Apparently February 19 is the official Love Your Pet Day. Who knew? Here at Doright Manor, every day is Love Your Pet Day. Our Gracie can attest to that.
“I’M not tired of playing. YOU’RE tired of playing.That “come hither” look. Our own children didn’t have as many toys as Gracie does.Helping Studly Doright is her favorite activity.
She’s been such a balm to our hearts after the death of our beloved Scout kitty. I was so afraid we’d adopted her too soon after losing Scout, but Gracie had filled a hole in our lives, and we love her so much.
Studly Doright bought me the prettiest roses for Valentine’s Day. We had a wonderfully laid back day. His golf game was cancelled due to rain, so we worked on his dirt bike most of the morning then snuggled and watched the gripping cop show, “The Wire” on Netflix all afternoon.
Nothing says true love like a dozen roses, grease under one’s fingernails, and gang wars in Baltimore.
I almost died yesterday. I don’t think I’m being hyperbolic either. Driving home to Doright Manor from Tallahassee I remembered that we were out of the Gardein “chicken” noodle soup I love so much. It’s vegan, but you’d never know it.
I’d just passed a grocery store, so I found a place to turn around and after assessing oncoming traffic, began my turn. A small hill hid an oncoming car, and as I applied the brakes, my foot slipped off the pedal. Somehow I managed to react just quickly enough to avoid being broadsided. The guy might’ve been speeding a little, but if I’d been hit it would’ve been my fault.
When I finally made it to the store’s parking lot I sat for a moment, shaking like a leaf. And the thing is, I’d had a wonderful driving day before this. I don’t know if anyone else can relate, but it was one of those days when my timing was impeccable—until it wasn’t, and my guardian angel had to intervene.
So here I am being granted another day. I hope I’m worthy.
The name of the little doohickeys that cover the valves on my tires. I had to pantomime yesterday while having my car serviced.
At least once a day, where I last put my phone.
How to knit. I once knew how, but now I don’t. Apparently knitting is nothing like riding a bicycle.
How to dance the Macarena.
The last time I had real cheese. This one made me cry. If only I’d known it was the last time, I’d have savored every single bite.
Similarly, I can scarcely remember what a Dr. Pepper tastes like. All I’m certain of is that it’s nothing like cheese.
How to diagram a sentence. I once was skilled at this task.
Names. Faces. It’s awkward when I have to ask my husband, Studly Doright, to wear a name tag.
How to play a saxophone. I was never a great musician, but I miss the camaraderie of band. I wonder if I could join an air band…
But I do remember most of the dialogue from Star Wars, A New Hope, and all the words to The Heart of Rock and Roll. I know John Cowsill’s birthday and Studly Doright’s social security number, as well as my own.
I remember the day I realized I couldn’t marry Elvis Presley. Not because of the immense age difference (I was five; he was in his twenties), but because my name would then be Leslie Presley.
I remember how it felt to hold my babies for the very first time. That new baby smell is still fresh in my mind. And I remember all five of my grandkids’ birthdays. Sometimes I don’t remember how old they are, but at least I get the date right.
Going to high school football games in late November when it was so cold I couldn’t feel my cheeks, but loving being squashed in between the grownups in my life, pretending my hot chocolate was coffee just like they were drinking.
I remember saying “I do” and meaning it, even though I didn’t really understand the commitment I was making at the time. Does anyone?
I remember my mom’s smile and my dad’s laugh, and honestly, what else matters?
My esteemed husband, aka Studly Doright, and I only discovered Netflix a couple of years ago. Yes, we were living in our own special version of the Stone Age, but now we have seen the light. Not only do we enjoy Netflix, but we’ve also dipped our toes into the Disney streaming service and Amazon Prime. We feel enlightened.
Here are some of our favorites and the ratings we’ve arbitrarily assigned them in no particular order:
Godless ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Hell on Wheels ⭐️⭐️⭐️
Schitt’s Creek ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
The Ranch ⭐️⭐️
Arrested Development ⭐️⭐️⭐️
The Mandalorian ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Shameless ⭐️⭐️⭐️
Ozark ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Peaky Blinders ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
The Witcher ⭐️⭐️⭐️
We tried watching The Good Place, but it felt too contrived.
Currently we’re enjoying The Wire. It’s really good, but I’m hesitant to rate it just yet.
Studly Doright scared the crap out of me on Sunday morning. I was busy working on edits for The Cowboy and the Executive while my husband was supposed to be playing golf. There I was, my head buried in the task of revising and rewording the first five chapters of the book when he came around the corner of my office and uttered the scariest of words— “Boo!” It’s a miracle I didn’t have a blooming heart attack.
His golf game was rained out after only nine holes of play, so I guess he had nothing better to do than frighten the love of his life. Of course, if the situation were reversed, I’d have done the same to him. We have equally warped senses of humor.
Once my heart rate settled down, I finished my work while Studly got down to the business of enjoying a nap from the comfort of his recliner. His gentle (ha!) snores soon filled the halls of Doright Manor. He’d flipped the television to one of the old movie channels and to my delight the 1947 movie, The Ghost and Mrs. Muir was just beginning.
Now, Rex Harrison knew how to scare a lady properly. Not a single “boo” was uttered. And oh my goodness, was there ever a prettier leading lady than Gene Tierney?
I spent part of the morning and a chunk of the afternoon watching this wonderful old film. Do any of my readers remember the television series based on the movie? It was one of my favorites, but nothing compares to the film. I wonder why someone hasn’t done a modern remake? I’d watch that.
Oh, I’d forgotten that Rex Harrison’s character is a literal ghost writer in the film, and Gene Tierney’s character is his scribe. They bicker over word choice and what to include or omit in the book —just as my editor and I do. The whole scenario was comforting. As I watched, I wondered if Studly could be my muse. Then he snored, not so gently, and I decided that was a big NO.
At 7:00 a.m. it’s still dark here at Doright Manor. There’s no reason for me to be awake. It’s not as if we have cows to milk or chickens to feed, and the cat’s sleeping off her breakfast and snoring beside me. Studly Doright left an hour ago so he could have breakfast at his favorite dive before his early tee time. I could do anything or nothing today, and I’m trying to decide which way to go.
Should I work on editing my romance novel, The Cowboy and the Executive? Maybe instead I should write a bit in the sequel to Mayhem at the Happy Valley Motor Inn and Resort. What if I ignored the computer today and checked out an estate sale on the posher side of Tallahassee? I could do laundry…No. Or housework…Hell No! Maybe I could stay in bed all day…Nope. The only times I’ve ever done that is when I’ve been sick, and thankfully I’m healthy. Decisions, decisions.
Oh, who am I kidding? We all know the estate sale is going to win. I’ll be careful—masked up and socially distanced—and home in time for a little romance with Studly. For research purposes, don’t you know. After all, I need to do something productive today.
Here I am sitting in my car in front of my chiropractor’s office on a Wednesday morning.
I’d smile wider, but I’m in a wee bit of pain. Here’s hoping Dr. Cal can make it better. Even if he doesn’t it’ll be nice to have a grownup other than Studly Doright to talk to for a change.
Finding the right name for a character can be almost as daunting as finding the right name for a new baby. Maybe more difficult. With both my children I had names picked out almost from the moment I learned I was expecting, and never had a change of heart the entire nine months of pregnancy. But I only had to come up with one first name and a middle name. The surname was a piece of cake. When writing a novel, one must come up with first and last names for multiple characters. That can be a challenge.
For Mayhem at the Happy Valley Motor Inn and Resort there were at least a dozen folks who needed names. My main character’s name, Paula Jean Arnett, came to me before I even began writing the book, but the others weren’t so easy, and most I changed multiple times before typing The End.
I’d given one male character what I thought was an innocuous name and then about halfway through writing the book I realized there was someone from my high school days with that name and I really didn’t like him at all. Thanks to “Find and Replace” my character soon had a much less offensive moniker.
The only problem with Find and Replace is that one must be certain that the name being replaced isn’t part of a larger word. I changed a character’s name from Carrie to Stacy in the romance I’m working on and then realized that any place I’d had something carried it was now being stacyd, as in Barton stacyd a six pack of beer to the car.
And why, one might ask, did I need to change a perfectly good name like Carrie? Because in Mayhem I’d named a major character Cassie and when working on the romance I kept calling Carrie “Cassie.“ Thanks to one of my beta readers (Ann) for catching that.
If you write fiction how do you come up with characters’ names? I tried using name generators, but the results never sounded right. There are so many possibilities out there, so why is it so difficult?
Praying for Eyebrowz 