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Going to the Chapel

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...and we're gonna get..... no life during the summer. :) (We are almost done with the Chapel, in fact, if all goes well, most of it goes up tonight. But I have not been documenting it here.  So I am going to retrospectively show you through the chapel build.) After a few years of planning, we finally decided to sell the abbey and build a chapel. The plan is that this will be easier to put together than the abbey has been.  The abbey took an entire weekend, a scissor lift and an army of people to set up.  This new chapel should go up in a few hours. This is the SketchUp plan. Front view from SketchUP Here is the real chapel that we modeled it after. Ardgowan Chapel in Scotland Yeah, we decided to phone it in this year :D
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Hello square one,

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we meet again. We are starting over. Completely. No, not the whole yard.....just the church (Westerman Abbey) - I say "just" the church like it is just a small prop in the yard. This is big. Very, very big. I know I am as stunned as all of you.....actually typing it out for the blog is a very scary thing to do.  It is more real now.  I told you all, so I have to do it. At the moment, we are still in the planning stages.  I think our next step is to build the scale model and see what supplies we are going to need.  Oh, you have your hand up, do you have a question? "Why I am getting rid of probably one of the largest props in any home haunt?" The answer is in the question. It is bit cumbersome to put up.  We had an accident taking it down one year and this year while taking it down the 14' pieces of lumber we damaged (just years of wear and being out in the rain) - the only safe way to put it back up is to rebuild the frame.....and if I have ...
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Happy National Donut Day from the Davis Graveyard

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Harold the Gravedigger squinted through the pre-dawn mist. A low, guttural groan echoed through the Davis Graveyard, sending a shiver down his spine. Not the usual mournful sighs of the restless dead, no. This was a sound more…sugary. More…sprinkled. Harold gripped his shovel tighter. The rumors had begun a week ago – whispers of a giant, sentient donut rolling through the cemetery at night, leaving a trail of sticky frosting and disembodied sprinkles in its wake. Tonight, he'd finally catch the culprit red-handed (or, should he say, red-glazed?). As the groan grew louder, a monstrous shape lumbered out of the fog. It was a donut, alright, but colossal. Its glazed surface shimmered under the moonlight, studded with malevolent chocolate chips and a single, menacing gumball eye. A chorus of disembodied moans rose from the disturbed graves as the donut flattened several headstones with an indifferent squish. Harold, adrenaline coursing through him, charged. "Hey, sprinkle-brained...
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