Taxes and dog shows

Some things are good, some are not so good. On the not-so-good side, it's tax time. I have spent more time than I wish for about a week trying to gather information for the accountant. Every year, I think I'm being so organized--but what I really do is dump things into a folder that says "Taxes." Then of course by the time I hold this piece of paper or that in my hand, I wonder what it's about. For instance, I found an the stub for an honorarium payment that I can't identify--why don't institutions put their name on their check stubs? And every year my accountant's questionnaire changes. In truth, I think it's my interpretation of it that changes. I found a whole new section tonight. I forget what is deductible and what isn't, though I've finally learned political contributions are not. So what's that presidential fund on the questionnaire? And when you gather all the figures together, it's appalling how much you spend on some things--like utilities! I finally get to a point that I just give up and send it to him--but at least I've made a start. My accountant is a patient and gentle man.
The good tonight is the Westminster Kennel Club Show--love watching it. Of course, my Scooby is better looking than the Aussie in the show. And when are they going to start a show for all the "doodle" dogs like Sophie. I do like hearing the history of the breeds--and loved just seeing a bearded collie. We had them once, but believe me ours were never groomed to the fare-thee-well that this dog was.
Did some baking tonight--lemon/basil cookies and chocolate mini-muffins.I'm preparing for a Sunday afternoon fund-raiser for good friend Lon Burnam, for his re-election to the Texas legislature, and I'm a little awed by the prospect. People will pay to come to this party--will my food make it worthwhile? I give a lot of parties, but people don't usually pay--hmm, maybe I should rethink that. I'll save the menu discussion until after th event. I was sort of proud of the lemon-basil cookies but after I got started on the recipe I was startled to realize it only makes sixteen cookies. I made them smaller and got twenty-six but I'll have to do it again. Nervous about making a totally unfamiliar recipe, I rebuffed Jacob's offer to help--which sent him into tears. He eventually settled for getting to "squish" the round balls of dough--recipe said to use bottom of a cup, but he liked his palm better. Yes, I made sure he washed thoroughly first.

Dogs, cats, and exclamation points

A Scottish Deerhound took Best in Show at the Westminster Dog Show this week, and I was thrilled. These huge gentle dogs  are beautiful in their own way, and this one had a marvelous gait. She reminded me so much of the Irish Wolfhound that we once had that I nearly cried. The breeds are similar in size, though the Deerhound has a more pointed nose and the Wolfhound, a more square one. They are absolute pains as puppies, destroying everything in sight, but they grow into delightful loyal and affectionate dogs. I once tripped over ours--Claudine was her improbable name--and couldn't walk for a week. Claudine, a champion bred to a champion, gave us one litter of puppies, and I vividly remember the "limp" puppy in the litter. I wore him in a pocket on my chest, much as mothers wear their babies today, but every time I put him down for her to nurse, Claudine would hide him beneath a sofa cushion or some other out of the way place. She knew what I didn't want to accept--he wasn't meant to make it. And he didn't. I have a lot of dog tragedies in my history but also some very good memories.
My current dog, Scooby, is calming down a bit now that he's eleven-and-a-half. Five-year-old Morgan went happily out to play with him last weekend--she's grown up with a big dog and wasn't one bit intimidated. Jacob, however, is leery of dogs--I think he needs one. He talks about loving Scooby but offered a chance to pet him, he pulls away--makes Scooby nervous, understandably.
On the other hand, my almost-nineteen-year-old cat is more and more like having an infant in the house. He wants to be fed frequently, on demand. Mostly when I'm home in the daytime I can stand it, but he sometimes gets right in my face on my desk, and that's a bit disconcerting. But the other night I was up at two and four-thirty to feed him--now something's not right about that. I put in my time with night feedings a long time ago! Wywy can, however, be very insistent--he works his paws on my legs so that it feels like I'm getting a message. Might be okay if I weren't sleeping soundly. I'm not sure how to handle this problem. A couple of weeks ago I decided it was easier to feed him and go back  to bed than to try to ignore him. But I'm afraid I set a bad precedent.
Turquoise Morning Press sent me a style guide, and I started making my manuscript conform tonight. As a longtime editor, I know you should rarely if ever use exclamation points--I have taken thousands of them out of other people's manuscripts. So I was astounded at how many I found, most of which could easily be replaced by a period or a comma. I left a few--the older Greek man who keeps exclaiming, "Mother of God!" Now that deserves an exclamation point. I may also have missed a few. Next on my list are checking for parenthetical expressions and passive voice. Then a complete read through, checking overuse of italics, ellipses, numbers.Oh, my. I think I know this book by heart! (exclamation point deliberate).