Hannah Rae's Blog, page 39

The Way Back: A Novella

Hey, friends! I plan to begin sharing chapters of my novella, The Way Back, early tomorrow. I've never actually scheduled anything to be published using this website, so assuming I set things up correctly, you'll have access to the first chapter around 5:00AM. If it doesn't work, I'll figure it out when I wake up. Fair warning: I will not be waking up at 5:00AM.

Just so you know, the platform I'm using to post the chapters won't allow me to italicize or use the "tab" key to indent. This is both idiotic and aggravating, but I wanted to make you aware of it so you know going into this experience that reading The Way Back online will be a slightly different experience than reading it as a book. On the plus side, however, I am intending to self-publish this one sometime this fall, so it eventually will be available as a book! Yay!

In order to find newly published chapters, just visit READING MATERIAL (located in the menu above) and then click the red button that says CLICK HERE! I'll try to remember to post reminders on my social media platforms as well, though.

Alright, that's all I know right now. Thanks for reading!

Trivia Recap: 8/4

I play trivia on Thursday nights. I'm not especially good, but my team is, and last year my third-period students got really into hearing about how we did each week. On Thursdays, they'd wish me luck; on Fridays, they'd file into class and ask for a recap. If a student was absent on Friday, I'd often get emails wondering if we won. Now that I'm a blogger, I thought, "Why not blog about trivia?" So that's what I'm doing.

Team name: The Educated Friends

Hint of the day: Hammer

The players: Siri (English teacher), Jimmy (P.I. like Veronica Mars), Ben (social studies teacher), Darren (math professor), Hannah (English teacher)

Last week, on 7/28, The Educated Friends won. Since it was Mary's birthday, we let her choose the opening category, and much to everyone's chagrin, she opted for Taylor Swift Songs.

Fast forward one week and guess what. Mary's son gets sick. She can't come to trivia. No one else on our team listens to Taylor Swift. (Although, I do think "Picture to Burn" is a fantastic break-up song and what's not to like about "Shake It Off"?) Needless to say, we miss the opening question.

Don't worry: the rest of round one goes great, as does round two! Ben utilized the hint of the day early on, deducing that the heaviest things thrown in field events at the Olympics are shotput and hammers. I didn't even know hammer throwing was a sport! I pay for below basic cable and only get the basement channels, so it could just be that hammer throwing isn't covered as much as sprints and whatnot, but even if I did have an opportunity to watch hammer throwing, I probably wouldn't. I usually stick to the pool events. Anyway, I digress...

Siri immediately got the answer to Medical Maladies (hemorrhoids; she's never had a problem with hers, fyi) and TV Comedies. The music clue of the evening had to do with Vacation Songs -- we had to name the artist. The first song played was "Vacation" by The Go-Go's, which we got. The next song was "Holiday," off Weezer's Blue Album (coincidentally one of the first two albums I ever bought with my own money, the other being Green Day's Dookie, which I purchased at the same time. Big spender, I am!), and the last song was country. For reasons no one understands, Ben said, "Kenny Chesney," which is what we went with... and then we got it right! He admitted that he's not sure he's proud of figuring it out, but the team sure was proud of him!

Quick aside: Ben is toying with a mustache right now and it actually looks decent on his face.

The half-time challenge was hard. This is a photo sheet divided in two halves. On the top, we had to identity which company was being represented by the spokesperson in the picture. Of course we recognized Flo and Mayhem and Animal who lives in the attic and creates a lot of noise -- we could even quote the commercials! -- but The Educated Friends would've benefitted from a word bank. We missed four. On the bottom of the sheet, however, we proved that we really know our board games.

Onward and forward... rounds three and four!

Darren proved his worth yet again with Classic TV Shows, Ben proved to know quite a bit about mountains, and Siri came on strong with her knowledge of mongooses and British Monarchs. We did great! Here's my favorite part, though: I went to the bathroom around the time of the 6-4-2 (that's when you get a clue and have 45 seconds to figure it out for 6 points, another clue and another 45 seconds to figure it out for 4 points, and finally the final easiest clue for 2 points) and when I came out, Jimmy was schooling everyone on something to do with Michael Vick (hate that guy) and Mexico. I don't even know how the question was worded because someone was drying her hands with the whooshy air thing while I was peeing and I couldn't hear the DJ. But we got the 6-4-2 for 6 points and that's really, really good!

I'd wanted to make our bonus category for round four Prenatal Science, which I know sounds like an odd choice for me, but hear me out. Last summer I wrote a book about a pregnant man (it's sooooo good, you guys! Weird, but good. I need an agent) and then I just finished writing another book in which a woman is pregnant (I won't tell you which one since I don't want to ruin the plot of a potential future read) and so I know a whole lot about pregnancy even though I've never been pregnant! Anyway... we got the answer to that question right away (amniotic fluid), but we'd decided to make US Newspapers our bonus category, and that worked out fine because Darren and Ben know a lot about a lot of things.

Going into the final question, we were in second. Here's where Ben pulls out an amazing save and figures out that "tambourine" is the only musical instrument that when spelled correctly contains all five vowels. Ben for the win! Cue applause, throw the confetti.

We ended up securing second place, losing to The Street Sharks by two points. The opening category next week (their choice) is Tiki Drinks. Piña colada, anyone?

Ten More Chapters!

This is gonna be a short one because I'm tired. This novella is comin' at me like BOOM-KAPOW. Seriously. I was up until 12:30a.m. writing about my characters. It's so intense! I wasn't exactly tired when I got into bed, but I knew I had to go to bed if I wanted to be on my A-game to write some more today.

I lay in bed for two hours, wide awake the whole time. I mapped out the next several chapters for the novella I'm currently writing (I came up with a title!) and then went ahead and wrote, like, five scenes for the book I want to write after this one. When I say I "wrote, like, five scenes," I mean that I did it in my head. I wrote it in the way that I wish my students would write. I went over all the scenes multiple times, considering the verbs I would use to describe the flapping of an unbuttoned shirt cuff in the wind... and then later decided that the character needed to be wearing a hoodie in that particular scene. When I "write" in my head, I legit write in my head. It's weird, I know, but it's what I do.

Anyway.

I was up for two additional hours writing the next book in my Bas, Bert, and Lucy series. You know me: I sometimes set a timer to wake up at 2:00a.m. so I can think about my book. But last night? Last night I was tired, folks. I got out of bed, took a sleeping pill, and eventually crashed.

Then I woke up and wrote all day! I mean, my friend Siri came over for an hour so her kids could meet Harvey... and I went to trivia (that's tomorrow's blog entry, FYI) around 6:30p.m.... but I ultimately wrote all day. Exercise-shmexercise. I don't have time for that right now. I've mapped it out and I have ten more chapters to write. I think I can maybe get it done by Sunday. Then I'm gonna copyright this baby so no weirdos try to take credit for my work. And then YOU are gonna have access to the chapters. Two per week; I'll edit and tweak as I post. I'm so excited to share it with you!

Okay. Trivia recap tomorrow, sleep for me right now, talk again at a later date. G'night!

One-sided conversations with Erin

I have this wonderful friend named Erin whom I met in high school. We had a teacher who used to seat the cheerleaders in the front of the classroom and he'd prop his leg up on one of the cheerleaders' desks and say, "Let's talk like real people." It was gross and Erin and I used to talk about it at lunch.

Correction. We used to GAG about it at lunch.

Anyway...

Erin is still one of my very best friends. She's beautiful and funny and she reads the things that I write. She currently has access to my novel Running Through the Words (I hope she likes it!) and so I sometimes send her texts about the life of an aspiring writer. Today I sent her a text that offered reflections on our book club's selection last month, our book club's selection this month, and all the books in general.

Here's what I don't get: Why don't I have an agent???

Do you know how hard it is to take a 178,000-word manuscript and condense it to a 300-word query letter that will essentially summarize your novel while at the same time piquing the interest of an agent so that s/he requests pages? The task is next to impossible. I've read statistics that suggest having a request for a full manuscript (I have, to date, gotten a request for maybe seven full manuscripts) is one in six thousand. SIX THOUSAND.

The odds of getting representation WITHIN that 6,000 is apparently less than 1%, so the question that comes to mind--"Why do I try?"--seems pretty logical. Why do I continue to try?

The answer: Because I want people to read what I write. Because the characters in my head are so real to me that I want to share them with the world. Because people like my dear friend Erin send me random comments like, "I love the bond/friendship between Bas and Bert!" And those words, all nine of them, keep me going.

Thank you, Erin. And thank you to all the folks who continue to buy my self-published novels and read this blog. I appreciate it more than you will ever know.

An adventure in multiple time zones

I'm working on a novel (it actually might end up being more of a novella) right now that's a bit different than what I usually write. Although it has some familiar characters who readers may recognize, it's more of an adventure than a slow meander through the lives of Lake Caywood's inhabitants.

When I say "adventure," please don't assume that I'm trying my hand at a Jason Bourne- or Robert Langdon-esque tale. I'm absolutely not! I don't think I could write something like that even if I wanted to; it's not my strength. No, no. This story that I'm working on now is about a young woman named Jane who travels to the fictional town of Radio Park, Oregon, to attend her cousin Piper's wedding. She plans to stay for a week. So that's one narrator.

Another narrator is her uncle, Ansel, who is Piper's father. Ansel's plotline is where the magical realism comes into play because he has a tattoo that sort of guides him toward making solid decisions. I really like the character of Ansel. This book is a rewrite of something I wrote well over a decade ago and he wasn't a key player in that version. This time around, however, I'm having a good time getting to know him.

The third narrator is a guy named Jonny. Only a few years old than Jane, Jonny lives in the fictional town of Moonglow, North Carolina. He's toying with the idea of proposing to his long-time girlfriend (he already bought the ring!), but can't seem to muster up the courage to pop the question. The reason for this? He's only 99% positive that she's the one. You see, six years earlier, when Jonny was still single and traveling out west, he ended up in a hole-in-the-wall bar where he spent five hours with a charismatic woman he simply can't seem to forget. Unfortunately, he knows very little about her. Things he does know about her include her love of art (she's a photographer), her hometown (Radio Park, Oregon), and her first name (Piper).

On a whim, Jonny travels west in the hopes of discovering the mysterious Piper and figuring out his next step in life. Spanning one week and five time zones (EDT, CDT, MDT, MST, and PDT), the chapters are short and the plot is all over the place... literally! I'm toying with the idea of releasing it as a serial novel, a chapter or two each week.

So here's my question to you: In the event that I decide to do this, do you think you'd be interested in reading it? I have a feeling this work will be too short to even attempt to push to an agent. Therefore, I'm going into it with the intent to self-publish. I'd appreciate learning your thoughts. I love writing more than just about anything (not cats, obviously...), but it's kind of disheartening to not be able to share my characters. That's the point of writing, after all, and if I never get an agent, no one will ever know what I have to say. Hence, the possibility of this serial novel.

A change of opinion re: Mustaches

I have always been a sucker for guys in bands. As a child (we're talking single digits, folks), I had three serious crushes: Super-Man, Abraham Lincoln, and young Elvis Presley. At the age of maybe nine or ten, I also discovered Jerry Lee Lewis, and even though he had some incesstual tendencies, I sure did love watching him perform "Great Balls of Fire." So, with all that being said... let's talk about Old Crow Medicine Show, shall we?

I love them.

I have loved them for years.

Last night, I had the privilege of taking two friends who had never before seen Old Crow to a show with me. We drove down to the Anthem, which is on the Wharf in D.C., and got there early enough to be pretty close to the stage. This was fantastic because in addition to loving the music of Old Crow, I love the band members' personalities. Ketch is hilarious, and their new addition, Mason, is an absolute trip (he only just turned 25!), but my heart belongs to Cory Younts. The man not only plays piano, mandolin, banjo, harmonica, the pianica, and everything else under the sun... but he can also dance! And sing! And, I mean... he's pretty nice to look at too. *wink* *wink*

Here's the thing, though: Cory Younts has a mustache. And d'you know what? He looks good in it. Really good in it. Admittedly, he'd probably look good no matter what, but I think Cory Younts has changed my opinion of mustaches. I've decided that I'm officially a fan.

With that being said, though... I will always prefer a nicely trimmed beard to a mustache because, in my opinion, nicely trimmed beards are one of the nicest things on earth.

https://video.wixstatic.com/video/58cc22_4177c65148dc4423a2cb3582d7ea7b01/1080p/mp4/file.mp4

Life With Arlo: Bedtime Edition

I've toyed with the idea of creating an Instagram for Arlo, but I can barely keep up with my own social media and know he'll be of little help in the matter since he doesn't even have opposable thumbs. Therefore, I've decided to instead focus the occasional blog entry on my rambunctious Airedale. Even though it's currently 9:30 in the morning, a brief explanation of bedtime with Arlo seems a good place to start.

Arlo loves bedtime. It may, in fact, be his favorite time of the day. He's quite good at it too! Before calling it a night, he always requests to use the potty first. This involves incessantly ringing the jingle bell that hangs on the knob of the back door, throwing himself against the door, and barking as loud as he can until someone (me) opens the door. He then takes off into the night, racing through the yard with the speed of a cheetah! He darts from one side of the property to the other, destroying hosta and larkspur and any other wilderness that stands in his way! Rabbits quake in his presence; owls are thankful for their wings. If Arlo is aware of the disturbance he causes, he seems not to notice: he's on a mission to mark the base of every tree, shrub, and grassblade before calling it a night.

Back inside, the jovial fellow receives a "cookie" for being so good. Nearly as exciting as the prospect of a good romp on the property, he's quite vocal about this particular practice. There's a fair bit of barking and some showing off; he lies down on command and his tail wags at an alarmingly fast rate. Augusta, his much calmer sister, is somehow able to accept her treat with much less ado. She scampers obligingly to her crate and snuggles up inside, nibbling on her bedtime snack and settling in for the night. Arlo, on the other hand, swallows his cookie whole and turns to me expectantly, believes himself deserving of a second one. (He often receives this).

For reasons I no longer remember, Arlo does not sleep in a crate, and whereas Augusta loves her little cave, her brother prefers an area where he can sprawl out. Like, for example, in the middle of my mattress.

With Arlo, however, it's never a matter of simply going to bed. Nope. First, he and Harvey have to partake in a rousing game of chase. The involves Harvey hiding under my bed and sticking his little white paws from beneath the dust ruffle, swiping at his canine friend. Arlo, good sport that he is, darts from one side of the bed to the other, snapping his jaws and barking playfully. If left to him, the game would last all night, but Harvey, being a superior creature, eventually loses interest and focuses his attention elsewhere. Coincidentally, so does my Airedale.

As I brush my teeth and wash my face, Arlo attempts to steal things from the bookcase beside my bed. His favorite thing is a small tube of Neosporin. He likes to dig this out of a basket on one of the middle shelves and hold it secretively in his mouth, looking at me from the side of his eye in a way that suggests "What? I don't have anything." His tastes aren't confined to topical medications, though; he also loves lotion, TV remotes, and used tissues. These are what I like to refer to as his "bedtime appetizers" because once I actually crawl under the covers, the menu changes.

A sucker for all things tiny, when I brought Harvey home to the family, Arlo was more intrigued by the new kitten toys than he was the kitten. He has an affinity for jingle-bell balls and fuzzy mice and often brings one (or both) to bed with him. Before chewing them to pieces, he tosses them in the air and rolls on his back, emitting strange guttural grunts and groans. Every now and again, he becomes so enraptured by the activity that he falls off the mattress. Fortunately, he is hard-headed and largely invincible; never once has the sudden drop to the hardwood floor below caused him injury.

When the lights are turned off, that's when the fun really begins. This is when Arlo can effectively sneak items into bed. His first order of business is always the drain cover I keep on the floor of the tub. With all the stealth of a two-ton elephant, he prances into the bathroom, nudges aside the shower curtain with his long snout, and clumsily enters the tub. The clickety-clack of his nails is quite audible in the quiet house; so is his graceless exit and fast-paced scamper back to the bedroom. Since he's not especially good at jumping, a running start is required to hoist himself onto the mattress and then onto me. Curling at the foot of the bed, he holds the drain cover in his mouth and pretends to be a good boy. The following conversation generally ensues:

Me: Arlo, give me the drain cover.

Arlo: ...

Me: Arlo, drop it. Drop it, Arlo.

Arlo: ...

Me: Arlo...

Arlo: [slowly loosens his jaw to release the rubber covering]

Me: Thank you.

Moments later, a similar occurrence takes place when he steals the toilet paper from the bathroom and brings that to bed as well. Or, if a new and delightfully intriguing addition has been made to the trash can in my studio, we may be graced by the presence of a discarded scrap of paper or the plastic wrapping from a canvas. It's always an adventure.

Fortunately, he does eventually settle down. Resting his head on the pillow beside mine, he settles in. If I move, he growls. If I bump him, he growls. If I reach over to give his velvety ears a scratch, he growls with contentment. And then, approximately ten minutes later, he relocates to the couch.

And that, my friends, is bedtime with Arlo.

Late-Night Alarm

I had dinner and drinks with my friend Dani last night and I was filling her in on some of the stuff I've been writing this summer. Somehow, over the course of this conversation, I mentioned that I'll often set an alarm for, like, 2AM so I can randomly wake up in the middle of the night and just think about my book. Dani thought this was both ridiculous and interesting and suggested I write a blog entry about it. So I am.

I think it's fairly common knowledge that the first thing I think about every night when I crawl into bed is Sebastian Porter. He's also the first thing I think about every morning... and admittedly, a huge chunk of every day is spent thinking about him. Bas Porter is probably the reason I will never have a serious significant other: I'm too in love with my fictional character. Maybe someday, if an agent ever picks up my work, Bas will be properly introduced to the world. He makes a cameo in Just Whistle, and his long-time girlfriend has a brief appearance in Like A Flip Turn, but the true stories of Bas, Lucy, and Bert appear in manuscripts that have only been shared with friends:

Kick It One More Time (set twelve years before Like A Flip Turn) Running Through the Words (set four years after Just Whistle) Come and Go So Quickly (set two years after Running Through the Words)

I do think readers would enjoy these books since it'd feel a lot like visiting with old friends. I mean, Juli Singer is a major player in Running Through the Words, as is the old farmhouse that Charley grew up in. And Petey Goode is one of Come and Go So Quickly's narrators. Kick It's where everything starts; I've never written anything that takes place before that one. I'm not sure I ever will. But I'm currently writing something that takes place three years after Kick It. It doesn't have a title yet.

Anyway, back to my late-night alarms. I find that during the school year, I simply don't have enough time to lie in my bed (some of my best ideas happen while horizontal!) and think about Sebastian. Therefore, I'll often set an alarm to wake me at 2:00 or 3:00. This is probably bad for my sleep, but it's great for my creativity, and while I know most people probably hate those sleepless nights when they simply CANNOT fall asleep, I don't really hate them. I mean, I understand that I need sleep, and I like to sleep... but I also like to think about Sebastian and Lucy and Bert! There's a scene that's been running through my head for the past four nights and I finally decided to write it down because it's just SO REAL to me right now. It doesn't even belong in the book I'm working on --- I'll use it in something called Uptempo, Down (which takes place about ten years after Kick It) --- but I still need to write that one.

Speaking of writing... I think I'll end this and work on my current manuscript for a while. Now I've got the itch to hang with my characters.

Badham turned badass

Yesterday, my mom forwarded to me an NPR interview with Mary Badham. For those of you who don't recognize the name, Badham played Scout Finch in the classic 1962 film adaptation of To Kill A Mockingbird. All these years later, it seems that Badham has now taken on the role of Mrs. Henry Lafayette Dubose --- the Finch family's racist neighbor.

Anyone who truly knows me understands my love of To Kill A Mockingbird... and weirdly, Mrs. Dubose is one of my favorite characters. She has a single mention in Chapter One, I believe, and then an entire chapter at the end of Part One. Her memorable line in the movie ("Don't you say 'hey' to me, you ugly girl! You say 'Good afternoon, Mrs. Dubose!'") is probably my favorite movie line to quote, ever. When I teach To Kill A Mockingbird at the start of second semester, I warn my students if they say "hey" to me in the hallway, I may respond with that line. It's just so fun to say!

Anyway, back to Badham. In her interview, she mentioned that she's never felt any sort of ownership over the role of Scout Finch. She's apparently attended several school productions throughout her life, observing all different interpretations of the overall-wearing hooligan, and loved all of them. It got me to thinking, however, about whether America (and the rest of the world) feels that no one is capable of portraying Scout more accurately than Mary Badham... or, even more likely, no one is capable of portraying Atticus more accurately than Gregory Peck. I have this conversation with my students every year and we all agree on this wonderment: Why can't a big-name service like Netflix or Amazon Prime make a Mockingbird miniseries? Why can't someone release a six-part drama that includes EVERYTHING in the novel? I mean, think of all that's left out of the movie:

Mrs. Dubose, for starters! Jem never destroys her camellias or has to read to her. She's mean because she's addicted to morphine and going through withdrawal, but viewers never learn that because it's not mentioned. But that's kind of a huge thing! Plus, Atticus has that insanely powerful quote: "I wanted you to see what real courage is, instead of getting the idea that courage is a man with a gun in his hand. It's when you know you're licked before you begin but you begin anyway and you see it through no matter what." Um... foreshadowing, anyone? Because that's exactly what Atticus does in reference to Tom's trial. Neither Francis nor Aunt Alexandra appears in the movie. Coincidentally, one of my favorite lines in the entire novel is "Long ago, in a burst of friendliness, Aunty and Uncle Jimmy produced a son named Henry, who left home as soon as was humanly possible, married, and produced Francis." Can you think of a more poetically humorous way to describe sex? "A burst of friendliness." I just love that! I can sort of see eliminating Francis from the movie (even though that's a crucial scene with Uncle Jack afterward... who's also not in the movie), but Aunt Alexandra comes to stay with the Finch family during the trial and essentially acts as a mother figure to Jem and Scout. She's a hard character to like, but I like her a lot, and my favorite chapter in the entire novel is when she invites her missionary circle for tea. Chapter Twenty-Four. You've really got to read between the lines for that one, but wow... There's a lot hidden in the unspoken dialogue! I love, love, love that chapter. And freakin' Miss Maudie! "His food doesn't stick going down, does it?" Now THAT is a badass woman. Someday I intend to have a dog (hopefully a Bedlington Terrier) and name her Maudie. Speaking of Miss Maudie, her house never burns down in the movie... which means Boo can't cover Scout in a blanket. After the trial, Maycomb's POC don't turn up at the Finch property and gift Atticus with everything from scuppernongs to pickled pigs' feet. They had next to nothing and gave so much to him to show how appreciative they were for what he'd tried to do for Tom. I mean, that's just a really powerful scene. It should be in the movie. Calpurnia never takes the kids to church with her! Viewers aren't given the opportunity to meet Lula or learn about linin'. That's an eye-opening chapter and I think if someone were to remake To Kill A Mockingbird, that scene would definitely make the cut. Boo never speaks. He has one line in the novel --- "Will you take me home?" --- and it conveys so much. I wish they'd given him that line in the film too.

I could go on and on, but I'm going to change gears just a bit because I want to give a plug to Truman Capote. I know he and Harper Lee were friends growing up, and that he was the inspiration for Dill Harris, and that Capote and Lee's friendship fell apart when he tried to take credit for Mockingbird. She won the Pulitzer for her novel and he didn't win the Pulitzer for In Cold Blood and that sort of ruined everything that had once existed between them. That's how Harper Lee's sister Alice explains it in the documentary Hey, Boo anyway.

Okay. Back to what I'm trying to say.

What I'm trying to say is that until recently, I'd never actually read anything by Truman Capote, but this summer I picked up In Cold Blood and man oh man, that guy can WRITE. I only have about ten or fifteen pages left, but it was already after one o'clock when I finally put my book down last night (earlier this morning?) and so I decided to save the execution for later today. So that's what I'm off to do. Maybe what you should do is reread To Kill A Mockingbird if you haven't picked it up since high school. It's one of those books that gets better and better with age.

I got a kitten.

Was I looking for a kitten? I mean... not really. Here's the gist of the story:

A few months ago, I had to say goodbye to my favorite cat of all-time, Ernie. I've had a lot of animals over the course of my life, which means I've had to make that decision several times before, but THIS time was harder than the others. Ernie was a really special guy and his loss is still felt every day.

Shortly after Ernie's passing, I found a baby blue jay. He must have fallen from a nest in the big magnolia tree in front of my house. I set up my Yi camera and looked over the footage, watching to see if his parents would continue to feed him, but no one swooped in to rescue the poor little guy. Until I did. I did a bunch of online research and learned what one feeds a baby bird (mushy dog food and raisins soaked in water) and proceeded to care for him. I named him Starvin' Marvin because he was hungry all the time. At that point, the weather was really nice (low humidity, not crazy hot) and I had my windows open. I generally set a timer to remind me to feed Marvin every 20 to 25 minutes, but if I forgot, he'd start squawking and remind me. He was a noisy little thing! I had these visions of nursing him into adulthood and being able to go outside, call "Marvin!", and have him appear at my feet, cackling and demanding peanuts and things like that.

Unfortunately, something ate Marvin.

I was devastated. I cried for two days. I felt like I'd let him down (even though I know most jays don't survive; if you look up the statistics, you will likely be amazed) and missed having a small thing to care for. All of my time was taken up by Marvin... and then there was no one for me to nurture.

I had a dream about adopting a kitten the night after losing Marvin. In my dream, I named him "Harvey" because it sounded a little bit like "Marvin." When I woke up that morning, I didn't actually think that adopting a kitten was a smart idea. I have a terrible terrier named Augusta (she's a Kerry Blue) who's rather high-strung. She doesn't necessarily do well with cats. She likes them a little bit too much. A kitten seemed like a bad idea.

Needless to say, I visited the Adams County SPCA's website and saw that three long-haired male kittens were available. No pictures had been posted yet, but I was interested. I kept checking back throughout the day. At about 2:15PM, some images were posted; the shelter was scheduled to close at 3:00. If I was going to act, I needed to do it quickly. I called and asked if I could come in to meet the little guys.

The kitten I adopted is not the kitten I went to meet. Harvey chose me. And he is the perfect (dare I say... "purrfect") addition to my household. Augusta is a work in progress. We've upped her anxiety meds a bit and that seems to be helping. Just this morning, she and Harvey played without any major mishaps. With any luck, they may be able to coexist fairly normally within another five or six years. I'm remaining hopeful!