Grand dog, Ryder, bears a strong resemblance to a lion. Here’s proof.
Whereas Milo is vaguely polar bear-ish.
We’re enjoying the wildlife in Dallas.
Peace, people!
A Lion in the Backyard
Tag: humor
My New Grand Dogs
These two fellas greeted us when we arrived in Dallas.
That’s Ryder in the foreground and Milo behind him. It’s difficult to tell just how large Milo is from this photo. But in the one below it’s fairly obvious.
Our son and daughter-in-law originally were going to foster Ryder, but about a week before they went to pick him up he ran away with Milo in tow. The two dogs went on a wild romp for over a month before they were picked up by animal control in a town about 100 miles from where they’d started.
Thank goodness they’d been microchipped and the animal control folks contacted the rescue group, and they in turn contacted Jason and Liz. And, the dogs had definitely bonded, so instead of just taking Ryder they adopted both dogs.
They are sweethearts and seem very happy in their new home. And they like me, so that’s in their favor.
Peace, people!
Still Life from the Passenger Seat
Studly Doright and I are traveling to Dallas to attend the graduation celebration of our eldest grandchild. As we crossed over one of the many bridges on our route, It occurred to me that I hadn’t posted anything today, so I created some art.
I give you Still Life from the Passenger Seat. I’m sure it’ll soon grace the halls of the Louvre.
Peace, people!
Self Doubt
People are buying my first romance novel, The Cowboy and the Executive, and I couldn’t be more delighted. So far, though, there have been no reviews. Yes, I know it’s still early. The book went live just last week, and it typically takes a few days for Amazon to post reviews. Still, I’m getting antsy.
To an author no review is almost worse than a bad one. We begin thinking readers hate it and are just too kind to say so, or they didn’t finish it or are currently using it as a coaster or as kindling. It’s torture.
Okay, back in the day I didn’t always leave a review even on books I really enjoyed. Is this karma? I promise I’ll do better!
Predictive Text and the Blogging Girl
The title of my first novel is long. So long, that at times I kick myself for using it. How many minutes of my life have I wasted typing out the entire thing? Why’d it have to be Mayhem at the Happy Valley Motor Inn and Resort? Why not Adventures with Paula? Or Goodbye Cal?
When typing on my phone, as I always do when writing blog posts, predictive text helps a lot. As I begin typing the title, the next words pop up on my screen—to a point. If I went totally with predictive text, the title would be Mayhem at the Happy Valley Page on the Page. Well, that doesn’t work.
Why doesn’t it go ahead and complete the title? After all, I’ve typed it hundreds of times in the past few years. This is a mystery that I feel no driving need to solve.
Predictive text can provide hours of silliness, too. On Facebook there are several “complete this phrase using predictive text” games.
Yes, I occasionally indulge in these activities. I’m not proud of it, but I’m hoping if I play my cards right my text will automatically type the entire title of my novel next time.
Peace and peace in east peace talks. Silly predictive text.
Failing the Clucking Test
Who hasn’t dreamed of being back in a classroom and finding oneself completely unprepared for a test? For years I had those kinds of dreams fairly often, but it had been a long time and I guess I thought I was finished with them. I guessed wrong.
Last night I dreamt that I was in a class for sports broadcasters and the final test consisted of doing the play-by-play for a major league baseball game. In the dream I watched my fellow students step up to the microphone, and with varying degrees of success, put their own special spin on the broadcast. I wasn’t worried even a little bit. Then it came my turn.
First. I lost the microphone. It was right there, and then, poof! Gone. I searched and searched, all while the instructor tapped his foot and looked pointedly at his watch. Finally I found it—under my shirt of all places. I plugged the mic in and began my broadcast, only now there weren’t baseball players on the field, there were chickens.
I looked helplessly at the instructor. He just said, “Banter and schtick!” Or maybe he said “banter and chick.”
So I launched into a weather report interspersed with a great many “ums” and “uhs.” The chickens were running about cackling and clucking as chickens do, and the instructor made a slashing motion across his throat. “Cut!”
I’d failed.
I curled up on the baseball field in the fetal position and cried.
Now, it doesn’t take a genius (thank goodness) to interpret this dream. Having just launched my second book—and my first attempt at a romance novel—I’d had a failure dream. One could say my field of dreams was a massive cluck-up.
The book’s doing okay, though. I’m anxious about first reviews, but hopeful, too. Mainly I hope the chickens don’t come home to roost again tonight.
Peace, and sweet dreams, people.
It’s a Bouncing Baby… Book!
There’s nothing quite like holding one’s newborn baby in one’s arms. But holding one’s book comes kind of close. And to be honest, the book won’t keep me up all night or need to be fed on a regular basis and poop its diaper multiple times a day. But a book can’t hug you or snuggle with you, so I guess there’s really no contest. But that pooping thing is almost a deal breaker…
Unfortunately I don’t get to keep this book. It’s earmarked for my editor. I just didn’t have time to put it in the mail today. My copy won’t arrive for a few weeks. So until I send this copy off to its new home I’m going to pinch its little cheeks and play peek-a-boo. Kootchy-kootchy-koo!
Peace, people.
The Spam Is Strong
I received the message shown above yesterday in my Facebook messages. So intriguing. Fourteen years smaller.
Here’s the dilemma—14 years ago I weighed more than I do now, but I had way fewer wrinkles. So, do I buy her elder-sister’s (sic) lotion or not? Decisions, decisions!
Peace. People!
Publishing Angst and the Lack Thereof
I’m a reader. From the time my mom taught five-year-old me to discern between the “snake” words venomous and nonvenomous I’ve had a lust for reading. Reading is power, and I wanted it. Bwahaha!
In the first few days of first grade I told my teacher I could already read—because I knew the snake words. In truth, those were the only two I had in my repertoire. I remember feeling humiliated when she asked me to read a book to the class. Neither of my words were in that book, so I just made up a story to go with each picture. My secret was out.
But Mrs. Stewart was a great teacher and soon I was reading as well as the kids who truly did already know how to read. I practiced my new skill constantly. If I didn’t have a book, I’d read cereal boxes and coffee cans, billboards and newspapers. Anything with words.
Nothing has changed in the intervening years. I still love words. Reading remains my favorite pastime. And I’m an equal opportunity reader. On my shelves there are classics and poetry, biographies and histories, romances and humor, sci-fi and fantasy. I read traditionally published authors and those, like me, who’ve self-published.
On one Facebook authors’ site I read posts from authors who look at self-publishing as something only losers do—and many of these folks would rather submit their manuscripts to publishers a hundred, nay, a thousand times and receive a thousand rejection letters than self-publish. I find that sad.
I honestly believe my first novel Mayhem at the Happy Valley Motor Inn and Resort had a decent chance of being traditionally published, but I’m 64 years old. The thought of dealing with submissions and rejection letters was depressing as hell. And I had a story to tell. Lots of stories to tell. And while my stories may never make the best seller’s list, they are worthwhile or fun or goofy or sobering. I have something to offer.
So, if you’re a writer wrestling with the thought of self-publishing weigh your options. Maybe you’re young and time is on your side. Maybe you’re older, like me, and just have an overwhelming need to see your stories in print. There are beautiful options these days, unlike the times when self-publishing cost an arm and a leg. To borrow a phrase from Nike—Just do it.
Peace, people.
The Cowboy and the Executive
Hot off the presses, my first romance novel, The Cowboy and the Executive, is now officially available in paperback form from Amazon and as an e-book on Kindle.
The Cowboy and the Executive: A West Texas Romance https://www.amazon.com/dp/B095BVSF3L/ref=cm_sw_r_cp_api_glt_SM2687C0004EDM6KPG00
D’Aun Gilman is determined to prove she’s worthy of her recent promotion. If she can close a deal to acquire Young and Sons Ranch in the Texas panhandle, her new position as Vice-President of Acquisitions for Cattle King Industries and the corner office that comes with the job will cement her place in the business world. The only thing holding her back is Barton Young, the handsome cowboy who will stop at nothing to obtain his family’s ranch for himself. Between balancing her emotions with her career, D’Aun soon finds her job in jeopardy. Worse yet, she fears her heart might be broken beyond repair. Will fate step in and allow D’Aun to keep her career and her heart’s desire?
This book was so much fun to write. I hope you’ll give it a look!
Peace, people!
Praying for Eyebrowz 