Best Intentions

I know I promised to post frequently and wittily. I also promised to lose fifteen pounds, straighten out my bedroom closet and clean the basement. I have done none of these. I'm sorry.
But I did add to my menagerie. We got a Moluccan cockatoo. His name is Sammy and he is sweet and adorable and had been owned by a little old man, who had gotten too sick to care for him. The l.o.m. was of Puerto Rican descent, so Sammy favors rice and beans and yells "Hola!" whenever he wants to greet you, which i think is very amusing. He joins my African Grey parrot, two cats, two dogs and two half dogs (will explain later), a canary and a guinea pig. Not to mention three horses. It's a full house, but it's exactly the way i like it.

Okay, I have to explain the math on the dogs.
Our first full dog is a Boston terrier, Jean-Luc, who was a rescue. He's a tad big for a Boston T., about forty-five pounds big, and my vet has a sneaking suspicion that he might have had a pit bull grandma or something. But he is very sweet, even if he is one of the dumbest dogs i have ever owned. It took him a whole year to learn to sit, and he still hasn't learned that the kitchen floor is slick, so he races into the kitchen and does the water slide, like the scene in "Risky Business", crashing into the wall on the other side of the room. At least once a day.
Our second full dog is a toy poodle, light red, named Lola. She is the polar opposite of J-L, and has not only learned to sit, but stays, lays down, makes my morning coffee and toast, and dances on her toes, for our entertainment. The two half-dogs are "tea cup" shih tzus. Mimsy is full grown, topping out at four pounds and is so utterly adorable (and untrainable) that we ran right back to the breeder and snapped up her half sister, whom we named Sadie Petunia. Sadie, named for my grandmother, weighs two and half pounds at three months old, and looks like an ewok. In fact, that is what we tell people when they ask us what breed she is. Ewok. Let them figure it out.
It is snowing right now, and i am sitting in my office and trying to write my next book, and the dogs are all wrestling, and the parrot is yelling hello, and the cockatoo is answering Hola! and the phone rings., and it is my mother, who thinks i am certifiable for owning all these creatures. She has called to tell me that it is snowing outside and that she misses Phoenix, from which she moved only a week ago, and that she is unpacking and can't find her make up. I can hardly hear her over the noise.
Perfect.

Fall is nice, but ice isn't.

It happened.
Summer ended without permission, the hummingbirds have disappeared, the flowers are packing it in and the nights are getting chilly. I'm not complaining about the nights, though. I have often been called "Nanook of the North" because I sleep with the windows wide open in winter, letting the room temperature drop until there is frost nipping at the nose and biting the toes, even though the bedcovers are piled on high. I like seeing my breath hover in the air while I'm in bed. Somewhere in my background, I must have Eskimo blood. Summers are expensive because of that. The air conditioner is turned up and uses enough energy to melt the polar icecaps. I alone am responsible for global warming, which, of course, defeats the whole purpose of the air conditioner. It's a Catch 22, but a gal's gotta sleep.
Yet, I hate winter. I hate ice and snow and the grass crunching underneath my feet, and the days ending at four in the afternoon. No good comes in winter, except for a few holidays, and let's face it, unless you get the most incredible presents ever, winter isn't worth the frost it's written in.
Some summer comments I feel compelled to make, albeit, too late. I'm glad that Michael Vicks of dog cruelty infamy got punished, but it wasn't nearly harsh enough. We will never advance as human beings if people continue to behave like him or tolerate actions like his. Compassion is a building block of an advanced civilization, and we're not nearly halfway there.
And I'm heartbroken over the death of Pavorotti, I had met him years ago and he was such a gentleman. That glorious voice!
On a more recent note, I'm having fun at my booksignings - there have been four so far and I didn't do anything embarrassing. I wore the same shoes on each foot, didn't have my blouse on backwards, or my pants inside out (okay, I have an admission here: I went to lunch with friends one afternoon about a month ago to a nice little restaurant and when I got home, I discovered that my white slacks were inside out. Luckily I ate my lunch sitting down, or this would have been discovered publicly and much earlier, but it just shows that I am not to be trusted in dressing myself.) At the signings, I read the first chapter from Still Life With Elephant and finished to laughter (not directed at me, it's a funny book) and hearty applause and some book sales, all of which were gratifying. I have a few more booksignings coming up and I invite you all to come. See my website for details.
Other than that, I suppose we can skip the next few months without losing too much. We can hibernate, like bears and wake in the spring, tra la, but we will miss those holidays. Not to mention the presents. Did I mention that I like presents?
Happy Trails,
j

Here we go again.....

Honestly, I don't know how it happens.
As you know (because I told you in one of my blogs) I had a black eye and a shaved eyebrow at my very first booksigning, for Horseplay. This was because my sharp eyed derm spotted a wee skin cancer possibility right above my eyebrow and insisted that he remove both right away. And you also know, courtesy of another blog, that my very first radio interview was done with a mouthful of toothpaste due to a mix-up with the time differences. So, here I am, new book, Still Life With Elephant, out on July 10, and I am doing a booksigning and all excited, and what happens? I do something dumb like pick a tiny weed from my garden on my way into the house, and piss off some yellow jacket/wasp/killer bee/Mothra combination and get stung on my right hand, which of course, is my SIGNING hand, and it swells to baseball glove proportions and i look like The Hand From Outer Space. Can't hold a pen, can't even close my fingers. So I quickly look up cures on the internet, which is, as we all know, just absolutely the most respected venue for medical accuracy, and in short order, put the following on the sting: a messy, sloppy, dripping-all-over-the-place paste of baking soda (which did nothing), ice (which numbed it as it swelled like a balloon), a sugar and water paste (nothing) vinegar (nothing, but now my hand smells like cole slaw), tabasco sauce, pickle juice (nothing, nothing, nothing) and finally, ta dah, Preparation H, which, I am embarrassed to say, I keep in the house to apply to other surfaces. Tiny bit of relief with the Prep, but the hand still looks like it could float in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. My only comfort is that the wasp, incensed that I dare interfere with its privacy, divebombed and followed me screaming (i did the screaming) into the house, where i KILLED THE DAMN THING! I hope it ends up in wasp hell and has an intense allergic reaction to the medication that i take for my blood pressure. Poetic justice, i say.

Happy Trails,
j

RUN!

to the nearest bookstore! Today is the release date of Still Life With Elephant.

I hope you enjoy it. Please let me know what you think. You can reach me at judyreene@hotmail.com

Are you part of a book club? Writer's club? Discussion group? Let's talk!

Happy Trails,

Judy

Happy Fourth of July

We are rained out, but I wish everyone a happy Fourth of July and a salute of gratitude to all those who are serving and have served in our armed forces. My own father, now deceased, was a World War II veteran and he was very proud of having served in the Army Air Corps. Please join me in fervent wishes that our service men and women are brought home safely and as soon as possible from this terrible mistake of a war.
God bless,

judy

It's Almost Like Having a Birthday

I know. I once agonized on these very pages, how i will not celebrate my birthday anymore because i was just foolishly celebrating getting older, but waiting for a birthday to come along is something else. There is a tingling feeling of anticipation, wondering what great surprises are going to delight you. And waiting for my new book, Still Life With Elephant, to be released on July 10 is sort of the same feeling. I wonder how it's going to do on it's "birth " day, if people will like it, if I should have a party in its honor. We can all wear funny hats with elephants on them, wave balloons and here's the best part - eat ice cream and donuts.
There definitely has to be donuts.

So, if you are part of a book club, writers group, elephant lover's group or almost any other group who wants to join in the party, let me know. We can do a phone chat, I'll have a donut or two or three and some ice cream (and maybe you will too, on your end) and we'll have a good time together. You can email me at judyreene@hotmail.com with your phone number and we'll make arrangements.
Party on!

The Sound of Sopranos

Where did the time go? I promised myself i would post once a week, and obviously, like promising to lose twenty pounds right after New Year's, broke that vow almost right away.
The exciting news is that my new book, Still Life With Elephant will be coming out in about a month, and i'm really happy. It takes so long - about a year - to see your work in print, and it's a little like waiting for the results of a lab test. You wonder - positive or negative, although for books, you hope for positive.

Am I the only one who thought the satellite went out in the last few minutes of The Sopranos? Weird ending. I like things tied up neatly. Even if the good folks in New Jersey didn't all get taken out, there should have been some sense of closure. Leaving your faithful viewers feeling confused, and ultimately cheated is not good writing. Although the series has been stellar, realistic, brilliantly written and acted, it needed an ending. Squashing someone's head under the front wheels of a car had a high eeeuwww score and I suppose, set us up for more violence. Not that i wanted more violence, but the tension built in the restaurant scene until it became palpable. At least, in our family room, it was very palpable. The new puppy bit me on the ankle and i almost jumped out of my skin. Then the screen went blank. Huh? Not that i expected them all to stand up and sing So Long, Farewell, Auf Wiedersehen, from The Sound of Music, but.....
anyway,
Happy Trails