Bits & Pieces

Sorry for the MIA, FFFans, but life has been a little complicated lately. I figured I'd better pop on here, though, and reassure you that I'm still alive. Let's see if I can come up with a few semi-blogworthy tidbits. Consider it the Headline News version of my life.

Things at work are making me cranky and/or crazy. There have been changes, and there are further potential changes, and I'm still planning to retire, and I'm not sure how all the pieces fit together.

I had a big almost-break with the book when a major editor requested the full manuscript, said she really liked it, asked how I'd do a sequel... then decided to pass on publishing it. I still have some agent submissions out there, and will do some more. I just don't know what to do next. That agent got me all thinking about a Seth and Abby sequel, so now I kind of want to write that, but how much sense does it make to write the sequel for a book that thus far nobody wants to represent or publish? I'll probably go ahead and start on the Gold mystery, but I plan to feel sorry for myself for a few more days first.

We had major hail a couple of weeks ago, and now we need a new roof.


Hey, if we want to sell this place, a brand-new roof will be handy, but the thought of workers swarming over my house's exterior while Brody tries to chew the cranks off the windows so he can leap out and take them down will be bothersome. He also still barks like a maniac when he hears a doorbell on TV, despite the fact that we haven't had a doorbell in two years. It broke, and since a doorbell only makes it easier for people to announce that they are here to disturb us, we never replaced it.

Speaking of dogs (which I frequently am), Brody and Ozark are infatuated with the new renters in the house next door. They have a black lab who, despite the lack of a fence and living right on a fairly busy county road, never leaves the yard. They also have a cat. Oh, and two or three kids. I think. I've seen a small human who appears to be of the male persuasion. I might've seen the adult female human holding a baby. And there is possibly a small female creature, but I'm not sure. I am a terrible spy, because I pretty much don't like looking at people.

Brody and Ozark have taken to lying in the most remote part of the yard, just watching. Mostly. Brody has managed to get a scratch on top of his nose, and then to rip a large, bloody chunk out of his nose... and I'm blaming the cat for enticing him to try to stuff his head through the chain link fence. When I yell and the dogs don't come in, I now have to trek down the Killer Steps of Death from the deck, to the patio, out the pool gate, around the entire outside perimeter of the pool fence, over to the skinny, sheltered part of the yard facing the neighbors, and chase the fuzzy dog-butts back in the house.

On another note, Darwin has been doing some swimming.

Random thought of the day... Condiments. How do you know which ones go on which foods? Who decides? Pretend you like bologna. (Most of you eat it, but won't admit it.) I put tons of ketchup on bologna. Tom thinks this is disgusting, and prefers mayonnaise, which I think is disgusting. Ham: Mustard or mayo, but never, ever ketchup. Burgers: Ketchup and mustard, never mayo. Roast beef: Same as ham. Burgers and roast beef are both cow-based, but require totally different condiments. I'm such an enigma.

Egg salad: Just don't eat it. I mean, ew. When I was in first grade, my mom always made egg salad for my lunch, and now I can't stand it. Tom, however, loves it... and I have to leave the room when he eats it. The mushy-chewy sounds make me gag. It would seem a bit extreme to divorce someone over egg salad.

That's 'bout it. I may be alive, but my humor writing skills are somewhat under the weather.