Attending arguments--or keeping silent

I saw something on Facebook today that said, "You don't have to attend every argument you're invited to." Good advice, and yet I find myself increasingly drawn into arguments on Facebook. It's no secret my political sympathies are definitely left so it's no surprise that I am outraged by some of the posts from the conservative side and I want to share some from the liberal side. I try to be judicious about the posts I share--checking the sources, etc. I'm willing to be contradicted, but by hard facts not opinions.
Not surprisingly, I irritate a lot of people who hold different views. Some are polite, a few verge on being rude and unpleasant. I try to maintain calm, avoid shrillness, and restrain some thoughts that come to mind.
But I decided that if you firmly believe in a way of life, a philosophy if you will, it's your responsibility to speak up. I believe the fall elections are critical. This country cannot survive another stalemate in Washington and another obstructionist conservative Congress, nor am I one bit happy about the Republican control of the state I call home. We may have great jobs numbers, but we rank poorly in health care for the underinsured (the ACA would help), education, and other vital human services areas. We're great on outlawing abortion but we don't provide for those babies when they're born. And our record on women's rights is not good. I see so many reasons that the Democratic candidates are more to my taste--more compassionate, more concerned about the welfare of all people, willing to work to level the wealth, health, and education inequalities in this country.
I would willingly work for Democratic candidates (no, I don't like them all and, yes, I realize there are dishonest, selfish people are both sides of the aisle) but I can't physically walk the block, and my one attempt at being part of a phone bank (for Bill White's gubernatorial campaign) was a disaster at least to me. I give what I can but like all of us, I am besieged by everybody from the local party up to the top national office. I cannot honor every request--plus the three universities that want to claim my loyalty.
So being forthright on Facebook is my way of fighting for what I believe. On the other hand that means I'm not only attending every argument, I'm starting some. I was raised, like all female children of the fifties, not to argue, but I don't think it's right not to stand up for what you believe, to listen quietly without objection to distortion and lies.
I have a good friend who is an activist on Facebook for many causes, from liberal politics to LGBT to issues to women's issues, but she also posts about her grandchildren, her animals, her fabulous garden. "I want people to know that I'm a regular person, not just an activist," she explained to me once. Words I've never forgotten.
It may be extreme to say in this day when President Obama has been compared to Hitler, but I see parallels to pre-WWII Germany. The German people didn't speak up as Nazism took over their country. I can't let ultra-right, conservative (sometimes Tea Party) thinking quietly take over my America. Sure, I'm probably on some lists, and I laughed when Vice President Cheney thanked me for supporting him and invited me to a big Washington dinner. Wrong list, Dick.
If you don't want to read my posts or you want to defriend or hide me, I understand. I hope you understand that I feel strongly about free speech, and sometimes I hope what they say about advertising is true--repetition works. And I'll keep posting about Jacob, Sophie, mysteries and all the various aspects of my life and opinions. I hope there's a lot more to me than strongly held political opinions.

First draft blues--or is it relief?

With the first Blue Plate Mystery, Murder at the Blue Plate Cafe, just uploaded as a digital book to various platforms, I just yesterday finished the first draft of the second in that series. So far I'm calling it Murder at Tremont House, but that's tentative. (Kelly O'Connell fans, don't worry: A Kelly O'Connell Mystery, titled Danger Comes Home, will come between the two in the new series, next July.)
Meantime I'm trying to analyze how I feel about finishing that draft, after many nights of lying awake with plot threads going through my mind. Most writers feel great joy but I didn't. I think the biggest feeling I had was relief, as if a weight was off my shoulders. I knew how it would work out--and it did. I think it's okay but such a decision is far down the road. I also feel a bit blue, like I'm saying goodbye to characters I've lived with for a long time. Of course, that's silly--I'll be going back to them a whole lot in the months to come. But it's a funny feeling, almost like I should start the third book in the series right away--which is of course the last thing I want to do.
Next step is to send it to my favorite beta reader. His critiques are thorough, to the point, and offered without mercy. He always finds the good, and then digs in and tells me what bothers him in a work. He's priceless. But he's out of town, so I can't whisk it right off to him.
Besides, I have one final scene in the epilogue to write--no, please don't get me involved in a discussion of whether there should be epilogues or not. I like to end the book on a fairly dramatic note and then tie up the loose ends. And I've done all but one "loose end"--it maybe the hardest scene to write because it will irrevocably change the direction of the next Blue Plate Mystery. At any rate, I find myself dragging my heels about the scene. Tonight, I've promised myself.
I read a Facebook post tonight by a writer who had cut her first draft from 115,000 words to 107,000 but still had scenes to write. She said she doesn't know how anyone writes a 65,000-word novel. I do. This one, in draft, will probably come out about 62,000 words. I long ago faced the fact that I write short. When others moan that 450 words isn't enough for a book review, I sometimes wonder whatever I can say to take up 450 words. Maybe it's a blessing. I've know writers who, when asked for four pages submit twenty and act wounded when you request cuts.
Meantime, the age-old question: what am I going to do with myself while waiting for the critique? Maybe go back to the book of blog posts that an editor suggested. It's my fall-back project, and I can't be without a project.
A TCU English major was assigned the duty of interviewing an author and her teacher suggested me. She came by tonight--a delightful young woman--and one of her questions was, "Why do you write?" My answer? "Because I can't not write."

My post-election thoughts

I have a Facebook friend whose political philosophy differs from mine. We've acknowledged that and are still friends, mostly because we both write mysteries and are members of Sisters in Crime. After Obama was called as the winner last night, she posted something to the effect that this is the end of America as we have known it. I think she's absolutely right.
Where we differe is that I think it's also absolutely appropriate. The 21st Century has brought us new times, a rapidly changing world with global interdependency, technology and rapid communication, climate change and its resultant extreme weather. New problems for a new era, and government like everything else has to adapt and change. The old ways won't work...we cannot for instance go on thinking Russia is our biggest enemy. Climate change requires a different way of legislating energy, a different mindset.
Conservatives, by definition of the term, resist change, yet change is what is needed in today's world. In my humble view, the re-election of President Obama represents that change. The transition may continue to be rough, folks, but we'll get there. I sincerely believe in the Obama campaign slogan, "Forward."
A few conservative friends posted gloom and doom messages today but most said although this was not their choice they wanted to work with the President to move forward. I hope others can be reassured and adopt that attitude. As for the few bitter postings and the unnecessary crowing by some liberals, I choose to overlook that.
Friends, we are all Americans and we are all in this together. Let's work to let our legislators know that we want negotiation, compromise, and action. We're tired of a stalled, do-nothing Congress. And above all, be hopeful. I am.

Early Halloween on a lazy evening

I sent Michael Jackson (note the silver glove on his hand on his right hip) off to an early Halloween party tonight, and it got me to thinking about Halloween and how it's become such a big deal, so different from when I was a kid. Just the fact that there's a celebration six days ahead of time tells me something. In my day, it was strictly a one-day affair. And I wonder about the elaborate outdoor decorations some people put up. I do like that many families have parties so that bunches of children go trick-or-treating together.
Halloween morning, though, will find me on the front porch, watching all the children walk to school so I can see their costumes. And I haven't been invited yet but that evening will probably find me on my neighbor's front porch where they give out plentiful treats. The young children who come by with their parents are so cute and almost invariably polite--and if they forget the "Thank you," Mom or Dad is there to prod them. I like  that. My own house will be dark. I don't like being home alone for trick or treat, and I certainly don't find it any fun. Makes me feel like a curmudgeon however.
Lazy evening tonight--I've spent a lot of time on Facebook and Pinterest (I almost never go  to the latter--it can suck up time at an amazing rate), thumbed through a J.Jill catalog, did a load of laundry, and am now considering whether I'll turn to the novel--I have a couple of ideas I want to work in--or to the book I should have reviewed two weeks ago. I found a way to urge myself to read that one and write the review--loaded my iPad with two books I am really enthusiastic about reading. I think that's called tricking yourself.
My homemade buttermilk is through its 48 hours of sitting out and  is really buttermilk. I'm pretty excited about that--makes me feel like a pioneer or something. And it's so much better than the commercial product.
Enough.

The Art of Piddling

Have you perfected it? The art of being content doing absolutely nothing. I haven't though I'm getting better. When I used to be a study in constant motion, I had a friend who could happily watch paint dry. It drove me crazy. I put off retirement for six or seven years because I was terrified of waking up in the morning and wondering what I'd do all day.
Well, it turned out I retired to a whole new career as a fiction novelist, and much of the time that keeps me frantically busy. But I've noticed lately that I piddle more. I'm not so compulsive about doing something constructive every minute.
This morning was a perfect example. I was up at seven, but I knew I had all day to stay home and work (except for the time I worked with Jacob on his homework), so I dawdled, even though lmy goal was to write 2,500 words today. First it was emails--38 of them first thing in the morning, plus junk e-mail, which I clean out every morning. Then Facebook, which was equally busy--everyone commenting on last night's debate and,  yes,  I got my two cents in. Then some of the emails involved business that I needed to tend to, respond to and the like. And then there was the newspaper to read, although that doesn't take long thes days because the newspaper has shrunk to a shadow of  its former self--a fact that I much regret. The breakfast dishes and making the bed takes five minutes tops. Still no worry. I had plenty of time to write.
But I had to do my yoga--there goes thirty minutes. I try not to rush through my routine because I think that defeats the purpose, but I was beginning to worry about those 2,500 words, beginning to feel my compulsive behavior creep back in.
At ten o'clock I let the dog in and settled down to write. By lunchtime or shortly thereafter I was only 350 words shy of my goal--easy peasy. So this afternoon I piddled again--Jacob and I worked a jigsaw puzzle. Tonight I'll do those 350 words, then check some recipe magazines and read the novel I started.
Goal setting really is counter-productive to piddling, and I feel sort of torn between the two. But it will be nice to piddle a bit tonight. One thing I can't do: watch TV without doing something else. It makes me antsy. I guess my compulsive side is still winning. I wonder if age helps....

Facebook makes me angry and ashamed today

One of my morning habits is to read Facebook and catch up on friends, gossip, inuendo, and occasionally, some solid opinions. This morning two things disturbed me. The first was the obvious international interest in exposing (literally!) the British Royal family. I'm not condoning Prince Harry's wild escapade in Vegas, and I don't want to know if my sons were guilty of such in their salad days. And, yes, he is a Royal, so he should be held to a higher standard--sorry, Harry, but that's the way the world goes. Privilege hath its drawbacks. But did we have to see those pictures plastered all over? And what kind of journalism is it to print them? Granted You-Tube isn't journalism--it's too often just prurient. I think the Royal Family did a good job of holding their heads high and trying their best to ignore it.
Then came pictures of Kate, Duchess of Cambridge, topless. Okay, topless is pretty benign these days, but cheers to the French for banning reproduction of the photos and a big raspberry to the Irish press that printed them. And three cheers for Kate who went on with the world tour and showed great grace. Now comes bottomless pictures of the Duchess, and all  I can wonder is how low we've sunk. Generational difference: just as I don't want to know if my sons pranked about like Harry, I doubt I would ever change bottoms outside a bedroom or bathroom, even if I thought I was on quite private land. And especially if I were a highly public figure. But Kate thought she had privacy, and the papparazzi invaded that.
My strong view: let's leave the Royals alone and show them respect. I'm not a fan of the principle of monarchy, but I love the British Royals and all they represent, and I don't think I'm alone.
And then, believe it or not, I think Ann Romney deserves a little respect. To me, she comes off as whiney, privileged, and self-centered every time she opens her mouth, and her husband would do well to say, "Stifle!" to her. But now she's said she'd be concerned about her husband's mental health, and liberal folks are all over making mockery of that. Hey, it's a legitimate concern for someone about the person they love. The liberal reaction is like looking for the tiniest mistake. Yes, laugh at her when she says, "This is hard"--sorry you had to eat tuna fish and live in a basment apartment, Ann, but I slept in a converted chicken coop and ate tuna fish and loved it. I don't think it's fair, though, to look for fault with every single word the woman utters. She's concerned about her man. So was Hillary. Leave it alone.
I think we go too far a lot of the time.

Scooby stories and Sophie's adjustment

I have been overwhelmed with the sympathy and concern from Facebook friends--and others--on my loss of Scooby. As I've answered a few individual emails, Scooby stories have come flooding back into my mind. My friend Jeannie said  she was sure he was running through fields, chasing rabbits. I had to remind her he was the squirrel-chasing pro. He'd lie in the driveway, but when he saw us drive up, he'd run off after a squirrel, real or imaginary, as if to say, "Look, Ma, I'm doing my job." The time he got out just as kids were arriving for school across the street--I was terrified he'd dart out in the street with all those crazy-driving moms or scare some small child. When I discovered him and called he pranced up to the front door with the air of "Did you want me, Mom?" Scooby had a good berth, and he knew it--he'd had some bad ones before in his life. Another time I saw him across the street, sniffing the garbage. Instinctively I called to him--wrong thing to do. He came bounding toward me. Thank heaven, the car that was going by was going slow and had good brakes. Once a friend was determined to show me he'd sit on the front porch enjoying the companionship, without a leash. She didn't know Scooby like I did--when an innocent neighbor, walking a dog, came along across the street, he was gone in a leap and a bound. When I first got him, I hired a dog trainer. I asked when Scoob would calm down and, because of the Aussie breed, the trainer said, "Oh, when he's about ten." He was spot on.
Since Sophie will be an only dog, at least for a while, I'm praticing making her more house friendly. She's spent a lot of her life in the yard with Scooby, but now the yard is boring for her. Let her have the run of the house last night, and she chewed a pine cone from a basket by the fireplace, then discovered the good authentic Indian basket that holds her overflow oys and tipped it over to get at them. I'm just grateful she didn't chew the basket This morning I took her into the bathroom while I showered--she proved a hindrance. Wanted to lick the water off me while I dried, then lick off the lotion. And later I gave her the cardboard cylinder from an empty roll of paper towels. She carried it around proudly until she began to destroy it--then she was furtive, as though she'd found a forbidden fruit. Colin says she's still a puppy--but she's 15 months old. Do I really have to wait until she's two?
Colin is much against my getting a new dog, argues that Sophie would enjoy being an only dog (did he always wish to be an only child?), and I should socialize her. I'm trying, I'm trying, and it's true--she does crave human companionship.
Difficult days of adjustment ahead, but I do appreciate all the love and support for me and for both dogs. And let me add that Scooby had the kindest, best care ever from Dr.John Minnerly and the staff at university Animal Hospital. They went overboard in caring for both Scooby and me. My gratitude toward them know no bounds.

Religion and Politics: My Take

Religion and politics are the two topics that are verboten on the internet. I have guest-posted at several blogs where the instructions were, "Write about anything you want except religion and politics."
I don't blog or post on Facebook about religion, though I'm glad to share my faith if asked. I feel no need to defend it, because it's not threatened. If your beliefs are polar opposite mine, you worship your way, and I'll worship mine. I know that is not true in all countries; it's one of the blessings of America.
But politics is another matter. What happens on the national political front directly affects me and impacts the future of my children and grandchildren. Friends and family have chided me for being too outspoken on Facebook--if you follow my posts, you know that I lean to the left, far left some say. I prefer to call it humanitarianism. A colleague wrote that he tries to tone down his political posts but sometimes he's too outraged. I'm outraged a lot about everything from Mitt Romney's off-shore accounts to Rick Perry's rejection of Federal aid in the state that ranks lowest in health care delivery, about Mitch McConnell's avowed goal of defeating President Obama no matter the cost to the country, about the so-called war on women, about the fact that too many Americans are suffering physicially, financially, and emotionally.
I try to be responsible about what I post, to authenticate the source. There are some posts I won't share because I think they're propoganda, although some of those pieces are so bitingly funny I occasionally lapse. And I try to be judicious and not flood followers with political posts--I can flood them with dog pictures. But I'm also aware of the dangers of an apathetic body of voters. I'm reading novels set in England in 1939 right now, and I'm reminded that many Germans kept quiet while Nazism took over their country, kept quiet during the Holacaust. In England, Winston Churchill and his sense of the inevitability of war were unpopular--people wanted to believe Neville Chamberlain's appeasement policy would work. It didn't. So I would urge people to speak out.
My faith dictates my politics. Because of my faith, I'm opposed to capital punishment; I believe health care should be available to everyone; I think all people deserve equal opportunity in this country. I take to heart the words, "You are your brother's keeper." I can't believe the Lord meant us to value wealth over human kindness, so I'm outraged a lot.
If my post has outraged you, hurray! I've made you think. My colleague mentioned above is a teacher, and he says his goal is to make students think, not necessarily as he does (he leans left too) but to think criticially.
Friends have told me I will change no one's mind on Facebook, but you know what? I don't believe that. I post a lot of pictures of healthy dogs about to be euthanized just because an animal shelter has run out of room. I know of one dog  for sure who found a happy home because of my sharing his picture. I think it can happen in politics too. At least maybe I can make someone think.

Dogs--training them, loving them

Sophie demonstrating that she has learned "stay"

I"m not sure if I wasn't consistent enough or if Sophie, at almost thirteen months, has calmed down enough to learn some commands. Early on she was good about "sit" and "down" (as in lie down--not don't jump, which she hasn't quite mastered yet) and then she learned, to my surprise, "drop it" and "leave it." She got so that she would ignore Scooby's food if he hadn't eaten it. And she knows to wait at the open front door until I tell her it's okay to go out. She does that with a leash, and the last time I tried it with Jordan and Jacob on the porch, she completely lost it. Who knows what she'd do if no one was there and she wanted to bolt. Still we're moving in the right direction.

But now I'm delighted that she has learned (and accepted) "stay" and "come"--of course, so far she's only done that in a training situation. And when she obeys "come" I bribe her with a tiny bit of processed cheese--the kind I won't eat (hmmm, maybe I shouldn't feed it to my dog either!).

Being half poodle and half border collie, she's smart as a whip. Obedience is less a question of knowing what I want from her than of her decision about whether or not she wants to do it. But as she settles down, she's more inclined to do what I want. A friend posted on Facebook the other day about wanting a Velcro dog and I guess that's what I always want--a dog who will stick by my side, no matter what, lie contentedly at my feet, etc. In view of that, I have a poor record in choosing breeds--an Aussie who was wild until (but devoted) until he was ten and now this Bordoodle. Both as sweet and loving as they can be but independent, lively, with minds of their own.

Someone asked me the other day how much longer I plan to stay in my house, and I replied I never even think about that. I can't imagine life without dogs, and my current dogs would never survive in an apartment retirement home, even if it allowed dogs. (The other reasons I won't go there are for another blog.) They like the outdoors, and I like being able to open the door and let them run into the yard--okay, Scooby now sort of hesitates but he goes. There have been very few periods in my life when I didn't have a dog or two or three. Yes, they're work, and sometimes a pain, but they are so worth it and they return threefold the love you give them.

I frequently repost on Facebook dogs that are up for adoption, some in immediate danger of euthanasia, and it makes me wish I could take every one of them. Some people are cat people; I'm a dog person.

Dogs on my mind

Sophie, my Bordoodle pup now almost a year old, has been a morning brat lately. She greets the day, full of energy, with lots of barking, and unfortunately she has the small-dog yippy bark. Mostly she barks at Scooby, to get him to play with her--and he barks back, the hoarse bark of an aging dog. But squirrels, a car in the driveway, the neighbors' dogs--anything can excite her. I'm grateful for tolerant neighbors. By mid-morning, she's calmed down, and we don't hear much out of her the rest of the day. Sometimes I want to say to her, "Look how lucky you are to have a good, loving home. Why can't  you act like you appreciate it?"
Those of you who know me know I'm a dog person. Oh, I had cats for the kids when they were growing up. Jamie in particular was a cat lover--he claims their last cat has cured him of that. But almost twenty years ago he brought home a gray kitten, part Maine Coon, one of the world's loveliest and sweetest cats. When Jamie left home, I insisted on keeping Wywy (don't ask), but we lost him to old age last fall.
Still its dogs that capture my heart.There's a difference between liking dogs and being a dog person, though the former don't always underestand that. I'll tread lightly here, so as not to step on toes, for I've had this discussion with one of my sons-in-law who indignantly protests that he likes dogs. A true dog person can't imagine living without a dog, regardless that, if well cared for, they're expensive and take a lot of time--probably more time than I give mine. I've had dogs, big dogs, all my life, except for a spell when I had Cairn terriers. I'm finding again with Sophie what I found with the Cairns--little dogs are stubborn. I'm sorry in some ways I let my brother convince me I don't need a big dog at my age. I admit, however, I don't walk either of mine for fear of being pulled down--Sophie has too much wild enthusiasm for the outside world, and Scooby never got over his instinct to herd buses, strollers, trucks, whatever moves. Both my sons are dog people; my daughters not so much, though Jordan and Sophie are crazy about each other. If I get hit by a truck tomorrow, Jordan will take her.
Don't get me wrong about Sophie: I love her. She is like the little girl with the curl--and when she's good and sweet, she's irresistible. And she's reliably housebroken--something I haven't always accomplished with dogs. She's probably got another year of growing up to do.
If you follow me on Facebook you may have noticed that I repost a lot of pictures of abandoned, endangered dogs, some on the EU list at varioius shelters. Breaks my heart, and I want to go rescue each of them--but I have my hands more than full, thank you. Confession: I'm sort of selective. I repost the collie, lab, shepherd, border collie mixes that appeal to me, some of them, like Sophie, the ragamuffins of the dog world. Not so much the pit bulls and similar breeds.
But I've noticed a high number of pit bull mixes on Facebook lately. I'm wondering if that's because people are breeding them for fighting or just why so many need loving homes. I know pit bull fanciers will jump all over this, but there are some breeds I'm leery of--pit bulls, Rottweilers (Colin had to give up one he could neither trust nor control) and, to a lesser extent, Dobermans.
Idle thoughts, but now that my mind is on dogs, watch for another post about some dogs I've known and loved. I think just as we're all meant to have one or two real loves in our lives, the same is true of dogs. We have one or two that are soulmates. I've been lucky with both kinds of loves, and I count my blessings. Sophie? She's an adorable, irresistible brat-child.

A voice from the past

Years ago, when my children were young, there was an unmarried pediatrician on the hospital staff with my ex. He became a family friend, often a regular at the dinner table--he'd just drive in the driveway, but there was always enough food. Oh, there was the night the teenage daughter of friends, living with us to complete her senior year, said,"Why does he always come on the night we're having salmon croquettes!" But he was welcome and fun.
He dated a flight attendant named Jackie, who flew for Northwest. At this point, I have no idea how they met, but Jackie was also at our house a lot and she and I became fast friends. I'm not sure which came first, but I think they split up and then he moved to the Northwest. Jackie and I kept in touch a bit but eventually lost touch. I had no idea where she was, how to find her, but over the years, I thought of her often and wondered about her.
A few days ago on Facebook someone named Jackie contact me and asked if I remembered her. I asked if she were that Jackie, and she wrote, "Yes, that would be me." We were so excited to hook up again that we exchanged lots of emails that day. Our lives have gone divergent paths--she flew until she retired eight years ago, is married but no children, close to nieces and nephews so feels like she has grandchildren. And sounds happy. When I said she'd have to come visit, she said it would be a while--the children keep her busy. I do hope we can maintain the friendship. Among other things, we have cooking in common.
One of the problems I've found with blogging is that people know all about you and don't think to respond--they sort of think we're in touch when it's one-sided and I know nothing about what's going on in their lives. Thank you, Barbara A., my BFF, as the teens say today, from high school, for not falling into that trap--I love our correspondence.
About a year ago, I heard from another friend, who goes even farther back. Her husband was an intern when my ex was doing his surgical residency. She and I were close, and the four of us did some things together, though he was sort of prickly. They moved to a suburb, he established a practice, and one day she was gone--left him. No farewell, no idea what happened to her. She, too, wrote me--she's in Texas which is closer than Jackie in Ohio, and we brought each other up to date. But I haven't heard since. Jan, if you're out there, let me hear.
That my friends is one of the joys of Facebook. What's the saying--new friends are silver, old are gold, keep the new but treasure the old. I do treasure old friends. Many of those to whom I was once close are scattered about the country now--Santa Fe, the D.C. area, Atlanta, Omaha--and not all are good communicators. Listen up, people. Treasure those times we had together and nurture friendships!
And there are people who were in and out of my life that I wonder about now. Strange--some friendships are forever, others transitory.

Thuoghts on dogs

I have "liked" the Dogs Against Mitt Facebook page, but I don't consider myself active in that movement and I'm (probably) not buying a T-shirt. What Mitt Romney did to his dog Seamus is shameful, and I do believe you can tell a lot about a man, or a woman, from the way they treat their dogs. But in the overall political chaos of this year, let's move on.
I am trying to be active, or at least helpful, in efforts to save lovely dogs who are about to be euthanized for no reason except that the shelter where they are is overcrowded. New dogs come in--older ones must go to make room, and as a result some wonderful sweet animals have been put down.
I have a Facebook friend, Kathy Edwards, who has made this her cause. Kathy is also the wife of western singer Don Edwards, one of my all-time favorites, and I knew her in that context years ago--we used to compare notes on our first grandchildren--but I haven't seen her in a long time. Now I feel like I'm getting to know her again. Kathy posts as many as ten pictures a day of dogs from various shelters who are on the EU list. Each one breaks my heart. Some are "owner surrenders"--another poster asked how an owner can do this? Give up a creature they've known and loved? I look at my two, and I know I couldn't do it--someone in my family would take my dogs if I couldn't care for them. But my two are also the reason that I can quell the impulse to rush out and save every loveable dog on Facebook. I've got my hands full. But I hope by posting, I'm showing the dogs to some caring people who can fit one or more into their lives. I am newly friended with Judy Obregon who also posts about dogs in jeopardy.
Today there was a darling cross breed, rust colored with a long coat, who does tricks--and was doing one on camera. And a beagle with the most soulful eyes you've ever seen. Both were owner surrenders. Both had apparently known loving homes--and now they're in a cold, impersonal shelter. Tore me up.
A couple of things I've learned along the way: the Fort Worth city animal shelter (not to be confused with the Humane Society of North Texas) keeps animals in deplorable conditions. I know budgets are tight everywhere, but surely comething can be done. And the local humane society--where I got Scooby--is NOT a no kill shelter. Makes sense--eight years ago this month when I got him one of the staff said to me that it was amazing he had not been put down since he was a big dog (I call him medium at 55-60 lbs) and was "older"--three and a half. I looked at him and wondered how anyone could put down such a beautiful, loving creature.
Meantime, my two are keeping me busy. Timing is of the essence in the morning--I have to schedule things just right so Sophie doesn't get impatient to go out in the yard before Jacob comes to get his "good morning love" from her on the way to school. I put Sophie out to do her business, bring her in to eat in the study while Scoob goes out to pee and eat his breakfast--the one time he will not tolerate her is when he has food, even a treat. Once Sophie's eaten, she wants to go outside, and no amount of discipline so far will keep her from jumping on me. Most mornings I've got the timing down, but this morning, I got up too early, ended up putting both dogs out, and once she's out there with Scooby she won't come in until she wants to. Who's running this show anyway? Neither one of them ate until I came home at noon.

Sophie's a lot bigger now, but this was taken when Scoob first decided maybe

he could tolerate her. She barks, runs and jumps at him until he tells

her firmly to back off. After all, he's the senior citizen.

At night Scooby sleeps on his foam bed next to my bed and Sophie sleeps in her crate at the foot of the bed. I love knowing they're there, and I hope they love knowing I'm close by. Neither makes a peep--except Scoob sometimes snuffles like an old man. I don't know that I could live without a dog.

Old friends

Make new friends, but keep the old;
Those are silver, these are gold.
I know, I've recently done a post using that quote but a call from Santa Fe today made my day and emphasized again the value of old friends. My longtime friend (I started to say old, but she might take that personally) Nancy Olson called to say she was loving Skeleton in a Dead Space. Of course she would--she recognizes many of the players. In fact, she says it's like I was personally taking her by the hand and leading her along. Nancy and I have been friends for forty-six years, a long time in anyone's book. We don't talk often these days and she's not real good about emailing, but I discovered today she's on Facebook, so maybe we'll be in touch more. But today, we laughed about old and good times, talked about cooking and books. For me, it was great to hear her voice and her distinctive, happy laugh. It really did give me a happy glow the rest of the day.
Facebook has already connected me to another old friend--Sally Jackson, who was my neighbor in Park Hill, took her life in a new direction about the same time I did, and moved away from the neighborhood. Now on Facebook we trade recipes, news of our kids, and bits of political wisdom. I'm so enjoying having her back in my life.
So make new friends but keep the old--they are, indeed, gold.

Thoughts on Facebook, exercise and dogs

Everyone talks, blogs, texts about how much time we waste on Facebook. I always thought it wasn't so much. I can whiz through postings. Emails too. Because I'm on several listservs, I get upwards of a hundred emails a day, but I can pretty much whiz through them too. But this week, with exercise on my mind, I realized what I was really doing. If I had an odd hour or so in the day--not long enough for serious writing or reading--I'd sit at my desk and think maybe emails and FB would keep me occupied for that period of time. Wrong! That's plenty of time to ride my stationary bike or do a good yoga workout. (Okay, spelling freaks--I know I spelled it stationery the other day, and I apologize for my great lapse!) So that's what I"ve been trying to do--exercise in that odd hour. Didn't do it today because I didn't have that odd hour in the day and I was busy every minute (except for my nap), much of it on my feet in the kitchen, the house, the grocery store, so I figure that counts toward something. I expect to have spaces of time in the next few days. And I will work out. Determind. So maybe it's not so much about Facebook as it is how we (at least, I) look at time.
Exercising Sophie doesn't get me much exercise, but it sure is funny. I throw the ball, she runs to get it, runs back close to me, and issues this funny low growl. For a small dog, she has a deep growl, even though her bark is yappy. Fortunately, she's not a bad barker. But she'll growl at me, I'll reach for the ball, and she'll take off to the far corner of the yard again. We do this many times over. Meantime, Scooby is practically in my lap, enjoying lots of love. He finally gets tired of her competing for my attention and really disciplines her--but she jumps and dodges and taunts him. You can see the border collie herding instincts at work in her.
A big lesson I'm trying to teach right now is "Off" which means "Don't jump on me." She's chosen this as her signal to let me know she wants to go out, so I never am sure if she wants out or attention. In the morning though, waiting for Jacob, I know she wants to go out on the porch and on cold mornings I won't go until it's time for him to be here. When she continues to jump, I tie her to one of the supports of the bookcase. She howls--a really funny sound--and then she gives her deep growls. Finally she realizes nothing is going to work, and settles down to watchful waiting. It's like having a two-year-old in the house, lots of fun but oh my the patience required.
Tonight was my memoir class Christmas party--fun way to start the season. Several people brought wine and appetizers. We had two propsective members, who really seemed to enjoy the evening, and we all sat around and talked. HIghlight of the evening was a Chinese auction--everyone brought a book they were through with. I ended up with a Jodi Picoult title, and since I have never read her I thought that was good. I made a really simple appetizer--pimiento cheese spread over a rectangle of crescent rolls, sliced and baked. Only I didn't re-read the recipe and put in twice the cream cheese and more than the cheddar called for. Thought that was really ample filling for the rectangle--no wonder! Result was oh so messy--but oh so good!

Rangers Fever

Facebook was lots of fun this morning, in spite of the gloom of the Rangers' loss last night. Message aftr message traced the emotions of the evening, although in backward order because you read the newest first. So in reading them it went from disappointment and despair to unbelieveable tension to early elation when we we're winning. Some had really clever comments and others a baseball lingo I apparently don't understand.
I've never been much of a sports fan, though I like baseball better than football because I can follow the game and tell what's happening. For too much of football, all the players pile on each other, and I have no idea what just went on. Basketball is in the middle for me--fast and exciting, and I can usually tell what's going on. But I've never been one to change my schedule for a game or sit and watch with nothing else to do.
I grew up in the era when the World Series, not the Superbowl, was "the" sports events, and I can remember kids sneaking small portable radios into grade school during the Series. Although I lived on Chicago's South Side, I was never a White Sox fan but always for the Cubs--since they never won, maybe it has something to do with the underdog. I really think it was because the kids next door were Cubs fans--and I doubt they had any more reason than I did.
For years in Fort Worth I went to TCU football games dutifully--they always lost, though we heard much about the glory days of Slingin' Sammy Baugh and Davey O'Brien. These days I'm mildly happy if TCU wins, not at all interested in which conference they're in--doesn't make sense to me--but I'm always a bit resentful of all the money poured into sports programs while TCU Press had to squeak by on used furniture and out-of-date computers. My ears are deaf to arguments that football makes money--that shouldn't be the point in a university.
Anyway, rant over and back to baseball. Last Sunday night Megan and Brandon were watching the game, so I thought I'd be sociable and take my book in by the TV--I often stay with my book at the big granite slab in the middle of their kitchen but not this night. I'd read and glance at the TV, but the more I watched Derek Holland, the more often I put the book down and watched the game. I was mesmerized by the concentration, the pressure, the decisions that they had to make. When the manager finally went in to take him out, I could see Holland begging to stay in--and I wish he had, so he could have gotten closer credit. But that night, baseball and the Rangers began to mean more to me. I've watched off and on this week--one eye on the game and one eye on something else. Last night I went to sleep in the 8th, sure we'd won. What a shock the headlines were this morning.
So tonight, I'll mute it, try to write, and keep an eye on that little box in the upper lefthand corner. Trouble is--I have to get up and walk to the TV to see what it says!

Major breakthroughs in the animal kingdom--and a near a/c disaster

Sophie at 12 weeks

Tonight my 12-year-old Aussie, Scooby, played with the puppy. What an amazing accomplishment, since for over four weeks he's regarded her as, at the least, a severe annoyance. I had Sophie in the backyard, hoping she'd potty, and Jacob came out, leaving Scooby looking out the back door with a wistful look. I asked Jacob to let him out, and Jacob at first objected, but finally did. Sophie ran Scooby in circles around the yard--he can't catch her--and then came to sniff of him, and there was lots of mutual sniffing. I softly reminded Scoob to be gentle--once a male collie we had grabbed a Yorkie by the back of the neck, threw it up in the air and broke its back. So when I once saw Scoob's mouth go for the back of Sophie's neck, I said, "Be sweet," and he was. Mostly he was very gentle with her--he is the kindest, sweetest dog I've ever owned. Half the time when she was running in circles around the yard, he came to Jacob and me for love and got lots of it. I half  think he figured out that by being mad at the puppy he was missing out on a lot of love--and tonight he got it. We brought them into the family room together, fed them treats, and the same pattern continued. Jacob and I high-fived and celebrated our accomplishment.
Another breakthrough, I think: this is the first day we haven't had a potty accident in the house. Of course, it's only 9:30, but I'm optimistic. Right now there's a pooped puppy at my feet, and Jacob is contentedly watching his extra bit of TV. Scooby is in his bed, and the cat is fed and happy. All is peaceable in the animal kingdom.
As my Facebook friends know, my a/c went out during the night and by 3 a.m. it was 81 in the house. I posted it on FB just because I had to tell someone! I have been overwhelmed by the number of  kind and generous responses--concern, offers of places to hide out (with my animals, which was my main concern--aging animals and a young puppy don't need an overheated house). Elizabeth, who has three indoor dogs and a cat, said we'd be Noah's Ark but we'd manage. I had offers from people I haven't seen in years, and expressions of concern from Sisters in Crime I've never met. It was like birthday greetings ten times over, and I cannot tell you how grateful I am.
I called the a/c company and left a message at 7 a.m. Before 8:30 I got a call that  the tech was headed my way, and by 9 a.m. it was fixed. I had gone out at 7 to check, and the compressor was not doing its thing nor did it have a reset button. It was some minor part that had to be replaced, but while he was here the tech changed the furnace filter--only has to be done once a year now--and cleaned the compressor. I have done business with Rhinefort and Company since 2000, and I am so extremely thankful for their prompt and efficient service. I love being an established customer.
What a good day! I feel so much more in control than I did last night. Potluck with Judy got put off a night because I wanted to shout out my dog news, but watch for it tomorrow night: meatloaf. Who loves it, who hates it?

The fellowship of mystery writers

I've wanted to write mysteries for years, but I felt the way I did before I ever wrote fiction: mysteries were over there, on a different shelf, and I couldn't do them. I made a couple of failed attempts--actually I still think one is pretty good. But I knew I was wandering in the wilderness of my own ignorance. One day Susan Wittig Albert, author of the China Bayles herbalist mysteries and much more, came to talk at TCU. I think we'd crossed paths or were vaguely acquainted, but I was so bold as to ask her advice and she said one meaningful thing to me, "Join Sisters in Crime." I did, and I've been everlastingly grateful ever since. Once I became a member, I soon joined several sub-groups: Agent Quest, for those who were looking for agents; Guppies, the great pond of unpublished writers who are going to be published--many stay in the group after publication because of its warm camaraderie; Senior Sleuths, for those who write about older than average protagonists, something I thought about for a long time; and SmallPressQuest for those who want to abandon the search for an agent and try publishing with small presses.
I cannot begin to tell you all I've learned in the three or four years since, but the biggest thing is that it's not a cut-throat world out there. Mystery writers are in competition to a certain extent, sure, but they are so supportive of each other. They rejoice in triumphs, be they an agency contract, a publishing contract, a good review, or an important blurb. They get out the boas, start kick lines, and throw cyber-champagne parties. And they share a wealth of knowledge about seeking agents, deciding which agent is for you (it takes guts to say no but sometimes it's the best thing to do), the advantages and disadvantages of small press publication, general news of the publishing industry, and sometimes personal triumphs and tragedies. We all literally become sisters. I realize in retrospect what a naif I was in that wilderness of ignorance. I had, for instance, no idea that it was so hard to get an agent, yet now I know of people who've queried 200 or more agents; I've learned about protecting your e-rights and watching royalties paid on e-books as opposed to print (e-books should pay much more).
I've learned a lot about the use of social media--most writers but not all blog; most but not all use Facebook; there's division on the usefullness of Twitter though some swear by it. And I've found sites like Goodreads, Linked In, and too many others to mention. I've learned about retweeting for other authors and adding tags to books on Amazon and checking sales numbers on Amazon and other sites.
The problem with all this, of course, is that it's time-consuming. You eventually get to the point you have to decide which things you're going to do and which you aren't. I get upwards of 200 e-mails a day (I did join Murder Must Advertise and a couple other lists) and I look at each post, no matter how briefly. At this point I only have reprints on Amazon and Smashwords (that's another whole new topic, but Smashwords publishes e-books for almost every platform there is), so I don't check sales number or rankings compulsively; I'm barely active on Twitter and Goodreads, and I've dropped Linked In. But all that networking allows you to make decisions that you think are right for you.
After probably not enough agent queries and negative experiences with a press that kept my manuscript as an exclusive for a year (SinC will tell you that's a no-no) and with an agent who did the same thing, I have signed with Turquoise Morning Press, a small press where the vibes feel right. Probably not as businesslike as many of my sisters in mystery would be but it works for me. I tend to act on impulse (right brain, not left) but I think this will work out just fine. The main thing for me is I don't want the "business" or "busyness" of being a mystery writer to get in the way of writing and the fun of it.
But I have indeed plunged into a whole new world, one I suspect most readers don't dream exists, and I'm enjoying every minute of it.

A snow day, a lot of work, a nap and an unusual dinner

Another snow day, although this one was mild compared to last week. By late afternoon much of it had melted, in spite of temperatures in the 20s--the sun came out and did its job. Still, this morning when I got up it was snowing steadily, even if tiny tiny flakes. Just not a lot of accumulation. I'm not sure if there's ice beneath that snow or not. It was a good day to stay home and at my desk. I dug in again to my chili book. The trouble with having several projects going is that I have long absences from some--spent much of the morning reacquainting myself with the chili text. I did move ahead quite a bit, not so much in terms of word count but cleaning up references, adding details here and there, checking facts. Back to work on it again tonight after this.Once I get into a project I thoroughly enjoy it--but getting back to it after a long absence takes discipline.
Today would have been a great day for chili but I had a bowl of soup left over from the weekend for lunch. It was delicious and warming. Tonight I had an unusual supper. Last weekend when I went to Central Market to stock up, I was waiting by the poultry for the butcher to cut my chicken when I spotted quail stuffed with chicken sausage, feta, cilantro, and pine nuts. Of course I had to have one. Tonight I roasted it at 350 for 30 minutes--it didn't get brown and crispy on the outside, as I would have liked, and it was a little heavy on the feta but still, it was really good, a splurge I'll repeat.
I napped today--which is no different from most days. But today I lay in bed and thought how warm and comfortable I was. Even awake, I'm reluctant to get up and leave that warm, cozy nest, with a cat curled at my feet warming them and a dog snuffling contentedly by the bed to give me a sense of company. I can lie there and spin stories and dreams forever. Today I forced myself up to see the evening news and put that quail in the oven.
When I'm working at my computer as I was today I often check Facebook as well as my email. It occurred to me tonight that Facebook, for all its detractors, is a good source of information--today I learned there of the death of a prominent local artist, read an inspirational email, a current events email about parents objecting to the teaching of Arabic culture and language in their schools (give me a break! what narrow vision), and a Wisconsin journalist's reprise of his adventures in the Metroplex last week (the SuperBowl ice storm appears to be a story that won't go away). But I never would have found any of this without Facebook. No, folks, it's not all idle chatter. Oh, and my children's half-sister posted that she made a bacon and chocolate cake--now that boggled my mind.

April Fool's and Facebook

I guess I'm a little dense about April Fool's now that all the pranking kids are out of my house. Couldn't figure out why Google said Topeka today until a librarian sent out an email to the whole staff to check it. Then I had to ask him what the deal was, and he explained. Then I saw it on NBC Nightly News, which really made me feel dense. I also get a booksellers' newsletter online called Shelf Awareness. This morning it was all about sweeping changes in publishing--what's in and what's out--due to President Obama's recent triumphs, health care, arms treaty, etc. One publisher was changing its name to Armegeddon and publishing works by Sarah Palin and others of the same ilk. About halfway through, I got the gist of it and had a good laugh. Then there have been funny posts on Sisters in Crime. Maybe I'm not used to April Fool's jokes being so intellectual.
I searched for an old friend today on Facebook and invited her to be my friend. She replied by email that she didn't do any social networking any more (she must check Facebook to know that I tried to contact her) but she was still my friend. So I emailed.
My kids used to tell me I should get on Facebook, and I scoffed. But when I finally did I realized it's a good way to keep up with them--except the Houston Alters who have given it up (and not just for Lent). Now my complaint is almost the opposite--some of them are on Gowalla (whatever that is) where posts show up on Facebook showing where they are every minute--lots and lots of bars and restaurants, maybe more than I want to know. One son-in-law's Twitter posts automatically show up on Facebook, and he's a software engineer, so the posts have to do with stuff I have no inkling about. But then he does go to bars and restaurants.
What I've really found wonderful about it is that I do indeed connect with old friends with whom I'd lost touch--a former neighbor to whom I was close when our kids were young, my best friend from high school, writers I knew in the past but have lost touch with. And I keep up with friends and authors I probably wouldn't any other way. I'm aware of the dangers--one friend says her daughter-in-law got a horrible virus, and I know not to reveal too mch personal information--but I enjoy it.
On the Sisters in Crime listservs they emphasize the importance of Facebook, Twitter, blogging, You-Tube, etc. for publicizing your book. The big new thing is not an author tour to many cities, but a virtual tour online (thank goodness--who wants to sit, looking forlorn, in bookstores across the country while patrons try to avoid looking you in the eye!). So, in case I ever have a mystery published--please cross your fingers, eyes, and toes simultaneously--I've got a good start. I even took a class in Twitter (Jamie told me I was wasting $55), but it's still a mystery to me and I've given up on it. And You-Tube--no, I'm not going there. I'm very happy with my little corner of the social networking world, plus the listservs and blogs I follow. I truly do try not to let it take up too much of my desk time!

Maybe the new year has begun

Still cold in North Texas--17 this morning, but I finally got brave, blocked the dog into his cozy bed, and ventured out. I really do okay in the cold--it's the dog I worry about. Don't want to leave him out, can't trust him alone in the house, but he seems to be okay if I put him in his bed and don't stay away too long. Went to the grocery and made a brief stop at the office. I came home to hibernate and suddenly was inspired by the Sisters in Crime listserv--those ladies, and a few men, constantly work at their careers, while I seem to sit and wait for something to happen. I realized I really have a lot to do and should stop sitting here reading mysteries, much as they relate to what I hope is my new career.
First decision: put my '90s historical fiction on KIndle. That's been a big topic on the listserv, and even if I doin't make any money, it seems to me it would be great for name recognition. I investigated a bit, wrote to my former agent to make sure rights have reverted, and then wrote my new agent. Lo, behold, and glory, he said he would take care of that as my agent. Not right away but in a few months (okay that made me a bit nervous!).
Second decision: I did the index recipe tonight for Grace & Gumption: The Cookbook. For those who don't know or remember, TCU Press did a book a couple of years ago titled Grace & Gumption: Stories of Fort Worth Women. Following it up with a cookbook was really my idea, because of my love of not only food but food writing, but it has been fun for all of us. I proofread the pages, then found out that wasn't one of my assigned chores--still my proofreading may help. But my job was to index the recipes, and tonight I've finished that, though I have to proofread. Then I'll make a list of cookbooks consulted, because there were a number of locally published cookbooks that ought to interest Fort Worth women. What really struck me was that when I categorized the recipes, the dessert section was twice as long as any other--what does that tell you about women? Actually, given my druthers in cooking, dessert is the last thing I make. I try to avoid them, am not creative about fixing them, and they never "look pretty" like the ones you see in magazines.
Third decision: I signed up for a class on Twitter. To me it is baffling, but maybe this class will help me make sense of it. It's supposed be a great tool for getting your name out there as an author. I do alright on Facebook though I'm mostly silently--some of my children are on it all the time with baffling messages that I can't understand at all--I've begun to think of some of my own family as aliens from another planet. And who needs to know every place they go all day? Now they've begun posting something from Gowalla and I have no idea what that is. I do strugglel hard to keep up and be computer literate, but it's hard.
Fourth decision: made a committment to do some volunteer work at the church on a weekly basis. Will call first time attendees and possibly take a weekly turn at the reception desk. I need to get back into the life of the church.
Tomorrow: staying home, keeping Scooby out of the cold, and starting to organize my tax info for 2009.
Whew! All this organikzed ambition has tired me out, and I'm going to read the Charlotte Hinger mystery I'm well into and hooked on.