I’ve been on pins and needles because my furnace has been dying whenever it feels like it and I don’t like leaving the house with no heat on in the winter.

The furnace repairman was up to the house Friday and despite the symptoms I described, he told me there was nothing wrong. And yet, it kept breaking down. The repairman almost made me feel like I was making something up. That’s how condescending it felt.

So, Monday night I made a self-diagnosis on the living room bulletin board, writing down all the noises and clicks and bangs and buzzes I heard and after a few internet hits, I concluded “BLOWER MOTOR”.

Yesterday, Tom from Tattersall Electric came to the house and made his own diagnosis. And guess what? “BLOWER MOTOR” is what he said, too. What do you know about that! I wasn’t crazy afterall, like the furnace guy wanted me to feel.

All this furnace talk reminds me of when I started selling cars back in 1976, how some men wouldn’t deal with me because they thought women were stupid when it came to cars. Well, lots of years later, and lots of awards to show for my car selling days, I know a lot more than most of the men with whom I worked.

It’s really quite simple whether you’re talking cars or blower motors; when you’re fair, and you know your business, people know it, and appreciate it, and don’t mind paying for a job well done.

A 75 year old woman from Westminster, Vt., (Lois Freihofer) lost all 8 cats yesterday, when fire, caused by a short circuit behind her couch, levelled her home. She was severely burned after running back into the home to save her pets. I totally understand her actions but I can only begin to imagine her suffering.

I wish I could start this day over. The cable was messed up when I awoke, so I called Comcast. Automation help was a joke. Lucky for me, some sweet gal in South Burlington knew what she was doing and helped me reboot. She was a hoot. Thirty minutes later, it’s good to go. I was busy doing chores when the furnace crapped out. Emergency off switch activated, I left the house with the heat shut off. And while that makes me very unhappy for the pets, at least I know the place won’t burn down while I’m away. I’ll call Landry later today. Send me Benj or John, whomever can make this problem “gone”.

Did I mention that all the way home with the black ice and such Monday, there sat on my bumper, a white delivery van, no regard for space between cars, trying to make me go too fast. Finally, I pulled over and let it pass. Mr. “sodapop” for future reference, stay off of my ass.

Tomorrow is the anniversary of dad’s burial. It will be a tough day for me. Ironically, it’s also his anniversary date for marrying his 2nd wife, the person who put him in that grave.

Let it be said that after this woman managed to take the family homestead away from my sister Meggie and transfer all of dad’s assets over to her own name by making the poor man who was in late stage Alzheimer’s sign papers he didn’t know he was signing, she loaded him up with Procrit, induced a stroke and let him lay there without medical care for three days hoping he would die. When he did not pass away, she and her nursing helper forced liquid down his throat causing aspirational pneumonia. Unfortunately for her, a neighbor who came to visit saw dad and called 9-1-1 and got him to the hospital.

I flew down immediately upon hearing the news. Once at the hospital, I had a feeding tube inserted and the moment I left to fly back to Keene, she had it removed. Six days later dad was dead after being starved to death at home. Her emails during those 6 days never talked of removing the feeding tube, only that his cheeks were rosy and he looked comfortable. When she called to tell me of his death, I was absolutely shocked. He had been improving at the hospital only 6 days before.

Dad’s cremains were delivered to my front door via the Post Office in what looked like a dented up cookie tin. I bought him a Navy urn and we buried him next to his parents. And this woman who used him and his money, this world traveler as she called herself, never even came to his funeral. Imagine not going to your husband’s funeral.

It took me months to learn the truth, to obtain the nursing notes and come to a conclusion about his death. I am still heartbroken that I didn’t see the writing on the wall. I was the only child who could have seen through my visits to Florida every four months. Why didn’t I see?

There is a lesson to be learned here; prepare for your old age while you are still young enough to have complete control of your mind. Write down exactly how you want things to be; exactly. And watch out what you wish for. Dad wanted Thanksgiving dinner with a woman he hadn’t seen since his Navy days in 1943. In the end, it was he who got served up.

Way back, when I first met Matty and visited his 1780’s home, I told him it was haunted. Surely, not all old homes are haunted. But I got the feeling something was there besides us. I had one episode which made me a believer. But when months went by and nothing else happened, I kind of forgot about the whole philosophy and moved on. Till now.

Just before Matty’s departure, he and I both noted his closet door being left open on more than one occasion. At first, I blamed him but he assured me he double-checked and even pulled on the handle after it was shut. It locks in such a way that a metal lever drops down behind a metal post and the only way to open the door would be to physically lift up the latch. It’s 4 plus feet off the ground so the dog isn’t opening the door and the cats certainly aren’t opening the door, either. And yet, it’s been found wide open.

As of today, the closet door has been found open 5 times in the past 3 weeks. Also, the bathroom door upstairs has a latch system that only humans can operate and that was tampered with this week and seeing I’m the only human in the house, it wasn’t me.

So here is why I write, I went to bed at 4pm and double checked both doors. Both were closed and locked. During the night I heard what sounded like a latch and a door open, but I figured the cats were up to no good. I also heard what sounded like heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. I didn’t hear the pounding of footsteps, only the creaking they would make coming up the stairs. The kind of creaking a human causes, not a 10 pound cat. That’s when I put on the light. And what do I see in front of me? The closet door is wide open and just down the hall, the bathroom door is wide open. Then when I get downstairs, the baby gate which was locked to keep Angel the dog in the utility room, has been opened and Angel is wandering around in the den. By locked, I mean I put the top bar over the bottom bar and locked the gate in place then tugged on it. The top of the latch was now open and the gate had been pushed aside enough for Angel to get out.

I’m not going to go running off and try to find Ed and Lorraine Warren from Connecticut or some other ghost hunters, but I’m more and more convinced that something other than me and the pets are living here. Oh, and one other thing; when I went to rinse out the coffee pot, the hot water was there IMMEDIATELY. Anyone who lives in an old house can tell you that hot water doesn’t flow till the count of 10. And seeing I hadn’t run the hot water in 8 hours or so, this too, was out of the ordinary.

Whatever it may be, it doesn’t seem to want to harm me, it certainly doesn’t bug me other than with these door antics, but it sure would be interesting to know who’s hanging around.

On Thanksgiving day I was discussing the situation with my sister, Meggie, who talks to ghosts (and they answer back) and she told me to duct tape the closet shut. But I told her no, in the event I were to piss some spirit off by doing that and make the situation worse. Back when Meggie stayed at my home in Keene, she told me ghosts used to try to deceive her by using my voice and talking to her from upstairs even though she knew I was on the 3rd floor fast asleep. She told me they were threatening the cats, Iggy in particular. And no, nothing ever happened to Iggy. But she left the residence shortly thereafter and I moved.

So I’ll keep you posted on my current situation. But something is definitely strange in Drewsville.

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I spent a good deal of Thanksgiving dealing with furnace problems. It was cutting out so I’d go to the cellar and reset the circuit only to have it cut out again and again. By noon, it was getting pretty cold. I didn’t have anyone to entertain but myself, so it didn’t ruin dinner plans, but it did concern me that this was happening on a holiday. I didn’t want to pay time and a half for repair help.

So, I called the burner people and asked to be put on a list for first-thing Friday, then called Hamel to let him know I wouldn’t be in. I followed it up with an email and by 3pm, went to bed.

Hamel called back during the 6pm hour and woke me out of a deep sleep. So we talked about the furnace and then I went downstairs still half asleep to check on Angel the guest dog. Without looking where I was stepping, my right foot landed right in a big bomb.

Unfortunately, Matty chose this very moment to call. So, I answered the phone all upset. And while I was hopping around on my left foot trying not to get the junk on my right foot on the floor, I hopped into another bomb, this time with the other foot. Now, with no feet left on which to hop, the phone call quickly deteriorates.

Fast forward seven hours and here we are, one in the morning, and as per usual I’m doing chores and reading news and wide awake waiting for the furnace to crap out again. Angel is barking and Daphne is whimpering. The cats are confused and my checkbook needs balancing.

I’m glad Thanksgiving only comes but once a year. It’s comes complete with expectations to have a family-oriented pleasant day and when you don’t, you feel like a misfit. Add to that, when the furnace goes on the fritz, you feel absolutely cursed.

Today being Black Friday, I won’t do any shopping, but I will be thankful when the furnace is running right and Angel stops barking and Daphne stops whimpering. In the meantime, Hamel’s doing the show solo and I thank him for being a supportive, understanding guy.

Hope your holiday was a good one. If not, I promise you, today will be a better day.

So, here we are at the 20th Annual Feed-A-Friend. Wow. That’s a lot of food and a lot of money collected during the holidays times 20. But still, the need is greater than ever before.

I know there are hundreds of families in the Monadnock Region alone, asking for help this year. These are folks who always managed to make ends meet before. But now with food prices so high and the cost of home heat being what it is, the extra money just isn’t there.

I suspect people will be going without new warm winter coats this year or wearing something old, instead. I’m all in favor of wearing old stuff…as long as you want to wear it and don’t have to wear it. Big difference there.

Over the 13 years I’ve been part of Feed-A-Friend, there have been many times I spent Thanksgiving alone, without the turkey or the trimmings. One year I had canned soup in the house, that was it. So I know from whence I speak when I say I understand how people are feeling out there. It can be downright depressing, if not overwhelming.

Luckily for me, I was able to help raise money and generate food donations and that made my heart feel good. So going home to an empty house and a can of soup really didn’t hurt too much. I dare say it probably didn’t even phase me one iota. Mostly, I was and am thankful for having a roof over my head and my furry family to keep me company.

We all have things to be thankful for; even the poorest amongst us. To have good health is to have all the riches in the world. To have caring friends is like having a support staff. To have our parents is like having guardian angels on earth. To have our grandparents is an added blessing.

So whatever it is you have this November 27th, be thankful. There are hundreds if not thousands being helped by your holiday generosity whether it be through Feed-A-Friend or some other charity. But let us remember, there are 365 days in a hungry man’s year, not just one.

So far BeBe is the only brave cat soul who wants to make friends with the big, new dog in the house, Angel the Samoyed. BeBe has crappy eyesight, Angel’s is worse; maybe that’s the key. Everybody else (minus me) sees just fine. The rest are staying clear of Angel.

I continued with the Christmas decorating last night before work. Hopefully, by the time Matty gets home, it will look pretty festive.

I’m actually pushing myself to get with the holiday spirit seeing Thanksgiving will be another day without Matt at home. Big bummer, there. But we have last Thanksgiving to remember including all of our favorite Momma Kitty stories. She sure loved her bird. We sure loved her.

Banking and a dump run and the Drewsville General Store after work today, then home for more Christmas decorating in between wash loads. I’d like to say my life is exciting, but beyond litter box duty and poop patrol with my over sized furry guest, I make Hazel the maid look like the Queen of Sheba.

You’ll find many Christmas wishes here. KNE listeners are a diversified bunch so you never know what they’ll be asking for next. In any event, bear with us Santa. And, thank you in advance.

Jean would like world peace and an end to poverty and suffering. But if she can’t have that, how about a whole drawer full of new socks? Nice socks, Santa.

Something is horribly wrong with the new intersection on Route 123 in Walpole that heads to the new bridge. At first glance, it seems that there’s a lack of signage for people travelling down the hill from the dump toward the shopping plaza just off Upper Walpole Road.

As it stands right now, traffic coming from the plaza has a yield sign, and traffic coming up from the bridge has the right of way. Problem is, traffic coming down the hill on Route 123 has no yield sign onto Upper Walpole Road. So, both traffic from the bridge heading northeast on Route 123 and drivers heading southwest on Route 123 both think they have the right of way. Kaboom.

If there hasn’t been a slew of accidents since the new span opened up, just wait! I suggest someone figure out how to better handle this impending disaster. If you can explain the current logic to me, I would love to listen.

There was an accident Saturday afternoon about 12:50pm involving a Prius and from what I know about Prius owners, they’re smarter than the average bear. Apparently they didn’t understand the new traffic pattern, either.