It’s a gorgeous Kentucky morning. I have the day off  today, so I’m looking forward to catching up on some chores. I might even get some fall mums to put out on my porch.

Took my daughter’s family cat to a local vet yesterday to be spayed and declawed (front paws only). The kitty gets released this afternoon, so I have to pick her up and watch over her until my daughter comes home to get her.

The newspaper where I work ran the last installment of a three-part series about our local animal shelter today. (Our online edition is subscription only, so I can’t post a link — you wouldn’t be able to read it.) Our lead reporter discovered a sobering, shameful statistic about our local shelter.

In 2008, nearly 80 percent of the more than 4,000 animals brought there were euthanized. That’s more than 1,200 kittens, more than 700 cats, more than 700 puppies and more than 650 dogs.

One reader did the math and posted a comment on our web site — the shelter on average would have had to kill 13 animals a day, every day they were open, to put down that many in a year’s time.

The thought makes me sick to my stomach. It’s an embarrassment to our community. We are better people than that.

Our reporter learned the shelter director refuses to establish an Internet presence for the shelter, will not allow volunteers, and makes it so hard to adopt an animal that some prospective pet owners just give up and leave.

Now, however, the shameful way our shelter is being operated has been exposed, and local residents are shocked and angered. I know our citizens won’t continue to allow such inhumane activities. I’m eager to see what happens next.

I love my cat, and I admit, I’ve been giving him a bit of extra love lately. When I got him a few years ago, he was one of a stray mama’s litter. When I think of how he could have had the same fate as thousands of unfortunate kittens (because there’s no telling how long this has been going on), it makes me want to cry.

I’m thankful our newspaper was able to be the voice for those innocent creatures unable to speak for themselves.

For the past few days, I’ve had an overwhelming desire to cook real food — not pre-mixed, pre-packaged stuff, but actual made-from-scratch yummies.

Thursday, I had a couple of overripe bananas that were just shy of rotten — perfect for baking banana muffins. Somehow, I managed to find my muffin pan, buried under several years’ worth of dust, and in a few minutes — with the assistance of my Kitchenaid mixer — I had enough batter mixed up to fill all the cups in the pan.

I’d forgotten how yummy fresh-baked muffins can be!

Today, I went grocery shopping and, while trying to decide what kind of snacks to get, got the itch to bake again. I passed over the Little Debbie cakes and avoided the candy aisle, instead grabbing a couple of bags of chocolate chips and a dozen eggs before heading to the checkout.

Surely cookies made at home from the flour, sugar, eggs, and butter you buy at the stor have to be better for you than cookies made with all the above plus preservatives, wrapped in plastic, shipped thousands of miles, and stored in a warehouse for who knows how long before they ever reach the store shelf.

If you like chocolate, try this recipe:

Chewy Chocolate Cookies

1 1/4 c. butter or margarine, softened (I used Butter-flavor Crisco)

2 c. sugar

2 eggs

2 tsp. vanilla

2 c. unsifted all-purpose flour

3/4 cup Hershey’s cocoa (I used Hershey’s Special Dark Cocoa)

1 tsp. baking soda

1/2 tsp. salt

1 bag Hershey’s white chips

1 cup finely chopped nuts (optional — I didn’t include nuts in today’s cookies)

Cream butter or margarine and sugar in large mixing bowl. Add eggs and vanilla, blend well. Combine flour, cocoa, baking soda and salt; gradually blend into creamed mixture. Stir in chips and, if desired, nuts. Drop by teaspoonfuls onto ungreased cookie sheet. Bake at 350 degrees for 8-9 minutes. (Don’t overbake. Cookies will be soft. They’ll puff up while baking, and flatten as they cool.) Cool on cookie sheet about a minute, then remove and let finish cooling on wire rack. Makes about 4 1/2 dozen.

What to do with cookies when done:

Open mouth.

Insert cookie.

Chew.

Repeat.

So … I’m feelin’ a bit creeped out right now after watching the renumbered/updated/digitally enhanced version of Star Wars VI: Return of the Jedi, which was once known as simply Return of the Jedi or Star Wars III,  which changed when a new Star Wars III was released, Revenge of the Sith, which mean the first SW III had to change its name to SW VI, which greatly confused all us senior citizens (i.e. anyone who had seen the first three SW movies … oops, I mean the three SW movies that were made during the disco/punk/new wave eras when movie popcorn was only $4 for the large bucket AND that included all the extra butter you could eat).

Anyhoo …

So we’re sitting on the couch, hubby and I — he’s playing his guitar and I’m catching up on work on my laptop PC as the above-mentioned SW film is playing in the background on some satellite TV channel we rarely watch, but turned on tonight ’cause we thought an intergalactic battle scene would help us relax.

Apparently hubby happened to glance at the TV during the final scene where the spirits of Obi-Wan Kenobi and Darth Vader appear side-by-side, smiling at Luke Skywalker as their bodies are being burned atop a celebratory funeral pyre as Ewoks and other assorted life forms joyfully cavort near the flames.

Hubby says, “Is that the guy who played in the first movies?”

I look up, not knowing whether he means “the first movies” as in the original Star Wars, now known as Star Wars IV: A New Hope,  or Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace. And there is Obi-Wan, bearing a strong resemblance to Sir Alec Guinness (as well he should) and not Ewan McGregor. (As well he shouldn’t, because after all, the Episode Formerly Known as III was made only a few years after Guinness starred in the Episode Formerly Known as I.)

Beside Obi-Wan is the translucent Darth Vader/Anakin Skywalker spirit AND THE BODY OF THE 1983 ANAKIN IS WEARING THE HEAD OF THE 2005 ANAKIN. I AM WRITING THIS IN ALL CAPS BECAUSE I AM TRAUMATIZED AND WHEN PEOPLE ARE TRAUMATIZED THEY GENERALLY SHOUT, RIGHT?

I am now wondering how I could have watched this movie so many times since its re-release and not noticed that freaky Hayden Christensen head pasted on top of Sebastian Shaw’s body. I mean, it’s even mentioned on Wikipedia.

Maybe some extra-buttery popcorn will make me feel better.

When I think of the pressure/obligation/necessity writers feel about social networking/blogging/cyberconnections, I think of a t-shirt I saw once that advertised a famous “31 flavors” ice cream shop: “So many flavors, so little time.”

It’s not easy managing multiple Internet presences. I have this web site and blog to express the children’s writer’s side of me. I now have a work blog, where I must chronicle my adventures as She-Ra, Princess of First-Amendment Power.  I have a Facebook page that started out dedicated solely to AuthorWorld, but somehow my persona from The Daily Planet got sucked into its orbit — now its connecting friends from the fiction side of me and the people I’m acquainted with on the fact-finding side. (Or as Merle Haggard might say, the fighting side of me.)

I want my fiction-writing life to be prevalent. But the part of my life that ’s my job seems to take up (and suck dry) more and more of my mental resources.

Basically, what’s happened is that my brain has turned to oatmeal. And not even the Quaker Instant Oats kind that has that yummy maple and brown sugar flavor added. It’s more like the kind you get served when you’re a patient in the hospital. It’s bland and watery and not even good for wallpaper paste.

Web site, blog, Facebook, Twitter — I can’t do it all. And because Twitter feels as though it’s the least-tangible and worthwhile of these communicative forms, at least for me, it’s the easiest one to let go. I’m still going to keep the account, for now. Maybe I’ll pick it up again when I have more time.

In 1923, William Carlos Williams wrote about a  red wheelbarrow, rain water, and white chickens, using 140 characters or less, and it’s still considered a work of poetic genius.

I wonder if folks would consider it worth retweeting today.

Long time, no posts! With vacations, catching up on work (meaning my actual paying  job) between days off, and my youngest getting married in 29 days, blogging has been, like, at the bottom of my list.

So if you can tolerate some random “catch-up” here, read on:

• The first half of my vacation was all about the grandkids — from Chuck E. Cheese night to late-night Disney movies, it was a week’s worth of baby and preschool fun.
• Our future daughter-in-law hung out with us during the second segment of our vacation. We stayed in one of those hotels that have suites with fully-equipped kitchens. Normally, I don’t cook much. But on this trip, we cooked just about every meal and it was so good. The future d-i-l taught me how to make homemade guacamole and it was incredible! I am now a guacamole guru. When it’s done, it looks like a party on a plate.  Take two ripe avocados, cut in half, remove pit, scoop out the flesh onto a plate and smush it with a fork ’till chunky. Chop a couple of tomatoes and some fresh cilantro, mix into the mashed avocado (be sure to use the tomato juice!) and add salt and onion powder to taste. (Lemon or lime juice is optional.) Eat with tortilla chips until you get sick or your pants don’t fit, whichever comes first.
• A bit of advice from one who has been there and done that: When it comes to hotel rooms, chances are you’ll get what you pay for.  In our case, an inexpensive room in a facility that appeared decent on the outside turned out to be a filthy nightmare on the inside. When we arrived at the hotel and opened the door to the room, it not only smelled bad, the bathroom floor was dirty, the kitchenette disgusting, and the hide-a-bed couch mattress was covered in weeks’ worth of filth, crumbs, and grime. We immediately left and found a spotless suite with kitchen (even a dishwasher!) at a Marriott Residence Inn just down the road. It cost twice as much, but it was worth it to be able to lay my head down on the pillow at night.

One fun things about picture books is wishing you could enter the world illustrated on the pages. When I was a child, I loved Russell Hoban’s Frances stories, and Lillian Hoban’s art made me want to close my eyes and imagine being Frances’ playmate, scheming with her to get her tea set back from Thelma, or having a bread and jam party with her stuffed animals.

I wanted to be buddies with Frances because:

1. She was sometimes snarky, sometimes clever, but mostly fair, and loyal to her friends.

2. She made up songs about everything.

3. In Bread and Jam for Frances, she and her friends brought the coolest school lunches from home, in neat containers with such items as hard-boiled eggs in egg cups and little salt and pepper shakers.

4. In A Bargain for Frances, even though Thelma tricked Frances into buying her plastic tea set, when Frances sets things right, she forgives Thelma and they’re still friends.

5. Frances was comfortable in her own fur; sometimes she wore clothes, sometimes not.

6. Frances listened to her mother, but was able to fix her own problems.

• Ben and Jerry’s froyo “half-baked” ice cream is sooooo good! Big globs of chocolate chip cookie dough, hunks of fudge brownie, chocolate and vanilla frozen yogurt — and only 3 grams of fat per serving. You can eat the whole pint and only take in 12 grams of fat. Good stuff without the guilt. Compare that to B&J’s “chunky monkey” which is a whoppin’ 17 grams of fat per serving, 0r 68 grams of fat for the pint! Makes me feel bloated just thinking about it.
• Mentioned this in a previous blog post a couple of years ago, but it should be said again: I heart Meow Cosmetics! I’ve been using Meow’s mineral makeup for about two years, and will never ever go back to that goopy stuff that comes in a bottle. It feels like you’re wearing nothing and provides good coverage. I like that it’s a woman-owned and operated small business.
• We bought our first digital camera in 2004. It was a 4-megapixel and used one of those big Sandisk cards that held 256 k. We paid more than $350 for it and all the accessories. Yesterday, we bought an 8-megapixel camera for about $120.  The camera fits in your pocket and uses a small SD card that holds 4 g’s worth of photos. Better technology, cheaper price!
• Giving in to the Sunday afternoon sleepies — which I am about to do right now!

• Found this NPR article about text messaging and how ridiculously expensive it can be. What a relief to know that I am not the only person in the universe who does not have text messaging enabled on my cell phone!
• Don’t think I’ll be going to see Land of the Lost. Apparently the TV show is more amusing.
• Reading The Tale of Despereaux. The book is way better than the movie so far. Don’t get me wrong; I liked the movie. But the movie is nothing like the book! Nothing!
• Agent Nathan Bransford has a great post on his blog about how not to use the word “blog.”
• And here’s a link to a story about the (gasp!) dark and dreary trend in YA fiction. Yawn. I’ve heard this song before. Like back in the 70s. And in the 80s. And in the 90s. And at least one other time during the early 21st century. I don’t think YA has changed, no sir I don’t. Dark and dreary has been around a long time, since the day Eve bit the apple. Dark and dreary serves a purpose. No conflict? No story. Don’t we feel so much better about our miserable lot when we read about someone — even a fictional someone — whose lot is worse than our own? And don’t we feel even better when that someone overcomes those insurmountable odds, thinking if she can do it, so can we?  The only way to experience and appreciate the exquisiteness of hope is to be caught in, and through the strength of our own will overcome, misery’s wretched grasp. Amen.

Motivational quotes, because I need some inspiration to get up off my duff and do something:

“Courage is being scared to death, but saddling up anyway. “  — John Wayne

Cat quotes, just because (more cat quotes here):

“No amount of time can erase the memory of a good cat, and no amount of masking tape can ever totally remove his fur from your couch.” — Leo Dworken

“Most beds sleep up to six cats. Ten cats without the owner.” — Stephen Baker

“Cats are smarter than dogs. You can’t get eight cats to pull a sled through snow.” — Jeff Valdez

“Cats do care. For example they know instinctively what time we have to be at work in the morning and they wake us up twenty minutes before the alarm goes off.” — Michael Nelson

Don’t people watch Law and Order anymore?

Apparently not in North Carolina.

A guy goes in a computer cafe and pretends the banana in his pocket is a gun.

In the criminal justice system, bananas are split between two separate yet equally important groups: the police, who investigate the peels, and the district attorneys, who mash the pretenders. These are their stories.

The guy could have asked for anything. Money. Jewels. Heck, he could have pointed that loaded banana and demanded a computer.

But no.

The guy demanded Mountain Dew.

Now, if he’d said, “Gimme all yer Docter Pepper,” that would have made sense. Dr. Pepper is the official drink of the Sons of Confederate Veterans. It flows from the fountain drink machines of every convenience store in every small town below the Mason-Dixon line. Southern girls dab Dr. Pepper behind their ears like perfume before they go out on dates on Saturday night. It’s what makes Southern babies grow up to be extraordinary college football and basketball players.

This lack of common sense explains the thief’s next action — after he’s subdued by the cafe owner and a customer, the guy eats the banana.

Fortunately for everyone, a quick-thinking deputy (the Carolinas are famous for them) took a photo of the peel to submit as evidence.

Lenny Briscoe and Jack McCoy, where are you when we need you?

A guy suspected of drug dealing led Indiana Police on a high-speed chase through two counties …

… until he saw a Taco Bell.

Read the story here.

This would have made a great scene in a Dirty Harry movie.

(DRUG DEALER leaps from car, runs to door of Taco Bell; DIRTY HARRY in pursuit.)

DIRTY HARRY (stops running, wheezes, points gun at drug dealer): Freeze, punk!

DRUG DEALER (grabs door handle): I gotta have my burrito, man!

DIRTY HARRY: I have a burrito for you.  A cold steel burrito. (Cocks the trigger.) Go ahead — say ole.

DRUG DEALER: That’s all I want, man, just one more burrito.

DIRTY HARRY: That’s what you’re gonna get, punk — one more burrito, with a bullet.

DRUG DEALER: Does that come with a large Pepsi?

My daughter let me know the link to “The Best Town on Earth” video in an earlier post didn’t work, so we’ll try it another way.

The Best Town on Earth

We survived the strongest tornado to hit the United States in 2005.

We didn’t let the 2009 ice storm of the century get us down, either.

We’re small, but strong!

“When you write, you light a bonfire in the spirit world. It is dark there. Lost souls wander alone. Your inner flame flares up. And the lost souls gather near your light and heat. And they see the next artist at work and go there. And they follow the fires until they find their ways home.”
 
Said by a Mexican healer woman, quoted in “Life Is An Act Of Literary Creation,” by Luis Alberto Urrea (from NPR’s This I Believe.)

Yeah, everybody says they live in the best town on earth.

But how many have an awesome video to prove it?

(Be sure you watch it all the way through.  The woman at the end is awesome! She’s in her late 90’s and a great patron of the arts in our community.)

Today I met three men who are on a cross-country bike ride to raise money for The City of the Children, a Mexican orphanage.

Please take time to read their story on their Web site. They are three extraordinary individuals with numerous achievements to their credit; yet to them, this bike ride is one of the most important things they’ve ever done in their lives.

Their concern for these orphans is genuine, and the friendships they share with one another are real and deep.

Days like today — when I get to tell the story of people like John Shinsky, Eljay Bowron and Joe DeLamielleure, and the cause to which they are so committed  – make me thankful that I’m a writer and can tell their story.

The idea for today’s post comes from a comment sent by Julianne.

(By the way, If you’re looking for your comment, Julianne, you won’t find it. That’s because I accidentally clicked “delete comment” instead of “accept comment.” Drat. Fortunately, I still have a copy of the e-mail from WordPress, notifying me of your post. Thanks for being so sweet!)

Anyway, I’ve been asked this question by others and decided I should try to give a thoughtful answer.

Julianne said: “I’d love to know what you think about the Twilight series. I tried to read the book but just couldn’t get through it. Not sure what all the hysteria is about.”

If she’d said the Twilight ZONE series, the answer would have been easy. LOVE IT. So what if it’s half a century old? Rod Serling,  may he rest in peace, is one of my all-time favorite writers.

But Julianne’s asking about THE Twilight series, the teen/vampire love story written by Stephenie Meyer.

So here’s my reply, and here’s hoping bullet points will make my ramblings appear like organized thoughts.

• I haven’t read any of the books, so I can’t offer any judgment about the stories. I’ve heard good and bad comments from all sides.  The truth is that Twilight isn’t the type of story that interests me. I like fantasy, but I’m not a vampire fan. I’m not into romance and, generally, I prefer to read middle-grade novels over YA. (Examples of middle-grade novels would be Newbery Medal or Honor books; could be anything from Charlotte’s Web to historical fiction to Harry Potter. I enjoyed the first four books of the Harry Potter series, but when I got to the fifth, I lost interest.)
• I hear a lot of criticism about Meyer’s writing. I also hear people say they get so caught up in the story they don’t notice the writing. It sounds to me like Meyer is probably a good storyteller. A book’s prose may be perfect, but if it’s a boring tale, no amount of style is going to keep a reader turning the pages.
• Anything as visible and popular as Meyer’s series is going to generate positive and negative talk.
• As for today’s news that LDS bookstore chain Deseret Book stopped carrying Meyer’s books (Meyer is LDS) … Booksellers are businesses, they cater to their customers and can choose to stock whatever books they wish. I’m LDS, and Deseret stopped selling my books a long time ago. Back when my books were in print, I asked some local bookstores to carry them and was politely turned down. Where I live, there aren’t many people who want to buy books that feature Latter-day Saint characters, and the publisher’s no-return policy didn’t help matters. (At least that’s what I was told.) I was disappointed, but … 
• … I would be concerned if a public library refused to stock Meyer’s books or my books or anyone else’s books. (My library was happy to put my books on their shelves, and I occasionally hear from locals who have read them.)  Libraries provide free and open access to information for everyone.  They shelve ideas, not products, and protect the rights to free speech for all. If you don’t want to read a particular library book, don’t check it out. For every book you might want to ban, it’s a safe bet that someone else finds a book you cherish offensive, or wants to ban the books that are most meaningful to you.
• However, I do believe that parents have the right to monitor — and restrict, if they believe it’s warranted – what their minor children, especially little ones, read or watch on TV or in movies.

(UPDATE: Just an additional thought here — there’s been no direct statement, at least that I know of, from DB that it has chosen not to stock the book because of its content. I’m more inclined to believe that the books don’t sell well at DB because DB charges more  for them than Amazon, Borders, Barnes and Noble or WalMart.)

After weeks of avoiding yummy things (as in foods that are deep-fried or smothered in chocolate) I finally was able to step into, zip up, and button the waist of a pair of khakis I haven’t been able to fit into since September.

Yes!

I have fallen off the wagon a few times, but have climbed back on, though grumbling and grouching about it the whole way. I still have some pounds to go but today’s milestone should keep me motivated for a while.

Random stuff. Think of it as Kibbles and Bits, but less crunchy and useless for preventing hairballs.

In case you haven’t noticed, the path from point A to point B is rarely ever a straight line.

Often, you end up visiting unexpected places, stopping for unexpected amounts of time. You meet, and make, unexpected acquaintances along the way.

You may believe you know your character or have a handle on the plot for your next novel. Yet from the moment you pick up the pen until you punctuate the final sentence of a project, the only thing constant about your work is that it will change.

This is even true with nonfiction writing. Many times I’ve kicked off an interview, fully supposing the lead of a story to be X, when the subject innocently makes a quote-worthy statement about Y that causes me to re-think my opinion of the whole darn alphabet.

We often talk about the constraints of writing. We swear by style guides. We agonize over grammar. We memorize proper manuscript format. We seek the magic formula to create a killer query letter or synopsis.

In our frustration to get it right, we complain that the devil is in the details. Yet it’s those same restrictions that add polish to our work, and may even save us from the slush pile.

Format and language constraints free us to create stories and share information in unique ways, much like a tailor uses a pattern to construct a suit or a contractor uses a blueprint to build a house. The steps are the same for everyone; it’s the properties of the materials and the way in which we combine them that allows our individuality to shine.

So, while the path from point A to point B may be clearly marked, who knows how many interesting detours and distractions you may encounter along the way. In order to find out, you’ve got to follow the map.

Whatever the case, the most important thing is to enjoy the journey. Serendipity, like lightning, may not strike in the same place twice. Adhering to the pattern, however, may heighten the odds.

This past week, negative Agentfail comments, many posted anonymously by angry writers, have hovered like storm clouds over the blogosphere. The posts were in reponse to Queryfail, a day when agents shared via Twitter portions of queries from writers (no names mentioned) that prompted immediate rejection.

The agents had good intentions, for the most part. Queryfail was intended to help writers increase their chances of getting a partial or full request from an agent. Some Agentfail posts offered constructive criticism. Others were just downright bitter.

Fortunately, folks were posting positive agent comments today.

Here’s my two cents on this:

1. Angry outbursts don’t improve anyone’s situation. (I know, because every time I have my own angry outburst, I end up embarrassed afterwards, wishing I’d controlled my temper.) If you can’t find an agent for that manuscript you’re shopping around, work at improving your manuscript rather than blaming agents for your inability to get published. Get past the “it’s them” syndrome and consider reasons why you might be the problem.

2. This is a business, people. It’s not American Idol, the Publishers Clearinghouse Sweepstakes or one of those fast-food restaurant promotions where “everyone’s a winner.” Completing a manuscript doesn’t mean you’re entitled to a contract or even a request for a partial read by an agent.

As the recession continues, more people will try their hand at writing children’s picture books and novels, believing it’s a quick way to make money.

Read my lips: It’s not.

The path to publication is long and arduous. It takes months, sometimes years, to write a novel. It takes months, sometimes years, to get a novel accepted for publication. It takes months, sometimes years, for a book to go from contract to the bookshelf at Barnes and Noble. Same for picture books. Just because they’re 700-800 words doesn’t mean you can flip ‘em quicker than a griddle cook at Waffle House.

In other words, if you had a complete manuscript for a novel and it got accepted today, by the time it hits the shelves, the recession may be over.

As for the making money part — I’d write more, but right now I’m laughing so hard the tears are shorting out my keyboard.

It seems that we live in an age of anger, and sometimes it’s so contagious that we catch it and spread it without even realizing the effect it’s having on us or our surroundings.

The negative energy emanating from the whole Queryfail/Agentfail debacle has, at least for me, done nothing to improve my understanding of the business.

The only thing I learned is that there are a lot of bitter writers out there.

Bitter is not what I want to be, not about my writing, nor about agents or editors.

The day that I am overcome with bitterness will be the day that I fail as a writer. And if I fail, I won’t have anyone to blame but myself.

There’s an owl right outside my window. It’s dark, so I can’t look out to see what type of owl it is.

I googled “owl calls” and found this site.

The owl I heard was a female Bubo virginianus, or Great Horned Owl.

She sounded like this one.

The Owl Pages says Great Horned Owls can be up to 2 feet tall, with a wingspan of up to 5 feet! They can weigh 5 pounds or more and can live up to 13 years in the wild.

It also says that some of their calls can be “ventriloquist calls.” However, I doubt this one was throwing her voice. I have large maple trees right at my back windows. I’ll be she’s settled in the branches of one tonight.

In other bird news …

When I came home from work this afternoon, there was straw scattered on my front porch, right underneath the porch light and a wreath that’s hanging by the door.  I believe a bird was trying to build a nest there, and for some reason got scared away, or else she decided the spot wasn’t exactly prime real estate.

Two hawks took up residence in the trees at the edge of our property last summer and scared away the squirrels and the brown yard bunnies. I haven’t seen them yet, so maybe they’ve moved on to someone else’s trees. Hopefully, we’ll see more forest critters this year.

To a reader, a character is someone:

• to identify with
• to cheer on
• who has similiar feelings
• who may have similar experiences or
• whose experiences are extraordinary or
• unforgettable
• who becomes a friend.

To a writer, a character is someone:

• complex and puzzling
• always in the back of your mind
• so real he could walk in the door, sit beside you and carry on a conversation
• sometimes unpredictable
• who must to be able to choose his own destiny, a free agent
• influenced by the setting in which he is placed
• always changed by the other characters with whom he interacts
• unforgettable
• who becomes a friend.

I went to the store today and bought fruit. Lots of fruit. Kiwis and nectarines, blueberries and strawberries, apples and bananas. Grapes, too — red seedless. I’m eating  a few as I type.

This fruit fest is yet another of my many attempts to eat dessert the way nature intended, rather than the manufactured stuff that tastes so good. It’s substituting no-fat, good-for-you, all-natural sweets for all those high-fat, high-chocolate, totally delish foods my tummy craves.

Have you ever considered that fruits have their own personalities? If you were a fruit, which one would you be?

Banana: Has a sunny yellow disposition, yet turns to mush quickly and depressions form easily. Known to be slippery — if it falls to the floor, it’ll take you down, too. 

Kiwi: A split personality (some say it’s like a strawberry, others liken it to a banana). A little green, but blends well with others, especially on a platter.

Blueberry: Fun-loving and bouncy. Likes to hang out in groups, especially where pancakes and muffins are involved.

Apple: Firm to the core. Can be a little tough on the outside. It may be hard to judge by its appearance – some are grainy, some are tart. Granny Smiths, especially, may be slightly old-fashioned.

Strawberry: Bright and sweet, but may appear seedy. Some are even hollow inside.  Always wears a cap. 

Grape: Hangs out in tight bunches. Rolls quickly and gets lost easily if separated from the group.

One thing they have in common?

They all taste even better when dipped in chocolate. Dark, dark chocolate.

All that is gold does not glitter,

Not all those who wander are lost;

The old that is strong does not wither,

Deep roots are not reached by frost.

– J.R.R. Tolkien

I don’t believe it. I checked my spam queue and discovered my reply to a stupid spam comment about weight loss had been spammed by yet another spam comment about weight loss! Twice!

Here’s the comment:

“Here’s How I Lost 18 lbs Of Body Fat In Just 22 Days Without Surgery”

What does it take to get spammers to leave you alone? Especially weight-loss spammers?

This is so aggravating that I’ve created a new category for such crap. I’ll file this one under “irritants and annoyances.”