Hey!  I’m still alive!  So glad about that.  It is amazing what happens when you get creeped out….Three things: shadows on the wall turn evil:

Passer-byers faces looked distorted:  

And the wind at night sounds like someone scraping your window slowly with long fingernails….YIKES!

 

 

…….oops, wrong photo….I meant this scary one:

How are you???? So happy to be back and see your smiling face (smile, please).  Sitting in this beautiful sunny weather soaking up the sun and counting the days of my life I probably have left…. 

I have found out why somebodies wants to silence me…why they threatened Mama all those years….I wish I didn’t know!  I wish I had never found that wicked dairy!  Here’s a hint:  There is no “limit of statutations” (or is it statute of limitations????)  on MURDER!!!!!!  I’ve had a good life though, don’t worry about me.  My family will be fine, as long as I leave enough frozen casseroles to last a decade, they’ll make it.  I’m fine…really, I’m fine. Fine, fine, fine.

Okay, from all the email I got, I get the very real sense that you all don’t think I’m in any danger at all!  You all think I have this wild imagination and that I want a killer to stalk me….okay, so maybe that is true. BUT this is very real!!!!  Somebodies (that is more than one somebody) are trying to silence me, polish me off, put me down, do me in, do away with me, X me out, erase me from earth, snuff my breath….got it?  Because if I’m alive and know the truth….and there is no time frame for the crime of murder….YIKES!!!!!  It’s only me standing between them and the chair!

In my last blog, I kinda felt it, but I didn’t have any hard concrete evidence that I was on a “hit” list, but ah, now…well, I got evidence.  (I’m accepting apologies through twitter and texting… fyi.) This disturbing video clip proves my worst fear….I’m being followed…AND it’s not as fun as I thought it would be.

Please don’t tell my family!  I would hate to interrupt their lives being that it’s hockey season, the poor dears.  Here goes:

 

 

Andddddd it gets worse:

 

Obviously I survived…

If you look carefully, you’ll see this car saved my life.  It was from under that vehicle, under the grit, the oil and the dirt, with my nose touching the under-belly, it was there that I was able to call 9-1-1…. but that didn’t go so well either:

 

Now what do ya all got to say??????  Uh huh, worse than you thought???? Me too.  Sleep is hard to come by and just getting groceries is this huge production. Since I’m afraid someone will follow me, this is my routine:  First I walk about a mile, hail a taxi, take it downtown, then I have to go into a crowded store, sneak into the dressing room, change into my disguise, crawl over or under all of the dressing stalls, come out as a different person from another stall, catch the bus to the grocery store……and on and on and on…..(I’m the one in the middle, wanted to pick an outfit where I didn’t stand out in Auburn.)

 

I even think my faithful dog, Sugar, may be in on it.   I noticed this as I walked up the sidewalk…those holes in the fence weren’t there before….Notice the beady eyes….

 

Well, enough about my head being on the chopping block.  I’m a little ahead of you guys, since I’m living it, but I’ll catch you up on what I found out.  Here goes: Sal, Sal, Sal.  Poor Sal.  It seems that the more he hated Dave, the more Dave prospered.  Don’t you hate it when that happens? 

Sal planned a weekend retreat for his staff members, coincidentally the same weekend he knew that David would be unable to attend due to a prior engagement. The golf retreat was held in Monterey at the Ritz and the church picked up the enormous bill. His staff was instructed to relax and soak in the sun and get a massage.  The men, convinced of their irreplaceable worth, ordered room service, prime rib and cabanas by the pool.  Friday night’s dinner bill alone was over $2,000!  Sal had reserved a suite for himself which included a living area overlooking the bay. 

After he had fattened up these sheep, he led them to slaughter.  He arranged for a gathering in his suite on Saturday night.  The ten boards members plus the staff including his son, John, were surprised when they arrived to see a catered late-night supper including lobster and crab.  The open and inviting bottles of vodka and rum sat beckoning the crowd, who refused to even look their luring way.

Laughter filled up the room and the mood loosened as the men began to roll up their sleeves and dig in.  Sal was the first to reach for the booze.  An awkward silence seem to fall on the festivities, which didn’t deter him at all.  Stunned faces decorated the table when he stood up and began to walk around the table, filling every glass with alcohol.  This group had never drank together. Most importantly, this group had never seen Sal drink.

Sal lifted his glass in a toast and reluctant glasses began to meet his.  The clink of the stemware echoed in the now quiet room.  Sal then began his ramblings on God’s grace and the attributes of a disciplined man.  He sipped as he slowly paced, choosing each word as if it belonged in a bouquet.  Every eye was upon him and every ear attentive to this new bold gesture: “A disciplined man may partake in samplings of alcohol if he himself is sure beyond all reason he is a man right with God.”  On and on the smoke billowed from his loftiness. 

Within 10 minutes he had convinced the men that only upright and prudent men are permitted to have the grace upon them to partake in spirits in controlled settings.  And what a coincidence that they were in a controlled setting!

Throughout the night, room service would appear with more food and alcohol.  The men began to drop their guard like soldiers dropping their shields.  The music was cranked up and the laughter and raised voices filtered through the hallways of the hotel.  These men would follow this leader right off the side of a cliff, the problem was they didn’t even realize they were standing on one.

Sal charmed his way through the night, patting men on their backs and passing out one-time bonuses of $1,000.  But John watched from afar.  He pretended to go along with all this, but he knew there was more to it.  After all, he grew up with this man.  Every time his dad would fill his cup, he would empty it into a nearby potted plant.  The plant began to swoon. 

John knew something was about to happen, but he had no idea what.  When he opened up the folded check his dad had given him, it was for $10,000!!!  He excused himself to the restroom and stared at the check.  With bitter tears in his eyes, he tore the check up and flushed it down the toilet.  Who was his father to give away the church’s money?  His instinct was to leave, to drive home that night, to get away from whatever conspiracy was being hatched, but he forced himself to stay.

By midnight the men were all drunk, all but Sal and his son, John.  John slouched on the couch and kept his head down to look the part, but he could feel his heart thumping so hard he thought his dad would notice. 

Once again, Sal called the men together and the disheveled drunk group quieted down.  Then the weaving of the spider’s web began. It started out with complimenting the absent Dave on his wild success, but by the end of the hour, it morphed into vile accusations until Sal had desecrated Dave.  He had turned the troops on him.  He talked of Dave as though he was a traitor that gave up his very country.  He used fear to muster up insecurity within the staff that Dave was a threat to every one of their jobs. 

Then he dropped the bomb.  Dave must be brought down.  He offered up a $20,000 bounty for the first one to bring him down, evidence not needed.  The drunk men clamored up on their feet in alliance to Sal.  John did so too, though he felt like killing his own father. Sal then dismissed the men abruptly and opened the door of the suite to hurry them along.  The surprised men quietly filed out of the room.

The next morning brunch was held on the veranda.  Unshaven, disheveled and hung-over men quietly led their way through the buffet line.  Sal looked like a million bucks, dressed in all white, dark sunglasses, basking in the sun. As the men sat down with their plates, Sal jumped up.  He explained he had to leave, for them to enjoy themselves, and then he dropped a handful of pictures on the table.  He winked as he began to leave ending with, “Our little secret, boys, our little secret.  Right?” 

 

The pictures had all the alcohol and empty glasses scattered among the men the night before.  Blackmail.  He also had managed to snap pictures of room service so in some pictures, it appeared women had been at the gathering.  He turned on his Christian Boushoes and was gone.  The men sat in silence and shame.

As John sped down Hwy 101, he redialed Dave over and over to warn him.  Voicemail continued to answer.  Frustrated, John dialed his sister, Micah.  His heart broke as he had to explain to his sister that their father was trying to bring Dave down.  A plan was hatched, and Micah promised revenge through bitter tears.

Sal was licking his lips with delight thinking about the public humiliation that was secretly planned for the evening service for Dave. 

The text that came in infuriated him.  It was from Dave:  “Sorry, unable to make it in tonight.  Please let me take a sick day for today.  Thanks. “

Back at the office that afternoon, Sal screamed at Mama to get George on the phone.  Mama could hear him yelling at the senior board member to go to Dave’s and get him to church that night, no matter what.  Then the phone slammed down in its cradle.

Micah answered the knock at her door.  After quick tense hellos, George asked to see Dave.  Micah explained he was sick in bed and unable to come to the door.  Fear seized George as he realized the wrath he would face from Sal upon returning to the church without Dave.  His voice raised as he asked Micah again to see Dave.  Micah finally relented and asked him to follow her to the bedroom. 

Micah slowly cracked the door and George could see the silhouette of a man in bed in the dark room.  George backed down.  He apologized to Micah and made his way back to the church, confidant that Sal would understand.

Apparently, Sal didn’t understand.  Within the hour Micah saw her father’s Lexus turn into her driveway.  She felt her whole body tremble as she watched him hurry up the sidewalk to her front door with the collar of his pea coat turned up.  He burst through the door without knocking.  Micah could see the fire in his eyes.  He pushed past his daughter and headed to the bedroom.  Micah tried to run ahead of him, but he beat her to the bedroom door.  The door swung open so hard it hit the wall.  His tall frame engulfed the door frame and for a moment he was still.

“Daddy, he’s sick.  Leave him alone….”

Sal strode across the room, grabbed the covers and ripped them back.  There lay a long body pillow under the sheets with a wig on top of the pillow.  Micah felt her knees go weak.  She saw the dark figure of her father against the moonlight that flooded the room. 

He was still for a moment.  When he turned to her, the evil on his face caused Micah to start backing up.  He started slowly walking toward her. 

“You deceived your own father to cover up for this turncoat?” he shouted.

“Daddy, please, he told me if I didn’t give him time to get out of town, he’d take me down with him” Micah lied.

A smile turned up on Sal’s lips.  Now he had more motive to take out Dave.  He had threatened his baby girl.  Hmmm.  

Micah heard her dad’s car squeal out of the driveway as she looked out into the moonless night.

Tears stained her face as she replayed the last four hours when her brother burst in and hurried Dave out the door.   Their farewell was brief and unexpected.  

She hated herself for lying to her dad and telling him that Dave would take her down with him.  She knew in her heart that Dave would never harm her or anyone. She wondered when she would see Dave again…actually, fear shot through her as she wondered now if she would ever see Dave again.

 

One thing I have learned since I’ve been snooping around in the Old Testament is that man never changes.  For some odd reason, man lives for recognition and worth.   The sad reality is we are looking for a hero.  We are sheep, and we wanna follow somebody, sometimes anybody.  We wanna be on someone’s “team,” and we hope we’re picked first; just like when we were children.  

Have you ever noticed how “popular” somebody in the body can become if they show any sign whatsoever of being a “somebody”?  If you have a noteworthy title like published author, pastor’s wife, worship leader, or heaven forbid “pastor” they’ll follow you off the cliff… so if you’re gonna lead, you better lead…otherwise you’re just out for a walk with a bunch of sheep trailing you.

I know of a woman years ago that was obsessed with having the attention of the pastor and the elders and their families.  She was always cooking for them, dinners when there was an illness, cakes for occasions and cookies for the kids.  Unfortunately, she didn’t get the memo that ministry started at home, so she never allowed her lil monsters to have any of the baked goods.  Years later when one of her sons was in his 40s he talked about those days…his words were, “The cookies were always going out the back door.”  Sad.

Ultimately it is God we follow.  But sometimes, I guess, maybe you feel disconnected and slowly, before you know it, your loyalty attaches to someone else.  You begin to listen to every word they say, they become your Bible and your Holy Spirit.  You trust them completely.  But remember, a mere man at his best is still merely a man.  

How many times have we heard the excuse that someone is not following God anymore because their pastor had an affair, or because Christians are hypocrites or because the board member was skimming the pot?  How about the secretary was sleeping with the bus driver and the pastor’s wife ran off with a dwarf?  

If a “mere” man has any reason in your thinking about not following God, phew!  Thank Goodness!  That’s a small thing to fix!  A MERE MAN AT HIS BEST IS STILL MERELY A MAN!!!!!  Hallelujah!  So glad we settled that!  See you at church on Sunday!  And remember, respect your pastor, but follow GOD!!!!!  The ONLY SINGLE ONE IN THE WORLD that won’t let you down!  (Betcha those yahoos in the hotel room with Sal wished they had followed the one true God, not this clown.)

I am leaving today to follow Dave’s steps.  He left within 10 minutes of John arriving and headed toward Southern California.  I need to retrace his footsteps and investigate for myself.   I’ll keep you updated.

Okay.  I promised you a recipe. Next week I’ll have scratch and sniff software installed so you can smell it before you cook it.  I know the last one was hard to make because it’s impossibly hard to find fraidy cats anywhere these days.  (Check the pet aisle)

This one is LOW CALORIE

Southwestern Chicken Soup  (AKA TORTILLA SOUP)                                                               

• 1 can (49 oz) chicken broth
• 1 can (14 oz) crushed tomatoes
• 1 can (14 oz) diced tomatoes (undrained)
• 1 lb. cooked boneless chicken breast, shredded or cubed.  (I use three frozen chicken breasts…I suppose you could use canned chicken)
• 1 large onion, chopped
• 1/3 cup minced fresh cilantro or parsley
• 1 can (4 oz) chopped green chilies
• 1 garlic clove, minced
• 1 teaspoon chili powder
• 1 teaspoon ground cumin
• 1/2 teaspoon dried oregano
• 1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper
• 2 cups frozen corn, thawed
• Baked tortilla chips
• 1 cup shredded  cheese

In a large saucepan, combine the first 12 ingredients.  Bring to a boil.  Reduce heat; cover and simmer for 1 hour.  Add corn; cook 10 minutes longer.  Top each serving with tortilla chips; sprinkle with cheese. ****One serving  1 1/2 cups with 3 tortilla chips and 2 tblsp cheese equals 234 calories, 4 g fat, 29 grams carbohydrates…..(which means you can have 3 bowls)