Friday, June 26, 2009

Books and Shoes

I admit, I love shoes. Always have. So does the new puppy. Have no idea how she wiggled her way into the closet, but the blue Timberlands are now doggie toys. Sigh. Good thing she's cuter than cute.

Reread SILENCE AND SHADOWS by James Long. It holds up well, and this time around, I realized I like it the way I like Pat Murphy's FALLING WOMAN. The use of dual time frames, each separated by hundreds of years, yet paralleling the current story, sucks me in without fail. I'm also a sucker for archaeologist heroes/heroines. I had visions once of digging in the dirt and discovering a lost civilization, until the reality of filthy hair, no showers, sleeping bags, and tents (save me!) sank in. I'm a room service kinda girl, I fear. Although the bugs wouldn't bother me a bit. Just so you don't think I'm a total wimp, I did battle tonight with a tick from the garden (the gardenias are so laden, I pick handfuls every day), and I won.

Painting the bedroom sucks up time I don't have. Gotta finish the woodwork so I can restore order and calm to the oasis. The chaos of furniture under tarps, light switches removed, etc., always gets me. My beloved has done the hard part - the ceiling - so I drew mullion-duty. Ick. Back to my itty bitty paint brush.

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

What's Going On?

Hoped to see the shuttle launch, but it was scrubbed early yesterday morning for a gas leak problem. Isn't it odd, that after so many years and so many launches, problems arise that stump the brilliant ones who know what they're doing with those rockets? We saw one a few years back - all smoke and noise, incredible shaking and rumbling - and I, for one, can't help but wonder why only seven more launches remain on the schedule. The Russians are taking over for us, aren't they? That's what I hear - and again, I wonder. What the heck is going on with our space program? I still remember the thrill of hearing that an American landed on the moon. My generational bias may be showing - I thought we were the best at this business, once upon a time.

Maybe when all the US publishers are ruled by corporations with headquarters in Berlin, Moscow, and Beijing, we'll wonder what happened there, too. So much for publishing houses in the US of A....

My sunburned back is probably affecting my mood - considering I put on sunscreen, I'm really ticked. Wait, maybe I'd better check where it was manufactured before I start complaining about its lack of efficacy. . .

Thursday, June 04, 2009

Carl Long Racing Needs Help

Although I try to hide the fact I'm a lawyer, albeit retired, sometimes I want to get back in the game so badly it hurts. Especially when I see someone getting kicked around unfairly. Unfortunately, there's not much I, or any other lawyer, can do to help Carl Long with his Nascar penalty of $200,000 in fines for him, and $200,000 in fines for his crew chief. His Ernie Elliot engine, rebuilt after being excessed from the defunct Chip Ganassi garage, was .17 off the mandated measurement. This was after it had blown up, too, and was never used in a race. A non-points race, I might add.

Long and his crew chief are part-timers, racing when they can scrape up the money and equipment. These fines effectively put them out of business, and since there's a 12 race suspension as well, Long can't work his job with Front Row Motorsports in the Spring Cup garage. So long to earning a living.

I went to and donated a few dollars. If every fan of the underdog racer did the same, just $5, and 40,000 of us did it, we'd have his fine covered. Make it $10 each (lunch at McD's, for heaven's sake!), and he and his crew chief will be in the clear money-wise. Don't let the nitwits at Na$car win this one. Racing isn't supposed to be about kicking the little guy because you can. It's about beatin' and bangin' on the track. I'm going to vote with my dollars and boycott all official Na$car merchandise this year. If I'd buy a T-shirt or a pin, even a cap, at a track, I won't. Those dollars are going to Carl Long Racing.

Wednesday, June 03, 2009


The good news is, I figured out how to get rid of the Twitter garbage on this page.  The bad news is, the prior post now makes no sense.

However, I'm a happier camper.  After six chapters of SIGNS, I realized I didn't like my hero's name. Normally, characters come to me already named, but when they don't, it's pretty much a mess.  Today I bit the proverbial bullet and played with names.  One fit. Thank goodness.  The first name sounded like a prig, and he's not. He's a good ole boy who fixes cars and plays the fiddle.

Tuesday, June 02, 2009

Uhhh... All a-Twitter?

I had absolutely no idea every time I posted a Twitter, it would show up on the sidebar for this blog. None. It's a bit embarrassing, since I've been posting to see if I'm getting the thing done right. A lot of it mystifies me, and the fact my tech-savvy kid can't help throws me. She's a die-hard face-booker, and thinks Twitter for the birds. Literally.

Been writing in between getting in my other daughter's way as she packed to go to Guatemala. She should be there by now, so we're waiting to hear what she thinks. She's designing a meeting building for the Highlands Project, so she packed mostly architectural supplies. Hope she has enough clothes, but I doubt it. Getting a level, plumb, and design supplies in the duffle bag was more important.

Been skipping through some books I hoped to enjoy. Not a one caught my fancy. Bummer. Won't name them, as most are NYT bestsellers. In fact, I found the lot to be boring and very same-ish. Yikes. I need to read some Jane Austen to cleanse my brain cells of this cynicism.

The new puppy has been re-christened Calamity Jane, or Cali for short. It fit better on her name tag than Callie. Calamity is more descriptive. I won't go into the depths of her destructiveness, because she's really a very sweet dog, but I'm exhausted from trying to keep her amused so she won't eat every shoe in the house. Or turn over every trashcan. Or chew up every newspaper and book. Or eat every bed get the picture. We've bought bones, Mr. Squeeks, chew toys, you name it. Nothing is as good as a sneaker, evidently. One she dragged from the closed closet, no less. The girl has talent.