Monthly Archives: November 2008
The mother-in-law gift
Posted by doggonedmysteries
Every year about this time, I begin to notice more gray hairs appearing at an astonishing rate. Why, you ask. It’s time to nail down Dear Hubby and actually go and buy a Christmas gift for his mother.
For the thirty-five years we’ve been married I’ve spent the months between one Christmas and the next on the hunt for the woman’s next gift. It never fails, I think I’ve found her the perfect gift but when I tell him about my discovery, he shoots it down like a twelve point buck in deer season.
Now it is again looming too close and I’ve resorted to torturing him nightly for ideas. Thank heavens for a mailbox full of catalogues.
“Honey, take a look at this lovely gift basket full of soaps, lotions, and creams. Do you think she’d like it?”
He peruses the page I point out, he scowls, and he answers, “She’d never use any of it.”
“Why not? I’d enjoy a gift like that.”
He grunts and says, “She only uses one brand of lotion and soap.”
I sigh and pick up another catalogue. “What about this great fruit basket?”
“Nope.”
“Oh, come on everyone LOVES fruit baskets.”
He removes the catalogue from my hands and tosses it aside. “She doesn’t.”
I sneak another catalogue out of the pile on the coffee table and flip though a few pages. “Here! She couldn’t possibly find fault in this. It has expensive chocolates, fancy cocoas, cookies, and dark chocolate covered nuts.”
“You forget. She can’t eat nuts.”
Bang.
Tags: Author, Beads, Bones, books, Bull Terriers, Care giving, Caregiver, Coffee, Crafts, Dead, Disability, Dog humor, Doggoned, Dogs, Fiction, gifts, Humor, Life, Love, Mother-in-law, Multiple Sclerosis, Murder, Mysteries, Mystery, Pet humor, Pets, Rescue Dogs, Writer, Writing
I am a fan
Posted by doggonedmysteries
Okay, I admit it. I’m a Jeff Dunham fan. I grew up watching Edgar Bergen and never has there been anyone to compare to him until Jeff Dunham came along.
The first time I saw Jeff Dunham’s act he only had his purple sidekick, Peanuts. Wow, how long ago was that?
I’ve enjoyed watching his group of wise cracking puppets grow. The man’s superbly twisted humor is obvious in all his characters from Walter the old curmudgeon to Achmed the dead terrorist.
I watched Dunham’s Christmas special on the comedy channel the other night and the man had me rolling on the floor. In this rough economic time, we all need a good laugh and this man certainly delivers.
I’ve seen his other shows a few times and each time they’ve made me laugh, not many people can do that to me. I say take your laughs where you can get them they are good for your health.
Oh, and Jeff if you’re ever in our area I’ll be the first in line for tickets to your show.
Posted in Misc, My blog, Uncategorized
Tags: Author, Beads, Bones, books, Bull Terriers, Care giving, Caregiver, Coffee, comedy, Crafts, Dead, Disability, Dog humor, Doggoned, Dogs, Fiction, Humor, Jeff Dunham, Life, Love, Multiple Sclerosis, Murder, Mysteries, Mystery, Pet humor, Pets, Rescue Dogs, Writer, Writing
The editor is back
Posted by doggonedmysteries
I thought I’d silenced my resident editor for a while and was tooling along on one of the books today. The editor on my shoulder was very quiet which made me think that things were going along smoothly, but I’m not that lucky.
After several hours of working on a dialogue in Doggoned Dead, he shot off my shoulder and kicked me in the buttocks.
“Hey, that was uncalled for,” I said.
“No, it wasn’t. You aren’t paying attention.”
I stared at the evil little guy. “What do you mean I wasn’t paying attention?”
“Helloooo. You have your main character speaking to someone who is in Doggoned Bones not Doggoned Dead.”
“I do not-” I reread the dialogue. “Oh, crap.” I scrolled back and spent the next few minutes changing the name every place I’d used it.
“There, you @#$%!#* happy now?”
“Yeah, that works for me.” The evil little editor grinned at me and then said, “One more question, are you going to change the setting to fit the scene?”
“What?” I reread the entire scene. “Son of a-”
“Don’t say it.”
“#$*$! Why did you let me write the entire scene in the wrong setting?”
“You have to ask?”
The air around me turned a repulsive shade of blue while I reworked the scene.
Posted in My blog, My books, Writer, Writing
Tags: Author, Beads, Bones, books, Bull Terriers, Care giving, Caregiver, Coffee, Crafts, Dead, Disability, Dog humor, Doggoned, Dogs, Fiction, Humor, Life, Love, Multiple Sclerosis, Murder, Mysteries, Mystery, Pet humor, Pets, Rescue Dogs, Writer, Writing
Lucky I didn’t catch them…
Posted by doggonedmysteries
We had some vandalism done to our new vinyl fence tonight. After I’d ranted, raved, and cussed at whoever did it, I told Dear Hubby they were lucky that I hadn’t caught them in the act.
Don’t forget I write murder mysteries. I came up with a hundred or so ways they’d pay for their intrusion into our lives. None of them was very nice but all of them were quite imaginative. For example, there was the one idea I tossed out of using the damaged pickets in a certain spot to turn the vandals into popsicles. However, most weren’t that nice.
The police came and made a report because the damage was enough to warrant one.
Dear Hubby can’t do the repairs needed on the fencing and I am handy but with the colder weather closing in, this repair isn’t going to be easy. At least with warm weather I could bend the new pickets enough to place them into the fence without damaging them. I’m not so sure now. We could call the fencing company and have them do it but the second month it was up we had some minor car damage to the fence and it took them several weeks to show up.
It’s too bad that I didn’t catch the idiots. One thing I would’ve done was make their lives miserable for a while. This was intentional damage, done without the least care as to how it affected us. Worst of all this was probably done as a lark, by kids-oh, look at me! See what I can do!
Now, my dogs can’t run loose in the yard until the fence is fixed. Gavin and Patty will not be amused.
Posted in Misc, My blog, Uncategorized
Tags: Author, Beads, Bones, books, Bull Terriers, Care giving, Caregiver, Coffee, Crafts, Dead, Disability, Dog humor, Doggoned, Dogs, Fiction, Humor, Life, Love, Multiple Sclerosis, Murder, Mysteries, Mystery, Pet humor, Pets, Rescue Dogs, Writer, Writing
Malcolm’s Mayhem 11
Posted by doggonedmysteries
The first summer Malcolm was with us, we found out that he couldn’t swim. It’s not that he didn’t try. He did try many times, and failed. It’s strange to watch your beloved pet dog paddling like hell but sinking straight to the bottom like a large white rock. Our other two Bull Terriers could swim, who knew?
The first time we observed the spectacle Dear Hubby had Malcolm on a leash and was walking him around a lake. Malcolm was having a wonderful time scampering along the bank, hopping up on the many small docks, and bounding off into the water on the opposite sides.
That was until he leapt off one that had a deep pool on the far side. Next thing DH knew Malcolm was dog paddling and sinking fast. He hauled him out as quickly as he could.
Putting the incident down to inexperience on Malcolm’s part he figured a few swimming lessons over the summer would solve the problem. DH was on the swim team in school, he was even a lifeguard for years, and well, why don’t we say, it was a case of male logic.
He took Malcolm out to the lake many times. Malcolm would try to swim with him but it never failed, the dog sank and DH had to go to the rescue. DH gave up eventually and we didn’t think about very often.
That was until we visited relatives who had an in-ground pool in their back yard. However, the first time Malcolm was out in the yard, he spotted the swimming pool. In he went, and not in the shallow end, no, he had to dive into the DEEP end. Malcolm dog paddled all the way to the bottom. DH, thank goodness, had Malcolm on a leash and managed to pull him out before the idiot dog even realized he was on the bottom of the pool.
Posted in Dog related, My blog
Tags: Author, Beads, Bones, books, Bull Terriers, Care giving, Caregiver, Coffee, Crafts, Dead, Disability, Dog humor, Doggoned, Dogs, Fiction, Humor, Life, Love, Multiple Sclerosis, Murder, Mysteries, Mystery, Pet humor, Pets, Rescue Dogs, Writer, Writing
Dear Hubby MS and cooler weather
Posted by doggonedmysteries
As much as I love summer, I do hate the toll the heat takes on Dear Hubby. Once the temperature soars above the seventies, he can’t stand the heat and spends most of his time indoors in the air conditioning. His MS damaged nerves don’t tell his sweat glands they need to work and he quickly overheats. The dogs and I do miss having him outside with us.
Fall brings with it some relief for Dear Hubby. Now that temperature is cooling down, he has a little more energy, can go outside more often, and he’s even making plans for his yearly hunting trip.
The hunting trip becomes more difficult for him each year as his strength, balance, and health wane but he’s determined to continue going for a long as he can. I tell him to go, enjoy, and have fun. It’s good for him to keep doing it every year.
Winter can be a problem because he feels he must go out and run our snow blower. I do try to beat him to the job as often as I can, knowing he’ll push himself beyond his limits. Thank heavens the neighbor’s sons will take over the job too when they notice him out there clearing the walk and driveway.
No, it’s never going to get easier but we do have plenty of good and very kind friends who help when help is needed. To them I say, Thank you.
Posted in MS related, My blog
Tags: Author, Beads, Bones, books, Bull Terriers, Care giving, Caregiver, Coffee, Crafts, Dead, Disability, Dog humor, Doggoned, Dogs, Fiction, Humor, Life, Love, Multiple Sclerosis, Murder, Mysteries, Mystery, Pet humor, Pets, Rescue Dogs, Writer, Writing
Diamonds are forever…
Posted by doggonedmysteries
Every commercial on TV is screaming, “Buy me! Buy me!” Half of these are the ‘Diamonds Are Forever’ commercials. Handsome men present necklaces that are dripping in glittering stones to attractive wives or girlfriends whose eyes light up with love. They flash these gorgeous nothing-less-than-a-carat diamond rings with breathtaking settings onto the TV screen and tell you, if you love her, you’ll buy her one.
A few years ago, my friend almost lost her diamond because the prongs holding it in the setting had worn down to nothing. Her diamond popped out and, lucky for her, it landed on her keyboard.
Which brings me to the conversation Dear Hubby and I got into about my engagement ring. After watching a trillion of those commercials, I’d taken my ring off to check the setting. We’d had the prongs checked right after my friend’s ring incident but I hadn’t really looked at them in while. The prongs were fine but wow the band sure is thinning. You see I’ve worn it for thirty-five years.
I said, “Hey Hon, look at this.” I showed him the ring.
He examined the ring and said, “Yes, you are wearing a bit thin after all these years.”
“You’d best smile when you say that, boy. I write murder mysteries.”
Lucky for him he was grinning.
Posted in Holidays, MS related, My blog, My books, Writer, Writing
Tags: Author, Beads, Bones, books, Bull Terriers, Care giving, Caregiver, Coffee, Crafts, Dead, Disability, Dog humor, Doggoned, Dogs, Fiction, Humor, Life, Love, Multiple Sclerosis, Murder, Mysteries, Mystery, Pet humor, Pets, Rescue Dogs, Writer, Writing
Say ‘ears’ and watch her run…
Posted by doggonedmysteries
Utter the word ‘ears’ in my house and you’ll see Patty, our female Bull Terrier dart for cover. She hates to have her ears cleaned. Several years ago when she arrived in our home as a rescue, her ears were caked and filthy requiring daily cleaning for a week. She didn’t like it one bit but allowed me to do it. For a long time her ears were great and only required cleaning once a month.
This past year both she and Gavin (our white male) began to have an ear problem again. We think the ear mites came from his close encounter of the feral cat kind. Ear cleanings became a daily routine again. Gavin didn’t mind but poor Patty wasn’t thrilled. The ear mites are gone now but I do an ear check and cleaning once a week.
I only have to say the word ‘ears’ and Patty will dash for her crate. I’ve learned to close the door before saying THE E WORD because trying to get her out of the crate after someone says THE E WORD is like pulling an elephant through a hula-hoop. As it is, she attempts to hide behind Dear Hubby’s foot, his chair, under the kitchen table, or on a chair with her eyes closed. Yes, she does the old if I can’t see you, you can’t see me routine.
I’d like to say thank you to http//Alphainventions.com for bringing me more readers!
Posted in Dog related, My blog
Tags: Author, Bones, books, Bull Terriers, Care giving, Caregiver, Coffee, Crafts, Dead, Disability, Doggoned, Dogs, Fiction, Humor, Life, Love, Multiple Sclerosis, Murder, Mysteries, Mystery, Pets, Rescue Dogs, Writer, Writing
Think fast, duck quickly!
Posted by doggonedmysteries
We have a large fenced in yard but I use a retractable leash to take the dogs outside at night. I don’t want them disturbing the neighbors by barking. It also helps to keep them from dashing off after a wandering skunk, raccoon, or opossum, should one be visiting our yard. I don’t take delight in skunk odor or late night vet runs.
Late last night I took our boy Gavin out and he bolted for the fence, barking his fool head off. Nothing new or unusual about that, nine times out of ten he will. However, what happened when he hit the end of the retractable leash was a huge surprise.
His collar broke and the leash snapped it back at me. It’s a good thing I have a strong reaction to things that fly at my face and ducked just in time. The collar and tags zinged over my head. I watched my now naked dog running the fence line barking at nothing but the dark.
I pictured the coroner’s report.
Cause of death: blunt force trauma, impact of ten dog tags to skull knocked her unconscious, she then fell backwards and hit her head on the edge of the gas grill, fracturing her skull.
Bats in the belfry.
Posted by doggonedmysteries
When Dear Hubby worked patrol he had an agreement with his partner, he’d take all the bat calls if his partner took the bee calls. DH hated bees and his partner had a phobia about bats. I later found out his partner wasn’t the only cop afraid of bats.
One night while Dear Hubby was working the night shift we had a bat in the house. I’m not afraid of bats but I don’t like them flying about in my living room low enough to dodge the ceiling fans but high enough to make the dogs go crazy. Dear Hubby was at work, the dogs were going ape shit, and I couldn’t catch the darned thing. I called DH and he told me to call the local PD, so I did.
A young rookie showed up at my door and when I explained the problem he seemed all business. He checked out the first floor, no bat. He went to climb the stairs to the second floor with me behind him, but his courage was rapidly failing him. I knew I was better off without his help when he stopped midway up the stairs and turned to me to say, “You better not stay behind me, ’cause if the darned thing flies at me I’ll probably run you over.”
At that point I told him he might as well leave I’d handle it myself. He was out the door and gone before the last word left my mouth. So there I was alone with the bat and two dogs that I’d safely crated to keep them out of my way. I dimmed the lights on the first floor, picked up a tennis racket, and proceeded to turn on every light on the second floor. Yeah, he flew downstairs. Then the bat flew from living room to kitchen three or four times, before I managed to bonk him with the tennis racket. I’ve done it before and I am able to hit lightly enough only to stun them. I quickly scooped him up and gently deposited him outside.
I called DH. “Fat lot of good it does to have a cop who is terrified of bats show up on a bat call.”
“Did he get the bat?”
“Hell, no. The poor rookie was shaking in his boots so bad I sent him on his way. Took me about ten minutes but I got the bat.”
Another bat round up where a badminton racket came in handy was at my sister’s house. We were seated in her living room when out of the corner of my eye I saw a bat flutter in from the kitchen, through the living room, dining room, and back to the kitchen. I calmly mentioned this not realizing what a commotion it would cause.
My mother screamed and threw an afghan over her head. My sister shrieked and threw herself onto the floor. My brother-in-law screeched like a girl and vanished.
I trotted to the kitchen, retrieved a badminton racket we’d played with earlier in the day and waited for the bat to make the circuit. Bonk. I picked the bat up in a paper bag. When I went to go out onto the back porch with the bat, I found my brother-in-law. He was on the other side of the door holding it closed.
I held up the bag. “It’s safe now. The bat is in here.” To prove it the bat began to move in the bag.
My brother-in-law squealed and ran for the living room.
I went outside and released the bat but I was giggling so bad it took me about five minutes to compose myself before I went back in.
The editor on my shoulder
Posted by doggonedmysteries
I was taught that a writer does not compose a single sentence, do a cut and paste of another person’s work, and then set it in quotes.
Writing is, if behind all you’ve written, you exposed your soul. You are a writer, if you’ve sweated each word and shed tears over scenes that you thought were great. You are a writer if, as in my case, you’ve mumbled every cuss word in existence while you ripped those same crappy scenes out.
I have conversations with that little editor on my shoulder. Most of them are laced with words my mother would have washed my mouth out with soap for uttering.
Editor: “That scene sucks.”
Me: “Shut the #%&* up I need to finish this chapter.”
Editor: “But the scene-”
Me: “Bite me. I’ll rewrite it later.” I change the font to red so I remember to do it later.
Editor: “Shouldn’t that be a comma?”
Me: “I’m not friggin’ running grammar check every blankety blank paragraph. It can wait until the end of the chapter.”
Editor: “Would she really say that?”
Me: “Shut the #%&* up! No, you’re right she wouldn’t.” Delete, delete, delete.
And so it goes, scene after scene, chapter after chapter until the air above me is smoldering. No wonder Dear Hubby absconds when I sit down to work.
The floorboard’s connected to the…
Posted by doggonedmysteries
My neighbor stopped over today and had a tale to tell me about their latest remodeling job on their house. She has this powder room laundry room combination on her first floor. For a couple of years she’s wanted to redo the floor in there to match the living room floor, paint the cabinet, and fix the floor under the toilet so when you sat down it wouldn’t wobble.
Tuesday her hubby began the job. It all started well enough but when he removed the toilet, he found rotted flooring underneath and needed to replace it. To top that off whoever had installed the toilet had left far too much pipe sticking out of the floor. Gee, no wonder the toilet wobbled no matter how many wax rings he installed. Once he fixed that problem and reinstalled the toilet, the valve from the water line to the tank started leaking. My neighbor said the language coming from the room was not fit to print, I believe her.
Her hubby made a run to the local (big name) hardware store, bought the valve he needed and went back home. He fixed the leak. He then painted the cabinet and began installing the new flooring-it didn’t go smoothly. Much more unprintable language floated out of the room.
Her sink, washer, and dryer were residing in her dining room waiting for the finished floor installation. Once he got the flooring in past the plumbing for the sink, he retrieved it from the dining room and reinstalled it. That too decided to leak, blue words exited the room-back to the store. By this time, she seriously began to consider sneaking out to a movie or something.
He returned, fixed the leak, and finished installing the floor. They moved her washer and dryer back in. She was glad because she had some wash to do. She loaded the washer, turned it on and began to get lunch for her hubby while he recovered.
The floor was so smooth that when the washer went into the spin cycle it began to disco dance across it. In fact, it danced so hard it got the dryer into the act. They dashed in there and shut it off. She wouldn’t repeat the words he used.
Back to the store he went, he asked them if they any ideas on how to stop the disco party. They made a few suggestions that he didn’t think would work. Then the light bulb went on and he looked for and found interlocking rubber matting.
Between the two of them, they managed to tilt the washer and then the dryer and install the matting under them. It worked. Her only complaint now is she has sore muscles where she forgot she had muscles.
Doggonedmysteries 