Jessica Scott's Blog, page 37

The PerfectVacuum

 

I have somewhat of a problem in my house. While I'll freely admit to having too any animals (really, I think we're borderline qualifying for an episode of animal hoarders but if you repeat that, I'll deny it), I will not allow that there does not exist a vacuum that can handle the fur load. And yet, the miracle vacuum that sucks, truly sucks the right way (man there is a dirty novella in there somewhere) eludes me.

This is the definition of a perfect vacuum:

Light weight

Sucks up everything from playdoh to pens to hair balls the size of chihuahua.

Capacity: with 3 dogs, 3 cats, a hamster, 2 kids who don't seem to know where a trash can is, the simple fact is it needs to be able to pick up a lot, no matter how often I clean

Bare floors & cat litter: apparently I'm the only person in America who does not want a vacuum based on how it does in carpets. Bare floors, you'd think, would be easy enough to clean however, my perennial problem is the brushes kicking debris out the back side and really, just spreading the mess as opposed to sucking it up.

 What I've tried

We had a Roomba. I loved it. There was nothing more gratifying than seeing that little robot zipping around the house, chasing the cats and eating up the fur carpet on top of the carpet. Sadly, it didn't survive the transition to bare floors and I found it stuck under the bed attempting to eat socks more often than not.

 

I tried the little green Optima (or something) with the round handle.  It worked great for a while and then, no matter how many filters I'd change, it would slowly start to not suck. And while it was cheap, it drove me batty to have to replace it every few months.

The latest vacuum is the Hoover pet hair model. Supposed to be every big as good as the Dyson Animal on pet hair, according to Consumer Reports. Except at its heavy, it doesn't suck nearly as good as I'd hoped and it kicks more debris around than it picks up. Plus, it's not good at picking up random things, either. Oh and it hates kitty litter, the other bane of my existence.

So what's a girl to do? Darling husband keeps talking about how his sister loves her Dyson Animal. Dude, that's a 600$ vacuum. I'll drop that kind of cash on a computer but on a vacuum that I don't how long or how well it will really work? I'm not that brave.

Does the perfect vacuum exist? Is it possible to find a vacuum that can tackle the massive hair load from shedding Labradors, German shepherd mixes and Aussie shepherd mixes?

Folks, it does. And it doesn't cost $600. Th solution is actually remarkably simple and I feel somewhat stupid that I didn't think of it sooner.

Shopvac.

It probably says something about the state of my home that it requires a shopvac to clean it and yet, it is as close to perfect as I've seen yet. Hairballs magically float across the floor to it's gaping maw. I can feel pennies and old playdoh and all manner of unknown trinkets being belted down the massive hose. So no, I'm not ashamed that I need a Shopvac to clean my house. We have pets. I'd rather use a Shopvac and keep it under control than keep dropping money on a vacuum that won't work after two weeks.

We have the long attachment that basically acts like a canister vacuum broom. Add an extension cord bc the actual cord is a little too short and Went. To. Town.

This thing is awesome. And we've had it for years and it never dawned on me to use it in the house. I'm happy to report that not only was dragging it around the house was lightweight, easy to maneuver, and it sucked up EVERYTHING. I think all I need is a new filter and we're good to go.

We'll see how this works out. But right now, Mommy is happy…

The Soldier as Hero and Monster

 

 

All the talk in the media lately about Soldiers and PTSD got me thinking about why the media is so quick to jump in and find any link to deploying to Iraq or Afghanistan as an excuse for criminal behavior. Alex Horton wrote this fantastic piece on what the media got wrong in the Mt Rainier shooting and if you haven't read it, please, take a few minutes and read it. I blogged the other day about all Soldiers not having served honorably and as a company commander and 16 year veteran of the US Army who is still serving, I stand by my statement.

Everyone who wears the uniform is not a hero and is certainly not worthy to be placed in the same category with genuine heros who have given their all in the name of God, Country and the brother or sister next to them.

 

What I think our society is dealing with is the Soldier as a Hero and when Soldiers or former Soldiers do bad things, we are stuck grappling with how can someone who we admire do such a horrible thing? How can the husband we love come home and beat the wife who waited for him? How can the son we love come home and murder in cold blood? How can we love the mother who comes back from deployment and drinks too much and screams at her kids?

 

Instead of looking at the realistic ways that deploying to combat, that leaving your family for a year or more, and the way that readjusting to being in a society that complains more about the price of gas and who Kim Kardwhateverhernameis is sleeping with this week affects Soldiers coming home, we are quick to say oh, they deployed to combat. They must have seen terrible things and therefore are scarred by it. That is the reason my loved one has done these terrible things. It's not their fault, they are a victim of the war.

 

Except.

 

Here's the rub that we are ignoring: all Soldiers are not Heros. What I mean by that is that all Soldiers, all people who wear the uniform are not good people. Simply deploying to combat does not turn a good man into a monster.

 

I wrote about something similar when the video of the Blackhawk pilots killing civilians was leaked on the internet. The internet went wild, calling for their arrest, for them to be charged with murder, et cetera et cetera. Collectively, we as a society struggled with the outcome of their actions: innocent bystanders killed. Our Heros simply did not do these sorts of things, ergo we had to blame them for their actions, which were completely justified based on the information they had.

 

So when our Soldiers return from war and they engage in actions that are contrary to what we as a society believe our Heros should be, we MUST find a way to reconcile the Soldier as Hero with the Soldier as Monster we witness. We must find a way to look at the Shadow of the Hero, the Monster who wears our uniform, and explain it.

 

I'm not a shrink or a doctor or anything but I think the inability to reconcile Soldier as Monster instead of Hero why we rush so quickly to find PTSD, combat deployment or some other trauma as the reason behind the actions.

 

It could simply be that the person committing them is not a good person.  Everyone who serves is not honorable. Everyone who serves is not just. The sooner we collectively look past the uniform and see the individual, without excuses, without draping them in the flag and calling them a victim, we will better be able to honor the men and women who do serve honorably.

 

And the sooner we start calling criminals criminals and STOP blaming PTSD for everything that does not jive with our vision of Soldier as Hero, the sooner we'll start reducing the stigma associated with needing a little help when our men and women do come back from war and start getting real Heros the recognition and help they deserve.

A Few Good Men's Reaction to Because of You

 

I've had some truly awesome reader emails since Because of You released. I had one from a group of nurses that said they laughed so hard at the catheter scene, they had to be told to pipe down. That made my day to think that someone got that much enjoyment out of my book.

Now, I'm online (a lot but who's counting) and I talk about politics and foreign policy and life as a company commander, so I interact with a lot of guys. Typical for my daily life, too, as the Army is, well, male dominated. Suffice it to say, there are a vast number of men who do not peruse the romance aisle of the local Barnes and Noble.

All that said, there have been several guys who have read my fun little romance novel involving catheters, scars and well, a few dick jokes thrown in for good measure.  These brave men have risked their man cards by reading a book with a naked man on the cover and yet, they have not only read it, they've shared their reactions for our viewing pleasure.

And some of the reactions had me falling out of my chair laughing so without further adieu,

A Few Men's Reactions to A Romance Novel.

From an LT who shall not be named:

"you apparently can't write a romance novel without swearing and dick jokes, either"

 

From a Special Ops CSM who shall not have his man card revoked:

"very much enjoyed my first romance novel. Not my normal reading experience but my new favorite genre…now back to reality. I did like it. Characters were well developed and I found myself rooting for the good guys and jeering for the bad guys. But WOW was it racy. Completely not prepared for that."

 

And my new favs, from an email conversation that started over Navy SEALs and political affiliation, the crème de la crème of email conversations:

"I would read your book myself but I don't want to lose my man card."

Me: " Psht! If a special ops CSM can read it AND like it AND still retain his man card, I think you're ok:) besides, I won't tell if you won't:)"

Him: "Yeah, but he's special ops which means he has a very BIG man card. My man card is not so big and I can't afford to lose any."

The Next Day: "OK, I swallowed what little pride I have, risked my mediocre man card and read your book with a naked man on the cover. It's a very good book Jessica, congratulations. But I feel duped. I had no idea that romance novels don't have an ending. So, in light of the fact that I risked so much and shelled out $2.99 I believe you owe me an answer to one question: Why the fuck was Trent court martialed? "

Me: "That's has to be the best response ever! Can I please post it anonymously?"

Him: "Yes, you can post it. Just don't mention my mediocre man card. Enough women already know about that. I don't want the entire female population to know. I'm kidding, you can post the whole email if you want. So we don't find out what happens? I thought your 2nd book came out in May or something. What happens to Laura? Do Shane and Jen live happily ever after? I can't believe I am asking these questions. I feel so feminine. ..Why was Trent sexually harassing women? How the hell am I suppose to wait till Christmas?"

Later that day: "I just had a thought. I don't mean to be critical but during the hospital scene Shane had an erection that lasted 5 hours. According to the commercials he should have seeked immediate medical attention for an erection lasting more than 4 hours. You could have permanently damaged his penis. "

And finally: "Last thought, still not being critical. But Jen has orgasms incredibly fast. I mean Shane just touched her down there and she exploded. Now, maybe it is my mediocre man card but my experience says this is not realistic. I mean, fuck me runnin', it takes me an hour, a bottle of baby oil, three dildos and a circus {clown} to get my wife off."

Folks, this stuff has had me laughing for hours! I love love love that people are reading my book but I love even more that they're sending  emails like these gems. As one of my LTs pointed out, getting me to laugh is the fastest way out of an ass chewing.

Being a romance writer rocks.

Oh and one final thought from the above conversation: when I mentioned that one of my reasons for writing with a pen name was to keep some sweaty bald major from asking me where I got my ideas, he gave me the perfect come back: "your wife"

I love my job.

 

 

All Soldiers Have Not Served With Honor

 

Folks, I'm a fan of Support Our Troops. I am truly grateful that the nation has supported soldiers and our military brethren despite opposing the war. That is a good thing, a thing that our brothers and sisters who fought in the Vietnam War worked tirelessly to prevent this time around. For every person that has sent a care package or thanked a soldier by buying him or her lunch or a beer or simply written a letter to let us know you were thinking of us, I and my brothers and sisters in uniform thank you.

But it's time for a small does of reality. Folks, the vast, vast majority of soldiers served with honor. They are the minority of folks who volunteered to serve when the rest of the nation was worried about the Kardashians or some other bullshit. But everyone who has worn the uniform is not deserving of the honor of being thanked for their service. I'm probably going to catch hell for this post but that's ok. I'm overdue for a rant.

You will often hear folks in military circles talk about officers who have commanded and those who have not. Having just left company command, I will tell you that it shaped and changed me more than any experience previously, except deploying to Iraq in 09. The responsibility is awesome, the authority even more so. You must balance the good order and discipline of the group with the needs of the individual and I will tell you, there is never a perfect answer. We do the best we can and once we pass the guidon, we second guess ourselves, we question what we did and we what if the hard choices we made and we hope we made the right decisions.

Brace yourselves for the biggest revelation I had very early on as a commander: There are people who do not deserve the honor of wearing our uniform.

In one year as a commander, I put 13 soldiers out of the military and some of those, I wish I didn't have to. Commanders have a lot of discretion but there are some things they will do and others things they may do. I won't talk about the specifics but I will tell you that the folks I put out on misconduct did Bad Things. Not one of those Bad Things was court martial-able but they were bad enough to end their military careers. Several of the troops I separated for misconduct were put out on an administrative discharge called a Chapter 14-12C, serious misconduct. Again, not bad enough to warrant a court martial, but bad enough to be contrary to good order and discipline.

But you see, some of these men and women have deployed to combat zones. Some of them may have seen Bad Things. Does that mean that I as a commander should have tolerated as an example alcohol abuse, drug abuse, sexual misconduct or an endless stream of civilian arrests within my formation? Should I have made excuses for them and sent my NCOs constantly chasing after men and women who did not believe that wearing the uniform was a privilege and not a right? Who were taking time and effort away from the team that was preparing to deploy yet again? Should I have put them in therapy and excused their bad choices as results of their deploying to combat?

No because being deployed to combat is not the same thing as being involved in Really Bad Shit Downrange. The military should not excuse bad behavior for soldiers just because they deployed to combat and neither should the civilian world. If you deployed, I say thank you for serving and signing up. But just because you deployed does not mean you have carte blanche to kill people, steal, do drugs, not come to work, beat your spouse, kick your dog…you get the idea.

Some of my brothers and sisters coming home from war have come back significantly scarred. TBI and PTSD are very very real things and have very real implications for families and communities of veterans who have been involved in traumatic events. How can you know who has been involved in really bad shit vs those who are just trouble makers? You can't, not unless you were there.

But if you come home and act like a criminal or a thug do not expect my fellow commanders to have sympathy for you. We expect that you will do what it takes to ask for help if you need it, to have the strength and the moral courage to say you know, I'm not okay and I need some help. For that?

The bottom line is judge the person on their actions. Don't drape me or anyone else in the flag and make excuses for our shitty behavior just because we deployed to combat. We don't deserve your excuses and we damn sure don't deserve your pity.

If we ask for help, please work with us and understand that yes, deploying to combat changes people. It takes a long time for your normal to be reset after deploying, even if you sat on the FOB.  Daily life in the combat zone is not the same as it is back here and you need to understand that.

But if we show our ass or worse, engage in criminal activity, do not excuse us because once we wore the flag on our shoulder. You dishonor all of those who have served honorably when you do.

 

The Year End Wrap Up + Giveaway!

 

So this year has been somewhat amazing, all things considered. Starting with the coolest news first, my husband came home from Iraq on Christmas Eve and was interviewed by Angela Brown from the Associated Press. You can read the variations of the article on

FOXNews

MSNBC

Salon

Washington Post

And others. Angela was great to talk with and it was super cool for our families to be able to see us all together again on the news.

A chapter in my Army career came to a close as I passed the guidon to my replacement as the company commander. While it was incredibly sad for me to say goodbye to my soldiers, so many of them have kept in touch, sometimes it feels like I'm still part of the Viper family. And they're in excellent hands across the board. I've been selected for a second command and will be taking that guidon some time in February 2012 where the fun of company command will continue.

On The Writing Front

My young adult novel took 3rd in the 80th Annual Writer's Digest Comptetition, which was pretty cool all the way around.

I signed my first book contract and released my debut novel, all within a span of 6 months.

Because of You launched a couple of things, the least of which was my novelist career (hopefully). You can read the press release from Ballantine Bantam Dell here announcing the first Loveswept ebook original release. Because of You not only launched the return of Loveswept original ebooks, it was my first book. During the first two weeks of its release, it crept as high as #27 on the Barnes and Noble ebook Top 100. Not for romance. For ALL Ebooks. That was pretty freaking awesome in my world.

I gave away 3 Kindles and 3 Nooks this year as promo for BECAUSE OF YOU. I hope the winners have truly enjoyed them and if I haven't heard from you, please email me so I can get your prize in the mail!

By the numbers, Because of You has been added to 258 lists on Goodreads and has 4.5 stars from 22 reviews. 14 reviews on Amazon 4.5 stars.  Thank you so so much for everyone who has read Because of You, told a friend or left a review. None of this would have happened without readers and friends pulling for the little book that could.

Because of You also received an amazing outpouring of support from superstars in the romance world and you can read all of the amazing quotes here. I can only hope that in some way, I can ever repay the support I received.

The best book I read all year (other than the Hunger Games series) was Nalini Singh's Archangel's Blade. Dmitri and Honor's was an absolutely incredible story that moved me and ultimately sticks with me months after I read it. You don't have to read the series in order to read this book: READ IT!

Looking Forward

2012 is going to be another crazy year. I've got two books due to my editor, who has the patience of a saint with my busy army life. As I mentioned above, I'm taking command again in February and learning how to be a wife again to a husband who is not immediately heading back out the door for deployment (we hope).

Sadly, 2012 may also be our last year at Fort Hood as my prospects for broadening assignments are being looked at by echelons above reality. The thoughts of leaving the home I've shared with my husband, that has seen major changes, two kids, multiple pets…it's sad. But I'm going to enjoy 2012 and every thing that it brings and not dwell on the far out future that I can't actually control.

I'm going to attempt to go to RT and RWA conferences but probably will have to choose between one or the other. I've entered the RITA, so wish me luck on that front. I'm competing in the single title category so I probably don't have a snowball's chance in, well, you know. But hey, a girl's got to have a dream.

BACK TO YOU will release in September, followed by Until There Was You around Christmas. There were some changes made based on characterization and market timing so for those who are anxiously awaiting Trent's story, you'll have to wait a little longer for his Christmas novella. And BACK TO YOU will now feature Claire Montoya and Evan Loehr dealing with a

There will be more publicity for Because of You in the coming months. Thanks to everyone who has votes, shared and supported BECAUSE OF YOU in 2011!

 

That's the year end wrap up! Tell me, what are you looking forward to in 2012? I'll give away at $25 gift card to one lucky commenter.

Home Coming

 

It is the end of the day. All I have to do now is go to sleep and wake up and we'll be rushing to Fort Hood to pick up my husband from his 4th and final homecoming from Iraq.

I have no idea where the day went. We went grocery shopping first thing this morning. Did laundry. Cleaned. Organized. Shaved. Colored my hair. Mani/pedi last night so I won't have dragon claws. Cleaned again. I lost count how many times I cleaned my kitchen. I give up. Made mouse cookies. Cleaned kitchen again. Put groceries away (This took most of the day). Redid the Christmas tree b/c the damn cats have been tearing at the low hanging ornaments.

It's now the end of the day and I'm finally taking a minute to myself (somewhat: my children are drawing on the white board behind me). There may still be alc

It's hard to believe that it's been two years since I marched across that parade field myself. I've stood in the stands twice before. The music is pumping. Kids are alternating between crying and screaming and fidgeting because most of us get there an hour early at least. Then the waiting. Waiting. Waiting for the music to start. Waiting for the buses to pull up in front of the parade field, their doors facing away so we can't see the troopers debarking. They form up behind the buses and the families are all chanting Move that bus. The stands shake from the noise. Your voice is hoarse from yelling.

And then they move the buses. The formation moves in step across the field. You can hear the commands from the sergeant major or the first sergeant leading them. The guest speaker, whoever it is, keeps his or her remarks to less than a minute, knowing no one wants to hear what he's got to say. Then the invocation. And finally the word everyone, soldiers and families alike are waiting for: DISMISSED.

And it's utter and complete chaos. Families swarm the field. The formation disperses as soldiers scan the crowd for kids who have grown up in the year they've been gone. For wives who've had babies or colored their hair or put on make up for the first time since he left. For the husbands who have gotten a hair cut or put on a nice shirt or maybe, came straight from work and so blend in with everyone else in uniform.

Then you see him. He looks taller. Tired from traveling for two days. He hasn't shaved. But a slow smile spreads across his face. And that first kiss is magic, pure magic. If the kids are there, they get to him first, jumping into his arms with cries of Daddy Daddy.

It's only a moment, but it's the moment you waited for a year or more for. For some of us, it's the moment we've been waiting almost a decade for: the last homecoming. It's all the more precious.

In honor of my husband redeploying (hopefully) I'm posting an unedited, unrevised excerpt from the next book in my Coming Home series: Evan and Claire's story Until There Was You. Evan hasn't seen Claire in three months, since she redeployed before him and he didn't expect that she'd meet him on the field. But I wanted to share because it captures the feeling of being someone walking across that field as opposed to waiting in the stands.

I hope you enjoy it.

And to all of our troops who are finally coming home, welcome home.

 

Excerpt from Until There Was You

Three Months Later, Fort Hood

 

Let go of me.

No.

I'm not kidding, Loehr. You don't have the right to touch me.

There was something off, some strain Evan had never heard in all the years he'd known Claire. But he didn't release her. She looked about to collapse, like she was running on adrenaline and morphine all rolled into a nice drug coctail.

Claire didn't do drugs. She also didn't do sympathy.

But he still wasn't letting her go.

Evan stared out the window of the bus as it moved to the parade field in front of the First Cavalry Division headquarters. The stands were filled with families, music pumped wildly across the field. Chants of move that bus reverberated through the night air.

His chest tightened as he waited for his troops to pile off the bus. He grinned as one of his platoon sergeants, Reza Iaconelli shuffled past.

"You look like a man with a plan," Evan said.

"Oh there's a plan all right." His dark eyes glittered in the false illumination from the bus. "It involves Steel Reserve and a box of trojans."

Evan rolled his eyes. "Just don't go to jail this time."

Reza grunted. "You're never going to stop bringing that up, are you?"

"Not as long as we're both still alive and kicking."

Reza shook his head and shuffled past. Evan looked over the field toward the waiting stands. There was no reason to think she'd be there. He'd had no contact. Not an email. Not a phone call. Hell, he'd checked her Facebook. Not a single update.

It was like Claire Montoya had redeployed from Iraq three months earlier and had fallen off the face of the earth. He tried not to be bitter. It wasn't like they were friends. Hell, half the time they were barely able to be in the same room together.

But something about that night in Iraq stuck with him. He wished he could blame it on his underemployed cock but he hadn't even thought about sex. Not that sex with Claire wouldn't be off the scale explosive.

He scrubbed his hand over his face. Shit, he was a mess. He'd been deployed for a year. His dick hadn't fallen off but it might as well be AWOL if he was thinking about Claire Montoya in any manner that didn't involve a gag.

He stepped off the bus into the crisp Fort Hood night. The music pumped into his soul. He shifted his backpack onto both shoulders and fell into the rear of the formation. No sense in getting trampled by the wives and kids and dogs that would be stampeding the field once the commander released the formation.

"You okay, sir?"

Evan glanced over at his first sergeant, Decker Story.

"Yeah. Your daughters here to pick you up tonight?"

Story's hard eyes softened immediately. "Yeah. Though I'm terrified of riding with Lizzie driving."

Evan laughed and clapped Story on the shoulder. "You'll be fine, gramps."

"Shut the hell up," Story growled. "Guess it's time."

Evan shifted his pack and adjusted his coming home special occasion ball cap that he was pretty sure was going to give the sergeant major fits and hoped like hell that someone had gotten his message to come pick him up tonight. He really didn't feel like calling a cab to some shitty hotel off post. But hey, whatever. Any hotel in Killeen beat the hell out of the giant bays and hard cots he'd just spent the last year sleeping on.

The formation moved out sharply, marching across Cooper field. The music died but the screaming went on and on and on. Evan smiled. He couldn't help it. He might not have anyone in those stands who gave two shits about him but he felt welcomed and home just the same.

A little girl broke away from her mother toddling across the field as fast as her little legs could carry her. Evan didn't need to turn around to know she knew exactly where she was heading.

"Hi, baby." A soft voice behind him, a father's words choked with emotion.

Evan bowed his head as the chaplain did the invocation. And then…chaos erupted. The field swarmed with wives and mothers, husbands and fathers, teenage daughters and newborn babies. Evan dodged at least a dozen baby strollers and even more pregnant wives. Midtour babies. He smiled and made his way to the edge of the field, searching for Shane or Trent or heaven forbid, Carponti. Anyone who could give his sorry ass a ride to a hotel until he found a place to rent.

He planned on holing up with beer and pizza and cable tv. He wasn't leaving the hotel room. Days, maybe more. He grinned and shifted his assault pack again. Who was he kidding? He'd be out at one of the sports bars before midnight tonight. He needed to be around people. To feel the press of bodies against him as he drank and laughed and felt human again.

The wind picked up, gusting across the field and Evan suppressed a shiver. Should have packed his damn jacket. He stuffed his hands in his pants, knowing he was going to get his ass handed to him if he was caught and not really caring at the moment.

"You look like you want to escape."

Evan stiffened as the voice that haunted him slid across his skin like hot cream. He swallowed and turned.

Claire.

He didn't move for a long moment as he tried to come to grips with the thousand fractured emotions inside him. Anger. Hate. Rage.

Once upon a time, those had been the emotions tagged when he thought of Claire Montoya.

Now? Now there was something else. Something dark and twisted up with more than the blood they'd spilled together in combat.

And damn his traitorous soul to hell, he could not hate her. Not any more.

The wind shifted and she adjusted her patrol cap. Her hair was pulled severely back beneath it, reminding him of how she'd looked downrange earlier that year.

"Look, Loehr, you can stand there and look like a sex offender all night or you can grab your crap and I'll give you a lift. Your call but y—"

Her bun was soft and smooth beneath his palm as he snaked his hand around her neck. He drew her closer, until she was nose to nose with him, until he could see the tiny flecks of gold in her kelp green eyes. Her mouth opened with a rush of breathe against his lips. "Stop talking."

He didn't kiss her. He came close but when her hand came up to his chest, he stopped. Beneath his touch, she stiffened. "Let go."

And damn him, he did.

<<<>>>

 

Diary of a Hamster Day 4: Airborne Hamster Operations

I reconsidered my plan. I'm good, but I'm not super hamster. The fall is too far and I'm liable to end up breaking a critical part of my body if I jump unaided.

I spent the last day building my chute. Let me tell you, it's not easy to knit a parachute out of sawdust and a paper towel tube but it is possible.

The ramp is dropped. I stand up. Hooked up. Shuffled to the door.

I. Am. Going. To. DIE.

 Deep breaths. Go. Go Go!

Hoollyyy shiiiittttt!

Feet and knees together.

Pull risers. Balls of feet, calves, ugh!

Ow. Crap.

Okay okay. Released the risers. I'm breathing. This is good.

Feet, all four of them? Yep.

Back? Not broken. Holy crap, I made it. I didn't even crack a claw. Awesome.

Now to hide the evidence. (stashes parachute behind the file cabinet). Freedom. Sweet Freedom.

Holy hell what's that sound? 

It sounds too much like claws on the floor. I've got to stop writing in this damn journal and hide. More later. If the black devil doesn't eat me.

Diary of a Hamster Day 3: Escape

The little human screwed up. I knew she wasn't supposed to be in here. Her mother is somewhat neurotic when it comes to my impending escape. But today, I found the Achilles heel of her defenses, all thanks to the little human.

You know, all in all, I don' t mind the humans. Honestly, they're not entirely repulsive except for that whole keeping me in a cage thing. I feel like a hamster steak. The little black devil just sits there all day, staring at me with his devil eyes. But even him, I've gotten used to. I think he wants to play and by play I mean stick his claws in my belly and see if I'm real or a toy. The orange wolf, though? She wants to eat me. She's told me she wants to suck the marrow from my bones. Dude, do you know how little hamster bones are? That's really sick.

I wish I'd paid better attention in hamster SERE training. At least to the evade part. Escape? Yeah, where was I.

So the little human was fiddling with the cage. There's this slidy thingy and I just watched her as she turned it then reached in to pet me. I let her because she'd just handed me the keys to the kingdom. I moved to the latch. Gave it a little nudge. It moved.

Victory is mine. I turned it all the way and damned if it didn't fall all the way to the floor.

Floor. Seventeen hamster lengths down. I didn't really think this whole escape thing through.

Deep breaths. It's now or never and I am tired of feeling like a hamster kebob just waiting for her death.

Seventeen hamster lengths.

I really wished I paid attention to hamster rappelling 101.

Diary of a Hamster: Day 2: Planning

My prison walls are closing in on me. Every day I watch my captors open and close my cage with impunity. They delight in trying to catch me. My only purpose in life is to stay fit and healthy so that when the time to escape arrives, I am well enough to flee.

 

The black devil watches me closely. Sitting in the chair, his great yellow green eyes dissect me as though he can already taste my innards. Not in this lifetime, hairball. This room isn't big enough for the two of us. He doesn't know I'm leaving soon. Just as soon as I can get this door open.

My hamster SERE training will serve me well.

Operation: Fluffy Diary of a Hamster: Day 1

You know, I kind of like my life. Granted, I have to suffer through 19 obnoxious little hooligans tapping on my cage, waking me up, picking me up and touching me in inappropriate places but hey, I'm a hamster. My life in my little classroom is just this side of perfect.

I escaped once. The whole class was looking for me and I was completely on my own, foraging, stealing food from that stupid rabbit who just wiggles his nose at me as I rappel into his cage.

But you know, I'm not a bad class pet. I don't bite. I let the kids play with me. Occassionally, I'll deign to entertain them.

What the FUCK did I do to deserve this?

I woke up somewhere new. My cage moved while I was sleeping. Now, I'm surrounded by books. Not colorful scribbles that are supposed to be people. Books. And then, there's the walking creatures of death.

Dogs. Three of them. A big dumb looking white one who looks like she poops bigger than me. A goofy looking black one who looks like he wants to play with me and by play I mean eat. It's the red one who scares me. She just stares. She looks old. Like I *might* have a chance at outrunning her if I'm lucky.

But those aren't the worst of this new hell.

There are cats. What the hell is it with the people and threes? But there are three cats. A fat black and white one doesn't look like much of a threat but I'm not willing to risk it. The little grey one, though, looks like she'd gladly gut me and use my liver as a candy dish. But it's the fat black one who scares the living hell out of me.

He's nimble. Especially for being so fat, he climbs. And he's constantly picking fights with the other ones. They hate him. Maybe I can turn them against each other and escape.

I am not going to survive this shit. But I'm not going down without a fight.