Day of the Dead

Or so I thought. I tried the talking to the ghost.

Problem: Where do you look?

I guess if they're around they'll just float into the right spot. It's the least they can do.

So here I am...talking to the ghost or lack thereof. Who knows. Could be either.

Fortunately, I have a dog and if someone happened to be looking in the window at least it wouldn't look like I was talking to well, nothing. Then, SHE walks to the other side of the room. She knew I wasn't talking to her. The complete lack of words like treat treat, ride, hungry and outside made that perfectly clear.

After a few minutes she stopped looking at me at all. She was giving me that odd sideways glance that you give the weird guy on the bus that smiles at you. (You wanna look. You know you do. But you're afraid that he'll start up a conversation with you the next time you make eye contact. Next thing you know you're dating the weird guy from the bus. Yes folks, I did (circa 1982) and it ended ugly with him crying at a Western Sizzler.)

You'd think since I was devoting my attention to it, it would materialize or something. Fling a book across the room. Blow a blustery gust of wind through the drapes. Slam the kitchen table against the floor a few times. Something.

Nada. Maybe I'm tryin' too hard.