It’s late. It’s always late when I blog. And for the last few nights, Catford Manor’s hallway has been the feline focal point of things unseen.
You cat lovers, y’all know what I’m talking about. The furfamily pricks their ears, squints, and scurries into the shadows to meow at . . . nothing. At least I hope it’s nothing. Every night, I hope it’s nothing. When we first moved in so many years ago, the cabinet doors and drawers liked to open on their own about once a week. Until I let who–or what–ever it was, such antics were not acceptable.
The ravens love my rooftop and a few times throughout the year, they like to peck at the chimney cap and make more noise than I’m comfortable with. It’s all very Hitchcockian.
And very timely for today’s Five Things Friday: My favorite ghost stories.
Frankly, My Dear . . . : My Favorite Ghost Stories
So, I grew up in a small town in the midwest. The kind where kids rode bikes to the mini mart to buy sodas and candy bars before we took ourselves to the lake during summer, or the golf course after school. Mind you, we didn’t play golf. But the area was wooded, and lent itself to spooks and Bigfoot hunts. Growing up where and when I did was a great catalyst for my imagination. What follows are stories I have heard–or experienced–that have stayed with me.
The Winchester House. Are y’all familiar with Winchester rifles? Sarah Winchester was the widow and heiress to rifle inventor, William Wirt Winchester. She built the mansion after his death. It was said to have been haunted by spirits of those killed by his lever-action repeating rifle. The house, now a tourist trap and historical landmark in San Jose, was built with odd rooms, doors that lead to nowhere, and windows inside that looked into other rooms. Sarah filled the home with representations of spiritualism, the number 13, and spider webs, all in attempts to appease the victim spirits of her husband’s weaponry.
Frankly, My Dear . . . The Winchester Mystery House
The Queen Mary. This is one of my favorite, well, haunts, if you’ll pardon the expression. Balmy summer nights under neon port lights, walking the wood decks, there’s a definite feeling of more than meets the eye. A guided tour and literature detail past and present encounters. There are many rumors of ghosts and otherworldly events on the docked ship. [Note to self: Don’t stay in Room A128.] This old photo is out of focus, but captures the sentiment perfectly.
Frankly, My Dear . . . : Queen Mary Prediction
Disneyland’s Haunted Mansion. I’ve heard many a rumor, but have yet to experience anything myself, except for the occasional unwarranted chill up my spine. It’s been said since the Haunted Mansion was built in 1969, there have been many unexplained paranormal activities. A pilot who died in a nearby crash haunts the dark hallways. Employees never work alone. Sounds, strange movements, and shadows all infiltrate the structure in a way not inspired or designed by Disney.
Frankly, My Dear . . . : Ghost Carriage at Disneyland’s Haunted Mansion
The Grey Man of Pawley’s Island. I first read about him when I was nine. It was in a book, The Haunting of America, that I was so enamored with, I borrowed it from the library over and over and over. In fact, just a few years ago, I found an out-of-print copy and it still gives me the chills. The Grey Man appears on the island to warn residents of impending hurricanes. But the most chilling aspect is that he has no face. He wears a grey suit, a grey hat, and his skin is the grey of storm clouds. His faceless appearance in the sign to residents to leave immediately, or hunker down.
Frankly, My Dear . . . : The Grey Man of Pawley’s Island
Stephen J. Cannell. Now, y’all may not believe this. Sometimes I wonder if it ever really happened. But this is my own personal story, so I know it to be true. In 2007, I sent SJC an email asking for writing advice. He turned that inquiry, and his response, into a short video for his website. Over the course of the following three years, we had a quasi-mentor relationship online. Facebook, Twitter, a few emails here and there. He was the first professional writer to acknowledge me, and to call me “Molly Jo”, not just “Molly”. And then in 2010 we met at a book signing. He died a few months later and it hit me hard. Oh, we weren’t close friends, but he was important to my writing. He inspired and encouraged me. And one morning about two weeks after his death, in the middle of October, I woke up to an email from Stephen J Cannell. It was the same email he’d sent me over three years earlier, the first response to my inquiry. And that same email, with the same video query encouraging me to write every day, kept showing up in my email inbox every day for a week. Until I started writing again. #truestory
Frankly, My Dear . . .: Meeting Stephen J Cannell
So there you have it. My five favorite ghost stories.
You know me, right? You know when I usually put up a title it has a different or double meaning. So when you read “bad credit” I’m sure you’re thinking, She can’t really mean ‘bad credit’. It must be some trick word usage like ‘bad’ as in ‘sick’ or ‘awesome’ and ‘credit’ like those things that roll at the end of a movie. That’s it. This Girl saw an awesome movie and she’s gonna tell us all about it.
So, while that’s a fantastic interpretation of how my mind works at times, and maybe in the future I’ll use it as such, this post really is about just that: bad credit.
Here’s the not-so-secret secret. I have struggled with debt and bad credit for the better part of the last twenty-five years. Why am I telling you this? Because I recently discovered something awesome:
I am not alone.
For a really long time ~ and by really, I mean really ~ I felt like I was. And it wasn’t until I started to share my story with people outside my family that the fog of shame and self-imposed stigma started to lift.
I felt ugly. I was having screaming matches with the people who love me and who have, for the better part of these years, helped me in some form or another. My self-worth tanked every time the phone identified “Call from Unavailable.” I was jealous when Facebook told me how others ate out and went to movies. Here I was trying to decide between cat food, a gallon of milk, or a little more gas in the car.
Sure, things weren’t always horrific. I had good seasons that included Disneyland passes, trips to the bookstore, and last year’s writing conferences. Every payday I allowed myself a McDonald’s meal and a Starbucks. But those sparkling gems were few and far between.
Most of the time, I was waking up with anxiety. I’m not saying I grew anxious as the day went on. I’m saying, I woke up that way. I would go through bouts of not being able to drink coffee or eat breakfast because my stomach was in tumbles. I unplugged the phone at home just to get some peace and quiet. I was feeling sick, tired, worn out.
I WAS DONE.
There has to be a way out, right? Or was I destined to always feel like this? Do I attract debt? The answer is yes. And no. There were quite a few circumstances out of my control that contributed to my building debt. And there are habits that keep me there.
Unemployment, medical bills from several ~ and by several, I mean twelve ~ car accidents (never my fault, thank you for your concern), and the loss of child support when Dot turned eighteen. All these led steadily to the demise of what I like to call, my free money.
As much as I tightened the belt, I was just in over my head, upside down, sideways, and very, very shaken.
The triggering event was a radio commercial for debt relief. I was amazed at how they knew just what my situation was and how a quick loan would help me immediately.
Is This Thing On?
For about eight seconds I thought of calling. Then I jumped off that horse and put the phone down.
I mean, can you imagine what the interest rate must be on a quick loan with no credit check? [Hint: Way more than I could ever pay back.] And if there’s no credit check, what do they use for collateral? Employment verification, I think. Maybe a vehicle. Well, I certainly wouldn’t want them calling my boss if I was ten minutes late on a payment. Or taking my awesome little putt-putt away. Let’s face it: I’m already late on payments. Shifting debt from one source to another doesn’t alleviate the problem. It just shifts it. That’s why this commercial got my attention.
And then something else got my attention. The realization that I wasn’t the only one who had heard that commercial. I don’t live in a metropolis, and a lot of people don’t listen to the radio. But even so, if just a fraction of the population heard that commercial and thought of calling, how many others must feel there’s no way out from under the debt storm?
You know the old saying. When it rains, it pours. We usually say that when negative things happen. Wouldn’t it be awesome if we could pay attention to the storm of sunshine when it comes? What if, instead of hiding under dark umbrellas, they were fun, bright little things sticking out of our drinks in paradise? Or, turned upside down, and we could use them to collect pennies from heaven?
Every time it rains, it rains pennies from Heaven.
My plan is to share with you in future posts how I am overcoming my debt. I’ll be transparent about what works and doesn’t work for me. No, you don’t get to see my financials. That part is none of your business, but thanks for asking.
I’m also not a debt collector, licensed life coach, credit counselor or financial adviser. So here’s the disclaimer part: Any post relating to getting out of debt or managing money is strictly my personal experience and observances. I share them to let others know
YOU ARE NOT ALONE.
I share them to give hope. There’s power in the knowledge that even though it looks like things are getting darker, there’s always some form of light.
There’s still a lighthouse.
Here’s the thing: It does get better. I promise. You can learn different habits, discover hidden treasures, use what you didn’t know were assets.
The Unemployment Cookbook is the blessed result of needing to feed my small family with a small amount of groceries. Little did I know at the time I started creating these changeable recipes that it would start me on the road to self-publishing and turn into a constant seller.
The Unemployment Cookbook, Second Edition
I hope you start to count the sunrises each day, and find lots of pennies on your journey to paying down your debt.
I didn’t mean for this post to be just a teaser, but it’s already pretty long so the next part will have to wait.
I’d love to read comments and questions from you:
Are you struggling with debt?
Do you have any advice that can help others?
What are your thoughts on money?
And if you feel that your debt is going to swallow you whole, if it is consuming the lifeblood from you, please please please talk to someone. It’s okay to be in debt. Nearly everyone is, one way or another. It’s how you treat it, how you take care of it, that matters.
But know this:
Not being able to pay your debts does not make you a failure. It takes a hundred pennies to make a dollar. Start slow. Don’t expect miracles. Your debt didn’t happen overnight. Neither will the solution. Stay the course. And fill that jar.
My Penny Jar
You’ll get there.
Finally, because I thing the world needs more upside down umbrellas and happy songs, I leave you with some snazzy tap dancing. Enjoy.
Hey, y’all. I trust you had a great weekend. Mine was wonderfully out of the ordinary. Unfortunately, I don’t have any new photos to share. Crazy, right? I mean, this is me we’re talking about. Oh, well. Take my word for it: the scenery was beautiful.
I drove up to Fresno, which is no little task for me. When I was younger, I used to drive all the time. It was nothing to head to the beach or Disneyland or even up to the mountains. But somewhere between here and there, my collection of car accidents plus having Dot to consider . . . well, my drive to drive took a wrong turn (see what I did there?).
Let’s not forget it was just a few simple years ago that I got lost coming home from Disneyland–a trip I’d made at least twenty times in as many years. The Southern California freeways are not necessarily enjoyable. And in my neck of the desert, there is always, and yes I do mean always, some form of road construction or deconstruction going on.
Keep moving.
[Okay, so this meme was created, like, over a year ago. I had to put some visualization in this post. Anyway . . . ]
When Dot and her husband began their grand adventure, I whispered, “I wish I was brave like you.” Now that she is married and three states away, a little bit of that bravery has come back to me.
No longer do I have to consider coming home “on time” to make dinner for anyone other than myself. I don’t have to worry about “If I do this, what will she do?” I’m no longer a single parent trying to make ends meet and feeling guilty for eating all the ice cream. Nosirreebob, I am just single. (Unless you count the FurFamily. But that’s a tad diff, don’t you think?)
So. When my friend Becky said, “Come on up for the weekend.” I said “Are you nuts? Don’t you know I don’t drive? Like, ever ever. You wanna drive me crazy? Why don’t you come see me and keep the peace instead?” I said, “Hey. I’ve been wanting to be braver. This isn’t too bad. And it’s the opposite of LA traffic. Sure, I’ll come visit.”
Now, mind you. Ursula is nine years old, and it’s been a while since she’s been out on the open road for any great stretch. But they (whoever “they” in the care-for-your-car-industry is) recommend taking your car on longish drives now and then to clean out the carburetor And by the way, I had to verify the spelling on that word. Doesn’t it sound like it should be spelled “carborator”? That’s what I thought, too. Obviously.
But I digress. So. Back on track. Yesterday morning I packed up my Babycakes laptop, a few Jamberry supplies, some bottles of water, and put ‘er in gear.
And four hours later I was in Fresno. Fresno, folks! Like, central California. We’re talking farm country. Open fields. smooth roads. Friendly freeway traffic (I know, right?! I couldn’t believe it either!).
And all I wanted to do was turn around and do it again!
This crazy thing happened to me. Someone called it confidence and I said what did you smoke from your peace pipe and they said no its true and I said no seriously and they said don’t you believe in yourself and I said yes I do but I just drove four hours and in people terms that’s like two hundred and fifty miles which is like sixty miles more than the drive to Vegas and three times as far as Disneyland and have I mentioned that lately I get lost coming home from Disneyland and they said stop being so dramatic you haven’t been to Disneyland in years and I said I KNOW BECAUSE THE LAST TIME I TRIED COMING HOME I GOT LOST and they said stop talking to yourself so I did.
Except to tell myself once more that I have more confidence.
I realized anything that could happen to me and/or my car such as a flat tire or a breakdown could also happen close to home. I have my Triple-A membership card. I have a sense of adventure. So why not go the distance (see what I did there?)?
And then comes the best part. Not only did I get to spend the weekend with Becky and her husband, but her husband happens to be Al of Al Gansky fame, of Blue Ridge Mountains Christian Writers Conference and Firsts in Fiction fame. Yes, that Al Gansky. Of course a month ago when Becky and I were planning this I tolddictated asked Aaron in his capacity as my writing mentor, “So, it’s not totally weird for you that I’m going to go hang out with your folks for a weekend, right? Cuz if it is, we need to talk.” [I told him before Blue Ridge that I collect parents. This shouldn’t have been a surprise for him.] [Apparently, it wasn’t.]
Obviously he and Naomi were fine with it (I did have to promise not to supersede them on the parents’ Christmas card list) and the rest is almost history. Er, almost the rest is history. I mean . . .
ANYWAY.
I spend the weekend with Becky and Al which was a lot of fun when you consider a few things:
Becky and I have the same sense of humor. I feel sorry for Al.
Al has the same sense of humor as Aaron. You feel sorry for me.
The excuse for the drive was for Becky to hostess a Jamberry party, which allowed us some fun girl time with a few guests.
I got to pick Al’s brain about all things writing, editing, and Blue Ridge. Like, conference chatter. And it isn’t even conference time! I found out more of what goes into the behind-the-scenes, and I shared with him some of my immediate, short-term, and long-term goals as a writer and editor. He didn’t even charge me a coaching fee.
A once-a-year thunderstorm hit just as I was considering coming home Saturday night. So I stayed per the original plan and we enjoyed some flickering lights, dimming TV screens, flashes of lightning and serious boomage that set car alarms off. Now that’s thunder!
We watched Perry Mason and Alfred Hitchcock together. Between yelling “Motive!” at the TV and pointing our fingers at all the characters, all I can say is, Al will never let me near the medicine cabinet. And he really shouldn’t leave the cyanidesaccharin pain pills where anyone can get at them. Just sayin’. How’s that coffee this morning, Al?
The same, easy drive to get up to Fresno was just as easy coming home. Except for the microburst in Tehachapi that slowed traffic for about fifteen minutes. Only in California can the sky ahead be blue while the sky directly above is bringing down God’s wrath. Just sayin’.
Once I got home and loved on the FurFamily, we had our own storm system move in. That was about five hours ago. And it’s still here. Lightning. Thunder. Rain. It’s all good.
So I sort lied about the no new photos thing. Okay. This isn’t a photo. It’s a video. I know, semantics. And you can’t hear the thunder, but trust me. It was there!
I think I’m gonna bottle this sound and play it all time. Especially when I’m writing NOLA. Or missing Blue Ridge. Or when it’s too hot and dry. Or when I’m trying to sleep. Or any other time. Yes. Definitely any time is a good time to listen to rain.
I’d say all in all it was a great weekend. And it left me with a deeper drive to reach my goals: writing, editing, social media presentations, speaking, Jamberry, redecorating Bedford Manor, and making sure all my peeps know they’re important to me (the people, not the goals) (well, I mean, both. But the people. Right now, I’m talking about the people).
I’m very excited. The changes are subtle but specific.
You can now link to my Amazon page, and individual product, from the home page. You can read about upcoming projects and our authors. And of course, you can still shop directly.
Which is a good thing, because I have 75 copies of the THE UNEMPLOYMENT COOKBOOK, Second Edition. Remember when you followed last year’s journey to get it published, and how you said to yourself, “I need to order.” or “This would make a great gift.” or “So-and-so really needs a copy of this.”
The Unemployment Cookbook, Second Edition
Well now’s your opportunity. With just 75 printed copies left and no plans for a reprint, this may, in fact, be your last chance.
Now here’s the “wish” part of this post. It’s my wish, my goal, to sell all my cookbooks before Easter. There are three small bills I am trying to pay in full, and, as you may have read on my Facebook page, I’d like to get a Disneyland annual pass. Sure, that last one isn’t a necessity.
But Dot and I used to have passes. Instead of a big vacation, we’d go to the Parks a few times a year together, as well as with friends. Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to renew my pass for a few years now. She and her friends have. And let’s be honest: This Momma’s a tad bit jealous.
Disney Dream (from a door on Main Street, U.S.A., Disneyland, CA)
Does the world stop spinning without Disneyland? Of course not. Can we still have Quality Family Time without the Mouse? We do every day.
But now and then I think it’s okay to say out loud, “This is what I’m trying for” and see what happens. This, for me, is that moment.
Hello. Have you missed us? Because we miss you. We’d like to think our absence has been noticed, and not that we’ve been replaced.
It’s costly to come see you, but that’s our goal this year. Once the economy settles and our personal finances allow, we hope to once again stop under your famed arch.
Disneyland Arch
To my family – that is, just Dot and myself – Disneyland is so much more than a place to visit. It’s like coming home. There’s a feeling, an atmosphere, an aroma that captures us once we churn through the gate and get our hands stamped. I always have to stop for just a moment. I have to regain my heartbeat and catch my breath. And without a conscious thought, any stress I brought in with me is magically removed. I forget to think about work or chores or outside drama. I find myself smiling like a child: carefree and in awe.
We’ve been lucky enough in the past to spend family vacations within your Resort. We’ve also possessed Annual Passes. But that seems a lifetime ago, before the woes of the world snuck in and changed things.
We never lose hope that this is the year we’ll climb back on top and once again be able to be in your presence.
Because you are Magical.
The Three Fairies
And no matter how often we visit, there is always a mix of the familiar with the new. We never fail to ride Big Thunder Mountain Railroad. To Dot’s dismay, this is one of only two roller coasters that I’ll enjoy. (The other being Gadget’s Go Coaster).
Of course, we have to eat at both the French Market in New Orleans Square, and Rancho del Zocalo in Frontierland. One good meal a day is all we need to supplement the endless supply of snackbars and popcorn stands. We appreciate the healthy fruit choices, too. A cold bottle of water and a juicy orange really keeps us satisfied.
And the Character Dining? Seriously?! How awesome are you to have thought that one up! Food and fun for all, all at once? You make it so easy to play with our food, especially the Mickey-shaped waffles at breakfast!
Dessert Platter at Disneyland’s Ariel’s Grotto
We’ve experienced Goofy’s Kitchen, Plaza Inn, and Ariel’s Grotto. I’m desperate for the Storyteller’s Cafe. I’m saving that experience for the Dream Vacation (more on that later!).
Disneyland is the place we can bring Grandma for a leisurely day filled with glorious singing birds in the Tiki Room and majestic history at Great Moments with Mr. Lincoln.
Painting in Disneyland’s Great Moments with Mr. Lincoln
Disneyland is where we go to meet up with friends for special occasions. Or, just because we can.
The Pirate Pose
You make it possible.
Disneyland is inspirational. The story of Walt Disney encourages me daily.
Walt’s Bench at Disneyland
Walt’s Bench
Disney Dream
When I think I can’t write or get published, I think of Disney. And I know anything is possible. And when I hear “no” I keep trying. Because Walt did. And Disneyland does.
You’re so much more than a park.
You are one of the reasons I love Carousels. It’s never ridiculous for adults to find as much joy and amazement as the little children do while riding their steeds on King Arthur’s Carousel.
Fantasyland, Tomorrowland, Mickey’s Toontown, Adventureland, Critter Country, Frontierland… but my favorite is Main Street, U.S.A. It’s where the journey begins. It’s where all roads lead to Mickey.
The Man and The Mouse
And let’s not forget about Disney’s California Adventure right across the walkway. So many wonderfully magical moments await us there. A Bug’s Land is kid-sized but a place for people of all ages. California Soarin’ is a ride that scared This scared-of-heights Girl with it’s hang-gliding sensations so intense that I can’t wait to go back for another thrill.
Downtown Disney is another experience unto itself. The World of Disney, Marceline’s Confectionery and Disney Vault 23 are just a few of our favorite stores. When Dot was younger Build-a-bear was a must-do on our list (Don’t tell anyone this, but since I’m a teddy bear collector, for me it still is!).
Oh, yes, Disneyland. We miss you very much!
You’ve surprised us with chance encounters. That time I scheduled a trip and you called to let me know it coincided with the premiere of Pirates of the Caribbean. How we were in the right place at the right time to get a hello from Orlando Bloom and a wink from Johnny Depp.
Premiere of Disney’s Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest
And when we stayed with you that time when just down the street, one of my favorite authors was doing a book signing!
Stephen Cannell & I
Yes, Disney. You’ve truly been there for us.
I almost forgot one of the best parts: The Grand Californian Hotel & Spa. This is where Dot and I last vacationed, back in 2010. Knowing it would most likely be our last family vacation for quite a while, we opted to splurge. No longer a young child, Dot was looking for something a bit more sophisticated. The Grand Californian offered us not only the exquisite relaxation we needed, but the Disney experience we craved. I even created my bedroom in homage to that wonderful weekend!
Mini-suite at the Disneyland Grand Californian Hotel & Spa
My Disney-inspired Bedroom
We miss you, Disneyland. We miss you like a best friend and like a home-cooked meal after a hard day. We miss you like our cheerleader and confidante and a welcome hug.
We miss your coffee and your rides and your behind-the-scenes tours and your up-front-and-personal characters. We miss every ounce of you.
You’ve seen us through difficult times and great accomplishments. You’ve encouraged us to keep trying, and celebrated our successes. When we feel a bit let down or left out, you never disappoint.
And that is why, Dear Disneyland, we are striving to find our way back to you.
Tweet this: Not being able to pay your debts does not make you a failure. #badcredit #credit #debt #countyourpennies @realmojo68
