY!

I had a verbal offer on the vacant house he used when he came home from Vegas. It fell through so I listed it on January 7. 2022 with Bonnie Bawcom and the realtors showed it immediately. I had a signed offer and earnest money on January 9 and I got the check from the Title Company when it closed and transferred to the new owners on February 18. I loved the yard and the views but the house held memories of violent beatings. The last time I saw Harry was September 23, 2018 when he brought two abandoned 7 week old puppies up for me to raise.

I can now sell his empty condo. I can now sell all of his designer clothes, shoes, $3,500 pieces of art work, high end philosophy books, antiques, his TROLLS!

I am now driving his 2019 Ford Ranger – oh did I leave that out?

On August 9, 2021 Harry was rear ended by a felon on parole in the process of making a drug deal (How do I know that? He got out of his car with a backpack and took off and there was aluminum foil on the seat with white powder – he didn’t have a driver’s license). Harry was a Board Certified Addiction Specialist who had a contract with the Drug Court to detox inmates. What a divine mock that was. I HATED his fully loaded tarted up 2017 Mustang GT muscle car. HATED IT.

For some reason AAA gave him 3 times book value. Paid off the car loan and gave him a check that he used to buy the Ranger. It has a loan but I don’t care. I gave my 2007 Ford F-150 to Ryan for helping me pack and load the UHAUL in Vegas.

Now one must remember that along with all of Josh’s manifesting tools, I also prayed constantly to Sri Ganesha, Sri Hanuman, Mata Laxmi also spelled Lakshmi (Sanskrit: श्री). I ordered and hung the Chinese God of Wealth in the wealth corner, redid the master bedroom using feng shui techniques. Placed grids all over the house. Prayed in front of a Thai Mandir, and talked to the 19th century Mahogany Senufo who stands guard next to the hallway to my room.

I begged and pleaded. I set up a feng shu tree in the love corner hoping Harry would come around. When the tree got toppled by the cats and the ONE romantic item he ever gave me – a pink glass lamp with two kissing angels shattered along with tree, I had a bad premonition that he would die.

It turns out he had full blown AIDS with Vestibular Dysfunction and psychosis. I’ve already started the draft of the tell all book.

Joshua P. Warren had no idea how much his manifestation tools coupled with Yasmin Boland’s lessons would have on my life. The shackles of years of torture and torment are over. I can now emerge from the pain and regenerate. I burnt off more karma as I had asked to do than most people would ever want to even attempt. I am free and I will use the lessons beaten into me to heal the planet!

SO MOTE IT BE!

When I first posted this, I was using the browser, Brave, and it blocked the color wheel pop up. I’m back using Chrome.

I also now can say that, thanks to the Hay House Writer’s Community, I have a LOT of support for writing my Tell All Book and oddly enough, yesterday all of the news wires were publishing stories about how the New York Times finally admitted that the Hunter Biden Laptop was authenticated. This morning over French toast and Jimmy Dean sausages, I tried to tell Ryan about it. He’s blocked out the news. (Ryan lives in the apartment on the other side of the house in case you were wondering. I saved his life in July – long story and he saved mine – it’s all going in the book. Besides Little Man has decided he loves living with a house full of dogs and cats and since the house is haunted, it helps having a ghost hunter on the property.)

While doing the dishes, I heard the last part of an interview with Miranda Devine author of Laptop from Hell. I had to cheer because I have been comparing what I found on the fiend from hell’s cell phone and in his personal effects to make Hunter’s laptop look like a walk in the park. True, Duran didn’t engage in shady dealings with oligarchs, nor did he rack in millions of dollars, but he tried to fit in with the elite and in the book, you will see how his Facebook friends, and some of his extended family attacked me for posting about what a dirt bag he was. My hope, Simon and Schuster will want to publish my tome as well! Go Miranda!

I have not seen my dad’s sister’s daughter – my ONLY blood relative on the planet other than 6th cousins 10 times removed since 1980. She is the NICEST most devout Christian that ever lived. She is incapable of uttering a negative thing about anyone. I don’t think she even uses expletives (bad words).

Well, desperate to talk to her as we were trapped in Ely, Nevada from motion sickness after driving through the desert eating nothing but fast food for days, I called the landline and out of the blue, Kevin, her live in boyfriend answered. Now I always thought that it was odd that my devout cousin would have a live in boyfriend – one she acquired after a divorce many years ago because living in sin seemed out of character but it’s the 21st century and our grandparents died decades ago.

But what had me floored into the hotel carpeting was the bombshell Kevin dropped from a B-1 bomber into my room. Oh, yes, Ginny said that you IDENTIFY as a witch. That was hilarious until he said, you know I’m a witch. WHAT? Oh, yes, and I have an altar. WHAT?

When I was little, I wanted to be just like my cousin. She had won a Fulbright Scholarship to study in Uruguay. She was brilliant. She went on to get a masters, teach Spanish as a professor at a couple of colleges and she got an MBA. My role model. Just perfect. Gracious. Well traveled. Soft spoken. Kind. Kind hearted. And she lives with a WHAT?

An hour later, I hung up to go see what the hotel breakfast buffet offered. Cheese omelet with pork sausages and a cinnamon bun later, I tried to process the shock. To my knowledge Ginny hasn’t inherited the psychic ability my dad had. But then again, what do I know. She never once, ever, unless I truly am incapable of listening to someone, said that her housemate had an altar or an intense 70 year long interest in the occult. NEVER! I swear that would have struck a nerve.

But the day had not ended. We got home. And I got to talk to Jo Jo Jilbert and his investor friend that I met at the two acre studio property in Vegas. WHAT a phone call that was.

More on the revelation that I have a real DJ to help me sell the $10,000 professional turntable and DJ control panel, a real stock trader who was not surprised that I was invited by Jim Rogers to be his guest on his show about emerging markets back in 1993, and a chat with the man who sold Harry most of his designer clothes at Stitched – oh yeah the fiend from hell only bought designer clothes! My next task is to follow up with the Lego artist and the oil painters. THANK GOD I ran with the artsy fartsy crowd back in the day.

PS Damn WordPress still hasn’t fixed the color wheel. Thank God I used to create websites using HTML code from scratch but seriously, why?

I am now convinced that I stepped into the Twilight Zone and the past two weeks are God’s way of trying to drive me insane. In fact, Word Press is also malfunctioning. The color drop down box has vanished! So forgive me, if the font color isn’t consistent. (CORRECTED 2022-10-31)

To start the Pet Sitter from Home on the Range, LLC QUIT claiming my house is haunted. They charged extra. I kid you not. I’m going to file a police report once I get some sleep. (I contacted our sheriff in January 2022, to ask if he would mediate a refund. He shrugged it all off claiming the pet sitter was cray cray and he never got back to me.)

So, it all started with my late deranged psychotic perverted BOAR of a husband committing suicide in Vegas by overdosing on his Nebulizer medications (Albuterol and Ipratropium (Duo Neb). He told everyone he had COVID. I found out he was HIV Positive (Contracted it abruptly after taking off my grandfather’s wedding ring that I gave him TWICE – first with the Justice of the Peace and second in the Society of St. Pius X chapel in El Paso. It was also blessed twice in the Antiochian Eastern Orthodox Church In Twin Falls and in Salt Lake City.

Didn’t matter, it was found buried in a box with some junk.

Being a medical intuitive is a PAIN IN THE – better not use the word. I saw DOZENS of close ups of those on his phone. Guessed his password I did. Unlocked several Apple devices we did.

But the suicide, the horror of finding out that your husband was a PERVERT is one thing.

Arriving at the a motel near the Mandalay Bay shortly after the anniversary of the mass shooting and having the sister of a Yaqui Medicine Woman come racing up to me because she could SEE ME and just had to talk to me and get me to meet her sister was mind boggling.

OH and she confirmed that the ALL WHITE Yei with the TWO TALKNG GODS IS a sacred object – more on that next time.

The fact that the apartment where he died was haunted and our phones kept malfunctioning, computers in hotels and at the Home Depot trying to rent a truck malfunctioned, gates opening with no one around – OH POSH – just hauntings. Nothing to worry about.

BUT when I exploded in a fit of temper and screamed out that my husband had been a sorcerer and was messing with the Home Depot computer, the looks on masked faces was shocking. NO EXPRESSION.

So I bitched again and the guy who couldn’t get the computer to save his life said -Oh yes, I was a sorcerer myself 40 years ago and yes, he’s messing with us. GREAT. Just GREAT.

But who cares. Packed up some exotic art, designer clothes, gaged on the stench, yada yada.

So then the GPS malfunctioned. Ended up going west instead of east, south instead of north.

Saw a white car with Nevada vanity plates that read KALKI.

Don’t know who KALKI is. Shame on all of you.

I had seen this car in Salt Lake City when I was taking the late Mart to the hospital on one of dozens of trips but I was driving and the phone was in my purse. This time I saw it at the stop light and my purse was on the seat so I got a picture. Oddly enough the late creep I was married to had seen it in Vegas back in 2017 also. MMMM. DATES DATES DATES

KALCHAKRA – TIME the WHEEL OF TIME – some of you might know what I’m rambling on about.

If you’ve been paying attention, Brian is a HUGE Bigfoot fan. So I am. Alas, he’s wanted to even go on one of those expensive hunts. I’m not up to that kind of hiking. So Bigfoot came to us.

WHAT?

Having been sent the wrong way by the GPS system it was now pitch black out and we were BLOODY exhausted to quote the British.

Phone call on a the road going north through the forest. Can’t drive another minute you memorized the road, find a pull over.

So into the Pahranagat NATIONAL Wildlife Refuge I go, and the second I saw a spot large enough for a 16 foot moving van and my truck, I pulled in. Catch a couple of hours of sleep, right?

Brian gets out, didn’t tell me until two days later that he thought he had stepped in putrid dog poop. Nothing on his shoe. (checked with the with the high powered flashlight I age him for his birthday in September) Nothing on the ground. DEAD panic ran for his life in front of both trucks and dove into mine and screamed LOCK THE DOORS!

Trying not to freak out myself, I didn’t smell anything odd, I pushed lock. Assuming that we needed to pretend I had no idea why Brian was terrified, I said, “Do you think the murderer of those Lesbians in Moab is out there?” No, but there are hunters as he smiled trying to get me to shut up and go to sleep.

Well the passenger seat was too uncomfortable so racing again for his life, he dove into the truck with the furniture and pulled the sliding door tight shut.

And that’s when my ordeal began. Little Man would NOT settle down. So I took him for a walk. Barely could see. NO MOON despite the fact that should have been a moon. NO SOUNDS NOTHING DEAD quiet.

Dog was acting weird. Got in truck.. Won’t settle down. I’m freezing so I get out again and find filthy placemat size YEI Navajo rugs that used to hang on the PERVERT’s bedroom wall as a kid and tried to sleep. I had put them in a tote to separate them from all the thousands of items in the apartment because, well, the YEI are sacred. Never thought I needed them to keep me sort of warm.

DOG is fussing, lying on top of me. Swatting me. Panting. MMMM has to poop? Walk again and again.

NOPE. So I get out with my keys – left my glasses just in case, and had to empty my bladder in front of my truck. I haven’t peed on the ground since 2001. Very successful. I was VERY PROUD of myself at 1:47 a.m.

Got back in the truck and Little Man curled up and fell instantly asleep. His soft snoring put me out as well. Had to pee at 3 a.m. I also get awakened at 3 but this time I managed to pee and then trying to finish up the task stumbled backwards and fell flat on my back with my pants – well they were not up that’s for sure.

I had a Lumbar 5 operation in 1999 and it’s degrading a bit so I can’t get up if I’m on the ground.

FREEZING out at this point and I’m staring up at all the stars this time praying that Brian DOES NOT wake up. Got my pants in place, rolled over successfully, found my keys – never leave keys in a vehicle with an animal – they often lock you out. And then I tried to get up. FINALLY did get up and it was a very ungraceful operation and my legs felt like jello.

Got back in the truck and fell asleep. We woke at 4:30 am I think.

But I have to back up. About a half hour after Brian had gotten into the cargo hold of the truck, I heard a crashing through the woods. I figured at first that he had fallen inside the truck but it sounded like breaking branches.

NO it was not a cow. I’ve lived on open range land long enough and it was NOT a cow. Too far from any ranches anyway. NOT a deer. I live with deer in my yard. You can’t hear them. NOT an Elk. Some idiot suggested a MOOSE – do people not know ANYTHING about geography?

And not a bear. A bear would not make that sound.

Bigfoot stinks. Worse than a bear and if you’ve ever smelled a bear near a rest area toilet, you’ll know what I mean.

And Bigfoot is telepathic. For hours I felt HI HI HI HI HI HI HI HI. Hi as in hello

Did you know that if you pee in the woods, predators can do a diagnostic analysis? Diabetes, diet, age, gender, and a host of things we can’t do in a lab.

When I realized the time when I posted about what was going on on my Facebook page, Little Man quieted down after I SUCCESSFULLY peed on the ground.

In my mind’s eye I saw a 5 foot tall male juvenile and it had been tracking us for a long tme.

Brian who wanted to pay to see a Bigfoot SLEPT THROUGH THE WHOLE THING.

And I didn’t get any sleep at all!

We compared notes in the middle of nowhere on the shoulder of the road in the middle of nowhere so Little Man could relieve himself. That’s when we were honest with each other. BIGFOOT on a trip to empty out the apartment of a deranged narcissist.

Oh, and the lady who was friends with the deranged narcissist’s live in boyfriend who I had never met and didn’t know existed, is the granddaughter of a curandera – who helped – the deceased Abuelita find Brian’s glasses when he laid them down and someone packed them.

But HER story is going to take a long time to write and I’m exhausted.

Monday, October 31, 2022 Halloween

I first published this post on November 19, 2021. (The Wayback Machine took a screenshot of it! How cool is that? The minute I started to update the post, I lost the original timestamp.)

Back then I had not yet joined the Hay House Writer’s Community and I had not yet started my Tell All Book about the Notorious Doc.

Other authors and curious folk in general asked me HOW I came up with the title Never Die With Your Pants Around Your Ankles: The Death of Vegas’s Notorious Doc: A Prescription for Hell. Scroll back up. It came to me while lying on my back after a night being haunted by a juvenile Bigfoot who seemed to just want to say Hi!

Please leave comments, subscribe, follow me on YouTube and TikTok! The book is now in a queue to be edited by Mary Turner Thomson, the international best selling author of two books about her psychopathic husband and the founder of Book Whisperers.