Sweet Baby Cheeses, We Found the Hidden Madonna

I realize that my mother is probably going to kill me and I’m probably going to hell courtesy of that title. Do not pass Go, do not collect $200.

Whatever.

So, a couple months ago, I told you about the random shit that was left in our house by the previous owners. As we started settling into the house, we began discovering more little things that the former owners left for us.

Heading down into the basement, Brian found this little log cabin hidden under the stairs. It was kind of cute, and he told me to pick it up. I reached for it and discovered little baggies of stuff beside it.

Log Cabin Incense Burner

Would you have spotted that right away?

My first thought and question for Brian?

Log Cabin Incense

“Weed?”

I’m pretty sure he physically face palmed. “No, it’s for incense!” He was really excited about it. You burn the incense inside the log cabin and the smoke comes out the little chimney. The baggie was full of incense stuff.

“Oh.”

Definitely less interesting.

Another, more interesting, and definitely more random little nugget of awesomely weird that we (okay fine, our friend whose name is also Brian) found was hidden in the rafters of our basement.

 

Meet Madonna

Meet Madonna

I don’t know how. I don’t know why. I certainly don’t know when…but this happened. In our house. Long before it was our house. Someone sketched a permanent marker Madonna in our home. And because it’s not quite clear that it’s Madonna, he or she politely labeled it for us.

It makes me wonder if there were teenagers living here in the 90’s. And what kind of people they were. And if the parents ever found out that the kids did this…or worse – if one of the adults did this little artistic piece for their own jollies. The handwriting (based on my very scientific teaching skills) looks like middle school or early high school writing…but what do I know? My chicken scratch looks a little like that sometimes…and it is practically on the ceiling…So there’s that.

Either way, I’m having a lot of fun imagining stories in my head of the possible family that lived here before us.

Have you left your mark on your home? Have you discovered someone else’s mark left on your home? Even better – if you decide to, what would you do to represent yourself in a place that you may not live in forever?

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!

I Get Into Fights In My Sleep, But Nothing Compares To Those Reindeer Dreams

It’s a thing, okay. It’s been a thing since I was a little kid. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and have complete, albeit random and sometimes weird, conversations with people.

The following stories are hearsay. They are my memories of stories from my friends and family. I cannot confirm or deny my sleep talking.

I’ve gotten in fights in my sleep.

I’ll never forget camping with my best friends from grade school for my I don’t know – tenth birthday or something – and we were all sleeping on the top bunk of the motorhome (yeah, my family was cool enough to have a motorhome). The friend sleeping beside me heard me mumble in my sleep, “Oh no you don’t!” which, on it’s own, seems pretty innocent…But when her sister, who was sleeping with her feet to our heads in the middle of us, woke up with a gigantic bruise on her arm where my leg was…and I woke up with a small bruise on MY arm where HER leg was…the midnight tale seemed pretty clear.

Another time, my cousins and I were having a sleepover, and apparently I always fell asleep early. I woke up in the middle of the night while they were playing and watching TV and demanded, “WHERE’S MY PEN?!” I suppose I said this a few times before passing back the fuck out.

There’ve been several other instances of sleep talking in my world, especially with Brian. He always tells me the next morning, “You were talking a lot last night.”

And then I tell him he needs to start remembering what I say.

So this morning. This happened.

I talk in my sleep

I’m pretty sure I…

  1. Have the BEST boyfriend in the world who sends me e-mails when I’m sleeping.

and…

  1. HAVE THE BEST FUCKING DREAMS EVER.

 

Blog friends, do you talk in your sleep? Sleepwalk? Do you hear stories about shit you did while you were under the influence of the sandman? Do you dream about reindeer? Because you should. What do you dream about?

Hey! Did you know you can buy my book on Amazon? 37 women wrote about the struggle for perfection, and I'm one of 'em. Go check it out!