Untitled

Just a forgotten WIP that I pulled out of the files - unedited and raw, but one of many forgotten first chapters.

L’Amoreaux sat on the bluff overlooking the Sabine River just as it had for over 150 years. Generations of the St Jacques family had lived there, died there, buried in the family cemetery on the edge of the property. Even those who had left came back upon death to be buried there on the hill. No one really left l’Amoreaux, no one could ever escape. Even now, with the death of its last occupant, the house waited for its new arrival, a new soul to feed upon. Death waited at l’Amoreaux.

Chapter One
It was a foggy dew morning, the kind when drops glittered on the edge of nature and the wetness stole into your bones. The man inhaled deeply, let the breath out to mingle with the gray mist. Pulling the lapels of his jacket snug around his neck, he leaned against the tree. His eyes, the same soft gray as the morning, scanned the landscape around him, searching out objects shrouded in fog of gray and white. The smell of winter was in the air, the cold front chasing on the tail of autumn’s wake. Pulling away from the old bois d’arc, he walked through the meadow to the road, bits and pieces of grass clinging to his boots. Reaching the Harley he paused and looked back at the meadow. Wisps of mists, gray tendrils wrapped around the trees, covered the ground where he had been. The place of his childhood, its enchantment calmed his soul, called for his presence, the child who had left so long ago. Shaking the sentimentality from his head, he climbed onto the motorcycle, barely escaping the clutch of the mist that now surrounded the bike.
Pulling back onto the road, he passed the green sign on the outskirts of town ‘St. Jack, Texas, pop. 900’. 899, he thought grimly, remembering the reason for his trip. The last time he had seen St. Jack was through the back window of a battered Chevy, a child still in the grip of terror. Now, some 30 years later a man still in the grasp of demons, determined to set himself free as he buried the one person who had held the key. Raw anger, the emotion that was his constant companion, clawed at his throat as he rounded the bend and the sight of the town water tower came into view. ‘St. Jack’, it proclaimed, ‘home of the Huguenots’. It’s mascot the last remaining vestige of the French people that had settled there in the mid 19th century. The name had originally been St. Jacques, but through the years before incorporation had been Texanized to plain St. Jack. His family, of course, had kept the name St. Jacques. A source of pride and arrogance, the symbol of power traced its way back to Etienne St. Jacques, its ruthless patriarch. The eldest of four children, his mother had kept with Southern tradition and gave him her maiden name. Morgan St. Jacques, the last of his line, was coming home.
Turning off the road before it curved into town, he followed the two lane track as it wound along the edges of old farmland, headed for a patch of trees in the distance. Stray tendrils of fog scurried across the dirt road, their destination the small creek that snaked through the green fields. L’Amoreaux waited for him at the end of the lane, the road having stopped at its iron gates, the same as everything else did. It belonged to him now, much to the chagrin of his greedy cousins, the seed of younger sons of younger sons. But Morgan didn’t want the home, its presence an aberration to the freedom in his soul. Settling down in one place was not the life he had planned, the life he now loved. Freedom kept you running, demons at your heels. Staying put allowed them to settle in your mind, waiting to drive you crazy as they had his brother. Stephen, gentle Stephen, would have laughed at Morgan, laughed at the irony of the gift from a grandfather he had not seen for three decades, yet had never left his side.
Morgan stared at the wrought iron gates, the initials E and G gracefully entwined as they had been for decades. Etienne and Genevieve, the lovers. Etienne had built this home for his bride, the beautiful Creole from New Orleans, whose face was as beautiful as her soul was dark. They had owned close to 200 slaves at one time, 200 tortured souls whose cries sometimes still filled the night air around the old slave quarters. Morgan and Stephen had spent many a night staring out the window of their bedroom at the play of mist around the decrepit old buildings. They had never questioned the sight of the smoky wisps or the low moans that had accompanied them. Neither had they questioned the parents of their friends who would never let their sons spend the night at the old plantation. Morgan got off of the bike and approached the gate, shaking the cobwebs from his memory just as he dusted the web from the catch on the iron bar. The gate gave way easily, swinging open without even the expected creak of hinges. Morgan felt a chill in the autumn air and again pulled the leather jacket closer. Gravel crunched under his feet as he stepped onto St. Jacques land. At least the old man had given in on one thing, he thought, remembering the spring showers and the impassability of the dirt road. There had been some good things to remember about l’Amoreaux, rabbit hunting on a spring day, fossils in the Sabine River, Shay, her white blond hair filled with the daisies that scattered across the eastern meadow each spring. He hadn’t thought of her in years, the little girl of his childhood. She’d be married now, with a lot of kids and a broken down husband tending the family farm. Shay O’Neal. She and Stephen had been his constant companions, confidants in the way only children could be. He'd missed her at first, then forgotten, just as he’d forgotten a lot about l’Amoreaux. No time for sentimentality, asshole. Morgan kicked a piece of gravel and walked back to his bike.

Meme

Temperatures reached into the 100s on Monday and our electric company is now doing rolling blackouts. I cannot remember this ever happening before. We have broke all kinds of temperature records. It was hotter in the Ft. Worth area than in Dallas (waving at Dennie, Cece and Sandy) and this does not bode well for the coming Summer. Hey folks, it's Spring here, we're not supposed to be this hot yet. Anyway, to help conserve energy I will only be on line Tuesday morning and evening. The computer will be off during the day (I'll go a bit more crazy!) Fortunately, a cool front will be coming through Tuesday night and we will only be in the upper 70s on Wednesday - Hallelujah! (That's where our temps should be - upper 70s and lower 80s). Oh, and in case the time thing with my blogs look screwy - I've pre-written some and I want to keep the date correct, so I change it (i.e. this is going up on Monday night, but it's Tuesday's blog, so the date is the 18th, in stead of the 17th) to help me keep up.

Jo tagged me last week - so here it is:

Four jobs you've had in your life:

1. Dress store clerk
2. Archives clerk (Texas A&M at Commerce)
3. Director, Ellis County Ethnohistorical Society
4. Bookstore clerk

Four movies you'd watch over and over:

1. The Mummy
2. LOTR (but especially Return of the King)
3. While You Were Sleeping
4. Pirates of the Caribbean

Four places you have lived:

1. Des Moines, Iowa
2. Dallas, Texas
3. Commerce, Texas
4. Italy, Texas

Four TV shows you love to watch:

1. CSI (Vegas)
2. Numb3rs
3. American Idol
4. Ghost Whisperer

Four websites you visit daily (I'm only naming one - I visit too many to single out anyone)

1. Jill Shalvis

Four places you have been on vacation: (what is that?)

1. San Francisco, California
2. Las Vegas, Nevada
3. Hannibal, Missouri
4. Denver, Colorado

Four of your favorite foods:

1. Pizza
2. Potatoes (I'm Irish, what would you expect?)
3. Meatloaf
4. Chicken

Four places I would rather be right now:

1. Ireland
2. England
3. Nampa, Idaho
4. Canada

Somewhere in Time

Now and Forever By Julia Templeton

Private investigator Alexandria Drake goes to haunted Radborne Manor on the trail of a cheating spouse. What she finds is a new client…in the year eighteen hundred and seventeen!
At first, all Alexandria wants is to go home. If she has to solve Radborne's famous double-murder to do it, so be it. Too bad the man she's trying to protect thinks she's a suspect. As if that's not bad enough, the only person who doesn't think she's insane is Christian's dead brother, Devon...whose ghostly image follows her around Radborne Manor, trying to help her uncover the murderer before he kills Christian.
Christian's determined to find his brother's killer and bring him to justice. But his prime suspect is a spirited, green-eyed temptress who he just can't seem to put out of his mind...or kick out of his bed.

Tears of Amun By Jordan Summers

Through the sands of time By the pharaoh's breath When the waters rise to highest depth Then the veils will thin For two worlds to see A fated love that must once again be
He who gazes upon the one wearing the Tears of Amun Shall go on to rule the kingdoms of Egypt
Charlotte Witherspoon is in love…with a picture.
When fate tosses her back in time and she finds herself face to face with the man who holds her heart, will she choose to stay, accepting the promise of passion glowing in his eyes or return to her own time? And what happens when destiny steps in to decide for her?
The answers lie within the Tears of Amun…

Authors: Julia Templeton and Jordan Summers
Publisher: Elloras Cave Pub Inc; 1st edition (April 30, 2006)
ISBN: 1419953362
You can also pre-order it at Borders/Amazon

Just Because

Yep, that's me. Wasn't I a cutie? So why am I posting this picture? Not gonna tell - it's an experiment, and if it works then you'll know why; if it doesn't ...

I just got off the phone with Cece. We talked for 2 hours! I haven't talked that long on the phone since I was a teenager. It was so nice to talk to another grown-up - I mean, I do have Bebo, but she works all day and I'm stuck with mother. Remember when your kids were toddlers (and some of them still are) and you just couldn't wait to talk to an adult? That's how I feel sometimes. So it was so great to talk with her. I just couldn't believe the time when she mentioned it. Two hours?!? I guess it's a good thing I have over 1,000 rollover minutes on the cell phone, huh? And then the damn thing decided to drop the call towards the end! I thought it had gone dead (which would have really made me mad since I had just charged it), but no - nothing wrong with it - Cingular just decided we had talked long enough. So I came inside the house and called her back on the "land line". Much clearer anyway.

Well, since it's nearly 11:30 I guess this is all I have to say for now. Remember, back to normal (whatever that is) Monday.

Y'all have a great Easter.

Hello Saturday

I'll be back to regular business by Monday. Meanwhile, here's another of the stash of bad jokes I've been keeping for the blog. Have a great weekend and Happy Easter.

Bubba and Junior were standing at the base of a flagpole, looking up. A blond lady walked by and asked what they were doing. "We're supposed to find the height of the flagpole," said Bubba, "but we don't have a ladder." The woman took a wrench from her purse, loosened a few bolts, and laid the pole down. Then she took a tape measure from her pocket, took a measurement and announced, "Eighteen feet, six inches," before walking away. Junior shook his head and laughed. "Ain't that just like a dumb blond? We ask for the height, and she gives us the length!."

Filler

A women accompanied her husband to the doctor's office. After his checkup, the doctor called the wife into his office alone. He said: "If you don't do the following, your husband will surely die.

1. Each morning, fix him a healthy breakfast.
2. Be pleasant and make sure he is in a good mood.
3. For lunch, make him a nutritious meal.
4. For dinner, prepare him an especially nice meal.
5. Don't burden him with chores as he probably had a hard day.
6. Don't discuss your problems with him.
7. And most importantly, have sex with him several times a week and satisfy his every whim.

On the way home, the husband asked his wife what the doctor said to her. "You're going to DIE" she replied.

Catharsis

First of all, thank you to everyone who has come by to show support. I really appreciate it - and especially to Brandy, Kate H., Diane and Shirley. I'm okay. I have to tell you that this has given me more heartbreak than the loss of any other animal, even last week's loss of MacKenzie. I struggled to understand why and then suddenly realized that, unlike the other pets in my life, Devlin was much more - he was the only baby I have ever had. It is the hardest loss I have ever experienced other than my father and brother. I'm sorry I haven't been around - but I've been lurking. I've been sleeping, and crying, and generally trying to sort things out. I still don't feel like thinking of things to put on the blog but will probably get back in the groove soon. Thanks for your patience. Also, some people have asked what they could do to help. Here's what I would like - give something to your local "No Kill" shelter or cat rescue group. If you don't have the money - call one up and ask what you can do. Some of them can use things as mundane as newspapers for their kennels or even store coupons for food.

I've also done a little writing:

For Devlin

You came to me so small
Tiny body perfect for the palm
Of my hand
No face you saw,
No voice you heard
My touch, my smell was
All you knew

Your cries I soothed
With a calming touch
A soft nuzzle
A gentle rock
I’d speak and croon
Though you could not hear
My lullabies for you

Whimpers to mews,
Crawls and scoots
To gangly legs
You grew through struggles
Not your own but natures grip
You fought the battle and won
The round, this time the victor

But death waits for no one
And the time
Came when the fight could
No longer be fought
And our time together
Had come to an end
Too soon

So I said goodbye
A soft nuzzle
A gentle touch
And I crooned lullabies
Full of words of love
You could no longer hear
Sweet baby, goodbye.

Goodbye Baby

Devlin

April 6, 2005 - April 11, 2006

This Keeps Up I Might Turn Into a Hyrax

Okay, here it is. The idea is that I have 30 minutes to use all of the words given to me in the order that they were given. I cannot edit, I cannot change anything. I can only write (although doing this in Word means that I simply cannot ignore the little red squiggly line that screams at me "Misspelled Word") The words you gave me are in bold. I did this in 29 minutes. It's raw, real raw - but I love doing them. It gets my juices flowing whenever I feel a mental block. And I did have some interesting words this time. I can, and did, use the plural form of a couple of the words (they are my rules after all). In case anybody is curious, duckbilled platypus was a word given to me the last time I did this. If you would like to see the result of that one click on the link to "Eve's old archives" and go to Jan. 5 "Revenge of the Duckbilled Platypus". I really enjoyed that one. Anyway, here it is.

The tabby crouched low to the ground as it moved through the bushes, its orange coloring resembling its tiger ancestry, stripes visible through the greenery. Annabelle smiled as she watched it approach the small bird standing in the middle of the yard. Cats, ya gotta love ‘em. The smile became a laugh when, in a burst of orange it sprang from the bushes towards the bird, which promptly flew off leaving the puzzled feline behind. That rascal. You’d think it would figure it out someday. The birds a damn lot smarter than him. She glanced up at the ruins of the old castle on the hill overlooking the bay. I’ll have to check that out tomorrow. Lights would appear mysteriously at night, and that didn’t bode well for her business here. Turning away from the window, she finished stirring the fudge. Pulling out the spoon, she grimaced as a bit of chocolate splattered onto her shirt. Damn, that’s gonna leave a stain. And I bought this shirt on my last trip to Hawaii.

“That’s what you get for cooking with chocolate while wearing white, sweetheart.” Pouring the fudge into the pan, she put it into the fridge, dropped the sauce pan and spoon in the sink and headed towards the back of the house. Passing the small statue of a lion, she gave it a quick rub on its porcelain head for luck and entered her bedroom. She’d been doing that since she got out of the hospital, taking advantage of every single good luck charm she’d ever heard of in her trips around the world. After changing her shirt she walked over and picked up the binoculars from the small table in front of the window. A quick survey of the bay and the beach front property showed no sign of life and she replaced the glasses to their place next to the book on ornithology, her cover if anyone wondered why she kept looking through the glasses. Nothing. For two days there’s been no sign of activity on the beach or out in the bay itself. Annabelle hoped this foray to Nova Scotia would all pan out because she had passed up the opportunity to spend some quality time with an F-18 pilot and the worlds best orgasm for this assignment.

“Definitely a trip to the castle tomorrow” or maybe even tonight if her insomnia reared its ugly head again. “I’ve got to play this one by the book if I’m going to catch those pirates in the act.” Turning around, she nearly tripped on the tabby that had quietly moved up behind her. “Baby, we have got to get a bell on you.” Leaning over, she picked the now purring animal up and walked out of the room and back into the main part of the cottage. The distant sound of thunder echoed from outside. “Rain. Just what I needed right now. They won’t be doing anything in the rain.” Dropping the cat on the couch, she walked over to the door and opened it to see the gathering clouds. Damn. The brush of fur against her leg startled her as she watched the cat run out into the yard. “And stay out there this time.” At least he was more company than the hyrax she shared quarters with on her last assignment in the Middle East. She watched him dart across the grass, tail straight up in the air. In the glow of the setting sun he didn’t look quite orange, but rather a maize color, sort of like the teosinte she’d seen in Central America. Annabelle was about to close the door when movement out of the corner of her eye stopped her in her tracks. She stood motionless, eyes squinting at the line of trees that led to the path to the castle. I know I saw something. She grimaced as a streak of lightning flashed across the sky. Great. Out in the rain I go. Why didn’t I pick that F-18?

Ugh, Monday

The picture is for Brandy - I told her I would post a pic of one of the cats every once in a while. This is Aidan. I hope I haven't posted this one on this blog. Forgive me if I have. Anyway, Aidan has a sad story with a HEA that I will tell sometime.

Listen folks, I've been giving this "I Hate Monday" thing a little thought, and I have come up with a couple of ideas.

Let's start with a new day to follow Sunday. I call it Unday. Sort of a transitional day between the weekend and the start of the week. Everybody works only half a day with a full day's pay. Some in the morning, others in the afternoon. Same with school. See, like getting ready for the work week. Anyway, I'd add another day after Friday - Fairday. Same deal as Unday, but if you worked morning on Unday, you work afternoon on Fairday.

Now, with these extra days, we would have to add a couple of new months to the year. I say we call the first one Maybe and it lies between March and April. Maybe it will be Spring, maybe it will be Winter. This will give Mother Nature a chance to decide what she wants to do, be cold or start warming up. That way, by April it will definitely be Spring. That leaves us with one more month. I'll call it Ioweber. This comes at the end of the year. It's the time for getting caught up on the money you spent over Christmas. Everyone gets double pay the entire month. Interest rates will lower by 50% for Ioweber only.

Bebo says the lack of sleep is really starting to mess with my mind. What do you think?

Oh, and you have an assignment. Each of you give me a noun. One noun. Only one, and if you give me Duckbilled Platypus I just might have to hurt you. I feel the need to play *gg*

Reluctant Reunion Word Count: 6,177
Tonight's Word Count: 293
Getting your groove back: Priceless

Birthdays

No, it isn't anyone's birthday, just something I found on Tori's blog. Go to Wikipedia and put your birthdate (month and day only) in the search field. Now, list 3 events that happened on that day; 2 people who share your birthday; one person who died. Here's mine:

1914 - World War I: Known as the Christmas truce, German and British troops on the Western Front temporarily cease fire. (Visitors to my old blog know I love this)

1939 - Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer is introduced by Montgomery Ward Stores. (Yeah Monkey Wards)

1977 - Prime Minister of Israel Menachem Begin meets in Egypt with President of Egypt Anwar Sadat

Birthdays:

1821 - Clara Barton, founder of the American Red Cross

1924 - Rod Serling

Death: (this would have to be a terrible day to have a loved one die)

1995 - Dean Martin (mother loves to listen to ol' Dino)

Plan for Sunday - I'm going to sleep in the morning and then Bebo and I might watch either Batman Begins or Good Night, and Good Luck. Any preferences?

Whatcha going to do today?

A Recommendation for You

What if the best sex you ever had was . . .


200 Years Ago?After breaking off her engagement, Natalie Bowman finds herself in the 1800s being auctioned off as a sex slave! She's even more shocked when the highest bidder is Andrew Greenwood -- the fiancé she dumped.


80 Years Ago?Uptight Sylvia Preston is terrified when she time travels to a twenties party. But when Tucker Green gets her dirty dancing, Sylvia wants to see just how uninhibited she can be -- in bed with Tucker.


60 Years Ago?When history student Betty Kroger is transported to WWII, it feels right -- and even more right to show sailor John Stevens what sex is like twenty-first-century style!

Authors: Julie Kenner, Nancy Warren and Jo Leigh
Publication Date: May 9, 2006 (you can pre-order it now)
Publisher: Harlequin (Signature Select)
ISBN:0373837038

Okay folks, I'm going to be working with the boss on Saturday morning (yikes), so I won't be able to get on-line. Then I'm off to a family party (I think - it depends on Devlin), so I probably won't be back here until Saturday night.

If I'm Dead Tired it Must Be Friday

I'm too tired to think up something new, so here's a re-cycle from my 360 blog (and maybe bravenet, but I'm just too tired to figure that one out). Anyway, it's from Loony Laws and Silly Statutes, Sheryl Lindsell-Roberts, Sterling Publishing Co., Inc., New York, 1994. These are actual laws which were still on the books as of 1994. Once again, bold is me because I just can't help myself.

In Kansas, it is illegal for eateries to serve ice cream on cherry pie. (In some places, not to do so would be blasphemy)

Xenia, Ohio, has made it illegal to spit in a salad bar. (And people wonder why I don’t like to eat salad.)

In Dyersburg, Tennessee, it is illegal for a girl to telephone a guy asking for a date. (Wait, is she telephoning a guy to ask for a date, or is she telephoning a guy who will be asking for a date – can she telephone guys who don’t ask for a date?)

A man could be fined $100 or more in Ohio if he represents himself as unmarried and keeps company with a “female of good character”. (He can, however, hang around with them as long as he doesn’t spit in a salad bar.)

Kissing a stranger in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, is illegal. (I’ve been to Cedar Rapids, kissing anyone there ought to be illegal. No really – my ancestors came from there. 4/7/06 update on this one - my cousin who came to visit Wednesday night lives in Cedar Rapids now, see I told you)

Any man who constantly kisses “human beings” is forbidden to have a mustache if he lives in Indiana. (Guess the animals don’t care.)

Infants in Los Angeles cannot dance in public halls. (Makes me feel so much safer.)

In Kentucky, it is illegal to remarry the same man four times. (So make sure you have 5 first cousins.)

In Los Angeles, California, it’s illegal to hang your lingerie in public view. (But you can wear it in public view.)

In Oxford, Ohio, you aren’t allowed to wear patent leather shoes. (Geeze, you can’t spit in the salad bar, you can’t pretend to be single and hang around with women of good character, now you can’t wear patent leather shoes – there ain’t no fun in Ohio.)

In Kentucky: No female shall appear in a bathing suit on any highway unless she is escorted by at least two officers or is armed with a club. (That would be the Playboy Club.) Wait – there’s an amendment: The Amendment Reads: The provisions of this statute shall not apply to females weighing less than 90 pounds nor exceeding 200 pounds nor shall it apply to female horses. (I guess they had a problem with female horses wearing bathing suits.)

And last, but definitely not least:

Until recently it was illegal to fish for whales off the coast of Oklahoma. (notice that’s “until recently” – that means all of them whale fishermen can now make a living in Oklahoma – as soon as they find that coast.)

Anybody Need a Laugh?

Happy 1st Birthday Devlin!!!!

I do, so I'm recycling an oldie from one of my other blogs. This , again, is from Non Campus Mentis, compiled by Professor Anders Henriksson, Workman Publishing, New York, 2001. My comments are in bold. Remember, these are real history essays by college students.


Many of the theories about the fall of the Roman Empire were totally not possible, and some of them were. This included more than enough religion, too much slavery, not enough water, and smoking from lead pipes. (It's that smoking from lead pipes that will get you every time.)

During the Dark Ages it was mostly dark. (Makes sense to me.)

It is unfortunate that we do not have a medivel European laid out on a table before us, ready for dissection. (Says who?) Society was arranged like a tree, with your nobels in the upper twigs and your pesants grubbing around the roots. This was known as the manurial system where land was passed through fathers to sons by primogenuflecture (In other words, it was full of ...). To some degree rulers diluted people into thinking that this was a religious operation.

During the Middle Ages everyone was middle aged. (They didn’t notice this in the dark ages because it was too dark.)

Power belonged to a patriarchy empowering all genders except the female. Nuns, for example, were generally women. In the early part of the Middle Ages female nuns were free to commit random acts of contrition and redemption. Later they were forcibly enclustered in harems. (Where they quite possibly met those other genders.)

Gratian, the leading Middle Evil authority on women, was born around 1140 B.C. A position as a lady-in-mating helped a young girl’s chances for a marriage useful to her family. Wives of nobelmen held certain power tools although they were branded with his symbol. (So that’s why Dad kept putting his name on his power tools!)

The Right of the First night let lords spend the wedding night with the bride instead of the husband. (Must have been back in those Dark Ages)

In 1066 England was overrun by Norman the Conqueror. England’s Henry II acquired new parts by marrying Ellenor of Equine. (Norman – you know Alexander’s little brother. )

And last, but not least.

Finally, Europe caught the Black Death. The bubonic plague is a social disease in the sense that it can be transmitted by intercourse and other etceteras. (It's those "etceteras" that you really have to look out for) It was spread from port to port by inflected rats. It was then passed around by midgets. Victims of the Black Death grew boobs on their necks. Death rates exceeded one hundred percent in some towns. This was a time of stunned growth. The plague also helped the emergence of English as the national language of England, France, and Italy. (Has anyone told France and Italy?)

MacKenzie

MacKenzie

May 1999 - April 4, 2006

I wasn't completely truthful when I said I was sick. I am, just sick of heart. Telling you I was sick was a lot easier than having to give explanations that I wasn't ready to give. So I apologize for the little subterfuge, but I really couldn't handle it at the moment. I had to take my MacKenzie in to the vets yesterday morning and have her put to sleep. While I was spending so much time on Devlin, I didn't notice that something else was going on. MacKenzie was still pretty feral - probably 60% feral. So she spent her life here in this house living in my bedroom. She would come up to me if I was sitting on the bed and let me pet her, but only then. She lived in there with Neely Shae - they roamed the house at night. This was mainly because of Siobhan and Cassidy who were bullies. I thought things would be better with both of them gone (yes, this is the third cat I've lost since November - although Cassidy just went to another home), but they weren't. With Bebo's move into the house MacKenzie switched to living in my mother's room. For a month or so everything was fine. I'd open the door and she would be laying on the bed or sitting on the windowsill - in other words, she was out in the room. About the time that Devlin became ill I also noticed that MacKenzie was hiding more. She was staying under my mother's dresser. She would come out when I called her - sometimes. Whenever Bubba (Seamas) and Neely Shae were in the room she was fine then too (she had been with Bubba since he was a kitten). But after a while she no longer came out to be with them. She was hiding from them. We all have heard stories of animals who start hiding when they are ill. That was MacKenzie. It doesn't matter from what - the vet and I talked about it for weeks. MacKenzie was not happy, she could not be treated and there was no other option.

By the time I snatched Mackenzie from the yard in November of 2000, we (my brother Howard and I) had already managed to get her to come to us, rub against our legs (if we stood very still), but I had no intention of keeping her. My plan then was to take her on up to the pound and have her humanely put down. I knew that that was better than living on the streets. But I couldn't do it and ended up keeping her. So in a way I gave her almost 5 1/2 years of love (as much as she would allow), food, companionship, etc. that she had never known before.

After she was gone I elected to hold her for a few moments. You see, I could never hold her before - she wouldn't let me. I like to think that she's free now - free from being scared of other cats, free to run and jump and lay in whatever sun is available wherever she is. I firmly believe in the rainbow bridge - I know that when I'm gone, the animals that I've loved will run across a bridge and greet me. Maybe she'll let me hold her again then.

Sorry

Extremely sick. Maybe I can blog something later. Maybe not. Try and have a good day.

Obsession

Obsession: 1. a persistent disturbing preoccupation with an often unreasonable idea or feeling; broadly: compelling motivation; 2. something that causes an obsession : deriving from obsession.

Yep, that's it. In a nutshell. In yesterday's comments Brandy said something about not having that many books on a TBR pile, that she thought a "TBR pile should be more than 3 books high! That's all I manage to keep on hand at one time." That made me get up and count the books on my TBR shelf, and in my stack of hardbacks, and on the computer as ebooks - all unread. 77 books. Yes folks, I have 77 books lined up to read and have two more coming from Amazon and 4 more on pre-order. (I had thought 59, but then I remembered that I had more on another shelf that were automatic "keepers" and I had set them aside until I finished the ones that I wasn't going to keep) I would call that an obsession. Not only that, but I borrow books from the bookstore all of the time. I can't help myself. Its a compulsion, an addiction, and yes, a sickness. One that, until I counted the books, didn't bother me at all. A lot of us buy an extraordinary amount of books. But 77? (Well, 83 if you count the ones on the way and on pre-order). It's downright embarrassing. Like I'm the Imelda Marcos of books. It wouldn't be that bad if I said I had 83 books on my shelf. I'm sure a lot of us have quite a few books on our shelves. But 83 that we hadn't even read yet - why am I continuing to buy books? Do I have this fear that we're all of a sudden going to run out of books so I must hoard them now? Is there a 12-step program for bookaholics? Do I need a sponsor? Someone I can call up whenever I feel the compulsion to buy a book? And what about libraries? Do I need to stop going to places that have books so that I won't be tempted. And once a bookaholic, will I always be a bookaholic?

What about you? Is there something that you are strangely obsessed about? Come on, fess up.

Oh, and Lis won the draw. Email me with your snail mail address.


Reluctant Reunion Word Count: 4.544
Tonights Word Count: 433
Late night talk with the SIL: priceless

Because I Can

My cuddlers. The black one is Aidan and the other is Bailey. Aren't they precious? For some reason Aidan is the friend of all kittens - and he's a male! Bailey is 9 months old and Aidan is ... older (I don't remember, let's see, um, 3 or 4?).


Just a little humor for your Sunday enjoyment:

Sally was driving home from one of her business trips in Northern Arizona when she saw an elderly Navajo woman walking on the side of the road. As the trip was a long and quiet one, she stopped the car and asked the Navajo woman if she would like a ride. With a silent nod of thanks, the woman got into the car.
Resuming the journey, Sally tried in vain to make a bit of small talk with the Navajo woman. The old woman just sat silently, looking intently at everything she saw, studying every little detail, until she noticed a brown bag on the seat next to Sally.
"What's in the bag?" asked the old woman.
Sally looked down at the brown bag and said, "It's a bottle of wine. I got it for my husband."
The Navajo woman was silent for another moment or two. Then speaking with the quiet wisdom of an elder, she said, "Good trade."


Reluctant Reunion Word Count: 4,111
Tonights Word Count: 0
Having a long-distance phone call with a cousin you haven't talked to in ages instead of writing: Priceless

Ready, Set, Go!

I really love the beginning of a book, the clean, blank screen (okay, I don't write long-hand, so just insert page), the possibilities waiting ahead. It's the part of the creative process that thrills me the most. Oh, don't get me wrong, writing the entire book is interesting, but the beginning holds a special wonder for me. In fact, I'm really good at beginning stories - too good in fact. Think I might be practicing too much? I have a lot of first chapters lying around - even a few chapter two's. But I've only finished one book and, while not a total disaster, wasn't my best effort. And I didn't like finishing it. I know that sounds strange but I didn't feel the elation I thought I should have. I definitely didn't have the same sense of awe and wonder I experience at the beginning of a book. But it was a learning experience. I discovered that I wasn't good at dark, brooding characters. I'm more adept at comedy (you think?) and yet I feel as if my life is filled with dark, brooding moments. Maybe that's why I don't write them very well right now. I need the comedy and I guess my mind would much rather dwell on laughter than angst.

Do you feel the same way? Do you find yourself shying away from topics or "moods" that too much mirror what you are going through in your "real" life? And what part of the book is your favorite to write - the beginning, middle or end?

Are We Done Yet?

Do you have a minute?

God, you startled me. Ross? What now? This had better be good because my bloggers are getting tired of this.

Not the ladies, they love handsome men.

Little full of it for a secondary character, aren't you?

I have things to say too.

Well then say it will you - I have writing to do and I am just thisclose to giving you warts.

Just this one thing. I don't like the way Jordan treats me. Shouldn't I have a little more respect?

If you put some clothes on, maybe he would respect you more.

The no clothes are for you.

Thanks. I appreciate it. Anything else?

Do I hear a bit of sarcasm here?

What? Me? I don't know why. I have characters jumping out of no where asking me assinine questions at all hours of the day and you think I'm being a little sarcastic?

There's no need to get touchy. I realize you're the author and all ...

Got that right.

But I was also wondering, when am I going to get my story?

Can I finish this one first? Or is that too much to ask?

Finish it. What's so hard about that. We all know that Jordan is going to fall in love with Skye and vice versa, they have great sex and then live happily ever after. What more do you need?

Great. I'll just write that down and we'll sell a million copies.

You're being sarcastic again.

You think? Your powers of observation constantly amaze me.

I'm not feeling the respect here either.

Where do you think Jordan gets it?


Reluctant Reunion word count: 4,111 (I took out some stuff)
Tonights word count: 1,121 (yes you read that right)
Gags for characters: Priceless

This is book draw day. You know the drill. If you want a book from the backstock, just tell me.

Jill Shalvis:

The Rancher's Surrender (Intimate Moments)
Hiding Out at the Circle C
Tangling With Ty (Temptation)
Roughing it With Ryan (Temptation)
Luke (Temptation)
The Bachelor's Bed (Temptation)
Get a Clue
Beach Blanket Bad Boys (Anthology with Linda Lael Miller, Alison Kent, Lucy Monroe, Susanna Carr and Morgan Leigh)
Blue Flame
Bared (Blaze)

Bad Boys:

Bad Boys to Go by Lori Foster, Janelle Denison and Nancy Warren
Bad Boys on Board by Lori Foster, Donna Kauffman and Nancy Warren
I Brake for Bad Boys by Lori Foster, Janelle Denison and Shannon McKenna

Romantic Suspense:

Double Play by Penelope Neri
Heartbeats by Susan Rae
Half Past Dead by Meryl Sawyer
Don't Say a Word by Barbara Freethy

Contemporary Romance:

Sexy, Single and Searching/Eager, Eligible and Alaskan (Duet) by Lori Wilde
Blame it On Chocolate by Jennifer Greene
Good Girls Don't by Kelley St. John
The Model Man by Genie Davis
Jordan by Lori Foster (Temptation)
Getting Rid of Bradley by Jennifer Crusie (Temptation)
Riley by Lori Foster (Temptation)

Paranormal/Fantasy:

Heart Choice by Robin D. Owens
The Last Bride by Sandra Landry
My Favorite Witch by Annette Blair
Unleash the Night by Sherrilyn Kenyon
The Star Witch by Linda Winstead Jones

And From the Other Side of the Park

Hey!

Again? What now? Skye?

Of course its me. Were you expecting Florence Nightingale?

Right now that might not be a bad idea. What do you want? And if you get naked I'll scream.

Unlike He-man, I don't need to get naked to get my way. I have a brain and I use it.

We've established that. Anything else?

Yes, my story. Did you forget that this was my story? It's a romance - Hero and HEROINE. That's what a romance usually involves - unless you're Emma Holly, and then a few others could be included. This isn't like Emma Holly's books is it?

No, but I could change the POV totally to the man's if you get my drift. And before you get all high and mighty let me clarify one thing. It's my story. I choose what gets typed and what doesn't.

... You finished his scene.

Really? I wasn't aware of that, thanks for telling me. Note the sarcasm? I'm not amused.

Hah! If I were a naked male you would be.

Honey, if you were a naked male, amused would be far from what I would be feeling.

Guttermind.

Is there a point to this?

You left me standing on a sidewalk in a pair of sunglasses. You haven't even established what I have on. As far as the reader is concerned, I could be naked. Are you just going to leave me like this?

You have a brain. You figure it out.

Reluctant Reunion Word Count: 4,414
Tonights Word Count: 594
Clothes for Heroine: Priceless


Toni's having a contest - go give it a try.

You Talking to Me?

Hey!

What? Who's there?

You know who this is - your current hero, Jordan Sinclair.

I've already got the loony bin set up, don't push it.

Really. You've left me in the office about ready to slap the kid brother around and you haven't been back since. What gives?

Who told you you could talk to me?

It's all over heroland. Characters can talk to their authors.

Name one.

Bo Black talked to Shalvis.

Aha, I knew it! Damn Aussie. Listen Buster, let's get this straight. The Shalvis has deadlines and contracts, I don't. You can't push me around, I just cruise along at my own pace. You're not the only fish in the bucket you know. Jared, Nathan, Travis, Morgan - they're all waiting to tell their stories, so you can just go back to heroland - please tell me there isn't a heroland - and wait until I'm ready. Wait, don't do that. Keep that shirt buttoned. It disturbs mom when you run around naked. Stop it I say ... damn, I'm in trouble.

Reluctant Reunion word count: 3,812
Tonights word count: 477
Nekkid muses: priceless

Continued prayers for Olga - go visit her and give her a hug.

Momma

That's my mother's high school graduation picture - 1947.


Monday nights mom and I have a tradition. We stay up "late" to watch Jay Leno's Stupid Headlines - mom loves them. Now, about 9:00 she'll start heading for bed and I tell her "mom, it's Monday night - we have to watch Leno's headlines". "Oh yes, I like those" and she'll go back to her chair to watch whatever else is on at the time. We'll go through this a few times until 10:00 when I join her to watch the news. Then Leno comes on. She still gets quite a bit of his monologue and laughs/giggles along with everyone else. But I've noticed something lately. She doesn't seem to "get" a lot of the headlines. The humor is too subtle and I end up having to explain a few of them to her. That really takes the fun away for me. Just last year, those same headlines would have had her laughing out loud, now there's just empty giggles or silent stares. A sign that the Alzheimer's is silently winning this war we've fought so hard to contain. I knew we wouldn't win, but I had hoped to stave it off for a while longer. I'm not ready to lose her yet. I shouldn't be too upset - after all, we've managed to put off the inevitable a lot longer than a lot of people. The life-span of an Alzheimer's patient is usually around 10 years after diagnosis. Mom was diagnosed in 2001. Officially. We (the family and doctor) really knew she had it for a couple of years before that. So by this time in Alzheimer's years she ought to be a lot farther along than she is. By this time, most patients are already in nursing homes, no longer cognizant of present family members, living mostly in the past. Mom still knows who we are, she still knows that her husband, parents and one child are gone. She still knows where she is. But I can see little bits of her disappearing every day. Slowly, the mother that I knew, the woman that I relied upon for my entire life, is fading away. People ask me why I'm so tired all of the time - after all, mom doesn't require any real "work" yet. Have you ever watched anyone fade away (Ruby has)? My father was in hospice in our living room for about 3 weeks before he died. We watched him leave. But this is different. I've often referred to Alzheimer's as a "dying of the soul". Where the "life" of a person silently vanishes, leaving only an empty shell. I used to see flashes of my mother every now and then, but even those are getting few and far between. I have a teenager on my hands most of the time now, a toddler at other times. And I miss my mother.

Heeeeere's Toni!

Lookie what's come out!

Her Sanctuary

Running for her life, ex-FBI agent Elizabeth Ward escapes to Montana with a new identity. She craves peace and solitude to lick her wounds, but instead finds handsome rancher Nat Sullivan. Nat is trying to hold his ailing family together, while struggling to keep the ranch from bankruptcy. The last thing he needs is a beautiful stranger reminding him there is more to life than work. But Elizabeth is not what she seems. And when a murderer and rapist track her down to the remote mountain ranch, they all find out about the power of revenge.

Author: Toni Anderson
Publisher: Triskelion
Publishing Date: April 2006 (ebook)
Print Release: TBA

Early to Bed, Early to Rise

The entire household was in bed by 9:15 last night. I know I was asleep by 9:30. Wonderful - looked forward to 8 1/2 hours of sleep. No cat fought, no disturbances at all - I slept straight through to ... 4:15. Yes, you read that right - 4:15. 6 1/2 hours later. Remember, my body is used to no more than 6 hours of interrupted sleep, so I guess 1/2 more was good - and no interruptions! I dozed until 5:55 and then decided to get on up. Oddly enough, I feel refreshed anyway (must have been the uninterrupted part).

I'm planning to get a lot of housework done today. Somewhere in there, Bebo and I are going to watch Pride and Prejudice. I know the movie will get watched, just wondering how much of the cleaning I'll really do - we know what happens when I "plot".

Oh, and if running around the house like a "mad-cat" is any indication - Devlin is feeling really good this morning. All cat toys have been investigated and played with, rugs have been scattered and every inch of every room has become part of the Indianapolis 500. Wish I had that energy.

So what are you going to do today?

Another (Chapter) Bites the Dust

Reluctant Reunion word count: Hah! Hah I say! Or to put it another way - in transition.



Look at the title of my blogsite. Remember how I explained that a writer's journey is long and winding? Well, I came to a fork in the road and took the wrong one. The stuff I wrote last night and a little from the night before ... well it, for lack of a better word, stinks. Big time. And to think I actually plotted a little of this one. It's trying to follow the plot that keeps fouling me up, so I'm going back to just listening to the voices and writing what ever comes into my mind. I do better flying by the seat of my pants. I tried to make this one a romantic suspense, but the mystery just does not want to cooperate - so I think it's just going to be a romantic comedy.


How about you? Do you plot or just go with the flow?

Revenge of the College Essays II (or is that III?)

Reluctant Reunion word count: 4,138
Tonight's Word count: 215 (muses decided it was too cold for running around nekkid)




Some of you are already familiar with my favorite book Non Campus Mentis, which is a compilation of real college history essays compiled by Professor Anders Henriksson (Workman Publishing, New York, 2001), but they always bear repeating. I've tried to put new ones in, but since I don't remember exactly where I left off last time (and, if I remember correctly I jumped around the last time) there may be some repeats here - but they're always good for a laugh. As before, everything is typed exactly as in the essays and any comments I feel the need to make are in bold. Have fun.



The hiring of prefessional armies made aggression more controlled and intimate. The Prussian army, for example, would surprise young men by grabbing them in unfair places and sending them to Shanghigh. (I just love it when young men are grabbed in unfair places.) Gustav Adolf Hitler perched on the Swedish throan and looked droolingly at Germany.


The Thirty Years War began with the Defacation of Prague. Prague was capitol of Bulemia, where they always knew the emperor ahead of time. (That's because he thew up everywhere.)


These good times ended when England suffered Civil War between the Musketeers and the Round Ones. (Annette vs. Charlie Brown, cool.) Oliver Cromwell solved this and other problems by removing prominent things from people who disagreed with him. (Which is why he didn't have an army, no unfair places to grab.) The Anglo-Dutch Trade Wars broke out because of trade and possibly not. Winston Churchill helped begin a New England colony. (That Winston Churchill, he was into everything.)


King James Stuart Charles I was beheaded in 1649 and restored with his family several years later. (But he suffered from terrible headaches)


East of the back of the beyond were the Russians, who knew nothing at all during this period. (you really need a comment here?) Russian nobles wore clothes only to humour Peter the Great. Peter filled his cabinet with accidental people and built a new capital near the European boarder. (Oliver Cromwell could have done this if he hadn't removed those prominent things)


Frederick William the Electrode fought on both sides of several wars (along with his trusty sidekick Magnetic Boy)


It was the 18th century Enlightenment that contributed most to the 17th century (But isn't that against the space/time continuum?) The Enlightenment was a reasonable time that seeped slowly into one of Europe's ears and then creeped out the other. (I'm sure it creeped out many things. Hey, wasn't that in Wrath of Khan?) Philosophy was based on falsies and this led to shaky foundations (Gypsy Rose Lee, the Mother of Philosophy?)


In Deism God has no direct influence on daily life, but just watches like a movie, eating his candy and munching his popcorn. (But does he have his cell phone off?)

And last, but certainly not least:

When not working in the church, Bach composed pieces on a spinster in his home (You think I'm touching this one?)

Morning

Devlin's test came back in - look at post below this one for an update.
Reluctant Reunion word count: 3,923
Tonight's word count: 539




Morning is my favorite time of the day. But it only lasts for about 15 minutes. Not what you were thinking, was it? It's that golden time when I first step out to get the paper. I'm met with the sound of quiet. Did you know that quiet has a sound? It's serenity, calmness, a nothing that is soothing to my nerves. Then the early stirrings of nature creep in, the slight shaking of the leaves as the wind blows through the tree branches. I watch one of the feral cats stalk a bug in the grass below the ramp where I stand. It dances in the faint light, jumping from spot to spot, intent on it's prey. Carefee, caught in the moment, enjoying life without fear. It spots me, wariness creeping into it's play. A swat at the bug, a glance my way. But it doesn't run for we have a tenuous relationship, this feral and I. In the distance a dog's bark breaks into the silence. The world is stirring and my time is finished. I pick up the paper and head back into the house to wait for another morning.

What about you? What's your favorite time of day?

The Results are In

Well, it's a bacterial infection. Somehow some bacteria was introduced into the household and infected Devlin. It has taken over his body. The antibiotic he was taking didn't put a dent in it. The vet is starting him on a couple of other antibiotics (yes, two). He'll start those tomorrow. Why Devlin and not the other cats? Because I got him on the day he was born, he never received those precious antibodies that are present in mother's milk. His immune system is compromised. So we'll go with this new treatment and see how it goes. He'll continue with the phenobarbital as the seizures are still occuring. Yes, he still has them, mostly in the morning, a few at some other times, but the majority of them occur early in the day. Just continue to keep your fingers crossed that we can stop this infection from doing any permanent damage.

My Muses

Still waiting for Devlin's test results.

Reluctant Reunion word count 3,381
Tonight's total word count 587





Sleep is an over-rated thing. Who needs it anyway? You'd be amazed at how creative one can be without sleep. Not only am I hearing the voices, but they're running races through the room. Nekkid. And one of them looks a lot like Hugh Jackman. Which helps for those who are familiar with the project. Those who don't - well, my hero looks an awful lot like Hugh. It's when they take over the computer for those stupid card games that really get to me. I mean, aren't they here to work? I don't want to hear about their lovely trip to the Bahamas. And what is it with this coy act? When I sit down to type they're off to the mall or somewhere, but when I want to sleep, oh no, can't allow the poor author to get any sleep. That would be asking too much. So I'm up until 2 stupid o'clock tapping away on the keyboard (probably hitting that "n" key a lot). And that really fouls up my day, screws with my reading time and is generally a pain in the tukus. Rene talked about scheduling on her blog. Scheduling, schmeduling. Not my muses - they call the shots. It would probably be easier to schedule tea with the Queen. Just who works for who here? Obviously I'm not the one in charge and that really irritates me, in case you haven't noticed. They eat my food, drink my liquor ... and someone's been messin' with my high-heeled shoes. Am I planning to write tonight? Haven't you been listening? I just go with the flow ...

I'll end this with a quote that I got from Sasha's blog. I don't think she indicated who said it, but it's very apropos for us writers.

"The main difference between writers and schizophrenics is that schizophrenics Do what the voices tell them and writers just put it on paper."

Update: I did do some writing tonight, but the muses decided they had rather go see a midnight movie and abandoned me at the computer. So I'm going to bed. That should bring them running back.

And Now for Something Different

Not that I'm putting Devlin aside, but enough already. Still waiting for test results.

Anyhoo - the "N" key. Yeah, that one on your keyboard. 3 of us (hi Dennie and Cece) have noticed a peculiar phenomenon - it's been nearly rubbed off! Not that there aren't other keys that are faint, but the "N" key is almost totally gone. What's with that? For example, I have up to the last question mark, used 32 "e's" and 34 "t's" compared to 23 "N's" and yet the "t" key is bright and shining, while the "e" does show slight wear. Is it because I sometimes hit the "n" instead of the "m"? But then again, I hit the "m" instead of the "n" all the time too. Do I hit this key harder than other keys? I try not to, poor "n" key doesn't deserve to be smacked around so much. I need answers! I deserve answers! I don't like unsolved mysteries. Yes, the "q", "z" and "x" are long neglected keys (is there a Key Protection Service that I can be turned into for neglecting certain keys?), but what about poor "H"? I've typed Hugh Jackman plenty of times - that key ought to be fading away - but nooooooo, it's nice and clear. Do the other keys have it in for the "n" key? Maybe they're jealous because of its clear, clean lines, its simplicity of form. Perhaps "n" has been nosing in on "m's" territory too much. But could there be a higher conspiracy here? With the "n" gone, would we not be forced to buy a new keyboard? As the keys slowly disappear like Agatha Christie's "Ten Little Indians", are we stuck with a "faceless" keyboard? And maybe like Christie, the "n" key isn't really gone, but rather waiting to off the other keys having bounced suspicion off of him - or is it a her? Bebo says it could be like the "Back to the Future" movies - perhaps someone has gone into "n's" past and changed it - therefore causing "n" to slowly fade in the present. And where do these keys go off to - is there a key heaven? My mind is boggled too much. Anybody have any answers? Please, help me save the "n" key.

Devlin Update

Okay - we are still on a "wait and see" phase. Since we just upped the dosage on Sunday it may not have had time to kick in. Also, he probably bottomed out energy wise yesterday because of all (10 known) seizures that he had on Saturday. She took more blood to see if the white blood count has gone down - we might get those results this afternoon. Meanwhile, she gave him five more antibiotics just in case. He does seem to be better today. Also, while describing the symptoms of seizures that another cat she was treating I realized that they were similar to something Devlin has done his entire life. Every once in a while when I would pick him up or move him he would growl, hiss, or bite. I thought he was just high-strung, but no, these are another form of seizures. So this is not a new thing. I also got us theorizing that maybe that was why his mother threw him out of the "nest" - they seem to know when something is wrong with the kitten. In other words, the high white cell count just might have been coincidental - not connected with the seizures at all. I gave him his pheno at 10:00 and he is already conked out.

That's it for now. I'm having brunch (didn't have breakfast) and then probably to sleep for while (another one of those weekends). I might do some blogging first, I don't know. If I haven't been by, I will.

Short Post

Real short post. I will have something to talk about after our morning trip to the vet, so please come back later Monday morning.

One and a Halves

One of those nights - have you ever had one where you wake up almost exactly the same amount of time all night long? Every one and a half hour, almost on the dot, I woke up. Devlin stayed next to me all night and kept having seizures, but this time he stayed on the bed. And it wasn't the seizures that woke me up every time. I went to sleep at 10:00 and woke up at 11:30 and that set the pattern for the entire night.

He isn't much better today. I'm supposed to go to a birthday party - my uncle's 96 birthday in fact. I'm not that overly fond of him, but I'd feel bad if hardly anyone showed up. My aunt has been really nice and has even sat for mom while I go out so I'd hate to disappoint her and then ask her to sit again. Mom would like to go. But there's three reasons I'm considering not going - 1) I'm tired, its raining and the kids won't be playing outside; 2) As I said, it's raining, storming in fact and I don't particularly like to drive in thunderstorms, nor do I want to take mom out in one where she's liable to get soaked in the process; 3) I really don't want to leave Devlin alone if he's having these seizures. The thing is that there are people there that mom would love to see. Her sister, for instance, who she hasn't seen since Christmas (they don't drive and live in another town). I guess I could take her out to see them this week to make up for it.

I don't know, my aunt would not understand the animal thing - she grew up on farms and animals are animals - so she doesn't understand how this particular one is more my baby than my pet. More my baby than the other cats I own.

Guess I'll stop here before I become too maudlin.

A (Very) Little Irish Humor

A young Irishman sat at a pub in the New World drinking beer and conversin' with the barkeep. Another comes in and sits besides him. He says “how you do?” hears a lilt and says “you be Irish?”
“Yes I am.” The first man yells. ”Barkeep give us another round and one for my friend here he's from the mother country as well.”
The second man asks-so where in the old country ye from. ”Dublin” responds the first.
“Dublin you say - so am I” and the second man hollers “barkeep bring us another round and a shot of your best Irish Whiskey for me and my friend here."
Afterwards the first man asks from where in Dublin and the second man responds with the street and the first man says “well I'll be - so am I” and yells barkeep another pair of beers and Irish Whiskey for the pair of us. The phone behind the bar rings and the barkeep answers it. The owner of the pub asks how’s business. The barkeep responds “not too bad - The O'Malley twins are here getting drunk again.”


Have a great Saturday!

Happy St. Patrick's Day

For John O'Connell, Mary Clancy, John Hanlon and Catharine Brady - who probably never heard this song - The National Anthem of the Republic of Ireland. Happy St. Patrick's Day everyone.

Amhran na bhfiann

(A Soldier's Song)

Seo dhibh a cháirde duan Óglaigh,
Cathréimeach briomhar ceolmhar,
Ár dtinte cnámh go buacach táid,
'S an spéir go min réaltogach
Is fonnmhar faobhrach sinn chun gleo
'S go tiúnmhar glé roimh thíocht do'n ló
Fé chiúnas chaomh na hoiche ar seol:
Seo libh canaídh Amhrán na bhFiann.
Curfá:
Sinne Fianna Fáil
A tá fé gheall ag Éirinn,
buion dár slua
Thar toinn do ráinig chugainn,
Fé mhóid bheith saor.
Sean tír ár sinsir feasta
Ní fhagfar fé'n tiorán ná fé'n tráil
Anocht a théam sa bhearna bhaoil,
Le gean ar Ghaeil chun báis nó saoil
Le guna screach fé lámhach na bpiléar
Seo libh canaídh Amhrán na bhFiann.
Cois bánta réidhe, ar árdaibh sléibhe,
Ba bhuachach ár sinsir romhainn,
Ag lámhach go tréan fé'n sár-bhrat séin
Tá thuas sa ghaoith go seolta
Ba dhúchas riamh d'ár gcine cháidh
Gan iompáil siar ó imirt áir,
'S ag siúl mar iad i gcoinne námhad
Seo libh, canaídh Amhrán na bhFiann.
Curfá
A bhuíon nách fann d'fhuil Ghaeil is Gall,
Sin breacadh lae na saoirse,
Ta scéimhle 's scanradh i gcroíthe namhad,
Roimh ranna laochra ár dtire.
Ár dtinte is tréith gan spréach anois,
Sin luisne ghlé san spéir anoir,
'S an bíobha i raon na bpiléar agaibh:
Seo libh, canaídh Amhrán na bhFiann.
Curfá


English lyrics
We'll sing a song, a soldier's song,
With cheering rousing chorus,
As round our blazing fires we throng,
The starry heavens o'er us;
Impatient for the coming fight,
And as we wait the morning's light,
Here in the silence of the night,
We'll chant a soldier's song.
Chorus:
Soldiers are we
whose lives are pledged to Ireland;
Some have come
from a land beyond the wave.
Sworn to be free,
No more our ancient sire land
Shall shelter the despot or the slave.
Tonight we man the gap of danger
In Erin's cause, come woe or weal
'Mid cannons' roar and rifles peal,
We'll chant a soldier's song.
In valley green, on towering crag,
Our fathers fought before us,
And conquered 'neath the same old flag
That's proudly floating o'er us.
We're children of a fighting race,
That never yet has known disgrace,
And as we march, the foe to face,
We'll chant a soldier's song.
Chorus
Sons of the Gael! Men of the Pale!
The long watched day is breaking;
The serried ranks of Inisfail
Shall set the Tyrant quaking.
Our camp fires now are burning low;
See in the east a silv'ry glow,
Out yonder waits the Saxon foe,
So chant a soldier's song.
Chorus

Revenge of the Jedi Kids

Did you know I have Darth Vader living next door? Really. I was laying down (lying down?) trying to take another futile nap when suddenly a voice booms out from just below my side window. Darth Vader! I sprang to the window (and that hurt) and saw a 15ish year old kid out with the youngsters. He was standing there yelling in a James Earl Jones deep voice. James Earl Jones doesn't need to yell and neither did doo-rag wearing kid. They hadn't been out there earlier - nobody was. I thought maybe the kid-snatching aliens from the planet Uranus (because that's where they're bothering me) had come down and scooped them up. Nope, no such luck. They were waiting for me to lay down for a nap, the little creeps. I.am.toast. I'm not kidding. I was sitting here around 8:30 and just started yawning. No reading for me tonight, I have got to get a decent nights sleep. Oh, wait, I'm planning an early night, so that means the kidtens will start chasing each other, wrestling, biting my toes under the covers and all sorts of shenanigans that they would only do because I don't want them to. It's a conspiracy. The universe wants to see what will happen if Eve doesn't get any decent sleep for a week. What will happen? You don't even want to know ... honest. Been there, survived that. It was not a pretty sight. So, I'm doing this ridiculously lame blog early so I can climb under, er, into the bed and dream of Hugh Jackman and nekkid cabana boys. And if Darth Vader shows up I just might shove an Ewok up his ...

Just so you won't get terribly bored - whatcha reading?

Please Tell Me It's Not Wednesday

It's going to be one of those days where I beg for a bear. I have nothing to blog about. My mind is too tired for anything deep and profound. Except, if I had a bear, I would train it to go and destroy the drum set of the kid next door. Or should I say the uncle of the kid next door. The one that goes outside every day and bangs on the drums while I'm trying to take a nap. That's right folks - no nap since last Thursday. This does not make Eve a happy camper. I have an assignment that I volunteered for (gladly) that I have to have done by tomorrow night (Thursday morning at the latest - but I hate to be the latest). I thought I could get some done tonight, but I don't think these little green eyes will stay up to midnight. I do have some more cleaning to do (I swear, I have a scanner), but that will take a backseat to this other stuff. The voices? They've kidnapped Jill's Malibu Barbie and have taken off for the Bahamas. More power to them - I didn't particularly want to go to the Bahamas anyway. As much as I hate heat, could you really see me enjoying it there? But that does bring me to a question. If someone were to come to you right now and said you could drop everything to go anywhere in the world that you desired and that time would be suspended so that you wouldn't have to worry about missing any deadline while you were gone (money was no object) - where would you go and would you take someone with you? Me - oh, I'd head straight for Ireland and I would take Bebo, of course. Only one week - and don't worry about the job, the kids or anything - remember, time has been suspended and when the week is up, you'll be back to the exact time and place you were when you left. Come on, don't tell me you're not sitting there wishing you could escape for a little while. We won't tell anyone where you've gone - honest :)

Devlin and a Little Shameless Promotion

First, thank you for all of your support during my crisis. I have no children, so these animals get all of the maternal love that I possess - especially Devlin. How's he doing? Well, his body is finally cool(er) which means the fever is either gone or going away AND he's playing! Yes folks, he got a toy mouse out and was stretched out on the floor (that in itself was new as he hadn't left my bed much for three days) batting it around. Not moving much, but hey, we'll take what we can get, even if it didn't last long because Bailey ran up and took it away from him. Indicative of how he's feeling - he didn't go after Bailey to get it back, which is what he would have normally done. But he's better and I'm very relieved.

Now on to other things. Guess what comes out today?

Her Passion by Denise Belinda McDonald
ISBN: 1-59998-052-5
Length: Novella
Price $3.50
Genre: Romance/Contemporary
Publication Date: March 14, 2006

Can a brief affair sustain a woman before her upcoming, loveless marriage?

Joel Burkhart’s life is work, work and more work until he finds that one woman he’s compared every other woman to since high school, but she’s taken.

Colleen Nance feels her life closing in on her with her nuptials nearing. When passion ignites, she loses her head and loses control.

With a ticking clock, can the pair find what the need in each other or are they destined to continue in a passionless life where status quo is good enough?

You can order it at Samhain Publishing or through Dennie's blog.

Heartbreak

I have mentioned Devlin many times. He is the kitten that I have had since the day he was born. I fed him every 4 hours, stimulated his senses, cuddled him and, yes, even burped him. When I would take him in to the vet and set him on the exam table, he would creep across the table towards me on scent only (not only are kittens blind the first month, they are also deaf), mine was the first face he saw, the first voice he heard. He is my baby, no matter what cat comes after him - this is the one that I have bonded with like no other animal I have owned. He was born with a parasite that robbed him of three weeks of nutrition - he was only getting enough to stay alive, but not to grow. He did not gain an ounce in those three weeks - he wasn't thriving. I medicated and medicated and prayed and prayed. he made it through that illness and I thought we were home free. I had noticed little episodes (hard to explain) on and off - not frequently, once every month or so, nothing to be concerned about. This morning was different. It lasted longer. It starts with a weird rippling of the muscles down his back, then he starts biting and licking his tail and back area, followed by frantic running around the house and ending with panting. I took him to the vet. First, he had a fever - which the doctor said could have been caused by the seizure - yes, seizure. Not epileptic but a sort (the name I don't remember) that sometimes appears in cats. She showed me a description in a vet's manual and he had all of the classic symptoms. She took blood. I took him back home while we waited for the results - meanwhile the seizures continued - 6 in almost 6 hours. The doctor called close to 7:00 (she's great). Devlin's white blood count was way up. She suspects a feline form of meningitis (not contagious) but we can't know for sure unless I were to take Devy to a specialist and have a spinal tap done. Can't afford it. She has started him on an animal form of Cipro (yes, she waited for me to come on up there and get the medication) called Baytril. The seizures are escalating - 11 now in 8 hours. The Baytril might alleviate the seizures, if not we will have to start him on phenobarbitol. This, hopefully, will only be on a temporary basis until the seizures are controlled. If none of this helps we will probably have to have him put down. I am so scared. And my heart is slowly breaking - this is my baby. Please think about us in the next few days - we're going to need all of the prayers and good wishes we can get. And I could use a few cyber hugs too.

Updates in comment section - Thanks for all of the prayers and support.

Funny Friday

Y'all know how my Thursday nights are (little sleep) so I'm changing "humor day" from Wednesday's to Friday's - I only have to cut and paste (well, I do have to search my humor file)

Groaner #1

Two guys were in a bar, and they were both watching the television when the news came on. It showed a guy on a bridge who was about to jump, obviously suicidal. "I'll bet you $10 he'll jump," said the first guy. "Bet you $10 he won't," said the second guy. Then, the guy on the television closed his eyes and threw himself off the bridge. The second guy hands the first guy the money. "I can't take your money," said the first guy. "I cheated you. The same story was on the five o'clock news." "No, no. Take it," said the second guy. "I saw the five o'clock news too. I just didn't think the guy was dumb enough to jump again!"

Groaner #2

A dietician was once addressing a large audience in Chicago. "The material we put into our stomachs is enough to have killed most of us sitting here, years ago. Red meat is awful. Vegetables can be disastrous, and none of us realizes the germs in our drinking water. "But there is one thing that is the most dangerous of all and we all of us eat it. Can anyone here tell me what lethal product I'm referring to? You, sir, in the first row, please give us your idea." The man lowered his head and said, "Wedding cake."


And last, but not least, Groaner #3

One of Microsoft's finest technicans was drafted and sent to boot camp. At the rifle range, he was given some instruction, a rifle, and bullets. He fired several shots at the target. The report came from the target area that all attempts had completely missed the target. The technician looked at his rifle, and then at the target. He looked at the rifle again, and then at the target again. He put his finger over the end of the rifle barrel and squeezed the trigger with his other hand. The end of his finger was blown off, whereupon he yelled toward the target area, "It's leaving here just fine, the trouble must be at your end!"

Happy Birthday Diane

Happy Birthday Diane

Your friendship has meant a lot to me. I know this last year has been hard on you and my one wish for you is that this year brings you what your heart desires. You deserve it.

Promise Me That You Will ...

Be kind to yourself.

Look in the mirror and see

that you are beautiful.

Make three wishes.

Be strong.

Nurture your soul.

Continue your prayers.

Let go of any pain.

Banish any anger.

Take one moment at a time.

Hear music.

Make music.

Seek inspiration.

Learn.

Promise me that you will ...

Believe in fairy tales

and in the magic

of your dreams.

Find that dreams do come true.

Hug yourself.

Feel the sun shine.

Believe again.

Smile.

Seek laughter.

Always remember that you have

a guardian angel

watching over you.

Find hope.

Find your true love.

Promise me these things.

- Linda Ann McConnell

Fair Park

Headache quite a bit better - thanks. Just a dull throb now. I can live with that.

Anyways, since I didn't get a lot of pictures of the festival - I did manage to get a couple of shots of the Centennial Building (which housed half of the festival - the other half was in the Automobile Building - the area in between the two buildings usually has water in it). The Texas State Fair was built during the Great Depression by men participating in the WPA (Work Progress Adminstration - I think) which, for those of you who may not know, was a program by the government where artist, builders, etc. were paid to build parks, highways and other public works. The architecture was in the Art Deco style with huge murals and statues adorning the various buildings. It was finished in 1936 for the centennial of Texas Independence and FDR cut the ribbon. Over the years many of the murals were painted over because they were considered too risque for decent people to see and others just deteriorated. (couldn't have those art deco women with naked breast showing - give me a break) In the last 5 - 10 years they have been painstakingly restored to their former glory. You can see part of one in the picture of the bagpipes. I haven't had a chance to see all of the restoration - I don't get to the fair often, but I've seen pictures of them and it's pretty awesome. Sorry about the light poles, but they wouldn't move out of my way. When I used to go to the fair as a teenager the colors behind the statue to the right were no where that vivid, nor were they anywhere else on the building. Now, if only the fair itself didn't take place while the weather was hot. Even though we had a decent day - it still got a little warm in one of the buildings and I had to use the inhaler once. And the weather is hotter and muggier during the fair. Anway, Fair Park is a quite decent place to visit - aquarium, Science Museum, Museum of Natural History, etc. These buildings are open year round. It was at the Fair Park music hall that I got to see Yul Brynner in "The King and I" and Richard Burton in "Camelot" (not to mention John Schneider in "Brigadoon" - still a cutie). I have a lot of memories of the fair as a teenager - but I haven't been in over 10 years, and it was probably a good 15 years before that the last time I attended. Some people are fanatics about it and attend every year, driving from various parts of Texas. Not me - unless you were to have Hugh Jackman there ...

I'm Sick

Blasted, pounding headache. I'll be laying low for the day.

A Day at the Fair

Well actually they called it a festival, but "A Day at the Festival" just doesn't have the same ring to it. Another North Texas Irish Festival has come to a close. I'm already looking forward to next year. I tried to get a couple of pictures, but no matter what I did with the EV, flash, etc. I just couldn't get the indoor pictures to come out. I could have taken another picture of the sword guys but why - I have two from last year. So I took this picture of the bagpipers. Yeah, bagpipers - what can I say?

We ate too much, walked too much (yes too much, when your feet hurt and your knees ache - then it's too much). Beverly (that would be Bebo) had a Guiness for you Susan - I hope you enjoyed it. Saw Aefa Clancy and Robbie O'Connell sing - had to, those are two of my ancestor names. Aefa is the daughter of Bobby Clancy of The Clancy Brothers, a great Irish group that I love. Heard Eileen Ivers, saw Irish dancing, and ogled quite a few men in kilts. Bebo even got knocked over by an Irish Wolfhound. Yes, she got knocked over by a dog. She's a little sore, but nothing serious. Anyway, I'm off to bed now.

The Irish Are Coming

Another lovely day at work - I am so tired of this place. I love the bookstore, there's just such an atmosphere of "blah" here now. Tomorrow will be better. Bebo and I are going to The North Texas Irish Festival - its the largest Irish festival in the Southwest. She and I go every year. I plan to get another mug with one of my Irish coats of arms on it. I have O'Connell and Hanlon, so only Clancy and Brady to go. Then my Irish t-shirt is a must - oh, and a stop at the Ulster Project which brings children from Ireland to the U.S. - Catholic in a Protestant household and vice versa I think. Anyway, its a worthwhile project and I like to support it. Here is one of the only two pictures that came out from last years trip. I'll have to check the directions on my digital camera because none of the pictures that I took indoors came out. Irish bands and singers come from Ireland, Canada and the U.S. and there is music everywhere. And Guiness :)


So, what do y'all have planned for the weekend?

I've Found a Man

For those who came over from the other blog - did you forget we had a contest going on? The assignment was to find someone for me to model a secondary character on. The prize was a copy of Jill Shalvis' Room Service. My pick from your entries? No one. Sorry, but I was sitting here at my desk the other day and since there wasn't a mess to look at I started looking at my "potential characters" board on the wall above the desk and there he was ... my Scott Thorton (not our Scott - the name was picked out two years ago). Scott is a bit of a rebel, cowboy, Harley Davidson riding, ex-military, hard-ass. And who better to be his model than ... Josh Halloway. So who gets the book? I took all of the suggestions by those that wanted the book and put them in a box and picked. Mark-Paul Gosselaar was the name I picked out and Susan entered that name. So Susan wins a copy of Room Service! Yay Susan. As soon as Olga decides which book she wants from winning the draw last week, I'll get up to the post office and mail it off to you. No need to send the address, I still have it.

Wait for a minute while I drool, okay?

All right. (Deep breaths)

Now I'm going to send you away. Yes, I'm sending you to another couple of blogs. First it's over to Jordan Summers where she has a great product for you exercise freaks (er, fanatics? um, devotees?). It's called Prime Condition and you really should check it out.

Secondly, Dennie has a short story that you just have to read - Scruffy Dog Review - "Hudson Flotsam". It's funny.

Nothing more to talk about. Y'all be good now - and if you can't be good please invite me along!

Ahem

I almost forgot:

Happy Texas Independence Day!!!!

Momma Said There'd Be Days Like This ...

Mom has been in a cranky mood today - sort of like a three year old who has gone without a nap. It's really difficult when she's like this - constantly into things, wanting to help but causing more problems than actually helping. Anyway, that's put me off the mood to write, plus no nap. I know there will be no problem sleeping tonight.



I was up for quite a while last night reading Kate Walker's 12-Point Guide to Writing Romance. It's a pretty good book. I would have scanned it in and posted a picture of the cover - but I still haven't liberated the scanner. Anyway, it has some exercises to use for character development and I was messing with my hero Jordan (no Summers, he was named 2 years ago) and I came up with a revelation. Jordan is the middle of two brothers. Ethan, the eldest, has always been the responsible one, the smart (intellectually) brother. Ross, the youngest, is a typical youngest child - adored simply for being last, free of familial expectations because he would always be the baby. Jordan was stuck in the middle and spent his life trying not to be invisible. The best athlete, the prettiest girlfriend, etc. He had to be the best at everything he did in order to stand out, to be something other than the "middlin child". There's more to it, but this was the thing that stood out the most. I'm the baby, so I really can't relate to the middle child syndrome (might have to look up birth order stuff - wow, research!), but I can relate to being overshadowed by a sibling and feeling the need for the spotlight. I tried working a bit on the story and would you believe after all those days of yelling at me, no one was talking. I hate when that happens.


Spent a while today cleaning the room - more of the getting organized stuff. So that, the humongous shopping spree at Wallyworld, coupled with no nap, has made Eve a tired little camper. I know there were some other things that I had planned on doing here, but hell if I can remember what? I'm off to bed now.

A birthday and Random Thoughts

Happy Birthday Ruby!!!!!

I hope this birthday is an absolutely wonderful one. You've been a great friend. Have an awesome day! You deserve it.

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(hey, it was the only way I could think of to separate the two - whenever I published, they ran together - any suggestions?)

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So, just what is it with the title of this blog? The long and writing road (besides a play on one of my favorite Beatles songs) is a journey that many of us "un-published" writers travel every day. Its a quest for just THE book that will get our proverbial foot in the publishing world. It's a wild ride, sometimes lonely, sometimes so full that its hard to breathe, but never, never dull. Hard, frustrating, tragic, wrenching ... but never dull. For me the journey began in childhood with the fantasies and mystical worlds I created everywhere I turned. This fantasy world filled me, sustained me through some very tough times in my life. I'd spend my days in Collinsport, or on the bridge of the starship Enterprise (where I really was going to marry Chekhov). As I grew older I started to solve mysteries with a girl named Nancy, dumped Chekhov for Keith Partridge, Dave Starsky and Joe Hardy (wait, Keith Partridge and Joe Hardy? Isn't that kind of incestuous?) and continued to dream. Then my mother introduced me to some very fine ladies named Violet Winspear, Mary Burchell, Betty Neels and Mary Wibberley. I became hooked on this thing called romance and dumped Donny Osmond for aristocrats and doctors. And my dreams broadened. That's when the voices began ... you know those voices - the weavers of stories, the narrators of vivid tales of love, romance and adventure. I even tried writing a Presents once somewhere around the 9th grade (that was just 7 years ago - watch it!). But then something happened. I suddenly developed this fear of mistakes. I became obsessed with homework, agonizing over every word, every comma, every grammatical mistake I was making until, suddenly, I couldn't write anything down. Not a good sign for a writer. So I shelved that dream and went on with my life. But the daydreams continued, the voices still whispered to me, and the self-imposed exile to the land of no writing became a silent torment. About 13 years ago that began to change. Slowly my world started coming into focus and the voices became louder until they would no longer be silenced. So I began to write, to push those boundaries I had erected around me. I even joined a writer's group ... and for someone with agoraphobia that was one of the hardest things I ever had to do. And the words began forming, the ideas sprang from me sometimes so much, so fast that I couldn't keep up. It was if someone had opened the floodgates and I couldn't stop it. I wrote a book. Yep folks, I actually have one. Oh it needs a lot of editing, and the story is really ... mediocre at best. But that's not the point. It's written. So what's the problem? Well, other than the fact that I hate the book? That's about the time I began taking care of my parents, dropped out of the writer's group and pretty much gave up writing again. Until last year. Until I began blogging and the muses sprung up in me and all gave a shout of Hallelujah! That's when I decided that writing, for me, wasn't just a hobby. It was a passion, an all-consuming need to write down the stories of all the voices in my head. So this week I decided that I had wallowed in depression for long enough. That I was going to get my life back in some sort of order (hence the cleaning of the desk) and I was going to start back on that journey, back on that long and writing road. Wanna walk with me?

Hey!

Nobody's looking at my desk! Scroll down - I worked hard on that!

Wow, 5 posts in a little over 12 hours.

Hooray Cece

Our very own Cece, aka Celia Stuart, has sold her book "Blue Collar Chicks" to Kensington for Aphrodesia. Yay Cece!!!! (I want my smilies)

My, my, - four blog posts in less than 12 hours - watch, I won't have anything to say tomorrow.

Welcome to Blogger

So what do you think? I'm still messing with it (in fact, I've changed templates three times already), but I think this is going to work out okay. Only one problem so far ... HOW DO YOU DO LINKS! (How are you feeling Toni? Was that too loud for you?)

This is my third post for the evening - the other's are pictures (look below). But I just wanted to put up a welcome post for those of you who will be joining me today. I will no longer be posting on bravenet - they made me mad with their broadband crap, so here I am. I'm thinking about doing another blog just with my book recommends. What do you think?

Draw - in case you missed it - a tie (two pieces of paper stuck together) Butterfly - you here yet? You need to email me with your snailmail addy. I can't send your book without it. Oh, and Olga - narrow down your choice - I ain't sending you all of the romantic suspense. And if you didn't win this time, keep at it.

I'm going to miss the smilies though. I really liked them ...

Now, if anyone can help me with links I would be most appreciative. And don't say go to "edit me" because I've tried and it just messes with my non-technical mind.

My Desk

This is my desk ...





This is my desk on drugs ...













Got it?

Test

This is just a test to see how this will look. Guess I'll start with a picture of my almost 9 month old kitten Bailey - or Baileyboo to those who know and love him. Isn't he cute? He's such a baby - but being a feral cat, he still has a little wildness in him. I caught him at approximately 3 months old, then found out he had ringworm (yikes) so he spent the first three months of his life in this house in a kennel. I would let him out in my mother's bathroom every once in a while, but with other cats in the house we had to be careful. He kind of walked funny at first, but is doing fine now. And he's getting a little less skittish every day. He and Devlin have fun - a little loud, but what would you expect from a 9 month old and an 11 month old. Oh, and this is Devlin. I got him at 1 day old - yes, he's a handfed baby. He's little for his age and always will be because he had a parasite from birth that caused him to not gain weight for about 3 weeks during a crucial growing time. He's very loving, more loving than any other cat I've ever owned. "They" say that's the way with handfed kittens.

Well, I guess this is the end of the test. Now I'm off to play with the rest of the blog.