Sylvia Shults's Blog, page 81

Random Weirdness in the Grocery Store

There is such a thing as being TOO generic …

Cashew Chicken

When I was up North visiting my sister a couple of weeks ago, she took me to Trader Joe’s, and for my birthday she let me go through the store and pick out a bunch of groceries — yay!

One of the things I splurged on was a big bag of Thai Lime and Chili Cashews. I adore the combination of spicy and sour, and cashews are awesome, so I grabbed the bag as soon as I saw it.

Then a few days ago, I got to thinking … how could I use these in the kitchen?  I mean, it is an awfully big bag of nuts JUST to snack on. Hey, I have a package of boneless chicken thighs in the fridge …

I cut up the thighs into bite-sized pieces and browned them in olive oil, along with half a sweet onion, also cut into bite-sized slices. When the chicken and onions had cooked through, I squeezed a packet of duck sauce, a packet of plum sauce, and a packet of Arby’s sauce (don’t judge) over the skillet, along with a drizzle of honey. Then I threw in a handful of the spicy cashews and let it simmer while the rice cooked.

It. Was. Amazing. The spice slid off the cashews, which I had expected, and flavored the whole dish. And the nuts themselves were made sweeter and more tender with cooking. It turned out just exactly how I expected it to — exquisite. 

The sky was all purple, there were people runnin’ everywhere… Prince Rogers Nelson, 1958-2016

I met Lisa when she and all the others joined us at the Pollak Hospital for this investigation. It was such a privilege to roam the hospital with them, seeing it through new set of eyes. I’ve been in the hospital dozens of times, and I have never seen the place so active as I did that weekend.

Musings of a Haunted Flight Attendant

I confess, I have been dragging my feet on writing this blog. I had decided back in May of this year that I wanted to write a blog on the passing of one of the greatest musicians of our time, Prince.  What is my problem?    Why do I not feel motivated? I have even met two people that knew him….  Matt Fink and Marshall Charloff. One of them is going to be contributing to this blog. So, what is my problem?  I finally figured it out…  It’s all about synchronicity…  Because, boy do I have a story to tell!!

Let me back up for just a moment and explain to you what really motivated me to write this blog.   First and foremost, I was completely heartbroken when Prince passed away.   Secondly, I had the honor of hearing an amazing  Prince tribute band called The Purple Xperience led…

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More Serendipity From the Universe

Well, this year’s Marigold Festival was quite the experience!

I love going to this festival because I live in the town where it’s held. This means I get to see a lot of folks I already know. On Saturday, I was at my booth when my mailman strolled by with his wife. I said, “Hey, it’s my favorite mailman!” His wife grinned, “Aw, he’s everybody’s favorite mailman!” I spread my hands to encompass the books on the table and said, “This is what you’ve been bringing me all these weeks.”

He panned over the books, and pointed to Fractured Spirits: Hauntings at the Peoria State Hospital. “My great-great-grand-uncle,” he said, “is Dr. Zeller.”

And the weekend’s discoveries weren’t over yet. On Sunday, one of the other vendors came up to my booth. I knew she was another vendor because she was wearing a nametag with the name of her booth — a nametag which read “Laura Derry”.

Now, I know some people are really into genealogy, and some people aren’t. On a hunch, I asked, “Do you happen to know who some of your ancestors are?”

With a wide grin, she looked me in the eye and said one word: “Rhoda.”

I was stunned. Speechless! I’m sure I looked like a complete dork for a few moments as I stood there with my mouth opening and closing like a fish, smiling like I’d lost  my mind. Finally I had the presence of mind to grab up a copy of 44 Years in Darkness and thrust it at her. She ended up buying two copies of the book, one for herself, and one to send to her cousin in Alabama, who DOES do genealogy.

So yes, it was a momentous festival for me.

A Treat From the Universe

So this weekend, I was at our local arts fair selling books, and I had a few advance copies of 44 Years in Darkness out on the table. Before I went to sleep the night before, I told the universe that I had every expectation that something lovely would happen to me the next day. A lady came by the table, and seemed interested in the books. I told her the story of Rhoda Derry, how she spent decades locked away in an almshouse, and was rescued by Dr. Zeller and spent the last two years of her life in safety and comfort. This lady was so moved by Rhoda’s story, she ended up buying two books — the book about Rhoda, and the history of the hospital.

     Then she said, “I want to get you something for lunch. Will you let me get you a sandwich? What do you want — a pork chop? A ribeye? Let me get you something!” Flabbergasted, I stammered that I would simply love a ribeye sandwich. She raced off, clutching her books, and came back minutes later with a paper bag. Then she said, “I have a bottle of water, too. Do you need something to drink?” She pressed the drink on me too, saying she was so impressed with my storytelling that she wanted to give something back. After she left, and I had a few moments between customers, I unwrapped the sandwich. It was divine — the meat was savory and perfect without any condiments at all, and the bun was soft and yielding without being soggy. That sandwich was the best thing I had all that day — and it tasted even sweeter for being a gift from the universe.

More Neighborly Shenanigans!

A few weeks ago, I wrote about our neighbors, Belinda and Clothilde. I spoke at length about their loathing of us, to the point where Belinda ordered her young grandsons to run out into the street to play Pokemon Go, rather than walk past our house and run the risk of being greeted by our friendly Husky.

I need to print an apology.

First of all, Belinda apparently either follows this  blog, or stalks me on Facebook (where the posts appear), because she yelled at my husband one day that “your wife called me Belinda!” I guess she doesn’t like that name, and when she discovered my alias for her, she took offense. I was simply trying, in my use of the noms de guerre “Belinda” and “Clothilde”, to protect my neighbors’ privacy, because I’m nice that way. I didn’t feel I had the right, in a blog post, to use their real names.

Bitchface and Crazypants.

Also, apparently, it was not Bitchface who was standing on her porch yelling at her grandsons to run out into the street. It was her daughter. Yelling at her own children. To run out into the street. With their heads down over their phones playing Pokemon Go.

Ooooookay then.

 

And for your added enjoyment, here is a picture of the back side of my garage. The neighbors (this would be Bitchface, not Crazypants) are very precious about their driveway, and take great pains to let us know that we are NOT at all welcome to set foot on their property. Ever. Under any circumstances whatsoever.

Behold the power of spray paint and bad spelling, and tremble!

Dreams

I suffer from anxiety dreams. It’s nothing new — in fact, I have several of them, that my brain puts up in rotation. (So it doesn’t get bored, I suppose. Why have one neurosis when you can have half a dozen?)

So I had one last night. Again, it was nothing new. I was in college, at the start of the first semester of my senior year. (My brain telling me there’s light at the end of the tunnel of whatever project I’m currently working on?) I’m getting ready to go to class, usually Spanish, and I haven’t been in three weeks, because I can’t find my schedule, and of course I’ve missed the first test and the past two weeks of homework.

But this time, it WAS different. The dream put me at the very beginning of the semester. I had already taken all my finals the previous semester, and I’d done well on them. That stress was behind me, and there was a fresh start ahead. I started to panic mildly about my schedule, then I realized I could easily look up my schedule online. (I guess my brain has FINALLY joined the 21st century.)

I woke up refreshed, not stressed, which was a pleasant change. I got to thinking about the dream, and what it meant. Have I mentioned that I’ve finished a book? 44 Years in Darkness has been in the can for a few weeks, and I’ve even started promoting it. I’ve been sending out press releases and setting up signings and radio interviews. Things are moving along nicely. I guess my brain is finally beginning to realize this — the time for panicking is over. (Now if I can only get NPR to call me…)

Lights Out #28: Haunted Objects, Part 1

Welcome to the latest episode of Lights Out, your virtual campfire. This is the first of a two-parter, so sit back and get ready to be entertained by your hostess with the mostest ghosties, and Greg and Dana Newkirk of Planet Weird. We’ll be looking at some of the haunted stuff from the Newkirks’ museum of oddities. Enjoy, and I’ll be back with Part 2 next week. https://youtu.be/iQrVcWp0LaQ

It’s Read A Book Day!

Did you know? September 6 is Read A Book Day.

Take time out of your busy life, and relax with a good book. Cozy up on a chair, indoors or out. It doesn’t matter where you read that book, as long as you can do so in a comfortable manner. If you doze off along the way, we won’t tell anyone.

Reading is a great lifetime hobby. It offers so many positive attributes. It’s relaxing and therapeutic. It’s educational. Its entertaining. And, a whole lot of other good things, too.

And the best thing is, books on Kindle count too! 44 Years in Darkness is available for preorder at Amazon, in the Kindle store. https://www.amazon.com/44-Years-Darkness-Madness-Shattered-ebook/dp/B01KRGSX4Q/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1472057468&sr=8-3&keywords=44+years+in+Darkness The ebook will be released October 10, same as the tree book.

If you need an actual book to hold in your hands, consider Fractured Spirits: Hauntings at the Peoria State Hospital. It’s sort of a prequel to 44 Years in Darkness. Kind of. It can be found here: https://www.amazon.com/Fractured-Spirits-Hauntings-Peoria-Hospital/dp/0984893113/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1472057639&sr=1-2&keywords=fractured+spirits

So today, find your favorite spot, pour a nice cool drink, crack open a book, and read!

Early Photography

I was thinking about this photo the other day.

What led me to this train of thought was this: Pinterest tricked me into looking at a postmortem photo. Someone wanted to see a picture of Rhoda, and I knew there was one on Pinterest, so I went to Google images and called it up. Well, Google slipped some other images in there without me noticing, and one of them was a photo of a Civil War soldier who … well, the caption was “I guess this soldier didn’t make it home”. I thought, “Wait, what? He obviously did, he’s standing right there, with his wife and daughter…” So like an idiot, I clicked on the caption and read the whole thing. The person who posted it pointed out that you couldn’t see the brace up the soldier’s back to prop him up, but his little girl was holding his hand and he wasn’t reacting to it.

Oh, and also, his eyes were PAINTED ON.

Again, like an idiot, I looked closer. Sure enough, the guy’s eyes were facing two different directions. It looked like someone had been at him with a Sharpie. (And no, I’m not going to post that photograph, because gross. You wanna see it, you can look it up your ownself.)

But that got me thinking. The picture below is the only known photograph of Rhoda Derry. It was taken sometime in the late summer of 1906. (It was taken in Dining Hall A, where Rhoda died of tuberculosis October 9, 1906, the day before her birthday. She would have turned seventy two.)

Rhoda was constantly in motion — twitching, muttering, jerking. Dr. Zeller HAD to have known the picture wouldn’t come out all that well, not with the primitive cameras of the early twentieth century. People were still doing post-mortem photography in 1906. If he had wanted a good likeness of her, he’d have been better off … well, waiting for a few months. (She had full-blown TB at this point. She wasn’t long for this world.) He could have posed her and had someone take a representative, if morbid, picture.

But he didn’t. He chose to have someone take Rhoda’s picture, and try to do the best job of capturing her they could. Even though he knew the picture would turn out blurry, he still had someone take it.

Dr. Zeller was all about promotion. He wanted people to see what was possible. He wanted people to see that his staff could take someone who had been trapped in a cage for decades, and treat her well and feed her and care for her. He wanted to save the most abused, wretched cases from the almshouses, and care for them in a clean, well-appointed state hospital.

And he wanted to celebrate Rhoda while she was alive.

This poor woman had suffered so much — it was a miracle she was alive to be rescued. That’s what Dr. Zeller was celebrating with this photograph. We are so lucky to have this one picture of Rhoda.

And she looks happy at last.