Free of fleas & ticks!

     Apparently, to get attention, or gather readers to one's blog, one has to truly be interesting. Or, maybe even behave in a less than decorous manner. I know it certainly worked for Snooki and Amanda Bynes. After all, everyone loves a hot mess.

     But, I don't buy into that, completely. Someone once told me, "You are what you follow online." If that's true, then I'm an intransigent, and yet sometimes flexible, Twi-hard. ;)

     I'm devouring the fourth book in the 'Archie/Gretchen' series by Chelsea Cain. SPOILER ALERT: I just passed the part where 'Herald' journalist Susan Ward was talking to the skull at the morgue. ("I wrote about you.") That was right up my morbid-humor alley! Loved it! I love local writers, using local locale in their stories!

     I vaguely mentioned my hot-under-the-collar attitude on my Facebook newsfeed yesterday. I was a little pissed off at the one woman no child can ever feel truly justified being pissed off at. MOM. Or, as I call her, Mah. I only ever really get angry with her when she interferes with my cooking. I'm not a bad cook, really. And I KNOW she knows I can make a delish lemon cake.

     But every once in a while, she'll turn into Marie Barone. (Any 'ELR' fan will know of what I speak.) And for a Gemini, that doesn't fly; we go from funny-n-friendly, to angry-n-blistering in seconds flat when our tasks are interfered with.

     But Mothers & Daughters...we have our own understandings of one another, don't we? Even the Father & Son relationship could never unravel that mystery the female-sex possesses. ;) 

     Anywoo, it's been 24 hours since Mah and I had our mild cat-fight, and we're fine. Actually, it was fine long before we sat down to coffee and the newspaper. She alerted me to the fact that 'Robsten' are back together---in time for the series of junkets they'll need to do for BD Pt. 2. But I coulda told her that the morning Perez Hilton reported it. Sigh, the drama of Hollywood.


     Mah's friend, 'D' called the other day. Mah house-sits, and dog-sits D's adopted-and-retired service-dogs for her on occasion. And a single call gave me some more material for my writing.

     Apparently, the day after 'D' had bathed the dogs, she used the same shower. After she finished, it suddenly occurred to her that she had just used dog shampoo to wash her hair.

     Truth really is stranger than fiction, and it can make for interesting writing. ; )

Pepperjack & Pinot

     Once again, it's dry cereal to the rescue, with my luke-warm coffee, and job-searching. Job-searching sucks when you're unemployed. It's like you wanna scream to any potential employer, "Hey, see me?! I can do this, I can do this, I can do this...is any of this helpful to you??? Anything?"
  
     Sigh! Now my Da has some idea for his own semi-start-up, and is trying to figure out a way to employ me. I've played house-sitter/secretary for he and Mah, when they've been outta town. Where we don't do well with road-trips together, we seem to do well when working with one another. Most of the time, anywoo.



     I think cats are probably the only 'Peeping Toms' on Earth that we allow to peer in on us from outdoors. We know they don’t care about what they’re looking in on. 

     I was writing at my desk this morning, and I turned to see a black-and-white cat had appeared at my window. He sat down on my deck at first, then snuggled down on his haunches just to observe me for a while. I looked at him, and he looked in at me. So I turned feline myself, ignoring him in favor of my writing, but seeing him in the corner of my eye as he sunned himself.

     If some owner had secretly attached a collar-cam that I failed to notice, he likely would’ve assessed my square cocoon as mildly disoriented; recently used Union Jack suitcases sitting before my bureau, an unmade bed, a Native-American throw rug in dire need of Hoovering, a garage-sale ‘steal’ of an easy-chair, (the man selling it said his “Crazy Ex” took the back-cushion and left the rest) a Mardi Gras-colored golf umbrella waiting for our next rainy Oregon day, a skull-n-crossbones backpack that I’ve used for my last three years of college, and a bookshelf overflowing with the tomes I will never give away. 

     I can envisage what ‘creepy-cat-camera-peeper’ would think of my collection of coffee-packages, and Felix The Cat salt-n-pepper shakers keeping company with my array of Anne Rices, Stephenie Meyers, J.K. Rowlings, Joan Didions, and Diana Gabaldons. Likely that I’m the ‘Women’s-Lit-Chick’. 

     I do have some Dominick Dunne, some Sherman Alexie, a John Berendt, some April Henry, Flannery O’Connor, Fannie Flagg, Kathy Reichs…okay, so maybe I have more chick-lit than anything else. I like Stephen King, but not all the time. I like Tom Clancy, too, but not all the time either. I even like Uncle Robert ‘Rabbie’ Burns. Just…not…well, you get the point. Sigh!


      Well, whatta ya want? I’m a chick. I’m a writer. I’m a Gemini. And I’m in Oregon. It rains a lot. And snuggling into a garage-sale easy-chair with a cup of coffee and a book is a Pac-NWer’s favorite pastime. Nine-sometimes-ten months outta the year.

      Anywoo, the coffee’s consumed, and it’s after noon. Time to break into that bottle of Le Bicyclette my SIL gave me awhile back. Couple that with some cheese cubes and peach slices, and I’m set for more writing.


     The cat’s still sun-napping, and we’re still ‘ignoring’ one another.

"Come play with us, Danny. Forever, and ever..."

Pandora’s Box Love Kit

   I’m truly ashamed of the three big ol’ donkeys that were so sure they were ready to cart themselves in a minivan for nearly three-quarters of a day. The road-trip took a turn for the different-and-unexpected, when Mah got behind the wheel.  I don’t remember a time where I’ve ever been worried about her driving. But I’m still stunned that we made it to Idaho. I also suspect that she’ll be getting a traffic ticket in the mail soon. (Those flashy-photo-mechanisms at intersections don’t lie) I’d sooner forget the rest of the drama that followed for the rest of the trip, thank you verra much! (Going, and returning)

   The most bizarre highway occurrence was seeing another car turned up and over onto its roof. The windshield was cracked, but the roof wasn’t smashed in or flattened, so I hope the passengers escaped somewhat unscathed. When we passed by it, traffic was already being directed around cop cars and fire trucks, and an ambulance was taking off, screeching it’s siren in the hot-n-dusty eastern Oregon air.

   The most write-worthy part of the road-trip was stopping at a ‘Not Quite Mom-n-Pop’ gas station for fuel—the petrol, and caffeinated variety. Who knew they still had condom vending-machines in the ladies (poor-excuse-for-an-actual) bathroom.

   By the time I slipped my card-key into Meridian’s finest Motel 6, I needed decompressing, and did NOT want to leave the air-conditioned space for anything. So I missed—but was not completely missed at—my niece’s b-day party. There were over 20 other relatives or friends attending, and rug-rats as near as the auditory nerves could stand. Also, I’m Baptist, and I was going to be there for the next three-ish days, so I failed to feel any guilt. (My bloated, crampy, bitchy presence wasn’t needed anyhow)

   On the upside of the trip, I finished the Chelsea Cain, and started feasting on another novel I’ve “been meaning to get to,” as I say about all books that I truly am “meaning to get to”. Kathryn Stockett’s 'The Help' is a great read, y’all. I highly recommend it. And please, don’t sneer at the ‘chick-lit’ genre it’s been given. Yes, it’s about relationships women have. But, men, you have no idea just how insidiously evil powerful women can be towards other women, when they want their way. I guarantee you won’t regret allowing yourselves to read this ‘chick-book’.

   So, now I need to consult my stack of unread books, and see what I’ll dine on next, while also proofing, editing, and revising my own manuscript. I’m not allowing myself to call it the ‘B’ word until I feel I’m really done, and present it to an agent one day. But even if I’m told to revise some of it, I’ll still feel good about it, I believe. I hope, anyway.

   The job search is back on. I’ve consulted Job Connections at Goodwill, trawled Craigslist, and have sent out several more query letter-emails and résumés. So I hope something promising comes along. At this rate, I’d accept a mind-numbing, paper-stapling job, just to earn a salary once again. Sigh! 
   But after listening to Bill Clinton’s speech last night, I know I can’t give up. I have to hope that my three years of (ungraduated) college education will benefit me somehow. One of my dream jobs would be to work in a bookstore. (Ooh, that would be fantastic!)

     In the meantime, some of my lame-o poetry. (Feel free to pretend you’re at a coffeehouse and snap your fingers, or applaud lightly. No hecklers, please)

Coffee

Trente, venti, grande, or tall,

Sometimes an espresso is too bloody small.

Frappuccinos, cappuccinos, macchiatos, oh my

I long for the caffeine to give me that high.

Wrapping my hands around that hot, steaming mug,

Is the equivalent to receiving a motherly hug.

My coffee never fails me, and it gets me through the morn,

It makes me glad for the day I was born.

Decaf simply won't do it for me.

I'd sooner accept a strychnine I.V.

Closeted 'Fifty Shades' Gemini

     I won't be at a computer again til Tuesday, (see what I did there?) so maybe I can devour another book by the time I get back from Nampa. (I'm almost fini with the Chelsea Cain, and I need to run out and get the fourth in her 'Archie/Gretchen' series!)

     I couldn't sleep much, so I chose to see what humor I might possess at 3:05a., with my skulls-n-crossbones coffee mug steaming beside me.

     On the manuscript, I've recently added scenes that should've been there a long time ago. You know the saying: "Sex sells." So that's what I added. Not 'Fifty Shades Of Grey' sex, but still just as lengthy. (Y'all are awake now, ain'tcha??)

     Did I mention I'm a Gemini? I won't speak for all Geminis, but some of us get distracted easily. I won't attribute it A.D.D., (or A.D.H.D, or whatever) even though I'd been diagnosed with it at five y/o. Yah, I was on Ritalin, too, just like everyone else...see what I mean about distracted?? I'm guessing a Gemini's blog is generally going to be 'stream-of-consciousness' writing.

    Anywoo, one of my hopes, one day, is that a literary agent or editor won't tell me to lose half my manuscript's characters. I don't have a lot. (Like Diana Gabaldon 'Outlander' series a lot) And all my characters serve their purpose. I know a writer is supposed to introduce each new character in a way that doesna overwhelm the reader. I've read some books where the author threw too many at me at once, and I'd get lost in who was who. 


    The fun part of writing can be from using one's own personal experiences. The saying: "Truth is stranger than fiction" can make for interesting 'memories' for my fictional characters. I know one day my lil' bros. will read what I've written, and think: "Oh my gawd! I remember when that happened!" It'll all be put in a fictional tale, (as I don't really favor my own non-fic memoir writing; you get too many things wrong, and also, some memories are best left buried) but some of the actions or scenes will be recognized, and laughed over. :)

     Okie-day, I've had a look at the time--the road-trip will be starting soon, and I need to go. I won't be posting until next week, so I pray that I'll still manage to keep your interest.

     Ooh! I just remembered one of the key-factors in writing: CONFLICT!! I guarantee there'll be plenty of it for me, the next several days. Be sure to watch the national news during that time. First person to see my mugshot on the screen, in a story about murder, gets a bottle of Jack Daniels from me!!