Christmas Greetings

It seems particularly fitting to have an offering from Slim Randles this Christmas Eve. Here's hoping that those of you who celebrate Christmas have the best one possible. For those who celebrate other winter holidays and holy days, my best wishes to you and yours, as well. 

Windy had sent off for a doo-dad for his small kitchen, and that’s why he checked the mailbox. If you’re Alphonse “Windy” Wilson, and you’re long-in-the-tooth and single, you find yourself not checking the mailbox very often unless there’s a reason. It saves the disappointment of finding it empty, you see.

But there was something in there today.

He opened it up. It was a Christmas card from Mrs. Morris. In it, she had written “Thank you so much for fixing my shed.”

Wow! As Windy would say, it was a “transfigurational enlightening.” Of course, he only used his fancy English when there was an audience of one or more. But it led him to thinking he might have to check the ol’ mailbox more often.

He had straightened up Mrs. Morris’ shed that was perilously close to becoming kindling in her back yard. That Mrs. Morris had wanted it to become kindling so she could use the space for other reasons didn’t really figure in. It all happened on one of Windy’s helping days. One day each week, he looked around for someone who needed help and helped them, whether they wanted him to or not.

The next day there were two more Christmas cards. One from Mrs. Lopez, whose arthritis prevented her from weeding her flower patch, and one from someone who didn’t sign it, but just wrote “Thank you so much” inside.

Windy was rendered speechless, which is the equivalent, here in Home Country, of the Pacific Ocean tides deciding to take the day off.

But the capper came on Christmas Eve. Windy returned from eating at the Mule Barn and explaining to the guys all about “experiential trans-wisdom” and its effects on education these days. And there, on his front porch, was a cardboard box with holes punched in it. It was vibrating a big, too, and making whining sounds.

On opening it, Windy found a brown puppy with an overabundance of enthusiasm and an active tongue and smile. There was no note. He hugged the pup and took him in the house. It was going to be a great Christmas.
--------
Brought to you with warmest Christmas season wishes by Slim and Catherine Randles.
-------
And now a Holiday Greeting from one of my publishers, Five Star Cengage

Monday Morning Musings

I hope everyone had a terrific weekend. Mine was spent at the East Texas Book Fest where I connected with some of my author friends, met some new ones, and chatted with visitors about how much fun it is to read. There is a real passion on both sides of the book, and I find it quite energizing to talk to someone who can get so lost in a good story that everything else is blotted out. That's the way it is for us who put the words on the paper. If we did not have that same passion for story, the words would be nothing but dark smudges on white paper.

There was a reception for the authors the evening before, which was a good excuse for wearing something nicer than my jeans and tee-shirt; my normal attire here at Grandma's Ranch.

What I'm Reading: Sarnia, historical fiction set first in London then on the isle of Guernsey. It is set in the Regency era, but has little of the lightheartedness of most Regency novels and is closer to a gothic. The book was written by a man using a feminine pen name, and I think he did a credible job writing from a female POV.

What I'm Dismayed About: Much is being said in the media about Texas Governor Rick Perry's new serious look. He has glasses with black frames that make him look more studious than country hick, and word is the new image is to help with another run at the presidency. Please, Mr. Perry, don't do it. Stay home and tend to Texas business and answer to your two felony indictments for abuse of power.

What I'm Happy About: My wonderful daughter-in-law, Corina, who is celebrating her birthday today. She has been such a wonderful gift to our family, the perfect partner for my son, Michael, and a terrific mom to their two girls. Happy birthday, Corina.

Now for a Joke or Two:  A nursery school teacher was delivering a van full of kids home one day when a fire truck zoomed past. Sitting in the front seat of the fire truck was a Dalmatian. The children started  discussing the dog's duties.

      "They use him to keep crowds back," said one.
     
      "No," said another, he's just for good luck.
     
      A third child brought the argument to a close.  "They use the dog's,"  she said firmly, "to find the fire hydrant."

A grumpy old gentleman in a crowded restaurant was compelled to sit, much against his will, next to the orchestra. He stared at the orchestra leader as a loud jazz selection came to an end. The annoyed patron snorted, and then asked, "Would you be so kind as to play something by request?"
     
      The leader bowed again and beamed. "Certainly," he replied, "anything you like, sir."
     
      "Then," snapped the patron, "please be good enough to play a game of checkers while I finish my meal."

So how was your weekend? Anything good happen you'd like to share?

Friday's Odds and Ends

Well, last night President Obama took some drastic action in Iraq. I'd been so disconnected from the news for so long, I had no idea things had been heating to a boiling point over there. I do applaud the action of dropping much-needed food and other supplies to the Iraqi religious minorities that are stranded on top of a mountain. Tens of thousands of people are being displaced as the terrorists attempt to take over the Iraqi government. Check out the story on ABC News.

However, I'm wary of  engaging the militants in any way. The President has authorized U.S. airstrikes in northern Iraq, if necessary, to counter advancing Islamic militants and the threat they pose to Americans as well as Iraqi civilians.

Let's just hope and pray it doesn't come to that.

Since that news is so depressing, I decided to go play with some memes this morning. We see them all the time on Facebook, but I have never tried to create my own. Here are a couple I did with some of the pictures of my animals.

The cat was Orca, and he and Poppy were actually good buddies. When Orca disappeared, we were not sure who missed him the most, us or the dog.

This next one is an image I saw on the site where I played with the memes, MemeGenerator, and it made me think of the old Budweiser beer commercial. How many of you remember the line?

 

And now the joke for the day:

Reaching the end of a job interview, the Human Resources Officer asks a young engineer fresh out of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, "And what starting salary are you looking for?" 

The engineer replies, "In the region of $125,000 a year, depending on the benefits package."

The interviewer inquires, "Well, what would you say to a package of five weeks vacation, 14 paid holidays, full medical and dental, company matching retirement fund to 50% of salary, and a company car leased every two years, say, a red Corvette?"

The engineer sits up straight and says, "Wow! Are you kidding?"

The interviewer replies, "Yeah, but you started it." 

Friday's Odds and Ends

Nothing to rant about today. OMG, somebody take my temperature. (smile) Seriously, I think I have been so busy with productions at the local art center, I have not paid attention to the national news. I hardly pay attention to the local news, either. I never have the television on during the day, and only watch the late evening news to see if the weather forecast matches what I can see outside my windows. The old joke about the weather - if you want to know what the weather is like step outside - does hold true.

I've had a lot of fun working with the Young Players at the Winnsboro Center For the Arts on our Nite of Comedy. The kids - most of whom have come through the Summer Drama Camp - put on skits and funny music and then we do improv.  The performance will be June 28, and shortly after that the drama camp starts. I always forget from year to year how much work is involved in organizing and preparing for these events. But I do so enjoy working with the kids.

Today in my inbox I found a neat message from my sister with pictures of kids and dogs. They were all so cute, I was tempted to share them all here, but settled for just a couple. I think you'll agree that they have a great "aw" factor.

Do you have a favorite memory of a special dog that might tug a heart string or two? If so, please share in the comments. One of my favorites is of our dog, Ruffy. He was a mix between a wolf and a German shepard, but he was very loveable and hugable. Ruffy was always good for a romp or a walk, and it was undeniable that he wormed his way into all our hearts. Never was that more evident than the day the kids did a survey at the dinner table and decided they all liked the dog better than me.

Since I have a jillion things to do today, I'm going to keep this short and end with a joke. I found this one on The Laugh Factory.

Ralph is driving home one evening, when he suddenly realizes that it's his daughter's birthday and he hasn't bought her a present. He drives to the mall, runs to the toy store, and says to the shop assistant, "How much is that Barbie in the window?" In a condescending manner, she says, "Which Barbie?" She continues, "We have Barbie Goes to the Gym for $19.95, Barbie Goes to the Ball for $19.95, Barbie Goes Shopping for $19.95, Barbie Goes to the Beach for $19.95, Barbie Goes Nightclubbing for $19.95, and Divorced Barbie for $265.00." Ralph asks, "Why is the Divorced Barbie $265.00 when all the others are only $19.95?" "That's obvious," the saleslady says. "Divorced Barbie comes with Ken's house, Ken's car, Ken's boat, Ken's furniture..." 

Meet Marjorie Brody

Please welcome Marjorie Brody as my Wednesday's Guest today. I asked her for a quick introduction and she wrote: "I love scuba diving, the theatre, escaping into books, creating characters and stories from a blank page, my husband, our four children, and our five grandchildren—and not necessarily in that order. I met Maryann and her son at an Author and Artist event in Killeen, Texas, rapidly devoured her novel, One Small Victory, and hope our paths cross more often."

I second that motion, and since we both live in Texas, further meetings in person could happen. In the meantime, grab a glass of lemonade, sit back and enjoy the visit as we chat about... well, stuff.

Marjorie: Thank you for inviting me to It’s Not All Gravy, Maryann. I appreciate you reviewing my psychological suspense, Twisted, and especially admire your restraint in not giving away the ending. No apology needed for missing clues. While they begin on page one, they do remain subtle until Sarah needs them not to be. Thanks for reading her story. I hope it touched your heart. Now, you wanted to ask me some questions. I’m ready whenever you are.

Q.  If you could go back in time, what one thing would you change about yourself?
A. Ah, to have that kind of magic. I’d give myself more confidence earlier on, especially around academics. I think I’ve had an undiagnosed dyslexia and reading was always a challenge for me. I remember a teacher berating me because I reversed words in a sentence when I had to read in front of the class. “If the author wanted those words reversed, Margie, he would have written them that way.”

I can still feel my cheeks heat. I would try to figure out what section I’d be called on to read and would jump ahead to practice that section while my classmates read. Naturally, I heard nothing of what they read in class and would have to reread their sections at home. My first grade teacher told my parents never to expect too much of me academically, that I’d always be an average student. I wonder if that teacher’s definition of average included being on the Dean’s list, earning a doctoral degree, having three plays produced for the stage, publishing short stories and an award-winning novel. Wish I could speak with that first grade teacher now.

Q.  Before I ask the next question, isn't it great fun to be able to prove the nay-sayers wrong? I had a similar experience, but without all the degrees to follow. (smile) I know your background is in psychology, but I wonder if you have always wanted to be a writer?
A.  I’ve always written. In elementary school, it was poetry and what is now called flash fiction, in high school I wrote a novella. I continued to write poetry and short stories off and on, but didn’t know I would enter the field of fiction until 2001. My parents wanted me to become a teacher because, “God forbid something should happen to your husband (I wasn’t even married at the time), I would need a way to support myself and my children.”

I bet those beliefs must seem ancient to modern women.

I did teach for a brief time, but when my husband went on for a second Master’s degree and then a Doctoral degree, the competitive part of me wanted to keep up with him. Psychology and marriage and family therapy courses excited me and led me into a career as a psychotherapist. I developed a reputation for helping severely dysfunctional clients turn their lives around. I loved the challenge. It’s a sacred privilege when someone shares his/her journey with you. And when that person changes an unhealthy intergeneration behavior and makes things better for the next generation, wow, how awesome is that? But after decades in the field, my professional growth had peaked—and I always want to be growing and learning. Around the same time, my desire to write pushed to the surface and prompted me to attend the Santa Barbara’s Writing Conference (2001). I left that experience determined to write a novel. In 2007, I gave my clinical practice to a colleague and stepped into a full-time writing career.

Q.  It's wonderful that you were able to accomplish so much in another career and have now found your way to writing. On another note, I wonder what is your fondest childhood memory?
A.   Not only my fondest, but one of my earliest: I am 3 ½ - 4 years old. My parents, younger brother and I were visiting my grandparents in Florida. We were probably showing them my newest baby brother. My grandfather had a boat he’d take us out on (we kids would be tied by a cord so we didn’t fall over). He also had a mariner best friend we called Captain. One day during our visit—maybe because the new baby was getting so much attention—Captain took my brother and me to a toy store and told us we could buy anything we wanted. “Anything?” my brother asked, his eyes wide with excitement.

“Anything,” Captain said. The store seemed gigantic from my young eyes. I remember bicycles and tables and chair sets hanging from the ceiling. Captain waited at the register in the front of the store while I walked up and down aisles picking up and examining items of interest: tiny china dishes, games, doll houses, stuffed animals. I sat in cars that could really drive, walked in princess high heels, sat on a rocking horse twice my size. I finally decided on a four-foot high doll dressed in a long wedding gown, a veil and heels. She held a bouquet of cloth flowers in her hand. The box declared her Betsy the Beautiful Bride. I cherished that doll for years. What struck me so vividly about that experience was the vast freedom the Captain had given us. We could have anything we wanted. The power to choose. Hmm, I hadn’t consciously associated this memory with Sarah’s, my protagonist in Twisted, until this very minute, but for those of you who read it, you’ll understand the connection.

Q.  Ah, I do see the connection. It is so interesting when one of our childhood memories slips into a story. I know you like books and theatre, but I'm curious if you have a favorite movie?
A.  I’m not sure I have a favorite movie, but I do have a  favorite scene. In Camelot, King Arthur (Richard Harris) and Guinevere (Vanessa Redgrave) dance to the song “What Do The Little Folk Do”. I have never been fond of that song, but there is a moment when they are dancing and the viewer knows that King Arthur knows that Guinevere is having an affair and Guinevere knows that he knows, and he knows that she knows he knows—you get the idea—and not one word is said directly about their painful awareness. Wow, what powerful subtext. That’s one of the things I like in novels too, when the reader can tell that something else is going on under the surface but it’s not overtly written on the page.

Q.  That is a good point about things not being overly written on the page or shown in a scene. I love an actor's ability to say so much without one word. Now the final question, just for fun,  do you have a pet?
A.  Oh, I’m so glad you asked that, Maryann. I do. in the past I’ve had cats, as well as medium-sized dogs—often at the same time. Now, I have the sweetest nine-pound Yorkiepoo, named Cuddles, who lives up to her name. Like a proud Momma, I’ll share this picture with you.

 Thanks for the picture of Cuddles. As my friend LD Masterson would say, "Aw!" Also, thanks so much for the fun interview and the great read.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:  Marjorie Brody is an award-winning author and Pushcart Prize Nominee. Her short stories appear in literary magazines and the Short Story America Anthology, Vols. I, II and III. Her debut psychological suspense novel, TWISTED, delves into the secrets that emerge following a sexual assault at a high school dance and features a remarkable teen who risks everything to expose the truth. Twisted was awarded the 2014 Best Young Adult Fiction Book Award from the Texas Association of Authors and an Honorable Mention at the 2013 Great Midwest Book Festival. Twisted is available in print and ebook at

The second Tuesday of each month you will find her blog at the Stiletto Gang (a group of female mystery writers) Marjorie invites you to visit her website or on Twitter  @MarjorieEBrody1 or on her Facebook page She can be reached via email at marjorie@marjoriespages.com

BOOK BLURB: Timid fourteen-year-old Sarah wants her controlling mother to stop prying into what happened the night of the freshman dance. Confide in the woman? No way. Her mother will say Sarah is totally to blame for what the boys did—which Sarah believes is true. Confess to the police? Get real. She just needs to hide the truth. From Momma. From the police. From everyone.

A mysterious connection pulls her toward Judith, a beautiful, confident, eighteen-year-old with the seemingly perfect life. Acting as Sarah’s sole confidante, Judith gains the power to expose Sarah’s secret. Will the truth be worth the sacrifice? Or will Sarah stop at nothing to keep Judith quiet?

Monday Morning Musings

As I saw the clock winding down to noon, I thought of the song, "Monday Morning Coming Down." That was a classic from Johnny Cash, so I thought I would share that video with you.



I was gone over the weekend to the art fair in Killeen, Texas, and came home to an ice storm in North Texas. It is really, really cold here, and I spent most of the morning deicing water and feed pans for my outside animals and getting them hay and feed.

While I was freezing my tush off, my dog, Poppy didn't mind the cold at all. She still wanted me to throw the ball and she didn't even mind it when she slid across the ice.

Can you see the ball by her front paw?

When I finished all the outside work, I was happy to come back into the house and get a hot cup of coffee. Then it was time to catch up with e-mails that had piled up over the weekend, which left little time for writing a new blog.

So enjoy the music, and I will see you on Wednesday. Hopefully, by then I will be back on schedule.

We Love Our Dogs

Please welcome our friend, Slim Randles, back as today's Wednesday's Guest. He brought his dog, so maybe we can share a treat with her, while the rest of us have a cinnamon roll and a cup of coffee. I've got the rolls, if you've got the coffee.

Image Courtesy of "Riches to Rags" Blog Where You can Find the Recipe

 

Image Courtesy of Apartments.com, the last site you would think would have a recipe for homemade dog treats.

One of the great pleasures of hanging around down at the livestock auction barn each Saturday morning is being able to take your dog along.

Why do we go to the sale barn? We love agriculture, and it’s part of living here to see who buys what and rejoice in their good fortune, even if our own grass is stressed to the limit by whatever varmint we’re currently feeding. Or, it could be that we figure we’ve already lived too long, and if the right horse or cow comes through there, and we buy it, our wives will see to it that we don’t suffer in agony for untold years.

This weekly auction is a treasure house for our dogs. It’s a dog’s day out, a chance to scrounge under the bleachers for dropped hot dog portions and the occasional sweet bun crust. It’s a chance for them to get reacquainted with dog buddies and to check out any new pickups in the parking lot whose tires have not yet been properly baptized.

My coonhound loves it. She had done her munching, scrounging and socializing and was curled up under my truck, waiting for me, as we were getting ready to leave. Dud’s blue heeler was flitting around in the bed of his pickup truck, guarding against anything that might deign to trespass. And Doc had a new dog, of non-obvious parentage, on a leash, which meant he was not yet broken in to sales barn etiquette. Once he got used to it, and had been introduced to the other dogs, he’d fit right in and the leash would be history.

“What kind of dog is that, Doc?” we asked.

“Why, he’s an Egyptian shepherd.”

“I never heard of an Egyptian shepherd. Does he work cattle?”

“Nope.”

“What’s he do?”

Doc grinned, “He makes pyramids in the back yard.”
                                                 --------------------

Have you seen “Home Country Minute” on television? Hop on over for a visit to see what Slim has to say. It's always interetsing and quite a bit of fun.

If you like what Slim shares here, you will enjoy his books. Check out his author page on Amazon if you have a moment. His books are a delight, and they make perfect gifts for any occasion,

Tough Choices

Please welcome my friend, Slim Randles, as Wednesday's Guest today. Enjoy his wit and wisdom from his popular Home Country syndicated column.

Sure was good to see Jimmy back from the Middle East last week. He looks good in that uniform, too. He was running all over the place for a few days, visiting everyone he knows, but he finally came in to the Mule Barn and sat at the philosophy counter, headquarters of the world dilemma think tank, to be with us.

"Must be good to be home," Doc said.

"You bet," Jimmy said. "But it isn't the same as it was."

We thought about that. Thought back over the year he'd been gone. A few new babies born, a few old-timers gone to rest. Oh yes, they finally filled that pothole in front of the drugstore. But that was about it.

"What do you mean it isn't the same, Jimmy?"

"This is going to sound funny to you guys," he said, "but all that time over there, I kept thinking about how nice it was going to be to get out in the woods at night again with Ed Lakey and the dogs and go coon hunting, you know? It was so hot over there, I tried to remember what it felt like to wear Carhartt coveralls and feel that cold night air and hear those hounds bawling and running down along the river. Oh man, that was one of the things that kept me going."

 He looked at us and his mind came back home there for a minute. "Of course, I missed you guys, too. Thought about you a lot."

"Well, sure you did," Doc said.

"Anyway," Jimmy said, "I got home and the first thing I did ... well, almost the first thing I did... was call Ed and tell him I needed to get in the woods, and how about he throws those dogs in the truck, you know, and we'll go hunting? He told me he was sorry, but he didn't have a single hound any more. Had to quit coon hunting for good.

"Well, you know Ed. He lives to go hunting with those dogs, so I asked him what happened. He said his wife was upset at him for spending so much time with those dogs and not with her. She said he loved those dogs more than he loved her and she told him either the dogs would have to go or she would.

"So Ed said, 'Doggonit, Jimmy. I flipped a coin and the dogs lost.'"

-------
Brought to you by “Home Country Minute” with Slim Randles. Ask your local television stations for time and date.  And here is a taste of what you will get.

The Neighborhood Dog

My Wednesday Guest today is Slim Randles and his friend, Billy. Enjoy.

The problem was Billy, you see. Billy’s our town dog, ever since Sally passed away quietly on Doc’s porch, and Billy’s owner, Stewart Simpson, died two weeks later. The people who inherited Stew’s house didn’t particularly enjoy having Billy around, and Billy appeared to feel the same way about them, so he became our dog. By which I mean everyone’s dog.

Photo Courtesy of Wikipedia

People in town fed him whenever he came around, so there wasn’t a problem that way. Matter of fact, he’d gained a few extra pounds by riding the grub line.

His job, as official town dog, was to be colorful, which he was, to greet tourists, which he did, and to escort the children to school, which he accomplished every weekday. On Saturdays he’d show up at the school, look around, then go back downtown and see if there were any tourists who needed guidance.

The problem was, it was now winter and cold, and Billy is a short-haired coonhound and shivers a lot. But he’s our dog, and our responsibility, and that’s why the high school boys in woodshop took over.

First they held a design contest, to see who could lay out the best house possible for Billy. Two of the guys even measured him first, because you’d want the thing to be cozy, but not crowded. Then when the winning design was chosen, they set to work. In a week’s time, Billy had the best-insulated, classiest dog house in town.  It could withstand zoning changes, hurricanes and atomic attack. They took it down to the crossing where the school kids were each weekday and leveled out a place for it under a shade tree. Then they threw some kibble in it to get Billy to go in.

Billy ate the kibble and curled up and lay down in there and there were smiles all over town. The boys from woodshop received congratulations from the multitudes, and the project was declared a success.

And when darkness fell and the wind began out of the east, Billy walked over to Mrs. Sandiford’s house and scratched on the door. She let him in and he jumped up on the couch with her two cats, Boots and Desdemona, and sighed.

Love comes in all forms.

-------
Read free samples of Slim’s books at www.slimrandles.com 
You might really enjoy, Home Country, a collection of of essays that Slim has written over the years.   

The Family Dog

When our kids were young we had a dog, Ruffy, who was part German Shepard and part wolf. He was a cute little fuzzy puppy who grew up into a good-sized dog, and he stayed outside. Except for the time something scared him and he crashed through the window on the French door leading into the house from the patio.

This is not Ruffy, but he looked a lot like this.

I was in the kitchen cleaning up from supper when I heard the commotion. Our oldest daughter ran in bubbling over with excitement and announced, “Ruffy came in?”

“Who let him in.”

“Nobody. He came through the window.”

“What window?”

“The window in the door.”

“But he’s huge and that window is small.”

By then, Ruffy had come into the kitchen and was checking under the table for scraps. I went into the living room, and sure enough, one pane of glass was broken out of the French door. Luckily, it had come out clean so there were no jagged edges that could have cut the dog, but still, I had to wonder how that great big dog fit through an opening about 8 inches by 12 inches.

Ruffy was quite fierce when storms weren’t scaring him. One time when the kids were out in the back playing and a neighbor tried to come through the gate, Ruffy sat like a growling sentinel and wouldn’t let the neighbor in. I had to tell my neighbor to always come to the front door when she wanted to visit.

When he wasn’t loose to play in the yard, Ruffy had a large pen and loved to run the perimeter while one of us squirted him with the hose. That was especially refreshing in the heat of a Texas summer, but it did have one downside. The weeds and grass grew like Jack’s beanstalk inside the pen.

Ruffy was always good for a romp or a walk, and it was undeniable that he wormed his way into all our hearts. Never was that more evident then when the kids did a survey at the dinner table and decided they all liked the dog better than me.

There was a time I liked animals more than people, so I was not terribly insulted. (smile)


Do you have a pet that your kids like more than they like you? 

A-Z Challenge D is for dogs

This post is brought to you by the letter D. While my dog has center stage here, I am doing my regular gig at The Blood Red Pencil Blog today. We are talking about the little fixes that can improve your book. Come on by if you have a moment.

When Poppy found out I had written about the cats again, she let me know in no uncertain terms that it has been a long time since I wrote about her.

Poppy and John

Poppy and Orca

Poppy is a mix between an Australian Shepherd and a Border Collie, both herding dogs, and she really likes to harken back to her heritage and herd whatever is handy. That usually ends up being the cats.

We have had the dog for five years and she has been friends with every cat who has lived here. She and John were great friends and would play out on the deck together quite frequently. She also liked to play outside with Orca. When we lost both cats overnight last fall, I think Poppy missed them as much as we did.

Since we have the new cats, Poppy has started to play some with Harry, but her heart does not seem to be in it. Not like it was with John or even the little Shadow Kitty we had for a short time. Poppy let that kitten romp all over her and they really had a good time.

What Poppy does love best is chasing the ball. If someone will throw the ball, she will run forever, or until the arthritis in her hip acts up. She also is my walking companion in the mornings and is very patient when I stop to take a picture or pull some nice green grass for my horse.

It didn't take a scientific study to tell me that having pets is good for one's health.

Friday's Odds and Ends

The Iowa caucuses are behind us and the candidates are off to New Hampshire, the place where Texas Governor Rick Perry said real Republicans live. Huh??? Who did he think all those people were that voted in the Republican caucuses in Iowa? Democrats?

Here's what William River Pitt has to say about Iowa and the people there in his op-ed piece for Truthout.

In the annals of mindless criminal behavior, this one is a doozy. An hour after burglarizing a store in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania,  three suspects and another teen posted pictures of themselves with the money and items they stole on Facebook. their bounty on Facebook. In the pictures, the teens proudly display what they took, holding up bundles of cash and posing by boxes of candy and cigarettes. Apparently a family member of one of the burglars tipped off police that the images were up on the social media site, and the burglars were caught. 

Another bizzare incident involved a Pennsylvania couple who were charged with having sex on a city bus, while a friend held their infant daughter. This apparently happened last August and the couple was charged with indecent exposure. They have recently pleaded guilty to settle the case.

Maybe these folks should go see the Wizard with Dorothy and ask for a brain.

If that isn't bizzare enough, how about the woman who was paid to overeat? Donna Simpson, a 44-year-old mother of two was a star in the fantasy fetish community that worshiped overweight people and overeating. Simpson had a website where men paid $19 a month to watch her eat. She became a bit of a celebrity in British newspapers and often flew around the world for various events.  According to the news report I read, she has shut down the website and is now trying to lose weight. That's the good news. The bad news is the fact that she did this for so long, thinking it was perfectly normal.  And what is normal about the men who paid to watch her eat?

Ending a little closer to home, and hopefully on a note that is much more normal, I am now the proud owner of four Rhode Island Red chickens. Did you know the best time to move chickens is at night? I didn't until my neighbor, who sold me the chickens, told me to come after dark to get them. The inherent challenge in that was to get them in the coop in the darkness that is so complete out here in the country you can't see a thing until the moon comes up. And if the moon is just a sliver, or there is a bank of clouds overhead, good luck with that. We had to park one of the trucks facing the barn with the lights on so we could find the coop in the corner of the barn.

My neighbor and her nephew came with me to help get the chickens in, along with water and feed. Poor girls were so scared they didn't even go up to the roost. They just huddled in the corner on the ground, which is where they were this morning when I went out. It didn't help that our dog considered them intruders on the territory and commenced barking at them. When introducing Poppy to new kittens or cats, I bring them all in the house and show Poppy that the cat belongs here. I'm not sure that is something I want to try to acclimate her to the chickens.

It was suggested that I leave the chickens in the coop for a few days until they get over the trauma of being moved and get used to the new place, so that is what I plan to do. Maybe those few days will be enough for Poppy to figure out that the chickens belong and will stop barking at them. I doubt they will give me any eggs if they are terrified of this big dog.

Friday's Odds and Ends

Heaven help us, we have twelve more months of campaigning that brings out such wonderful points for voters to consider such as this from the recent GOP debate:

Rick Santorum: Mitt, you're a lying hypocrite and I'm the only one here who cars about family.

Herman Cain: Nine apples, nine oranges, nine lives, whatever.

Mitt Romney: Shut up. I won already.

Rick Perry: I hate your guts, Mr. Vitalis, and I'm gonna take you down.

Newt Gingrich: Yadda-yadda-yadda. You're all stupid.

Michelle Bachman: I will hunt Mexicans with predator drones and Barack Obama's cake is cooked.

Before people start objecting because I took these out of context, of course, you are right. It's not fair to just pull out the gaffes. Every great once in a while the candidates did say something related to an actual issue facing our country, but the fact that these candidates would reduce so much of the debate to snark should make us pause.

Why do we have to be so stridently divided?

And would somebody remind the candidates what the definition of "debate" is.

And would one candidate actually give a direct answer to a question instead of a sound-bite.

Texas Ranger's fans, don't beat up on Nelson Cruz for the mistake he made in not playing deep enough to catch that ball in the bottom of the 11th inning. I'm sure he has plenty of self-inflicted lashes, and he needs to know the team and the fans are okay with him. It was a mistake, let's get over it and go into game seven with a positive attitude.

After being missing for three months a little Jack Russell Terrier was reunited Thursday with owner Jim Arrighi in Erin, TN. The dog had disappeared from the owners yard and was found 500 miles north in a suburb of Detroit. A homeowner in Rochester Hills, about 20 miles north of Detroit, saw Petey last week in his backyard and took him to a Humane Society animal care center. Arrighi was identified as the owner when the dog was scanned for an implanted microchip. Story and photo HERE

Friday's Odds and Ends

Eugene Robinson was courageous in speaking out against the death penalty for Lawrence Russell Brewer, who, along with two other men, committed a heinous hate crime in Jasper Texas some years ago. The three white supremacists murdered James Byrd Jr. after offering him a ride. They killed him by dragging him behind their pickup truck. Robinson said in a recent article that if anyone deserved a needle in the arm it would be Byrd, but Robinson is against the death penalty, period. He considers the death penalty to be a "barbaric anachronism, a crude instrument not of justice but of revenge." He points out that most other countries have stopped using capital punishment, and urges the U.S. to do the same.

I would have to agree.

In a recent letter to the editor in The Dallas Morning News Allen Barseth wrote, "As a conservative, I would gladly be more compassionate in giving to others if they used my tax dollars as a safety net rather than a hammock."

I thought that was a telling statement about the legacy of relying on welfare that seems to be passed from generation to generation in some families. Welfare, food stamps, unemployment payments and other government help should be limited to encourage people to find a way out of the need. Members of my family have, at times, relied on that kind of assistance, but that was a temporary situation that we worked through. Granted, some people have no way out, but others have come to accept assistance as a way of life.

 "Until one has loved an animal, part of their soul remains unawakened." I ran across this quote by Anatole France this morning and it struck a chord with me. We are still missing our little dog, and in talking to other animal lovers we have shared how our pets become such an integral part of our lives it leaves a significant hole when they are gone. Some people wonder how one can grieve the loss of a pet with a similar intensity as the grief over losing a loved one. Pet lovers never wonder.

On a lighter note -  We opened "Arsenic and Old Lace" last night at the Main Street Theatre in Sulphur Springs last night and the audience loved the show. One nice thing about live theatre is the interaction between the audience and the players, and we all had a lot of fun. I am playing Martha Brewster, one of the Aunts who "help lonely gentlemen to a better place," and I have really enjoyed working with a terrific cast. Anyone in the East Texas area who would like to see the show, we have performances tonight and tomorrow night at 7, and Sunday at 2. Next week we have performances on Thurs, Fri, and Sat at 7pm. No Sunday matinee.

Pictured here is Martha Brewster and Elaine.

Losing a Beloved Pet

This has really been a tough summer here on "Grandma's Ranch." The drought in Texas has wiped out my garden, most of my roses and azaleas, as well as my pasture and many of my other flowers.

Then a couple of weeks ago, one of our goats got bitten by a snake and we lost her. Then the two cats last week, and now we lost one of our dogs.

We got Misha about 17 years ago when we lived in Nebraska. Her breeding was always a bit of a question mark, but I think she was part Pekinese and part long-haired Dachshund. When she was very young and her marking were distinct, there were perfect circles around her eyes that made it look like she had eye-liner on.

She loved the snow in Nebraska and would dive into the snowbanks and then burst out in a flurry of snow and delight. She also loved our evening walks and had several dog friends along the way that she liked to stop and visit. What she didn't like was storms and firecrackers. The Fourth of July was never one of her favorite days.

Misha also did not like many people except my husband and I. She was never mean or aggressive, she just saw everyone as a stranger and would tell them all in no uncertain terms to get out of our house, even when our kids and grandkids came to visit.

When we moved to our place here in East Texas, I wondered how Misha would adapt to being a farm dog after being raised in a city, but she was quite happy here from the first day. It was great to have this big expanse of land to run on after having a backyard that was smaller than my present kitchen.  She knew how to behave around the horse so she wouldn't spook him, and did not bother the goats. She also got along very well with the cats.

Early on, Misha learned the perimeter of our land and knew the boundaries she should not cross. Seldom did she wander off our property, until recently when I think she was having some issues with dementia. I would find her sometimes going down the road, and I would have to go get her. Last night, I was too late. She had been hit.

RIP, Misha, you were a good and loyal friend.

Who Stole the Newspapers?

While I am out of town, I am going to let my two writing friends, Slim Randles and Tracy Farr entertain you with their humor. They were regular columnists for WinnsboroToday.com, when we were still publishing that online magazine, and I so enjoyed their wit and wisdom. They were both kind enough to tell me that I could use their columns now and then on my blog, and that comes in real handy right now as I prepare for my two week vacation and book tour. Enjoy....

The newspapers began disappearing about two weeks ago. Vanishing like smoke in a high wind. The paper boy swore he delivered all of them, same as usual. Same as his older brother had before him. Said he was able to “porch” quite a few. 

But when our copies of the Valley Weekly Miracle kept disappearing, it wasn’t long before gab sessions were taking place in the beauty parlors and barber shops and the coffee shops regarding our local crime spree.

Theft hasn’t really been a problem here, you see. Usually something that starts out looking like theft turns out to be something pretty innocent that just happened to be complicated by a lack of communication. Oh, we’re not completely free of theft, of   course. Like last summer, when someone took Bert’s new sprinkler off his hose in broad daylight in the front yard. For several days, Bert drove around looking at the patterns our sprinklers had, trying to locate his own. It was no use. He finally reported to us down at the Mule Barn truck stop’s philosophy counter and world dilemma think tank that this sticky-fingered act of legerdemain was stacking up to be the work of a grab-it-and-git drive-by bandit from out of town.

That’s why, when the papers began disappearing from our front lawns and even from the sanctity of our front porches, we knew something had to be done.

Several volunteers from the Mule Barn agreed to rise early and watch to see if their papers vanished and who did it.

This Neighborhood Watch exercise worked. Blackie was caught in the act and his crime spree ended before very many papers had vanished.

Then Blackie was taken home and his owner was informed that this was one Labrador retriever who had retrieved his last paper without paying for a subscription. Piles of newspapers were found in Blackie’s house and behind the swing set.

The community was given a guarantee that on delivery mornings, Blackie would remain on the chain until everyone had their papers and coffee.

Crime cannot be allowed to continue. Especially when everyone needs to read the paper to see how much the editor dared to print.
----------

Sponsored by: www.pearsonranch.com.  Farm direct, delicious, California navel & Valencia oranges.

Slim's Web site  And check out Slim's books: Sun Dog Days, Raven's Prey, and The Long Dark.

Ramblings

Those of you who use Blogger.com for you own blogs noticed that there have been problems with the site most of the past few days. We couldn't get access to publish our posts, and that sure threw a wrench into our schedules, didn't it? And now I don't know what to title this post. It was written for my usual Friday's Odds and Ends, but what do I call it today?I really don't know. That's why I came up with that really catchy title.

Something new for the PC police to watch for - people who refer to their pets as pets. Apparently there is some concern among philosophers that the reason we treat animals as animals is because of the way we talk about some of them.  The Journal of Animal Ethics, a new publication, wants people to change some of the common terms applied to animals: Stubborn as a mule, sly as a fox, slippery as an eel.  Using terms like that supposedly makes us think poorly of those animals. The article in the Journal, also asks people, specifically writers, to refer to those cuddly creatures we share our homes with - the dog not our husbands - as companion animals, rather than pets. Apparently, "pets" is a derogatory term.

No wonder my pets, er, companion animals, are so deranged.

General Electric, one of the largest companies in the U.S. made $5.1 billion in profits in the United States last year, but according to a report in the New York Times, the company has not paid a penny of federal tax for 2010. Other large corporations that have paid little or no taxes include Exxon Mobil and Boeing, Bank of America and Citigroup. And they are not doing anything illegal. The tax laws allow for major loopholes for businesses.

And some people still think we don't need a massive overhaul of the tax system in the United States.

In a suburb of Dallas there have been two incidents of students fighting in a classroom and the teacher has not intervened. One incident was more of a beating than a fight as the victim was attacked at his desk and punched numerous times while the teacher just watched. Some teachers were quoted as saying that it is dangerous to try to intervene in a fight, and unless a policy is in place to deal with this type of violence, they are advised to do nothing.

It is a sad, sad day when students can rule a classroom like that. What kinds of parents are raising children who can strike such fear in their peers and other adults who are supposed to be in authority?

Family Pets

Today my short story, The One O'Clock Nap is featured on Daily Cheap Reads, along with two books that sound really interesting. Every time I do one of these promotional gigs, I discover another new book to buy. LOL  Here is the link if anyone is interested in checking out the books and stories.

I haven't posted an excerpt from my humorous memoir in a while, so I thought I'd share a bit with you today. Enjoy....

Needless to say, we did not adopt one of the kittens, and for a while we thought we could survive without a pet. After a few months, however, it became clear that we were not the kind of family that could live without a four-footed friend. So I started looking for a dog, and we got Ruffy, who was part German Shepard and part wolf. He was a cute little fuzzy puppy who grew up into a good-sized dog, and he stayed outside. Except for the time something scared him and he crashed through the window on the French door leading into the house from the patio.

I was in the kitchen cleaning up from supper when I heard the commotion. Anjanette ran in and announced, “Ruffy came in?”

“Who let him in.”

“Nobody. He came through the window.”

“What window?”

“The window in the door.”

“But he’s huge and that window is small.”

By then, Ruffy had come into the kitchen and was checking under the table for scraps. I went into the living room, and sure enough, one pane of glass was broken out of the French door. Luckily, it had come out clean so there were no jagged edges that could have cut the dog, but still, I had to wonder how that great big dog fit through an opening about 8 inches by 12 inches.

Ruffy was quite fierce when storms weren’t scaring him. One time when the kids were out in the back playing and a neighbor tried to come through the gate, Ruffy sat like a growling sentinel and wouldn’t let the neighbor in. I had to tell my neighbor to always come to the front door when she wanted to visit.

When he wasn’t loose to play in the yard, Ruffy had a large pen and loved to run the perimeter while one of us squirted him with the hose. That was especially refreshing in the heat of a Texas summer, but it did have one downside. The weeds and grass grew like Jack’s beanstalk inside the pen.

Ruffy was always good for a romp or a walk, and it was undeniable that he wormed his way into all our hearts. Never was that more evident then when the kids did a survey at the dinner table and decided they all liked the dog better than me.

Who Can Resist a Kitten?

Living out here in the country, we frequently have cats, kittens, puppies and dogs dropped off by people who no longer want them. This is a practice that we all wish would never happen. Do those people really think most of these animals stand a chance against hunger, coyotes who are hungry, and trucks that can come barreling down our county roads?

We, my husband and I, have acquired most of our cats via this dump-method, and we now have a kitten that may make cat number four for us. I am going to try to find her a home. Honest I am, but if that doesn't happen soon, well.....

She is a cute little kitten who misses her mother with an angst that is loud and persistent. She cried for five solid hours the first evening she showed up.

And our poor old dog, Misha, has had to put up with the kitten's attempts to find solace and sustenance in a "foster mother." I never knew this dog had so much patience.

Responsibility Isn't Everything

Sometimes you just have to do it. Forget the alarm clock. Sleep in. Waste time, and otherwise be somewhat irresponsible.

So that's what I did this morning.

All last week I forced myself to try to get up at something close to my normal time so I could stay on my usual schedule, but this morning I decided to say the hell with it. I don't use a regular alarm clock; haven't in years. I set a mental alarm clock and can usually wake up at the time I decide the night before. Since we have lived out in the country these past eight years, my wake-up call is the sun rising and sending morning rays through our bedroom window.

This morning I told the sun to forget it, pulled a blanket over my head so I couldn't see the light. Sent a silent apology to my animals for making them wait for their breakfast, and went back to sleep.

When I got up I quickly got all the animals fed and had a sense of urgency to start my day in my office, but it was such a pretty morning, and the dog wanted to play ball, and one of the cats wanted to play, too, so I "wasted" a half hour with them.

But do I care? Not really.

What about you? When was the last time you threw your schedule out the window and just had some fun? You don't have to 'fess up if it was on company time and you don't want your boss to find out. I'm lucky in that I'm my own boss.