Amy Lane's Blog: Writer's Lane, page 13

Mother's Day

So first of all, thank you EVERYBODY for their good wishes. I mentioned on my Patreon that my son had been hurt on his way home from work last night--I was waiting for Mate to bring him home from the hospital and I wrote something to help me channel... well, everything, because yes. I was really freaked out.

I thought if I did it quietly, in a very small venue, only a few people--friendly people--would see, and it turns out that a lot more people saw it than I'd expected, and that they were ALL friendly and kind, so I felt like I should maybe give a better explanation of what happened.

My son--Big T--is a big guy. Late 20's, 6'5", 280, long curly hair hair, red beard, badly fitting clothes--you can see how he'd catch people's attention. He was getting home from work last night when a teenager who frequented the bus stop--and the nearby liquor store-- across from T's apartment thought T would be a good target. T doesn't do a lot of social talk--he has an auditory processing disorder, and he gets flustered.

The kid, being ignorant and cruel, basically tried "Hey, big guy, buy me some weed?"

T ignored him. He'd worked a ten hour shift that day. He bought his coffee drink, his chips, took his bag of work uniforms and left the store--and thought he was leaving the kid outside the store, posturing in front of the teenage girls  hurling taunts at T as he walked.

My son was seriously too busy, too tired, and had too much of a life to deal with their bullshit.

The kid didn't think so. He followed T and confronted him right when he got to his apartment parking lot. There was a rise in front of the driveway--the kid stood up on the rise to be tall enough to confront T, because, like I said, T's 6' 5". T basically said, "Look, I'm just walking home here. I don't want to fight anybody."

And the kid threw a punch.

T threw a punch back.

The kid was smaller, quicker, and stronger, and they fought for a bit. T broke away and in a fit of frustration, threw the iced coffee bottle he'd just purchased. It bounced off the kid--T's upper body strength isn't great. It's part of his overall disability--upper body, language centers, fine and gross motor control. It's one of those things that happens when a baby's brain is deprived of oxygen as the baby's being squeezed out.

The kid picked the iced coffee bottle and hurled it back, where it shattered over his head and the bridge of his nose.

When T came to, he called his sister, who came to help him deal with the police.

The police--being in their own way as cruel as his assailant--couldn't figure out why they couldn't understand him, and why he kept looking to his sister for help. Chicken stepped aside with one of them and told him that Big T couldn't UNDERSTAND WHAT THEY WERE SAYING when six people talked over each other. She told them about the auditory processing problem--and then added, "This man is the last person in the planet who would be high, I don't care how legal it is," and they backed off.

Then the firefighters got there and he was taken by EMTs to the nearest hospital where they gave him stitches in his head and his nose, and some ibuprofen. His father picked him up from the parking lot, and he came here, still smelling of coffee drink which had spilled all over his clothes. He took a shower,  called his girlfriend (she was visiting family) and went to sleep. (Squish gave up her new bed and went back to the bunk bed for a night, because she's good like that.)

He was okay this morning, for the most part. Ate, sat with his siblings, watched movies. Chicken brought donuts over, and we celebrated a quiet mother's day. I cooked dinner (We'd ordered takeout the night before, so Mate wouldn't have to feel bad about me cooking on Mother's day. Outback Steakhouse. Mmmmm... I'm a fan.)

And I was supremely grateful.

Yeah, there's fuckers out in the world who think keeping your head down and minding your own business is an excuse to throw punches--and God, they will come after your babies when you're least expecting it, won't they. But last night, my baby came home. Some cuts and bruises--and wounded pride, and puzzlement, because nobody expects that kind of evil in the world when they're keeping their head down and doing their best just to get through the day, right? But his heart is still good. He actually worried about the welfare of the kid who'd attacked him--thought the kid was bored and maybe neglected and hoped the kid found a different way. Thought the cops were pretty awful and wouldn't wish them on anybody. And thought the firemen and the EMTs were wonderful and wished they got paid more.

Yeah--my son's heart is still good. His body is still sound. And his girlfriend gets home tonight, and I know he was missing her so that's good too.

And my family is healthy. My children are safe. (God, I hope--I sort of thought they were safe last night, and boom!) And my stepmom sent me an adorable meme on the phone and my biomom survived a bladder infection and quarantine over Easter and hopefully got the package and card I sent her.

So I'm grateful. Happy Mother's Day to me--sometimes, the very basics in being okay is actually all you dare hope for, and it's more than enough.

A Rollicking Night at the Lane Household...

Do you like the stuffed animals? Chicken made them, and while the Baby Yoda is from a pattern (which was discontinued about a second and a half after I purchased it) the Trixie Matel Rainbow Cat was entirely her own design. We were super excited to see her finished product, and, well, crocheting has been keeping her sane.

She visited us yesterday and that was fantastic, but today was sort of blah. It was, in fact, s one of those days where you wake up with a headache and it doesn't go away until a nap and two more motrin. Not exciting, I know. That being said,  as I was sitting down to blog tonight, I realized that for a lot of us, what constituted major excitement anyway these days has changed.

A LOT.

So let's hear it for what now constitutes real firework moments in our nightly lives--from one kaboom (*) to 5!

They were replaying Jumanji all night, which is my husband's favorite modern movie-- * FIREWORKS!

The whole family actually LIKED a HEALTHY DINNER!  * * FIREWORKS!!

I have TWO new summer outfits, bought on sale on line, that I have not worn yet. * * * FIREWORKS!

Mate and I managed to sit, touching, for most of our nighttime television viewing. * * * * FIREWORKS!  (If we'd been doing it on purpose, that would have been * * * * * ;-)

My son took a SHOWER without a single adult commenting on his BO from across the room--* * * * FIREWORKS!

And finally, the topper in our 5* firework night-- We, as a family, managed to flea treat ALL FIVE OF THE QUADRUPEDS AT ONCE!  * * * * * HUZZAH! CELEBRATIONS ABOUND! WOOHOOOOOOOO!!!!!

And on that note, I leave you to celebrate your own small victories, including, I hope, being healthy and happy in your own (hopefully) flea-free abodes :-)

Kermit Flail--Flailing Into May!

YAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYYAYAYAYAYYAYAYAYAYAYAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Okay--I know it's been a rough slog--COVID-19, quarantine fatigue, and murder wasps have added up to an "Somebody please finish their game of Jumanji so we can start this time frame over!" kind of year!

But writers really do keep on writing--and sometimes the best retreat we can make is into a good book. My afternoons--which are usually spent getting kids from school and going to aqua aerobics--have become my audiobook and knit time. I've lucked out--my favorite authors--Karen Rose, Melinda Leigh, Kim Fielding, Mary Calmes--all have audiobooks out, and Karen's are QUITE LONG. So, you know. One credit. Long way. So much knitted bliss, right?

And so let's hear it for writers who keep writing--and newbies who have just started, shall we?

Andrew Grey is INCREDIBLY prolific--but every book gets better and better. His new contemporary, Hard Road Back looks a little angsty and a lot romantic, and hey--there's horses, and they're lots of fun too.

Edie Montreaux is a new writer, tentatively making inroads into publishing. Her newest project is an anthology project with many new and different writers and an engaging paranormal premise. What about the vampires who work for a living? How do THEY find their happy ever after? The proceeds for this book, Working Stiffs, are being donated to the WHO--so it's a bunch of budding authors and a great cause! Check it out!

Kim Fielding is one of those writers with a demanding day job who continues to put out fiction on a regular timetable. But she always manages to cluster her releases together, which I find hilarious--it's like nothing, nothing, nothing and then it's KIM FIELDING MONTH--YAY!!!! Well, consider May to June KIM FIELDING MONTH--YAY! Her range goes from paranormal to historical to noir to contemporary--and sometimes a rather delicious blend of ALL THE SUBGENRES, and she does them well. Come check out her three offerings, including Conned which is on my MUST READ this month, because... I mean you're going to have to go look.

And then there's Slow Pitch, my offering at the VERY end of the month. Every now and then I write a one-off-- Shiny!, Bewitched by Bella's Brother, Gambling Men, Homebird, or Christmas Kitsch, for example--that just seems to come together in a perfect, happy way. That's Slow Pitch. It's relatively low angst, it's one book only, and it's so. much. fun.

So there you go--for some of us, quarantine might come to an end very soon, while for those of us in California, we're looking at end of May at the earliest. (For Mate and me, we might be living like this until August, or later.)  And for most of us, a book is a the cheapest, longest lasting form of entertainment we can get--except yarn, but not everybody sees the charm of that, so let's go with a book ;-)  Choose your books carefully--make them the books that seize your heart and don't let go, and don't let anybody tell you what you should and should not buy. But take a look at these fabulous authors--if they're your cup of tea, by all means, INDULGE! Because if we've held it together at all in the last couple of months, we deserve all the indulgences we can manage!



Hard Road Back by Andrew GreyRancher Martin Jamuson has a deep understanding of horses. He just wishes his instincts extended to his best friend, Scarborough Croughton, and the changes in their feelings toward each other. Martin may be the only friend Scarborough has in their small town, but Scarborough is a man of secrets, an outsider who’s made his own way and believes he can only rely on himself when the chips are down. Still, when he needs help with a horse, he naturally comes to Martin.As they work together, Martin becomes more determined than ever to show Scarborough he’s someone he can trust… maybe someone he can love. Even if it risks their friendship, both men know the possibility for more between them deserves to be explored. But when Scarborough’s past reemerges, it threatens his home, horses, career, and even their lives. If they hope to survive the road before them, they’ll have to walk it together… and maybe make the leap from cautious friends to lovers along the way.Buy Here:AmazonBarnes and NobleDreamSpinner Press

Working Stiffs

by Various Authors Not all vampires are idly rich. Some of them have day jobs. Er, night jobs.

In a world struggling to come to grips with the existence of vampires, where reactions range from excitement to fear to determined disbelief, these vampires are just trying to make ends meet. Some of them do mundane work—like waiting tables or driving a cab. Others have more prestigious careers in medicine and crime prevention. But what all their jobs have in common is people. Unpredictable, interesting, frustrating, hostile, helpless, tasty people.


Whether they’re pouring drinks, answering phones, hacking into a computer system, or serving up the perfect food/wine pairing, these working stiffs are too busy to fall in love. Or are they?


This International Workers Day, celebrate by sinking your teeth into thirteen awesome stories about vampires at work. Because even the undead have to earn a living. Proceeds benefit the World Health Organization’s COVID-19 Solidarity Response Fund.

Story List

Bad Blood by Lyra Evans

Bad Decision by H.L Day

Call My Number by Megs Pritchard

Dial a Vamp by Roberta Blablanski

Fangs for the Memories by Sadie Jay

Fire and Ice Cold Skin by Mel Gough

How To Keep an Author (Alive) by AJ Sherwood
Graveyard Cops by Crystel Greene

Life Hacks by Eliott Griffen

Long Haul by Tanya Chris

Off the Menu by R.J. Sorrento

Overexposed by K. Evan Coles

Quality Assured by Edie Montreux

BUY HERE


The Golem of Mala Lubovnya
by Kim Fielding

Created out of clay to protect the citizens of Mala Lubovnya from persecution, the golem is strong but desperately lonely. He is confined to an attic, and his only joy comes from listening to the evening prayers and watching a stonemason work across the street. Then the golem meets the mason—Jakob—who gives him the name Emet and becomes Emet’s friend. But Jakob is caught between his faith and his attraction to men, while Emet knows he may eventually be used as an instrument of violence. Emet’s name means truth—but can honest love survive for a golem and a devout man?

BUY HERE

Refugees
By Kim Fielding(releases May 12)


When World War II ended and army medic Walter Clark returned to Chicago, he discovered that although home remained the same, he had changed. Unable to fit comfortably into his old life, he spent a year gradually making his way west. Now he’s gone as far as he can—the shore of the Pacific—but old memories make ocean views intolerable. He turns inland and finds himself in the hidden hamlet of Kiteeshaa, Oregon, where the locals are surprisingly friendly and the café serves food exactly like his grandmother used to make.

Martin Wright runs the Kitee Motor Court Inn and offers Walter a place to stay for a few nights. Later, Martin offers him a great deal more. But while Martin is a delight, he also harbors secrets; and there’s something not quite right about Kiteeshaa. No matter how far the two men have traveled, they can’t run away from their pasts.
BUY HERE

Conned
by Kim Fielding

World War I veteran Thomas Donne is new to San Francisco. Always a stoic man, shell shock and a lost love have nearly turned his heart to stone. No matter—a private eye has no room for softness. Almost broke, he takes on what appears to be a simple case: finding a missing young man.

As a magician and medium, Abraham Ferencz cons his audiences into believing he can cheat death and commune with their dearly departed. Although his séances are staged, the spirits are very real, and they’ve brought him almost more pain than he can bear.

When Donne’s case becomes complicated and the bodies start to pile up, he and Ferencz must fight their way through a web of trickery and lies. The truth is obscured by the San Francisco fog, and in their uncanny world, anyone can catch a bullet.
BUY HERE


Slow Pitch
by Amy Lane
Tenner Gibson has a job he enjoys, a prickly ex-wife, and an adorable daughter he wouldn’t trade for the world. With no romance, no sex life, and no other hobbies, a rec league softball team is as close as he gets to hedonism.

But life throws him a curveball when cocky Ross McTierney sets his sights on getting under Tenner’s skin.

One explosion of lust later, Tenner wonders what possessed him to have a quickie with Ross, and Ross wonders how to do it again.

Tenner has eight weeks to convince his tiny modern family that Ross is what’s best for him. Ross has eight weeks to get used to the idea that complicated doesn’t always mean bad. Their sex life is moving at the speed of light, and everything in their relationship is coming at them too fast….

But together, they might make a connection and knock it out of the park.

BUY HERE

Moving the Finish Line...

Mate is working so hard--but laminate floors! Oh my God!

I couldn't figure out what was wrong--he'd done the living room and hallway a dog's age ago, and I remember him talking about how quick and painless it was. "Just snaps together! So easy! I should do the whole house!"

Of course that was fifteen years ago and the second to last home improvement project we ever tried. (What happened you ask? Six letters, start's with an S. Ends with an R. Give you three guesses...)

So, as I was listening to him swear, I started trying to troubleshoot all of the things that could be different. Was it age and condition? I mean I'M certainly fatter and less wieldy, but he seems relatively fit for a man in his early fifties--was that it?

Has the floor warped more?

Yes.

Well, what's going wrong?

When I pop one part in, the other part pops out.

Did this happen last time?

No. Not even a little.

So I think harder: Was the laminate a different brand?

Yes.

Wait a minute. Was the laminate a CHEAPER brand?

Uhm, yes?

How MUCH cheaper?

About two bucks per square foot.

We looked at each other when he revealed this, and he screwed his face up in disbelieve.

Ah.

Ah indeed.

Anyway-- it's taken him longer than we thought. Today he took THE ENTIRE DAY off  from work to get it done. Now I know for some people work from home is sort of an iffy proposition.  For me it's not. I have deadlines, both self-imposed and external, and promises I try to keep. For example, I've been doing a weekly reading on my FB page. I had to bail from that tonight and postpone it for tomorrow because, well, there was lots of banging in the background. Lots of non-naked, non-romantic banging--and he was on a roll and it would have been unfair to prioritize MY work when he'd just backed off from prioritizing HIS. And when he's "at work" he is equally AT WORK. He has meetings--three or so a day--and productivity goals. He's gotten extra equipment from work--he's working with like five computers. Our kitchen table looks like a combination of Sam the Grocer's and Mission Impossible.

But like I said--today he put that ALL on hold, and he's not quite finished with her room yet.

But he's close. SO CLOSE. He moved the bed headboard in tonight, and will move the rest of the bed and the shelves in tomorrow. And then? It's all Squish and ZoomBoy moving her stuff into HER room.

And I feel a little guilty, because it's a long time coming.

I remember when I found out I was pregnant with her. My first thought wasn't "How can we afford another baby?" it was "Where will we PUT another baby?"

Well, we put her in the same room with her brother--and there she's stayed. There were different reasons--we thought she'd need a new bed (because we thought her older sister would take that bed back) and then we thought we'd make it a game room and then it was just full of ALL THIS STUFF. But between the one thing and another, she had yet to have her own room, and she's 14 now and NEEDS HER OWN ROOM.

So, we can finally fit our dessert baby. I think she'll be the happiest child in the world when she moves in.

Tomorrow. But damn, we're close.

Sad Clown

Work on the room continues apace--it's all Mate now, as he attempts to assemble the laminate floor. The kids have helped by painting and assisting when he needs it, and I'm in charge of provisions and doing other household chores while he works.

Not bad--but I know he was disappointed when he didn't quite finish tonight. Hopefully by Tuesday we'll be moving Squish back in, and we can have our living room back--and work on ZoomBoy's room next!

It's funny--for years I've been saying, "We actually have to be BORED enough to work on the house!" because seriously, any extra money we had went to travel or entertainment--wasn't on Mate's radar, wasn't on mine, truth to be told. Well, here we are, in quarantine and bored--maybe quarantine will last until we get another bedroom done, right? That would be fun! (Also, it would be safe--I am all for safe, and very, VERY VERY grateful both of us can work from home.)

Anyway--so tonight, Mate went to bed early because he was SUPER TIRED--he'd worked a LOT this weekend (and I helped) and I was left alone trying to write.

Now, before he went to bed, we both walked down the hall and went AUGH!

Squish had been playing with makeup--she found a super bright palette of make up in her room as she was cleaning it out and was trying to make herself into a sad clown.

Mission. Accomplished.

Anyway, as I was about a half an hour later, I kept hearing a puff of air from the end of the little corridor formed by couch and yarn boxes. Finally I looked up and went AUGH! Because there was a sad clown doing a dance routine by propping her phone up on one of the yarn boxes to film herself.

"What are you doing with all that BREATHING?"

"Well, you know, I spent so long on the makeup, I wanted to do a video on TikTok."

"Well stop breathing like that. Worst. Stalker. Ever."

"Was I really breathing that loud?"

"I expected something from a horror movie. ... And there you are."

"Heh heh heh..."

"Bed?"

"Sure... just, you know, let me get one more take..."

Yeah. Sure. Whatever. Welcome to the madhouse.

Smart Puppy!

Okay-- so have been blogging less. Sorry about that! But I spend part of each night doing a non-writing/editing thing. Blogging, Patreon, reading snippets out loud on FB live--and yes, the last two are new. I'm afraid they take a little from the blog--I hope you all can forgive me. (btw-- there's a Patreon link on the side of the blog--I'm offering my fiction free for the duration of quarantine, if you're interested and bored and broke! Feel free to partake! And if you're on the FB group Amy Lane Anonymous, you can see my reading every Thursday between 7 and 7:30, PST.)

It doesn't help that, as with most of you, the week has sort of the ring of sameness about it. I just need a little longer to collect funny stuff, right?

So here goes--

*  Some of you saw on FB that I had a wee bit of a mail  order mishap. Back at the very beginning of quarantine, when the toilet paper just DISAPPEARED, I had a moment of panic and ordered what promised to be a 12 pack of Charmin from a very suspect website in China. Well... it finally appeared and it was... less than promised.

Yes, that IS actual size.

*  Since we figured toilet paper had become more valuable than precious gems, we strung the tiny rolls into a necklace. This not only made for a fun picture for ZoomBoy, it also made for a convenient way to dispense the tiny rolls of toilet paper. We took that necklace of tiny tubes and slung it over the dispenser in the bathroom. Voila. A way to stretch our last package of Charmin. Huzzah!  In case you're wondering? They lasted from Monday to yesterday evening. So four days for four people. I don't know if that's terrifying or average, but I will tell you this--the cats ate an awful lot of it. They seemed to think those tiny travel sizes were just for them!

*  When done, we had a string with a bunch of toilet paper tubes on it. I hung the string around the front door knob, because cats love toilet paper tubes and I'm thinking, "Hey! This will be like a free cat toy!"  You guys all know the answer to that, right? They'd rather play with a piece of trash we dropped on the floor.

Or another square of precious toilet paper that they have somehow liberated from the now regular sized roll.

*  Speaking of fucking cats--and I was--we are still re-doing Squish's room. It is now repainted and sans floor--we'll be prepping the floor itself for laying down boards tomorrow. All of  Squish's stuff is still in the living room, but leveled down so we can watch TV around it when we're done with our day. (Some families work long into the night to finish a project. We have a quitting time. We're lazy like that.) Anyway--that first night all the stuff was piled in the living room Squish's tiny gargoyle, her chubby little panther, was poking around the stuff meowing piteously. I looked to see what his problem was and I realized the cat bed from her room was in the stuff, smashed between a few things. I pulled it out and set it on a flat surface with his little blanket (which is a scarf we got for $3 at Target) and he jumped up there and nuzzled his blanket and purred.

*laughs happily*

Kitteh...

* And speaking of adorable pets... Geoffie sits up next to me every night while I knit. She wedges herself between my side and the armrest and lays there, sleeping and happy. And of course I have to get up once an hour--snacks, potty, just getting my circulation going.

"Geoffie, honey, I gotta move."

Her ears perk up and she gets up and stretches and then jumps down.

Every time. She knows exactly what it means.

*laughs happily*

Puppeh...

And there you go--  I think I"ll keep the blogging to one or two times a week--I want fun stuff here, and the occasional book release. Let me know if you want any more!

Stay healthy, be kind-- we still have a ways to go.

Amy

Home Improvement

Mate and I suck at it.

So. Bad.

But Squish is long overdue for a room of her own, and we've been promising--and this weekend we made some surprising strides.

We've also had a few setbacks and just generally, we can't seem to do anything without meeting up with the absurdity of the world.

Examples?

* We got Squish's room mostly painted. This is awesome--she was so proud of her new color. It wasn't until we got the entire room covered in it that she and Mate noticed that... it was almost exactly the same color as the hallway.

What can I say? The two of us like lavender.

*  We had to load all her stuff into the front room. Then we had to take enough of it down for Mate and I to watch TV. Then we had to put some stuff back in the closet because she had to get to her drawers. Long story short? T hank God for social distancing because our lives might be more chaotic than usual for the next week or so.

*  Mate ordered the flooring for her room a little late--it's not due until next week. Included in the order was spackle and some plain white paint for the trim. When we realized the flooring wasn't going to get here, we went to Lowe's to get the spackle and the plain white paint. It. Was. PACKED. It was packed so full Mate noped out. After over a month of social distancing, the idea of going into a store that was shoulder to shoulder people without masks on freaked us both out--besides the fact that, in Lowe's, that kind of volume meant he'd be in there for HOURS. We apologized to  Squish--we weren't going to finish this in a weekend after all.

*  ZoomBoy found this vest. I made it for Squish -- in fact I made a couple of them, not just for her--when she was around seven years old. It's a little old and a little stretched out now, but the colors are in his wheelhouse and... well, let's just say he had an entirely different vision of this vest than how I'd pictured it when I made it for a chubby little girl.

* Mate has plans to visit Lowe's tomorrow, super early, when hopefully nobody will be there. *sigh* I hate the hardware store. I hate it so bad. The fact that it now appears to be party central for a COVID outbreak only seems to cement my hatred in stone.

And there you go--home improvement... Seems to me I'm remembering why we haven't done this in fifteen years...

"I ate a bug."

So, again, not much to report. Dog's gonna live-- but we've cut way back on the treats for both of them. Poor little goobers are very puzzled--but we're feeding them bland wet food as a substitute and they seem to like that very much.

Tomorrow we're painting Squish's room--it's gonna be a big day of activity, and, also, something we can do from home! Win! Squish has been teaching herself to embroider things--her first sampler had a dirty word in it, and I figure there are worst things to aspire to than Dame Judy Dench.

And seriously--there is so little to report--I'm sure, like most of you,  except those who are still on the front lines and who are crazy busy!

I can tell you that I'm doing a reading about once a week on my FB group, Amy Lane Anonymous--it's not professional grade by any means, but I think people are enjoying it as a way to pass the time. I have a poll the day before to pick the book the reading comes from, so, if you're on FB, come on by!

And this is going to be a super short blog post! Mostly I'm just waving to say I'm alive! But I do have a small adventure to share--

Mate and I were watching television when we heard the following:

Thump! Thump! Crash! Meow!

"Augh! Stop it! No! Oh my God! Gross! Eeeeeeek!!!!"

"Squish!" we called. "Squish! Are you okay!"

She came running out of her room looking HORRIFIED--I was thinking snakes coming out of the plumbing or a giant rat or something.

"MY CAT ATE A BUG!"

"Is that all--"

"IT WAS A MOSQUITO HAWK!!! IT WAS HUGE!"

And at this point Nebula came prancing down the hall, shaking his head in full frolic. He ran past her, brushing against her ankles, purring and meowing and then ran into the kitchen, where he met up with Dewey and did the cat equivalent of a high five. We could practically hear him: "Did you see the size of that bug? It was DELICIOUS!"

"He's so proud of himself!" I said.

"Well of course," Squish said. "It was a really big bug. He's a mighty hunter. BUT IT WAS SO GROSS!!!"

Cats. 40 pounds of crazy in 10 pounds of fur.

And General Weirdness

Okay--so Easter was fine. We had ham and the two older kids came over which was awesome--but I have to say, I wasn't in the mood to enjoy it as much as I could have been.

Mate kept the kids up until 1:30 the night before, which means that by the time I got to bed, it was 3:30, and a weird thing happens to me when I go to bed that late. I can't go to sleep.

So I lay there, shaking and cold and SLEEPLESS (the cold thing always comes with the sleepless thing--I think it's part of that circadian rhythm thing that happens) and at around 5:30--when I was finally dozing off, the dog got up.

Now, she's been sort of out of sorts--low energy, rumbly tummy--since Friday. We have no idea what happened. She started out her walk super excited and then ate a bug. Something. Saturday there was no poop--and she almost made us pick her up she was so tired. So, six o'clock, Sunday morning, she jumps out of bed and decimates the bedroom.

Decimates. If the rug hadn't been totaled before, well, it is now.

All the poop. Then she whimpered until I picked her up (while Mate was cleaning up) and she just shook in my arms until I got up at nine and took her in to the vets.

We left her there for the rest of the day--but I have to say, I was REALLY out of it for the entire day of festivities.

She got home still a little sad and tired, but improving, and she's almost 100% tonight, but Easter Sunday was sort of a blur.

*sigh* The adult children--who have been chafing under social distancing--seemed to be really happy to have a place to go even if it was just mom and dad's for ham. That made me happy. Also, my son starts a job--after losing both his others to COVID-19. He'll be washing dishes in a senior care facility, and while not exactly excited that he'll be in a virus hotbed, he should be pretty isolated from the worst of it--and a job is hard to come by right now. Kudos for him for going out to look for something.

Today, I got a FANTASTIC gift--my friend who is moving sent me an ENTIRE CASE of old Harlequins, and I love it so. I want to just curl up and start reading right now. *kisses fingertips* Perfection.  I have to admit, I need that sort of distraction--there is other family weirdness I won't bore you with and the dog keeps passing gas that has color, taste, and sound.  Suffice it to say, a romance book may be the best place to be.

My dog is okay right now. Sometimes, it's the little things  that keep your shit together, right?

Shopping During Social Distancing

I'm the worst shopper. Even when I make a list, I get lost in the middle of the store and forget it. I take time outs, unforeseen left turns, and have anxiety attack buys that usually involve chocolate, Oreos, and potato chips.

You'd think I'd get my shit together when we're supposed to going to the store once a week, maybe--you'd think that, right?

But no.

Mate and I take turns, because, frankly, looking at the vast wasteland that used to be the paper products department freaks us both the fuck out. Yeah, for some people it's watching the news--for us it's NOT SEEING ANY TOILET PAPER. Still. Can you sense my hands trembling? It happens.

So, when I send Mate into the store (it's usually after we take the dogs on our nature walk) I send him with a list. He adheres to the list. He does not take unforeseen left turns or have anxiety attacks that involve sugar. The list is law.

And then I go into the supermarket--a flowered scarf wrapped around my face so I look like the Nana Bandit--and come back with a surprising amount of food (much of it on sale and unwholesome) and we have the following conversation:

"Wow."

"Yeah-- there was no toilet paper so I got Oreos and Doritos instead."

*sage nodding* "Of course you did. Didn't I just buy soda?"

"Yes, but this was ON SALE."

*more sage nodding* "Of course it was."

"Anyway, I got ham."

"Good choice for Easter."

"And mashed potatoes and green beans."

"Also good."

"And three pounds of butter."

*slow blink* "Sure."

"We were running out."

"We only had a pound left. You're so right."

"So, anyway. I think we're good. We don't have to go back for a week."

"Good."

And six hours later, as we are both sitting, watching television, the following happens:

"GODDAMNED WHIPPED CREAM!"

*deep breath*  "Well, there's always tomorrow."