Are you ready for action, adventure, and ghosts who can't stand lemon and salt? The Landry Ghosties engage in a series of 4 adventures, introducing some of their better known ghosts. Stay tuned after checking out this book. In October, the first book in this series, Ghosties: Trouble to the Max, premiers.
Hello, Ghostie Central. Tripped through the other blogs earlier and couldn’t find anything like what’s going on with the Landry Ghosties. I so hope someone out there has an answer to our current manifestation because we have absolutely no idea how to handle it. First, though, a little history about my particular talent.
My name is Hailey Hatmaker. Don’t crack the usual jokes. I’ve heard every single one and they stink. I adore living in Landry, Georgia. It’s a really old town in the northwest part of the state. Most times, we feel like we’re more connected to Chattanooga than Atlanta, but that’s another story—and another ghost problem to solve in the far future.
You will note that I have erased any reference to my older, far stupider brother, Rick, in this blog post. He has yet again decided to give me grief about ghosts. I’ll get even with him some day.
When I was three, I really weirded Dad out. It (being my talent with ghosts) started on the day before Thanksgiving. Here I was, sitting at the kitchen table with a yucky peanut butter and grape jelly sandwich in front of me all the while smelling a pepperoni and mushroom pizza Mom ordered for her and Dad (and the aforementioned brother, Rick, who always got to eat the good stuff). She was running all over the place, stirring pots on the stove, checking recipes from a huge collection she kept in a wooden box, and shoving things around in the fridge. Now that pizza just kept calling my name, so I did what any respectable three-year-old would do. I climbed onto the table, snitched bits of the pepperoni, mushrooms, and cheese, and stuffed them into my mouth. I was trying to get back into my chair and the stupid sandwich fell onto the slate tile. Mom stepped on it. Maybe that was what her squeals about washing the floor meant.