Merry Christmas!

I hope everyone has a really nice holiday and stays safe in their travels. Hubby and I stayed home this year. We're still kind of contagious with our colds. Plus, just feeling plain icky. I think between the two of us we've gone through about ten boxes of Kleenex.

I'm near the end of the draft for Deadly Retreat. I'm hoping to get the epilogue at least started tonight. I'm torn between doing nothing and reading a book or getting busy and finishing the draft. I'm pleased with the word count, and I'm now looking forward to the next book in the series, and I've already picked the title.

I think the shortest amount of time it's taken me to complete a first draft was about three months--and that was years ago. This time I've finished in less than two. Well nearly...I still have to write the epilogue. I opted for an epilogue this time, since it's basically about tying up loose ends.

I'm grateful for another year, and have hope for a bit of smoother sailing for the coming one. I've still got a lot of work ahead of me, searching for a publisher or agent for Bubba and Bean and Murder at Mallard River Bend. I'll also be revising Deadly Retreat, and I'd like to free up some brain cells to write a few short stories, too.

Merry Christmas all, y'all. You's guys, and folks.

Checking In

I'm still working on the Deadly Retreat draft. I'm nearing the end. About four more chapters, and I think ought to wrap it up. I'm hoping by the weekend, but not pushing myself. I still make the effort to write around 2,000 words each day. Right now I'm sick with a miserable cold, so I'm a little less enthusiastic.

I did manage to get some decorations up before I got sick. The kitties, Gretchen and Sophie, are enjoying the place reserved for them under the little, 4 foot Walgreens tree. It's pre-lighted and I enjoy it much better. I'm finally beyond fighting with lights and space to put up a big tree. It's going to be a quiet Christmas, which I'm looking forward to. Christmas shopping hasn't happened yet, but the Christmas cards are finally done. For a while, I was thinking about skipping the card event this year, but then realized I can't. The cards are my own creation, therefore, becoming a sort of gift for my family and friends.

I'm looking forward to being finished with my WIP and making more time to blog. Once I'm on a big project like this, my puny brain doesn't have the room for extra creativity.

End of NaNoWriMo! Yay!

Are we there yet? I'm worn out. Being a writing assistant is hard work, you know. Afterall, I'm just a kitty. I'll be older next year, right?

At the end of Nano.

I usually enter my word count in the middle of the night, like it's 2 AM where I am now. But if I think of it I can enter what I write tomorrow night to my total if I do it before midnight. Otherwise, I am done!

I officially got my word count verified for 50,000 on November 21st. My word count is now 68,000 and will continue to go up because I'm not done with the story. But it has been a good run. I'm happy with my progress and I'm glad I was able to participate in this years writing marathon. It was fun. My writing buddies were fun and I'm looking forward to next year where I will probably use NaNo to draft the third book in the Campground Mystery series.

I'm hoping to be finished with the draft of Deadly Retreat by the end of the year. I'd like to hit 100K but won't be upset if I don't. There will be many revisions and edits over the next few months

Meantime, I have three novels waiting for edits after getting them back from my beta reader. I'm hoping to put my next efforts into getting them ready and looking for an agent or publisher. I'm just not into the business end of writing, but I'm going to get more serious about looking in the next few months...after the first of the year.

Update: I ended up posting a total of 70,000 words before the sun had set on NaNo. I feel good about reaching 70K. Now the work continues.

My Writing Assistant

Sophie has many talents. She watches TV, puts all her toys away in a corner of the kitchen when she's through playing for the day, and she is my writing assistant. Between Sophie and Glorian (my cave dragon) I've been making good progress on Deadly Retreat. Each day of the writing event I've completed a chapter. Tonight I will work on Chapter 8. I'm making my daily quota and here and there I'm able to move ahead a bit. My mind and dreams are on nothing else at this point. Well, there is sleep. Several naps, too. There's a lot of snaking going on, also, however, I need to cut back on the snacking.

Blog Blast for Peace

An may we have it, too!

What Moon is This?

Comanche Moon

The brightest moon of the season, one for stealing horses.

So my Aunt tells me...

There's also a book

and a Movie

Who knew.

End of October--Beginning of Nano!

Gorgeous skies for the last day of October

The night I've been waiting a whole year for...NaNoWriMo started at midnight. I managed a meager 1,780 words. I've only just begun. Yay! But I'm not staying up this late to write anymore. I just couldn't go to bed and let the midnight hour pass without a few words in the new draft. Tomorrow I'll be more sensible and work in the evenings, going to bed at a decent hour.

Sophie has been with us 2 weeks now. She's vibrant, busy, messy, stinky, and loveable. Gretchen has accepted her and they play constantly. Well, as much as a sedentary older cat can play.

Countdown to NaNoWriMo.
4 days to zero hour.
Can't wait!

I've been re-organizing and mapping and plotting and planning for several weeks now. I'm getting anxious to get into the meat of the story. So…if you don't see much of a blog from me for the next 34 days, then Glorain (my hot and ready fire-breathing cave dragon) and I will be furiously writing. My goal is 2000 words a day, more than needed, but there will be days when I won't get that much written. To reach the 50,000 in 30 days, it takes 17,000 a day—every day. Last Nano I did the same—I shot for 2K and ended up being ahead of schedule. That's a good thing. You never know what life's little drama's will trip you up with in 30 days of brain-twisting, key-pounding, world building.

Deadly Retreat at Mallard River Bend, is a campground mystery. The second in what I hope will be a successful cozy mystery series. This 30 day writing marathon will only be the start of the story. My ultimate goal is 100K—plus. When Nano officially ends on November 30, I will continue to work on Deadly Retreat but at slower pace.

I will be posting my word count on the sidebar…so watch it climb.

Wish me luck!

Giving the Second Cat Thing Another Try

I waited a few days to see if this was going to work out. As you know, Rosy came to us a few weeks ago and was sick. He only lasted four days. On Tuesday a friend of mine had a healthy, four month old kitty-girl for me. I purposely did not blog about her right away fearing I'd jinx her stay with us.

So, that said, here's Sophie. 4 months old. Bluish-gray, black whiskers, black nose, black pads. Deep bronze-gold eyes. She has a purr motor to rival a Harley. Has only used her squeak-voice three times in the five days we've had her. Once she let out a yowl like a Siamese. There's no plea in her mew, or yowl, just demand.

Right away, by a look that could not be matched, Gretchen showed her disdain for me over bringing anymore live, playthings into the apartment. She did her usual hissy, snarly, growly fits the first day and a half. Sophie made the mistake of checking out the space under our beds and Gretchen took advantage of that by guarding the door, not letting her out of the room. Poor Sophie ended up having a potty accident on my bed, before I figured out to make space for a litter box in my room. So, Sophie took over our room for three days. For the past two days, Sophie began using both potty boxes, Gretchen's and hers. So now, Sophie is officially out of our bedroom and her potty box is next to Gretchen's potty box.

Day three was follow the leader day. Day four was almost ready to play day, and today? Rough and tumble play, thundering herds of elephants play, like they'd been playing together all their lives. Not one hiss, growl, or whap. Now they've exhausted themselves and have sought out their sleeping places to nap. But I can't tell how happy this makes me. It only took five days.

Gretchen will get daily exercise now and perhaps some of that kitten in her will come back. At five years old, she was just getting to be an old lady-cat that just lies around sleeping and eating. The world beyond the windows was even beginning to bore her. Sophie is just the key we needed. Not to mention that Sophie is a delightful kitty-girl and has taken her place in our hearts. She's a cuddler, a head-butter, and just plain precious. A keeper!

Activate the Senses Friday

Awake and see
the mosquito eater spent the day
with me.

Amplify and listen
the chick-a-dee-dee returned to sing
for me.

Arouse and taste
how succulent, beef-dip sandwiches
sates me.

Astound and smell
the odor of a distant dairy
sickens me.

Alive and feel
how my lady-cat's soft fur
delights me.

Making Time Thursday

Only two clouds against a sea of azure,
one here
one way over there
hard pressed to spot.

Clatter, clang, commotion,
auditory sense harassed
drowning chirps
hard pressed to hear.

Too salty
too sweet
too bland
hard pressed to sate.

Last bit of fragrance of
roses neglected
and worn,
hard pressed to remember.

Clicking, clattering keys
against fingertips worn,
plotting, planning, scheming,
hard pressed to stoke some fur.

Tantalizing Wednesday

What caught my eyes today?
A red bi-plane flying northeast in a soft blue sky.

What fell upon my ears today?
Birdsong, birds in the bushes, jays on the fences.

What savory flavors titillated my taste buds today?
Grilled Seven-bone roast, potato salad, iced lemon pound cake.

What odors tickled my nose today?
Charcoal briquettes, lighter fluid, a lighted match.

What did my fingers caress today?
The soft fur of my furry-purry cat.

Tuesday's Senses

Pale blue sky
clear
cool
calm.

Frogs singing
voices
chatter
croaking.

First pumpkin pie
fresh
cream
Shari's.

Early wood smoke
again
lingered
somewhere.

Seasonal annuals
soil
water
fur.

Monday at Midnight

About Monday:

It is a slightly less full Harvest Moon,
the last image of the day
on this cold clear night.

I could see my breath,
they say it might frost tonight.
The midnight air smells slightly of wood smoke
damp earth,
turning leaves.

Yes, I think the leaves of
early fall emit a certain

familiar odor.

The sounds of traffic,
nearby construction,
voices of neighbors,
backwards beeping of
the Comcast Truck
the Medical supply truck
the Garbage truck
have all faded now.
Quiet . . .
accept for the slow,
low sounds of the clock on the wall
reminding me of the hour,
bed awaits.

The things I touched this day,
besides the dusty contents of
a huge catchall closet,
the piles of fresh laundry
spread across the sofa
waiting to be folded.
Maybe tomorrow.
The warm dishwater,
the soft fur of my
Girl-cat as she dozed
upon my knees.

The taste of Monday
still lingers on my tongue,
the remnants of
my birthday cake.
Coconut,
coconut crème in between
six fluffy layers of
vanilla cake
slathered with a
melt-in-your-mouth butter crème.
Oh, the calories.
Ah—well,
what are birthdays for,
if not a gift of twenty pounds.

The last things my heart has felt
this early October night,
is gratitude for life,
for sight, hearing, touch, taste
and a warmness
of heart
for the beauty of life
the beauty of fall
the beauty of
grace.

For but the grace of God,
go I.

Four Days is Not Enough

Only Moments Left with Rosy

My heart is tearing in two.
I wrote a fictional story about adding a found kitten
into my life.
Into my five-year-old lady-cat's life, as well.
That story,
a week old and never finished
until two days past
when magic intervened.

My heart aches with inability.
The desire to share the cat story has left me.
My life has changed,
my lady-cat's life altered.
She was just getting settled with our new little charge
until in the wee hours this morning

the illusion vanished.

Rosendo (Rosy) was too frail,
too weak to fight any longer
against the slight little cold that plagued him
when found, cold, underfed, neglected.
Not yet four days in our lady-cat's life,
bouncy and unintimidated by her
growls and hisses.

Rosy ate ravenously on Sunday.
Drank water,
shunned milk,
frolicked with a toy mouse from
my lady-cat's collection,
found her feather wand and made it his own.

Monday, a hopeful day for us all.
My lady-cat was calming down,
letting Rosy roam throughout,
her hisses and growls subdued,
letting Rosy explore
even take a snooze in
her favorite places.

Rosy ate less frequently on Tuesday,
drank water a little less often.
Regular meals,
not so famished.
Clean water,
not so thirsty.

Talkative but no so plaintive.

Rosy climbed the furniture
scrabbled across the keyboard as I typed,
kissed the back of my neck
with sandpaper kisses,
looked lovingly into my eyes,
his eyes bright, clear, turquoise.
His nose dryer,
only a tiny snort now and then.

At night, our little man-cat to be
slept in a blanket-lined box
on a pillow to keep him warm,
a sad little teddy bear to keep him company
in the darkness.
Another blanket draped across,
to ward off any chill
while my lady-cat crouched nearby
watching over him,
making sure he was sleeping.

Rosy loved his box.
Whenever he was tired, he went in,
took a nap.
Whenever he was hungry,
he found me,
mewed in his scrappy, rusty-hinge way,
scooted down the hall to potty.

Rosy adapted well in those first moment
of our life.
Taking over,
taking charge,
charming us,
making our life his own.

Rosy ate little on Wednesday.
Drank no water I could see,
I added water to his meals,
only two or three.
His potty habits normal,
his eyes still clear,
his nose a bit wet,
breathing well, still.
A hopeful sign.

Rosy still had energy
to climb upon the bed
testing the limits of his boundaries
with my lady-cat sleeping there,
wearing down defenses,
gurgles and chirps
replaced snarls and hisses.

Well into the afternoon,
Rosy's squeaky-hinge voice
turned weary,
less vocal by evening meal.
Into his box he went
and slept
and slept.
He'd been a busy little boy
the day before.

Four hours later,
worried he might get too hungry,
I lifted him from his box,
placed him in front of his meal,
a bit of water added.
Eating,
a little less enthusiastically.
He trotted down the hall
a bit slower,
used the potty,
healthy and unstrained.
Still hope.

As if in a hurry now,
his crusted nose had cleared,
yet eyes clouded over,
his body,
sadly limp.
I warmed his blanket,
snuggled with him
while he slept.

Thursday,
surprised by his will
Rosy stayed around one more day.
Medicine administered,
supplements plunged into tummy,
warm blankets applied,
Lady-cat wary and alert,
we all began to watch
and worry.

His body too weak,
his will worn down,
Lady-cat watching closer still,
questioning why
he was not poking around.
Ready to show compassion
Finally taking a liking to Rosy.

Midnight,
his breathing shallow
he could not last this night.
Kitty angels gathered near,
his box sits empty,
his crystal dishes
waiting there.

Tears.

Hours pass.
He lies upon my chest
hearing my beating heart,
feeling the ache lingering there,
melting my soul
with deep turquoise eyes
and soft little sighs.

More tears.

Rosy was too weak,
too bony,
too frail,
too long in the wild
without a mother's love.
Too soon to be alone,
too late for life with us,
for fate had taken him
home.

Goodbye little Rosy,
the rainbow bridge
awaits.