For all you Northern New Mexicans (and others, too, of course), please consider donating to Esperanza Shelter for Battered Families: http://www.esperanzashelter.org/donate.php

They do fantastic work with women and children who are victims of domestic violence. They also provide counseling services for abusers. I think it might even be the ONLY one in all of Northern NM. Which is like, !!??

Hell yes. One of my favorite reads this year!

I read NW and I thought it was a great disappointment. It seemed to be trying very hard to be shocking or edgy, without achieving either. Like- SHOCKING SEX! CONFUSING TIMELINE! MYSTERIOUS REFERENCES TO NUMBERS! What does it all mean!?!? Answer: Nothing.

To get some added benefit, pull your shoulders back and DOWN using your lats. Your lats (aka Latissimus dorsi) are the ones that are under your arm pits on either side of your rib cage.

Trader Joes sells it in little jars!

I have become really fucking bitter at the health care given in hospitals. Your story is nightmarish, but sadly, I was not surprised. When I had had the misfortune of being in the hospital about 2 years ago, I learned that it was a necessity to have someone with you who could advocate for you. Someone who could remember what other doctors/nurses had said, someone who could remind the nurses to check up on you every once in a while, someone who could ask questions and make your wishes known. It's fucking awful.

You guys, I just mentioned this story to my husband and he DOESN'T REMEMBER IT AT ALL. He said that he didn't remember the small door and the storage area. I have seen it with my own eyes! I feel like the ghost has some mind erasing powers. But, I cannot even begin to explain how bizarre and scary his grandma's basement is.

Here's a ghost story.

My husband's grandmother lives in huge, old house in rural Illinois. We go there sometimes for family events. The basement is only partially finished, and there is a small door that goes into a eaves-like storage area. The door is approximately 1/2 of the size of a normal door and the storage area is small and is only about 5 feet high, max.

He told me that, as kids, they would go into this storage area and play. They had set it up with some toys, including a table and those plastic magnetized letters. One day, he and his younger brother were playing down there and noticed that the letters had spelled out a question. He couldn't remember what it said, but something simple like, "What is your name?" Anyway, they had this back-and-forth with whatever it was for a few days. Then, they lost interest in it and went to Chicago for a few days. When they got back to his grandma's house, the toy play area was trashed- all of the toys and books they had dragged back there had been thrown around.

My husband tells me this story and my eyes are bugging out of my head, and I mention that it was clearly a ghost he was communicating with and then got pissed when they stopped playing with it. He and his brother had never thought of that possibility, even though they have no idea who it was and it hadn't occurred to them at the time.

But, like, that was clearly a ghost... right?

What if.. someone actually was living in the house with him, just very cleverly hidden?

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

My husband is still somewhat afraid of La Llorona. We live in (and he grew up in ) New Mexico where that story is still told. I never really though that La Llorona was too scary myself, but when I'm out in the arroyos alone at twilight, I can very very easily start to freak myself out.