My eleventh book, Buried Dolls, is out and to celebrate I'm giving away a $15 gift card to Amazon. Simply go to Rogue's Angel and leave a comment. It's fun if you mention how you feel about dolls, particularly scary looking ones. Also it would be great if you went to my facebook page lynn hones books and like.
The girls hated the house at first. I told them to think of it as an adventure. Lia was concerned about school. She wanted to continue at the School of the Arts in downtown Cleveland (almost.) Maylyn also wanted to graduate from The School of the Arts she had been attending. We explained that Daddy would drive them back and forth to Cleveland so they could go to their schools and daddy could work.
The girls then went into the house to look around. Nope. Hated it. Wanted to go home. They were used to the city and not some stupid house in the country. (It's not the country.) We spent the first night in beds Daddy put up in the living room. We were armed with flashlights because there was no electricity, no water, no gas, no cable--nothing. We were so scared that first night. The girls and I cuddled in one of the beds in case we heard a ghost, or something scratching in the walls. We had to find the upstairs bathroom, where we put a port-potty, carrying a candle and a flashlight. It occurred to me that we were living just like the family who built this house around 1850 did. I lit candles so the room wasn't put into total darkness. Every little noise frightened us. To be continued...
I guess there were other people looking at it the day before, but had not done anything about it. We were scared and wanted to get to the house pronto. It takes about one hour to get to Ashtabula from Cleveland or eight hours if Marty's driving. We met the real estate lady at the house and when she opened the door I was in love. It was so fun to run around the old place. It even had a back staircase. It had six bedrooms and more rooms downstairs in the other side of the house. We flew around the house for awhile and decided to buy it. We drove quickly to the real estate office and bought the thing. On the way, home we questioned each other on what we had just done. Where were the parents in this equation? Where were the adults? The people to say, "No, don't do it" or "Have it appraised first?" Nope, none of that. We simply bought it. On the way home, we kept saying "Did we just buy a house? Like, why did we just buy a house?"...next installment tomorrow.
If you'll excuse me, I have a case of the blues. I think it's the gloom outside. Rainy, windy, and foggy. What did we expect moving to a harbor town.
I wanted to continue where we left off. Marty took the phone number of the house off the sign and stuck it in his pocket. We did our thing at the festival, not really thinking about the house any further. Having finished selling my jewelry, we packed up and went home. A couple of days later, I asked Marty if he still had the phone number for this house. I simply wanted to know how much they would ask for a house in the harbor area. I made the call and talked to a nice woman who told me the house was owned by the bank and they simply wanted to sell it. When she told me the price was $29,000, I thought she was kidding. I thought, what the heck and offered $25,000. She got on the phone with the bank and they said, they would accept that offer but it wouldn't last long. Next installment tomorrow.
Last night while in bed, I heard the most horrendous sound. It sounded like it was coming from outside, but my husband thought it was inside. He thought that maybe one of our dogs were howling. Considering neither of our dogs are or have ever been howlers I ruled that one out. We thought it might be our neighbor on one of his many all terrain vehicles, but it still seemed odd. Marty finally settled on a coyote. I settled on a strange motorcycle. Then I heard some knocking in the basement. I have no idea what that was from. Only a few bangs. But loud. I hope this strange stuff stops.
We were on our way to a beach glass festival. As we were driving, my husband saw a brick home for sale. He said, "Hey look at that house. It's for sale." Eight words that would change my life forever. I didn't even notice the house as we were late for the festival and I wanted to get our tables set up, etc...
Once that was done, he took a hike over the lift bridge and up to the house he saw earlier. He looked in the windows and although its walls were painted heinous colors he thought everything looked in okay shape. He walked into the back and noticed the hill was all woods. When he peeked through the trees, he noticed the house had a fantastic view of the Ashtabula River and the little town below. Needless to say he thought it was worth checking out the price. He wrote the number down...The story continues...
Is this day for reelz? It is February 24 and 72 degrees. This just does not happen where I live. I mean ever. If the days stay this nice I won't be able to work on my books, or my jewelry or this blog for goodness sake. I want to get started on my ghost stories. I don't mean the fiction ones that I write, but the ones that I've experienced here, in this house we're in right now. As for right now, vammooos.
This has been the warmest February we've had in many years. The feel of spring, which is hard to describe, is felt by everyone. The earth, and tiny flowers make smells that only they can make. I even found a few croci by our pond. My favorite flower in all the world because they are the first to cut through the snow. There is just one problem, IT IS NOT SPRING. I'm enjoying this weather, don't get me wrong, but I feel these days are like snow days. Something to enjoy and savor; that extra time in bed. But they have to be made up. We have to be aware of this. You can't just say spring is sprung and forget about winter. Some of our nastiest snow falls have come in March and even April. I wish I could be an optimist but that train done left the station years ago. Being a girl from Ohio, I'm an Eeyore in a harbor full of Tiggers. We'll see what group wins.