Judy Alter's Blog, page 342
August 9, 2011
The Animal Kingdom
My day did not get off to a good start today. I've gotten things down to a routine--feed the cat, take the puppy out and then put her in the bathroom while I feed Scooby and let him out. This morning, as I put her in the bathroom, Sophie escaped and led me on a merry chase. Finally cornered her in my closet but there went a good ten minutes, when I was rushing to get to an 8:30 breakfast. Back on track, but the remote for the kitchen TV wouldn't work--stuck on the Food Network channel, which I love during the day but in the morning I want news. Changed the batteries, pressed the AT&T button as I've been taught--nada. Still had those terrible television ads they run in the mornings.
Made the breakfast meeting--Book Ladies, a group of ladies whose professional lives have all had to do with books (librarians, authors, booksellers,, a woman who was once my editor at TCU Press) but had to rush away to take Sophie for another set of puppy shots. This is a two-person operation: because of the danger of parvo virus, I've been told to carry her in and not set her down until she's on the vet's table. This goes on until she's had all her shots--one more month. When we get back into the car, we have to disinfect the bottoms of our shoes! So my dining friend Betty goes with me. She decided this morning I should write a book about Sophie and the balky remote, but I told her it was barely worth a blog.
Sophie got left alone a lot though--I had a long and delightful lunch with a good friend today, home for a while, then a nap, and Sophie was back in her crate while I ran a friend to get her car. Then home and out again briefly but back into the crate while I went to dinner with the neighborhood crowd. She punished me by completely destroying the jacket of a book she somehow got out of the bookcase.What I have been told about her is true--she's much smarter than I am.
On another front, I asked the vet today about Scooby's back legs going out from under him, and she prescribed aspirin twice a day. Tonight, as I was late out the door for dinner, he barked insistently, so I let him out to pee, which he did. But he kept barking. I guess he was hungry. I sure hope he doesn't get to the point that he can't sleep through the night. Colin, my oldest, had a dog like that and every time Colin got up to let him out he ate a pbj--gained a lot of weight.
Things are still not peaceful in the animal kingdom. Sophie is going from one "No!" to another, Scooby is still outside. I have to feed Sophie and bring Scooby inside so I can take her out. Will this day never end? And writing, what's that?
Made the breakfast meeting--Book Ladies, a group of ladies whose professional lives have all had to do with books (librarians, authors, booksellers,, a woman who was once my editor at TCU Press) but had to rush away to take Sophie for another set of puppy shots. This is a two-person operation: because of the danger of parvo virus, I've been told to carry her in and not set her down until she's on the vet's table. This goes on until she's had all her shots--one more month. When we get back into the car, we have to disinfect the bottoms of our shoes! So my dining friend Betty goes with me. She decided this morning I should write a book about Sophie and the balky remote, but I told her it was barely worth a blog.
Sophie got left alone a lot though--I had a long and delightful lunch with a good friend today, home for a while, then a nap, and Sophie was back in her crate while I ran a friend to get her car. Then home and out again briefly but back into the crate while I went to dinner with the neighborhood crowd. She punished me by completely destroying the jacket of a book she somehow got out of the bookcase.What I have been told about her is true--she's much smarter than I am.
On another front, I asked the vet today about Scooby's back legs going out from under him, and she prescribed aspirin twice a day. Tonight, as I was late out the door for dinner, he barked insistently, so I let him out to pee, which he did. But he kept barking. I guess he was hungry. I sure hope he doesn't get to the point that he can't sleep through the night. Colin, my oldest, had a dog like that and every time Colin got up to let him out he ate a pbj--gained a lot of weight.
Things are still not peaceful in the animal kingdom. Sophie is going from one "No!" to another, Scooby is still outside. I have to feed Sophie and bring Scooby inside so I can take her out. Will this day never end? And writing, what's that?
August 8, 2011
Thoughts on Bookstores
Last night a friend asked me what would happen to our TCU campus bookstore if Barnes & Noble went under. I looked blank for a minute and then realized she had the two chains mixed up. I assured her it was Border's that was closing, but it occurred to me the reading public doesn' t know much about the situation except that it has meant some great bargains at Border's stores as they clear their shelves. That confusion might be a problem for B&N, but I'm sure they'll counter it with effective publicity.
What Border's bankruptcy means for publishers, agents, and authors is a dramatic difference. I read somewhere that Border's has $1 billion in unpaid bills, which will trickle down. Publishers won't get paid, and they won't pay their authors. Publishers will probably also do some belt-tightening--maybe cut the size of their lists (drastic for authors in a climate where it's already hard to stand out from the crowd of authors waiting to be published). Publishers may also cut print runs, which of course will affect authors. Who knows what wiill happen to book prices? It's not just one company closing; it's a whole climate shift in a publishing world that has already been turned topsy turvy by what one independent bookstore owner called "this perfect storm of bad economy, bad weather, bad management, and changing industry."
The good news may be for the independent bookstores, called "indies" in the book world. In some places, the closing of the local Border's will leave an indie as the only bookstore. Many who study bookselling predict that this major event may signal the comeback of the indies, which have been closing right and left for several years. Shelf Awareness, an online daily column for booksellers, has been chronicling the close of bookstores across the country for some time now, but lately there seems to be a more optimistic note.
In my neighborhood, the one indie bookstore closed perhaps six months ago (we do have two Barnes & Nobles stores nearby, one of them the campus bookstore). The indie used to frustrate me when I was at TCU Press because the owner would buy one copy of a book. "What if you sell it?" I asked. "Then we'll order another." No good pointing out that there would be a gap of days when the book wouldn't be on the shelves. On the other hand, our sales rep called on a small museum store on the North Side where, years ago, the manager would wave a hand and say, "I'll take two dozen of this one and a dozen of that one." Love people like that.
But indie bookstores offer so much. They are the stores where you know the bookseller and he or she knows you, knows what you like to read. They may keep a pot of coffee on for customers, and they're great at hand-selling. When they find a book they like, they may carry it around with them, pointing out its virtues to individual customers. They know their stock and can lead you to a certain section or title without consulting a computer. They'll chat with you about the neighborhood, your children and grandchildren, the weather--whatever. When you're a regular customer, you become family. It's always lovely to be welcomed into a store by name.
Don't get me wrong. I shop at B&N a lot. Their booksellers are uniformly friendly and cooperative, and they obviously have a much larger stock than an indie. And while they're pulling back on the book signings, they still do them on occasion and attract anywhere from one to thirty or more people. I've been to some great programs at B&B stores, They're also generous about the number of books they order for signings, so an author never has to turn disappointed buyers away. (Of course that leads to the returns policy that is the bane of publishers' planning and budgeting.)
I wish continued success for B&N as a chain--its had its difficult moments recently too--and at the sasme time for the Phoenix-like rise of the indie bookstore. If I were young (and fairly well off), I'd open one. As it is, I might like to work part time in a small, intimate store. That's probably all as far-fetched as my dream of owning a small restaurant, but dreams are nice.
What Border's bankruptcy means for publishers, agents, and authors is a dramatic difference. I read somewhere that Border's has $1 billion in unpaid bills, which will trickle down. Publishers won't get paid, and they won't pay their authors. Publishers will probably also do some belt-tightening--maybe cut the size of their lists (drastic for authors in a climate where it's already hard to stand out from the crowd of authors waiting to be published). Publishers may also cut print runs, which of course will affect authors. Who knows what wiill happen to book prices? It's not just one company closing; it's a whole climate shift in a publishing world that has already been turned topsy turvy by what one independent bookstore owner called "this perfect storm of bad economy, bad weather, bad management, and changing industry."
The good news may be for the independent bookstores, called "indies" in the book world. In some places, the closing of the local Border's will leave an indie as the only bookstore. Many who study bookselling predict that this major event may signal the comeback of the indies, which have been closing right and left for several years. Shelf Awareness, an online daily column for booksellers, has been chronicling the close of bookstores across the country for some time now, but lately there seems to be a more optimistic note.
In my neighborhood, the one indie bookstore closed perhaps six months ago (we do have two Barnes & Nobles stores nearby, one of them the campus bookstore). The indie used to frustrate me when I was at TCU Press because the owner would buy one copy of a book. "What if you sell it?" I asked. "Then we'll order another." No good pointing out that there would be a gap of days when the book wouldn't be on the shelves. On the other hand, our sales rep called on a small museum store on the North Side where, years ago, the manager would wave a hand and say, "I'll take two dozen of this one and a dozen of that one." Love people like that.
But indie bookstores offer so much. They are the stores where you know the bookseller and he or she knows you, knows what you like to read. They may keep a pot of coffee on for customers, and they're great at hand-selling. When they find a book they like, they may carry it around with them, pointing out its virtues to individual customers. They know their stock and can lead you to a certain section or title without consulting a computer. They'll chat with you about the neighborhood, your children and grandchildren, the weather--whatever. When you're a regular customer, you become family. It's always lovely to be welcomed into a store by name.
Don't get me wrong. I shop at B&N a lot. Their booksellers are uniformly friendly and cooperative, and they obviously have a much larger stock than an indie. And while they're pulling back on the book signings, they still do them on occasion and attract anywhere from one to thirty or more people. I've been to some great programs at B&B stores, They're also generous about the number of books they order for signings, so an author never has to turn disappointed buyers away. (Of course that leads to the returns policy that is the bane of publishers' planning and budgeting.)
I wish continued success for B&N as a chain--its had its difficult moments recently too--and at the sasme time for the Phoenix-like rise of the indie bookstore. If I were young (and fairly well off), I'd open one. As it is, I might like to work part time in a small, intimate store. That's probably all as far-fetched as my dream of owning a small restaurant, but dreams are nice.
Thoughts on Bookstores
Last night a friend asked me what would happen to our TCU campus bookstore if Barnes & Noble went under. I looked blank for a minute and then realized she had the two chains mixed up. I assured her it was Border's that was closing, but it occurred to me the reading public doesn' t know much about the situation except that it has meant some great bargains at Border's stores as they clear their shelves. That confusion might be a problem for B&N, but I'm sure they'll counter it with effective publicity.
What Border's bankruptcy means for publishers, agents, and authors is a dramatic difference. I read somewhere that Border's has $1 billion in unpaid bills, which will trickle down. Publishers won't get paid, and they won't pay their authors. Publishers will probably also do some belt-tightening--maybe cut the size of their lists (drastic for authors in a climate where it's already hard to stand out from the crowd of authors waiting to be published). Publishers may also cut print runs, which of course will affect authors. Who knows what wiill happen to book prices? It's not just one company closing; it's a whole climate shift in a publishing world that has already been turned topsy turvy by what one independent bookstore owner called "this perfect storm of bad economy, bad weather, bad management, and changing industry."
The good news may be for the independent bookstores, called "indies" in the book world. In some places, the closing of the local Border's will leave an indie as the only bookstore. Many who study bookselling predict that this major event may signal the comeback of the indies, which have been closing right and left for several years. Shelf Awareness, an online daily column for booksellers, has been chronicling the close of bookstores across the country for some time now, but lately there seems to be a more optimistic note.
In my neighborhood, the one indie bookstore closed perhaps six months ago (we do have two Barnes & Nobles stores nearby, one of them the campus bookstore). The indie used to frustrate me when I was at TCU Press because the owner would buy one copy of a book. "What if you sell it?" I asked. "Then we'll order another." No good pointing out that there would be a gap of days when the book wouldn't be on the shelves. On the other hand, our sales rep called on a small museum store on the North Side where, years ago, the manager would wave a hand and say, "I'll take two dozen of this one and a dozen of that one." Love people like that.
But indie bookstores offer so much. They are the stores where you know the bookseller and he or she knows you, knows what you like to read. They may keep a pot of coffee on for customers, and they're great at hand-selling. When they find a book they like, they may carry it around with them, pointing out its virtues to individual customers. They know their stock and can lead you to a certain section or title without consulting a computer. They'll chat with you about the neighborhood, your children and grandchildren, the weather--whatever. When you're a regular customer, you become family. It's always lovely to be welcomed into a store by name.
Don't get me wrong. I shop at B&N a lot. Their booksellers are uniformly friendly and cooperative, and they obviously have a much larger stock than an indie. And while they're pulling back on the book signings, they still do them on occasion and attract anywhere from one to thirty or more people. I've been to some great programs at B&B stores, They're also generous about the number of books they order for signings, so an author never has to turn disappointed buyers away. (Of course that leads to the returns policy that is the bane of publishers' planning and budgeting.)
I wish continued success for B&N as a chain--its had its difficult moments recently too--and at the sasme time for the Phoenix-like rise of the indie bookstore. If I were young (and fairly well off), I'd open one. As it is, I might like to work part time in a small, intimate store. That's probably all as far-fetched as my dream of owning a small restaurant, but dreams are nice.
What Border's bankruptcy means for publishers, agents, and authors is a dramatic difference. I read somewhere that Border's has $1 billion in unpaid bills, which will trickle down. Publishers won't get paid, and they won't pay their authors. Publishers will probably also do some belt-tightening--maybe cut the size of their lists (drastic for authors in a climate where it's already hard to stand out from the crowd of authors waiting to be published). Publishers may also cut print runs, which of course will affect authors. Who knows what wiill happen to book prices? It's not just one company closing; it's a whole climate shift in a publishing world that has already been turned topsy turvy by what one independent bookstore owner called "this perfect storm of bad economy, bad weather, bad management, and changing industry."
The good news may be for the independent bookstores, called "indies" in the book world. In some places, the closing of the local Border's will leave an indie as the only bookstore. Many who study bookselling predict that this major event may signal the comeback of the indies, which have been closing right and left for several years. Shelf Awareness, an online daily column for booksellers, has been chronicling the close of bookstores across the country for some time now, but lately there seems to be a more optimistic note.
In my neighborhood, the one indie bookstore closed perhaps six months ago (we do have two Barnes & Nobles stores nearby, one of them the campus bookstore). The indie used to frustrate me when I was at TCU Press because the owner would buy one copy of a book. "What if you sell it?" I asked. "Then we'll order another." No good pointing out that there would be a gap of days when the book wouldn't be on the shelves. On the other hand, our sales rep called on a small museum store on the North Side where, years ago, the manager would wave a hand and say, "I'll take two dozen of this one and a dozen of that one." Love people like that.
But indie bookstores offer so much. They are the stores where you know the bookseller and he or she knows you, knows what you like to read. They may keep a pot of coffee on for customers, and they're great at hand-selling. When they find a book they like, they may carry it around with them, pointing out its virtues to individual customers. They know their stock and can lead you to a certain section or title without consulting a computer. They'll chat with you about the neighborhood, your children and grandchildren, the weather--whatever. When you're a regular customer, you become family. It's always lovely to be welcomed into a store by name.
Don't get me wrong. I shop at B&N a lot. Their booksellers are uniformly friendly and cooperative, and they obviously have a much larger stock than an indie. And while they're pulling back on the book signings, they still do them on occasion and attract anywhere from one to thirty or more people. I've been to some great programs at B&B stores, They're also generous about the number of books they order for signings, so an author never has to turn disappointed buyers away. (Of course that leads to the returns policy that is the bane of publishers' planning and budgeting.)
I wish continued success for B&N as a chain--its had its difficult moments recently too--and at the sasme time for the Phoenix-like rise of the indie bookstore. If I were young (and fairly well off), I'd open one. As it is, I might like to work part time in a small, intimate store. That's probably all as far-fetched as my dream of owning a small restaurant, but dreams are nice.
August 6, 2011
A long and lazy Saturday--and a puppy update
A friend posted on Facebook this morning something about it being Saturday with its endless possibilities. She opted for going shopping, and I laughed. My idea of a long, lazy Saturday is staying home reading, cooking, and napping. And that's just what I did. I'm re-reading for the second time the galleys of Skeleton in a Dead Space--amazing what you find when you think you've found everything. And I'm reading a mystery, A Crack in Everything, for review on the Story Circle Network. So I kind of alternate between the two.
A nice blessing for the day: a member of my extended family--my sister-in-law's brother-in-law, which makes it all sound distant and yet my family is all very fond of him--returned from a year's duty in Afghanistan. Seeing the picture of him and his wife ws wonderful. I am grateful that he's home safe and thankful for what he did for our country. Now if we could just get my nephew back from Iraq . . . .
It was a hard day with the puppy. I have puppy-proofed almost everything in my office, where she spends a great deal of her time, so now she's trying to chew the wood on the bottom shelf of my bookcase, which brings me out of my chair erupting in a great loud "No!" I'm less worried about the bookcase--it can be sanded and repainted--than I am about her getting splinters in her lungs. She's also decided to try to remove the duct tape that I used to keep the phone jack out of her little sharp jaws. And she's discovered the wilderness behind the garage in the back yard, so she no longer runs and plays where I can watch her, which of course worries me. In fairness, I must say she spent a good portion of the day lying contentedly at my feet--she sort of sleeps with her eyes open. When I scold her she looks the other way, then sneaks a look to see if I'm still looking at her--I am!
Potty training is going okay but not great--we've had one poop and two puddles in the house today, which overall is not a bad record for twelve weeks. If I time it just right, especially after nap and first thing in the morning, she rushes right out the door to pee. Catching when she wants to poop is more problematical--I haven't figured it out and neither has she.
Sophie knows "come" and "stay" and obeys when the mood strikes her. Her favorite game is to run wildly through the house escaping from me. If she's in a manic phase, forget it. I use a leash a lot in the house and yard, so that I can step on it and control her, and she's fairly good about the leash though she still wants to chew it. I think life will get a lot easier when I can take her out in the front yard; also when the heat isn't so bad; and when, if ever, she doesn't get distracted from her business by Scooby. Vet appt. next Tuesday and my oh my I have a long list--questions about both dogs and the cat.
A new issue of Food & Wine came today and I had fun leafing through it. High on my list: halibut in parchment and an appetizer spread of pureed hard-boiled eggs, salami, gherkins, mustard, mayo, and capers plus herbs--who needs herbs with all those flavors.
It was cooler today--only 105. I swear when I took Sophie out mid-day, it was hotter than the days it was 110. They say maybe 100 in a week, but "they" have predicted lower temperatures a week out for weeks now and it never happens.
I did cook for myself tonight--watch for that tomorrow night on Potluck with Judy.
Back to proof-reading.
A nice blessing for the day: a member of my extended family--my sister-in-law's brother-in-law, which makes it all sound distant and yet my family is all very fond of him--returned from a year's duty in Afghanistan. Seeing the picture of him and his wife ws wonderful. I am grateful that he's home safe and thankful for what he did for our country. Now if we could just get my nephew back from Iraq . . . .
It was a hard day with the puppy. I have puppy-proofed almost everything in my office, where she spends a great deal of her time, so now she's trying to chew the wood on the bottom shelf of my bookcase, which brings me out of my chair erupting in a great loud "No!" I'm less worried about the bookcase--it can be sanded and repainted--than I am about her getting splinters in her lungs. She's also decided to try to remove the duct tape that I used to keep the phone jack out of her little sharp jaws. And she's discovered the wilderness behind the garage in the back yard, so she no longer runs and plays where I can watch her, which of course worries me. In fairness, I must say she spent a good portion of the day lying contentedly at my feet--she sort of sleeps with her eyes open. When I scold her she looks the other way, then sneaks a look to see if I'm still looking at her--I am!
Potty training is going okay but not great--we've had one poop and two puddles in the house today, which overall is not a bad record for twelve weeks. If I time it just right, especially after nap and first thing in the morning, she rushes right out the door to pee. Catching when she wants to poop is more problematical--I haven't figured it out and neither has she.
Sophie knows "come" and "stay" and obeys when the mood strikes her. Her favorite game is to run wildly through the house escaping from me. If she's in a manic phase, forget it. I use a leash a lot in the house and yard, so that I can step on it and control her, and she's fairly good about the leash though she still wants to chew it. I think life will get a lot easier when I can take her out in the front yard; also when the heat isn't so bad; and when, if ever, she doesn't get distracted from her business by Scooby. Vet appt. next Tuesday and my oh my I have a long list--questions about both dogs and the cat.
A new issue of Food & Wine came today and I had fun leafing through it. High on my list: halibut in parchment and an appetizer spread of pureed hard-boiled eggs, salami, gherkins, mustard, mayo, and capers plus herbs--who needs herbs with all those flavors.
It was cooler today--only 105. I swear when I took Sophie out mid-day, it was hotter than the days it was 110. They say maybe 100 in a week, but "they" have predicted lower temperatures a week out for weeks now and it never happens.
I did cook for myself tonight--watch for that tomorrow night on Potluck with Judy.
Back to proof-reading.
A long and lazy Saturday--and a puppy update
A friend posted on Facebook this morning something about it being Saturday with its endless possibilities. She opted for going shopping, and I laughed. My idea of a long, lazy Saturday is staying home reading, cooking, and napping. And that's just what I did. I'm re-reading for the second time the galleys of Skeleton in a Dead Space--amazing what you find when you think you've found everything. And I'm reading a mystery, A Crack in Everything, for review on the Story Circle Network. So I kind of alternate between the two.
A nice blessing for the day: a member of my extended family--my sister-in-law's brother-in-law, which makes it all sound distant and yet my family is all very fond of him--returned from a year's duty in Afghanistan. Seeing the picture of him and his wife ws wonderful. I am grateful that he's home safe and thankful for what he did for our country. Now if we could just get my nephew back from Iraq . . . .
It was a hard day with the puppy. I have puppy-proofed almost everything in my office, where she spends a great deal of her time, so now she's trying to chew the wood on the bottom shelf of my bookcase, which brings me out of my chair erupting in a great loud "No!" I'm less worried about the bookcase--it can be sanded and repainted--than I am about her getting splinters in her lungs. She's also decided to try to remove the duct tape that I used to keep the phone jack out of her little sharp jaws. And she's discovered the wilderness behind the garage in the back yard, so she no longer runs and plays where I can watch her, which of course worries me. In fairness, I must say she spent a good portion of the day lying contentedly at my feet--she sort of sleeps with her eyes open. When I scold her she looks the other way, then sneaks a look to see if I'm still looking at her--I am!
Potty training is going okay but not great--we've had one poop and two puddles in the house today, which overall is not a bad record for twelve weeks. If I time it just right, especially after nap and first thing in the morning, she rushes right out the door to pee. Catching when she wants to poop is more problematical--I haven't figured it out and neither has she.
Sophie knows "come" and "stay" and obeys when the mood strikes her. Her favorite game is to run wildly through the house escaping from me. If she's in a manic phase, forget it. I use a leash a lot in the house and yard, so that I can step on it and control her, and she's fairly good about the leash though she still wants to chew it. I think life will get a lot easier when I can take her out in the front yard; also when the heat isn't so bad; and when, if ever, she doesn't get distracted from her business by Scooby. Vet appt. next Tuesday and my oh my I have a long list--questions about both dogs and the cat.
A new issue of Food & Wine came today and I had fun leafing through it. High on my list: halibut in parchment and an appetizer spread of pureed hard-boiled eggs, salami, gherkins, mustard, mayo, and capers plus herbs--who needs herbs with all those flavors.
It was cooler today--only 105. I swear when I took Sophie out mid-day, it was hotter than the days it was 110. They say maybe 100 in a week, but "they" have predicted lower temperatures a week out for weeks now and it never happens.
I did cook for myself tonight--watch for that tomorrow night on Potluck with Judy.
Back to proof-reading.
A nice blessing for the day: a member of my extended family--my sister-in-law's brother-in-law, which makes it all sound distant and yet my family is all very fond of him--returned from a year's duty in Afghanistan. Seeing the picture of him and his wife ws wonderful. I am grateful that he's home safe and thankful for what he did for our country. Now if we could just get my nephew back from Iraq . . . .
It was a hard day with the puppy. I have puppy-proofed almost everything in my office, where she spends a great deal of her time, so now she's trying to chew the wood on the bottom shelf of my bookcase, which brings me out of my chair erupting in a great loud "No!" I'm less worried about the bookcase--it can be sanded and repainted--than I am about her getting splinters in her lungs. She's also decided to try to remove the duct tape that I used to keep the phone jack out of her little sharp jaws. And she's discovered the wilderness behind the garage in the back yard, so she no longer runs and plays where I can watch her, which of course worries me. In fairness, I must say she spent a good portion of the day lying contentedly at my feet--she sort of sleeps with her eyes open. When I scold her she looks the other way, then sneaks a look to see if I'm still looking at her--I am!
Potty training is going okay but not great--we've had one poop and two puddles in the house today, which overall is not a bad record for twelve weeks. If I time it just right, especially after nap and first thing in the morning, she rushes right out the door to pee. Catching when she wants to poop is more problematical--I haven't figured it out and neither has she.
Sophie knows "come" and "stay" and obeys when the mood strikes her. Her favorite game is to run wildly through the house escaping from me. If she's in a manic phase, forget it. I use a leash a lot in the house and yard, so that I can step on it and control her, and she's fairly good about the leash though she still wants to chew it. I think life will get a lot easier when I can take her out in the front yard; also when the heat isn't so bad; and when, if ever, she doesn't get distracted from her business by Scooby. Vet appt. next Tuesday and my oh my I have a long list--questions about both dogs and the cat.
A new issue of Food & Wine came today and I had fun leafing through it. High on my list: halibut in parchment and an appetizer spread of pureed hard-boiled eggs, salami, gherkins, mustard, mayo, and capers plus herbs--who needs herbs with all those flavors.
It was cooler today--only 105. I swear when I took Sophie out mid-day, it was hotter than the days it was 110. They say maybe 100 in a week, but "they" have predicted lower temperatures a week out for weeks now and it never happens.
I did cook for myself tonight--watch for that tomorrow night on Potluck with Judy.
Back to proof-reading.
August 4, 2011
A literary night--and some thoughts on heat and puppies
Tonight was the panel discussion at the Haltom City Public LIbrary celebrating the 50th anniversary of Harper Lee's classic To Kill a Mockingbird. Bob Ray Sanders, a leading journalist and community figure and also a native of Haltom City, moderated a panel discussion that ranged from the book to segregation in Fort Worth--Bob Ray remembers having to walk by three schools to get to the one he was allowed to go to, even though his family had been property owners for generations--and finally to integration in the '60s. Audience participation was lively, and everyone thought it was a stimulating and thought-provoking evening. We talked about the book as literature, as social commentary, and as it relates to today when prejudice surely is not erased from our society though we've come a long way. Othre panels members were author Mike Cochran, a high school teacher who has taught the novel for ten years, and an actress who read portions with great dramatic appeal. I was pleased to see some familiar faces in the audience and to have others stop and talk to me about my work.Betty and I were joined by my friend Linda from Granbury and her friend Nancy, so we had a happy foursome at supper--I got my favorite meatloaf at the Grill--and it was nice to have my own cheering section in the front row of the audience. I like getting out to events like that and realize I should do more of it. Made some phone calls today to inquire about visiting various book clubs in the area.
I don't think Sophie had ever seen me in a skirt before--she kept biting at the ruffles on it.
I think the high today was 108, maybe a notch or two higher. I know the heat will end, I know it willr ain someday, and I know the puppy will be housebroken, but as you plod along day by day, it all looks like a long way away. The keep predicting lower temperatures--l04 is lower at this point--a few days out, but when that day comes the lower temperatures have been pushed further away. Sue asked me last night if it scared me, like maybe it would just keep getting worse and worse. I said that doesn't frighten me as much as the the feeling that I am trapped by a huge, hot monster, sort of like Grendel in Beowulf.
As if to prove to me that things aren't going to change soon, the puppy just pooped on my office floor. I took her out half an hour ago, probably didn't wait long enough. 'Scuse me--I have some cleaning to do.
A literary night--and some thoughts on heat and puppies
Tonight was the panel discussion at the Haltom City Public LIbrary celebrating the 50th anniversary of Harper Lee's classic To Kill a Mockingbird. Bob Ray Sanders, a leading journalist and community figure and also a native of Haltom City, moderated a panel discussion that ranged from the book to segregation in Fort Worth--Bob Ray remembers having to walk by three schools to get to the one he was allowed to go to, even though his family had been property owners for generations--and finally to integration in the '60s. Audience participation was lively, and everyone thought it was a stimulating and thought-provoking evening. We talked about the book as literature, as social commentary, and as it relates to today when prejudice surely is not erased from our society though we've come a long way. Othre panels members were author Mike Cochran, a high school teacher who has taught the novel for ten years, and an actress who read portions with great dramatic appeal. I was pleased to see some familiar faces in the audience and to have others stop and talk to me about my work.Betty and I were joined by my friend Linda from Granbury and her friend Nancy, so we had a happy foursome at supper--I got my favorite meatloaf at the Grill--and it was nice to have my own cheering section in the front row of the audience. I like getting out to events like that and realize I should do more of it. Made some phone calls today to inquire about visiting various book clubs in the area.
I don't think Sophie had ever seen me in a skirt before--she kept biting at the ruffles on it.
I think the high today was 108, maybe a notch or two higher. I know the heat will end, I know it willr ain someday, and I know the puppy will be housebroken, but as you plod along day by day, it all looks like a long way away. The keep predicting lower temperatures--l04 is lower at this point--a few days out, but when that day comes the lower temperatures have been pushed further away. Sue asked me last night if it scared me, like maybe it would just keep getting worse and worse. I said that doesn't frighten me as much as the the feeling that I am trapped by a huge, hot monster, sort of like Grendel in Beowulf.
As if to prove to me that things aren't going to change soon, the puppy just pooped on my office floor. I took her out half an hour ago, probably didn't wait long enough. 'Scuse me--I have some cleaning to do.
August 2, 2011
The Magic of a Mentor
I've written 3000 words on a new novel--barely a drop in the bucket--but I felt that I was wandering around in the story. Yesterday, at lunch, I handed the pages to Fred, my mentor, and then I put it aside from my mind. I'm reading galleys on the first novel, due out August 29, and I need to concentrate on that. But I'm a great believer in the "back burner"--I think things simmer in the back of your mind when you're not consciously thinking about them. If I sit myself down and say, "Now I'm going to plot this novel," I come up with zip. But if I wait and let it come when I'm at the keyboard, ideas flow.
Late last night I wrote Fred an email that simply said, "There has to be a murder." I am what they call a pantser--I write by the seat of my pants and not with an outline, though I have a general idea of what's in a story.
Today I got Fred's response--as always, he told me to slow down, write in more backstory. This time he said I had packed so much emotional intensity into six pages that it threatened to wear a reader out--spread it out (another version of slow down). He suggested some possible plot scenarios--I think I'll take some, omit others. Even as I proof another book I can feel ideas for this new one simmering in my mind, and I itch to get back to that manuscript--a good and positive feeling. I think that's why I keep writing, since I'll obviously never become rich. I have long said working things out in words is for me like the satisfaction a mathematician gets from working out a complex problem.
110 officially today--and it makes me feel 110. Picked up Jacob at 4:30--the hottest place I ever go is the side of that gymnasium as I walk to get him. Home to juggle a five-year-old boy, two dogs who had to pee but couldn't stay out in the heat, dinner, then feed the animals, take the garbage carts down and, in a fit of compulsion, bathe the puppy. It was Sophie's first bath and she didn't enjoy it much but I guess it wore her out as much as me. She's sleeping at my feet right now. Of course, after bathing her, I had to shower to get rid of eau d' puppy.
Supposed to be even hotter tomorrow. I think I'll stay in all day--no errands, no lunch out, just me and the animal kingdom.
Late last night I wrote Fred an email that simply said, "There has to be a murder." I am what they call a pantser--I write by the seat of my pants and not with an outline, though I have a general idea of what's in a story.
Today I got Fred's response--as always, he told me to slow down, write in more backstory. This time he said I had packed so much emotional intensity into six pages that it threatened to wear a reader out--spread it out (another version of slow down). He suggested some possible plot scenarios--I think I'll take some, omit others. Even as I proof another book I can feel ideas for this new one simmering in my mind, and I itch to get back to that manuscript--a good and positive feeling. I think that's why I keep writing, since I'll obviously never become rich. I have long said working things out in words is for me like the satisfaction a mathematician gets from working out a complex problem.
110 officially today--and it makes me feel 110. Picked up Jacob at 4:30--the hottest place I ever go is the side of that gymnasium as I walk to get him. Home to juggle a five-year-old boy, two dogs who had to pee but couldn't stay out in the heat, dinner, then feed the animals, take the garbage carts down and, in a fit of compulsion, bathe the puppy. It was Sophie's first bath and she didn't enjoy it much but I guess it wore her out as much as me. She's sleeping at my feet right now. Of course, after bathing her, I had to shower to get rid of eau d' puppy.
Supposed to be even hotter tomorrow. I think I'll stay in all day--no errands, no lunch out, just me and the animal kingdom.
The Magic of a Mentor
I've written 3000 words on a new novel--barely a drop in the bucket--but I felt that I was wandering around in the story. Yesterday, at lunch, I handed the pages to Fred, my mentor, and then I put it aside from my mind. I'm reading galleys on the first novel, due out August 29, and I need to concentrate on that. But I'm a great believer in the "back burner"--I think things simmer in the back of your mind when you're not consciously thinking about them. If I sit myself down and say, "Now I'm going to plot this novel," I come up with zip. But if I wait and let it come when I'm at the keyboard, ideas flow.
Late last night I wrote Fred an email that simply said, "There has to be a murder." I am what they call a pantser--I write by the seat of my pants and not with an outline, though I have a general idea of what's in a story.
Today I got Fred's response--as always, he told me to slow down, write in more backstory. This time he said I had packed so much emotional intensity into six pages that it threatened to wear a reader out--spread it out (another version of slow down). He suggested some possible plot scenarios--I think I'll take some, omit others. Even as I proof another book I can feel ideas for this new one simmering in my mind, and I itch to get back to that manuscript--a good and positive feeling. I think that's why I keep writing, since I'll obviously never become rich. I have long said working things out in words is for me like the satisfaction a mathematician gets from working out a complex problem.
110 officially today--and it makes me feel 110. Picked up Jacob at 4:30--the hottest place I ever go is the side of that gymnasium as I walk to get him. Home to juggle a five-year-old boy, two dogs who had to pee but couldn't stay out in the heat, dinner, then feed the animals, take the garbage carts down and, in a fit of compulsion, bathe the puppy. It was Sophie's first bath and she didn't enjoy it much but I guess it wore her out as much as me. She's sleeping at my feet right now. Of course, after bathing her, I had to shower to get rid of eau d' puppy.
Supposed to be even hotter tomorrow. I think I'll stay in all day--no errands, no lunch out, just me and the animal kingdom.
Late last night I wrote Fred an email that simply said, "There has to be a murder." I am what they call a pantser--I write by the seat of my pants and not with an outline, though I have a general idea of what's in a story.
Today I got Fred's response--as always, he told me to slow down, write in more backstory. This time he said I had packed so much emotional intensity into six pages that it threatened to wear a reader out--spread it out (another version of slow down). He suggested some possible plot scenarios--I think I'll take some, omit others. Even as I proof another book I can feel ideas for this new one simmering in my mind, and I itch to get back to that manuscript--a good and positive feeling. I think that's why I keep writing, since I'll obviously never become rich. I have long said working things out in words is for me like the satisfaction a mathematician gets from working out a complex problem.
110 officially today--and it makes me feel 110. Picked up Jacob at 4:30--the hottest place I ever go is the side of that gymnasium as I walk to get him. Home to juggle a five-year-old boy, two dogs who had to pee but couldn't stay out in the heat, dinner, then feed the animals, take the garbage carts down and, in a fit of compulsion, bathe the puppy. It was Sophie's first bath and she didn't enjoy it much but I guess it wore her out as much as me. She's sleeping at my feet right now. Of course, after bathing her, I had to shower to get rid of eau d' puppy.
Supposed to be even hotter tomorrow. I think I'll stay in all day--no errands, no lunch out, just me and the animal kingdom.
August 1, 2011
Debt deal and staying optimistic
If Facebook is any gauge, a lot of liberals are not happy about the debt deal. I suppose a lot of conservatives aren't either, but I think in the long run both parties compromised, did what they had to, and the president, out of necessity, accepted something that was far less than he wanted. To him, I say job well done; to Congress, I say quit your blustering and posturing (that phrase started on FB and I think it's perfect).
But when it looked like we weren't going to get a deal--and I might go a few months without social security--I began to think about the way I live and what I could cut down on. Entertaining for one. I told Jordan if they planned to eat at my house a couple of nights a week--when Jacob is in school across the street--it would have to be potluck, and she snippily replied, "And you'll have to stop feeding all your friends." Too true. And all those lunches and occasional dinners out. As I put on make-up yesterday, I realized that I use really expensive make-up and cleanser, not what you get in the drugstore. Special cream to keep wrinkles away from my eyes (me, vain?). I've started buying house brands in the grocery for some things but for others I insist on top of the line--and I buy that expensive tuna canned in Oregon (just ordered another case to split with friends--Jordan nearly fainted when I told her the per can cost). I do drink cheap wine, but that's not much of a savings. I drive a gas-efficient car, though I've never measured just how efficient it is. In short there are a lot of ways I could live more cheaply--clean my own house, mow my own lawn (I really think I'm too old for that), stop updating the house--but that's self defeating. Someday I don't want it to look like a house an old lady lived in for forty years and never did a thing to. When reality comes up front and close, as it did with this debt debate, it makes you take a long, hard look a your priorities. And I realize for a single, retired woman of "a certain age" I live pretty well.
I work hard but for not much if any income--I got a little over $11 from Amazon the other day but the same mail brought a $315 electric bill, which actually isn't too bad with this heat. But I am working--got galleys to read on the novel, compiled a list of possible review outlets for the review coordinator, and proofed my new web page today, all the while keeping one eye on Sophie and moving more things from her reach. I used duct tape to keep her from the phone jack--she actually disconnected me during a call today.
Sophie takes a lot of my time--she needs to go out every two hours. Training her at this point is mostly training myself to take her out in a timely fashion. Right now she's sleeping peacefully at my feet--one of the nicest times of the day.
I tell my self over and over that the heat will break and the puppy will grow up. How soon, Lord, how soon?
I'm rambling. Over and out.
But when it looked like we weren't going to get a deal--and I might go a few months without social security--I began to think about the way I live and what I could cut down on. Entertaining for one. I told Jordan if they planned to eat at my house a couple of nights a week--when Jacob is in school across the street--it would have to be potluck, and she snippily replied, "And you'll have to stop feeding all your friends." Too true. And all those lunches and occasional dinners out. As I put on make-up yesterday, I realized that I use really expensive make-up and cleanser, not what you get in the drugstore. Special cream to keep wrinkles away from my eyes (me, vain?). I've started buying house brands in the grocery for some things but for others I insist on top of the line--and I buy that expensive tuna canned in Oregon (just ordered another case to split with friends--Jordan nearly fainted when I told her the per can cost). I do drink cheap wine, but that's not much of a savings. I drive a gas-efficient car, though I've never measured just how efficient it is. In short there are a lot of ways I could live more cheaply--clean my own house, mow my own lawn (I really think I'm too old for that), stop updating the house--but that's self defeating. Someday I don't want it to look like a house an old lady lived in for forty years and never did a thing to. When reality comes up front and close, as it did with this debt debate, it makes you take a long, hard look a your priorities. And I realize for a single, retired woman of "a certain age" I live pretty well.
I work hard but for not much if any income--I got a little over $11 from Amazon the other day but the same mail brought a $315 electric bill, which actually isn't too bad with this heat. But I am working--got galleys to read on the novel, compiled a list of possible review outlets for the review coordinator, and proofed my new web page today, all the while keeping one eye on Sophie and moving more things from her reach. I used duct tape to keep her from the phone jack--she actually disconnected me during a call today.
Sophie takes a lot of my time--she needs to go out every two hours. Training her at this point is mostly training myself to take her out in a timely fashion. Right now she's sleeping peacefully at my feet--one of the nicest times of the day.
I tell my self over and over that the heat will break and the puppy will grow up. How soon, Lord, how soon?
I'm rambling. Over and out.
