Crazy Time

I have been busy falling behind writing toward my National Novel Writing Month project, and thus have been a bit absent here. I’m experimenting with this Comic Sans font that some writers swear boosts their output. Not sure it’s working because I’m almost two full days’ word count behind, but real life issues have been dragging me down this November.

Meanwhile, I wanted to share something that a local friend posted on our NaNoWriMo FB page. Truer words could not be spoken (though I thought the last word was ‘bat’, which I find even funnier… Heh…).

Doesn’t the best comedy have a ring of truth? And what do you think of this font for blogging? Be well! 

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Rallying Point, Food for Thought, & (Over-) Editing Validation

It’s with a light heart I report that, for now, Tilly the cat is breathing easier most of the time and still acting healthy in all other respects. She appears so comfortable I’ve left her sleeping alone on the low-set heating pad to spend time around Jezebel. You see, yesterday afternoon that elderly grey kitty acted a fool for attention despite her age, racing around for me to chase. Of course the napping brat acts all casual about my presence now (~grin~) but I’ve no doubt she appreciates it.

Jezebel in Full-on "Monkey Mode"

In other news, exchanging emails with a very talented and oft published writer, I confessed my ongoing obsession with re-re-re-editing older stories. This kind mentor’s reply validated my quirk with uplifting, if disheartening wisdom:

“Never feel guilty about fiddling with old stories. Taking your own work to pieces is one of the best ways to sharpen your skills -- it also gives you fresh perspective on the work of other writers. (One of the pitfalls is that one can become quite critical of books in print, particularly the best sellers, where the actual value of the book can be secondary to the marketing hype, spectacular cover, and writer's reputation, all of which go together to make a best seller out of a work that ... shouldn’t have been. They do say -- and I believe it -- that the best books are lying in desk drawers, unpublished. These days, they're probably languishing on the Amazon servers, having sold 35 copies and then been forgotten for want of an advertising budget!)”

Thanks, my friend.

More on that note, I’d like to share a snippet and would appreciate knowing what you think if you care to comment. This scene from “Man’s Best Friend (BloodMoon #8)” follows a violent home invasion and the protagonist’s efforts to move past it, surprising her reunited lover with the renovations.

Story:

Nickolas ripped off the scarf blindfolding him. He took a step back, jaw dropping, and shook his head.

“Wow. You do like yellow.”

“And I remembered you like blue. Is it too much like a circus tent?”

“Not at all. It’s psychedelic.” Looking to me, he fanned out the fingers of his right hand like a conjurer. “Where on earth did you find this cool carpet?”

“There’s a hotel supplier in town that sells remnants.” I uncrossed my fingers, no longer worrying that blue and yellow paisley pile might be too much. “I figured it would hide dirt and hold up well.”

“I am kind of a slob.”

“You and me both,” I said, snickering. “What do you think of the furniture?”

“What happened with the old stuff?”

“We donated it to charity. It… I…”

“Wanted a fresh start?”

“Yeah.”

I gave him a look I hoped showed my gratitude over his understanding. Neither of us speaking, he looked around the room. I could sense him wanting to touch me and took hold his hand, swinging our arms child-like between us before continuing my narrative.

“Anyway, everything matches now. I figured solid yellow upholstery and curtains toned down the carpet,” I prattled, “as well as the blue sheets.”

“I can hardly wait to see you in them.”

Letting go his hand, I feigned a need to show him which drawers contained his socks and underwear. Nickolas smiled walking to the replaced window. I appreciated him ignoring my discomfort, whether out of civility or male oblivion.

~

Final paragraph revised:

Longing rumbled in silent echoes. I let go his hand, darting forth to show which drawers contained his socks and underwear. Nickolas smiled walking to the replaced window and I appreciated the disregard, whether out of civility or male oblivion.

~

Now I need to stop editing this. Heh… It’s time I go to the gym and lift weights.

What are you up to today?

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A Novel Suggestion

While nitpicking editing today, I discovered I’d overused forms of the word ‘amused’ in this particular short story. So I accessed the Microsoft Word thesaurus.

Midway through the listed options, one phrase baffled me. Detective novel? Seriously? I saved visual proof.

Meanwhile, Tilly the cat is breathing easy and demanding snuggle time. Right now the old gal is against my knee. She returns to the veterinary clinic tomorrow. I hope the doctor(s) will be pleasantly shocked.

Can you imagine how someone might have come up with ‘detective novel’?

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A Flop, a Flip, and a No Flip Flop Zone

For the first time in maybe eight or nine years I failed to meet a writing challenge. It turns out that my keyboard time gets interrupted more than I realized. A self set goal of two hours a day editing and/or typing new prose proved more difficult than spouting fifty thousand words in a month. Meeting those goals, I tend to start rapid fire storytelling about an hour before I anticipate my husband requesting my company.

Yesterday I put down my laptop with thirty-nine minutes still needed to reach sixty hours for April. It seemed a minor thing to finish up after my husband went to bed. Instead, we both fell asleep on the sofa and I woke up at 12:30, missing the deadline.

Oh, well. It’s an interesting lesson.

I may have gotten in the way now and then, but the fail is all her fault.

On the flip side (get it? heh…), my husband’s hearing has improved a good deal. We no longer have spats about sound volumes and hearing tests, a huge relief.

He believes now that he picked up a mostly painless ear infection of some sort. Tenderness and swelling he came to recognize have both improved alongside his audible range. While his right ear’s capacity is not back to where it was, we are not complaining since his left ear has been useless for a number of years now. Incidentally, back then his physician believed he developed an otherwise symptom free case of the mumps (!), surprising because he got vaccinated as a young airman before United States Air Force boot camp.

As for flip flops, and I know many are fans, they should never be worn around a running lawnmower. That may be obvious, but I have witnessed more than one woman doing so, sometimes in a bikini. And there’s a reason I bring this up.

I last mowed on Sunday during a blessedly cool and cloudy period. Unfortunately, I couldn’t complete the job, which inspired this whole train of thought regarding footwear.

More than halfway through the process, my mower blade disconnected and got spat out across the grass. I am fortunate to have received no injury. The machine is awaiting repairs as I type, the lawn still a mess. A neighbor offered to lend us his mower when asked but my husband worries about the missing bolt causing damage. It turns out the guy also owns a metal detector. It seems I’ll have to approach him over the matter as we’ve not heard more from the man.

On another bright side, while waiting for my spouse to conduct our business at the repair shop a young worker approached me to ask about my car. He purchased a used version one Volt last winter and wondered how I felt about the 2017. Geeking out with another enthusiast brightened my day. He wasn’t bad looking, either.

~wink~

Have you, like me, begun considering monoculture lawns a waste of time and recourses?

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Rockin’ the Body and the Brain (not quite over the rainbow)

I have struggled leaving the house ever since our car accident. Kudos to my husband, who prefers not to drive, for stepping up and going by himself on a few occasions for groceries and whatnot. But this is not how I want to live, however mean the world outside can be.

View Outside My House March 14

Going to see a physician on Monday proved to be a positive step forward. Took me three weeks to get an appointment, but learning the occasional stress induced chest pains are just that, nothing serious, and making a plan to get out of this anxious rut got me back to the gym. This morning’s resistance training is my third for this week and proved to be my 462^nd total (!) since joining the YMCA a few years ago.

Following my checkup I agreed to go on a super low dose anxiety medication, perhaps just for a few months. We’ll see how it goes. My husband encouraged this, in fact, which told me how much my condition upsets him. He hated when I took Abilify and some anti-depression pill or other years ago, saying they dulled my wit and personality. In 2012 I left my stressful job in exchange for going off the stuff.

I never saw this attending doctor before Monday (so much for keeping your regular doctor through the health insurance marketplace). He and his fellows are working toward residency under guidance of senior physicians including my husband’s longtime doctor. I liked him.

He asked about my dreams. Any nightmares?

Oh, yes.

To that he offered another medication formulated to ease symptoms of an enlarged prostate.

Yes, you read that right. Mine is an off label drug use, with potential of lowered cholesterol and reduced nightmares as possible side effects. So, again, we shall see.

The pharmacist warned me about the drug’s main purpose, as if I didn’t already know and would be offended. As if. I find it all very amusing. My entire adult life I’ve felt like a seventeen year old boy resides in my brain. Why not a fifty year old male? Maybe ‘he’ grew up alongside me in strictly a physical sense and developed prostate issues. My husband found that notion hysterical.

Meanwhile, as I prepared to park near the pharmacy, a nasty driver honked at me for driving too slow. In a parking lot, as I drove behind a pedestrian. Nice, huh? But the joke’s on them because my anxiety level was high enough the honk barely caused a bleep on my mental radar.

This afternoon I’m happy retreating into my fiction. Editing to ‘The Crow’ soundtrack has been therapeutic. I’m about to get back at it while rocking out to band Black Light Burns.

What is your preferred escape from reality?

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The View From My Writing Desk

Gotta love the luxury of writing in bed… No kitty companion but still nice with a little classical Ravel playing in the background.

Artwork on the wall is a 2008 pastel on canvas by Claudio Osan
'Distant Drumming'

What’s your view like today?

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Truth Can Be Stranger Than Fiction – Or Reflect It? And a Joyous Report

Trying to escape my mental funk, I have been looking at the prose written during National Writing Month last November. It’s been interesting. And a tiny bit creepy.

Today I came to a half forgotten passage in which my character wrapped her car around a utility pole, set off the airbags, and suffered minor whiplash.

Now I’m going to share a rotten little confession. Exchanging messages with a dear local friend, I admitted hoping the hit-and-run driver is sitting in jail with, of all things, minor whiplash. He replied, “lol mean lol”.

I must reiterate my use of the word ‘minor’. ~nods~ My husband informed me that all her misdemeanors could result in a year’s imprisonment. It seems to me justice would better be served with the woman performing community service.

On a happy note, I saw both of my surviving kuhli loaches alive and (seeming) well this afternoon. The typhoid mollies kept taking food out of their mouths, though.

I didn’t even think mollies would eat algae tablets. ??? Tomorrow I’m going to bury those skinny, slippery little guys’ chow in an empty snail shell where the mollies shouldn’t fit.

Meanwhile, trying to find a photo of my kuhli loaches I could not. Instead, I located an unexpected one (below) taken in January of 2014 featuring my now deceased clown loach named Frack. Dark orange with black stripes, he is a bit out of focus (that lion fish to the right is artificial). I am amazed and a bit heartbroken to note how much he grew in the last five years.

RIP Little Frack

Do you think I should just populate my tank with more fakes?

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Tongue Twisters & Brain Busters

Language fascinates me. This morning, for whatever reason, I lay in bed thinking about verb tenses. In fact, I typed this on my Kindle Fire while lying prone and emailed it to myself, which is why this font is different than usual.

Anyway, the fact any non-English speaking foreigner learns it is a testament to human fortitude and overall intelligence.

Think about this...

After skiing a person skied. Mastery means something has been mastered. Preventing a glass from being knocked over means you righted it.

If you wring out a rag it is now wrung. But a bird with contrasting feathers around its neck is considered ringed.

What if you traveled in a car? You were either driven or you drove. What about the fight, flight, or freeze response? That translates to having fought, flew, or froze. Wait. In that sentence structure it would be flown and frozen.

~shakes head~

How people not immersed at birth learn to speak, let alone write this stuff is beyond me. Now I'm exhausted. I think I'll go back to bed.

So, what are your plans today?

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A View From My Writing Space

I am very happy with my laptop. It’s nice to be able to write from various vantages. Sometimes, though, I need to shed the distraction of the Internet and social media.

That’s when my AlphaSmart3000 comes in handy.

On Monday I set it up on our dining table. You can see the beast itself below, a low tech wonder.

Like my Christmas place mat?

I enjoy this view of my Christmas tree. Candles made the space even cozier.

'Tis the Season

So do kitties. Jezebel has taken to using an old dog bed donated by my parents after their pet Rocky passed away.

Looking out the Window...

I turned around after taking the above image to find Tilly begging at my feet. With nothing given her, she lost interest and wandered away. Her meerkat posturing never fails to make me laugh.

Already looking to the dry food bowl as I had nothing to give her...

All the while I enjoyed music through my Soundfreaq speaker. This morning I’m listening to Alanis Morissette’s “Flavors of Entanglement”. It’s a beautiful album. Yesterday my soundtrack was very different. I still lament the loss of Chris Cornell, who conceived of Temple of the Dog following the loss of his friend, lead singer of Mother Love Bone.

The Photo Features My Maternal Grandparents

Have you ever heard music by Temple of the Dog?

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Author Spotlight - Tina Holland's "Finding Your Path to Publishing"

The Lovely Tina Holland

Today I am honored to spotlight a book by the delightful Tina Holland. She is a talented writer, dear friend, and active supporter of her fellow artists. Take for example her latest publication, “Finding Your Path to Publishing”. Without further ado, I present this helpful guide in Tina’s (and fellow author A. Catherine Noon’s) own words.

About the Book

Finding Your Path to Publishing is a book designed to help authors find a home for their work.   Whether that is to find an agent and get a New York Contract or to Indie Publish your works, every path is different.  This book will help you find the right path for you. 

Questions about your process and style will guide you to help make the best decision for your project and you as a writer.

Acknowledgement

The first time I met author Tina Holland, she asked me what I was doing as an author. She shared a genuine interest in my success and gave me several suggestions that I incorporated into my plans, which ultimately resulted in Rachel Wilder and I being offered our first publishing contract.

Tina’s passion for writing is second only to her passion for helping other writers succeed, to truly pay it forward in the writing world in a way that enriches and lifts up the people who come in contact with her. I first took her FEARS workshop, which stands for Finish, Edit, Analyze, Research, and Submit, several years ago and loved every minute of it. She makes what can be a bewildering array of options and tasks seem doable. She creates a clear path forward, whatever the writer’s ultimate goal – to land a “New York contract,” find an agent, publish with a small press, “Indie pub,” or blog.

I’m as excited about Finding Your Path to Publishing as I was when I first met Tina, because it does exactly what the title promises: guides you, teaches you, inspires you, to find your path.

~ A. Catherine Noon, Author

www.noonandwilder.com

Founder of Writer Zen Garden


Buy Links:

Books2read

Tina Holland on Amazon
Excerpt

Hello, my fellow writer!  Congratulations on writing your first book, or maybe even your fifth.  

My name is Tina Holland.  I’ve written over ten books, am published with two houses and have been nominated for awards.   I write Contemporary, Paranormal and Fantasy Romance, and now I can add Non-fiction to the list.

Writing is a journey for many of us, myself included.  Very few of us navigate the sea of words without discovering more about our characters, the subject matter, or even ourselves.

This book is intended to help you navigate the publishing world to find the best home for your book, even if that home isn’t quite finished.

While I am not an expert on everything, I do have a very healthy knowledge of the publishing industry, simply because it fascinates me.  I probably should’ve been an agent, but I love writing too much.   The business is changing rapidly and some of the material within will be dated within months of publication.  However, I hope to provide you with the basic principles and etiquette of the industry. 

Tina Holland  

Author Social Links:

Website       http://www.tinaholland.com/

Facebook    https://www.facebook.com/author.tina.holland/

Twitter        https://twitter.com/haveubeenaughty

Goodreads  https://www.goodreads.com/tina_holland

Pinterest     https://www.pinterest.com/haveubeenaughty/

In the classic words of Ms. Holland, have you been naughty lately?

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A Change of Perspective, Getting My Freaq On, & Solution to a Tree/Knee Problem

Now that November has ended, and along with it the National Novel Writing Month challenge, I have over fifty thousand words of new beginnings on a story. Well, there is more to it than that, and some good scenes, but nowhere near an ending.

That’s okay.

I’m having fun changing the point of view from first person to third. I decided better storytelling would result from more than just Lita’s viewpoint and had fun writing some experiences of her young love interest, introducing his friends and family. I’ll be getting back to that tale soon, later today or tomorrow morning.

Now, about my early Christmas present, my portable Soundfreaq bluetooth speaker is tremendous. I’m listening to the “Hardware” movie soundtrack on it as I type, charging the battery at the same time since my playtime over the last three plus days finally drained the initial charge. My husband is amused and happy, stating that this will keep me entertained for a good long while.

About my right knee, we took a poorly planned trip to Florida before my mother passed away. I didn’t consider the fact my chosen dates butted up close to Independence Day and how many more cars that would put on the road. Slamming the brakes over and over in my stints through bumper to bumper traffic, I damaged the cartilage.

Somehow, my husband got clear sailing every time he took the wheel. ~grumble~ I’m blessed the joint isn’t more painful, but our steep cellar stairs are not doing it any good.

That’s where my Christmas tree comes in. The artificial beauty reaches my seven foot tall ceiling and, with ornaments, takes up four giant totes which are (of course) stored in our basement. I can’t ask for help as my husband couldn’t care less about my holiday decorating. And, anyway, he doesn’t help with Halloween despite my repeated requests and his love of that décor. But for the first time since 2015, I feel like having my tree up.

~sigh~

So, it took some thought, but I came up with a better solution involving our nice new back deck. Unlike the indoor stairs, that new deck staircase is wide and well measured, not steep and narrow. Yesterday proved to have perfect weather, ideal timing since that’s when the idea occurred to me.

Now I just need to get going on the decorating. ~grin~ On another bright note, I found my giant stuffed ‘Santa’ Christmas bear a whole lot easier to lift after the past few years of resistance training.

Yes, those are skull lights above these festive creatures...
Talk of removing them earned me adorable pouts.

Have you been watching SpaceX satellite launches (The Geek Embracing portion of this post; minutes ago we enjoyed another live webcast)?

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The Plot Thickens, a Christmas Memory, and How Not to Hoe

I used to wake with story ideas first thing most mornings. While writing is a tremendous joy, I hadn’t realized how much I missed that wakeful muse until its return two nights in a row.

Friday’s was at 2:30 in the morning, all but sitting me up in bed and popping open my eyes. But I won’t complain. It’s more a joy, even, because I later remembered the idea that woke me while having been too groggy to make note in the darkness.

This morning I plan to start my NaNoWriMo project’s opening over again following a new and, I think, more interesting scene which should meld fine into what follows. I’m excited.

But first, let me tell you I wrote Saturday’s NaNo quota in near record time. As a result, I decided to meet with other participants upstairs at the Gem City Catfé. It’s a neat place new to me. I hope to bring my husband and pay to play with their shelter kitties (bringing one or two home as a result would be nice).

In the ninety minutes or so spent there I got to visit with a close friend and still accumulated five hundred new words. The owners have gone so far as to put a sign in their window welcoming NaNoWriMo writers.

That was a nice touch.

Not so nice was the excitement encountered before my second to last freeway exit. I was about to leave I-75 and head east on Route 35 when the pickup truck two vehicles ahead of me lost something long and thin.

Did you guess it was a garden hoe?

They must have been landscapers. I hope the perpetrator saw it happen and secures all tools better in future. It’s hard to say (and here’s my holiday memory). My older brother once lost a Christmas tree off the bed of his truck and didn’t notice. He pulled over upon realizing Mom and I were no longer following him down that country road.

Then it occurred to him he shouldn’t have been able to see out the truck’s back window. Heh… Good times.

Anyway, that hoe tumbled end over end through the air. The car ahead of me almost drove off the freeway. I’d like to congratulate him or her for quick reflexes and skillful handling. Thank heaven that stretch has a wide shoulder and nobody was tailgating for a change. My swerve was much less dramatic, the hoe having come to a rest just left of center in my lane.

I can only hope nobody got injured. No northbound traffic backup on my way home indicated a major accident, at least.

Have you ever drank matcha?

PS The Catfé was out of chai (!) and so I tried this green tea powder suspended in milk. I cannot recommend the beverage, whose aftertaste I found cloying, like muddy grass. Ugh…

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A Drippy, Dreary Day & This Writer’s Joy

The first half of my title sort of says it all about the weather. I’m not complaining. This is perfect for cozy writing time, hence the joy. To be honest, though, there is no imperfect weather for me to write except in the case of an active local tornado season.

Back when we lost power from a hurricane blowing through the Midwest one autumn I wrote with pen and paper. These days I have the option of using my offline AlphaSmart3000, a unit once no doubt used in a library or school (there is a number written on the bottom, I presume so a teacher or librarian could keep track of their devices). That brings me to a question.
 

Distraction Free!

Should I set aside the laptop, brave the rain, and take my AlphaSmart someplace bright and cheerful where I can people watch?

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Opening Scene – Setting the Tone for ‘Awakening Arick’

In an unprecedented decision, I’m opting to share the beginning of my story written yesterday. The following is around 570 words, so don’t feel obligated to read the entirety. It does include mild profanity (the… uh… opposite of heaven mentioned twice in the first sentence). Hope you’re having a good Friday!

Snippet:

“Lita, where the hell have you been? Why the hell are you limping?”

“Nice language, Ben. Here’s your beer,” I said, plunking the six pack on his kitchen table. “I think I sprained my ankle.”

“You’re such a klutz.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” I waved a backhand over my pained leg. “But this wouldn’t have happened if you had come to my house like I wanted. The fridge is stocked with all the beer you can drink.”

“I’ve told you before, Lee. I’m more comfortable in my own place.”

He still didn’t honor my request for even so simple a thing as not using that stupid nickname. I shook my head and closed my eyes. This rundown apartment in a smelly tenement was all he could afford. The clutter could be helped but he junked his place up the second I finished tidying. He cracked open his third or fourth can of Bock.

“Besides,” he continued, “nobody told you to walk to the store.”

“It’s around the block, Ben. For crying out loud. And I wanted to clear my head.”

The man had the nerve to snort. I could almost hear his standard joke about there being nothing in my head to start. Purse in hand, I pulled out my car keys. He blinked at my hobble toward the door.

“Where are you going?”

“Where I’m more comfortable.”

“Where’s that? Your fancy house in the country?”

“Anyplace you aren’t, Ben. I’m done.”

At least he had the grace to gawk. I shut the door on his fat grimace.

Not for the first time, I found myself grateful for never having given him a key. Of course I had his inferiority complex to thank in part.

“Funny,” I muttered to the worn stair treads, “he never minds me earning more money when it comes time to pay the liquor bill.”

Ascending to the ground floor hallway, I looked up in surprise. An aged woman stood with a little dog at her feet, clapping her hands. The light smacks wouldn’t carry far. Her bright smile would show on satellite.

“It’s about time you left that no good bum. You ever notice that he only drinks the cheap stuff when you’re not around?”

I blinked at her. She had a point.

“You deserve someone who doesn’t take you for granted.”

“Thank you. I agree.”

“Good luck, my dear. I hope to see you around sometime. Now go find a good man. Or woman. Maybe a parakeet. Anything would be better than Ben Transon.”

In my mind I pictured the attractive fellow who caused my misstep leaving the market. He didn’t so much as glance in my clumsy self’s direction but I saw the way he looked at a woman who might have been his grandmother. He held her bagged groceries while she got situated on her powered wheelchair, then he secured them in the attached basket and made sure she crossed the street safe before going on his way.

Ben couldn’t be bothered to carry his own booze. On that note, what was I going to do with all that beer I’d bought in an attempt to lure him over? Over every season, Bock came out with some limited edition brew. A summer shandy took up refrigerator shelf space next to this autumn’s pumpkin spice.

Reaching my car, a solution occurred to me. Of course! My friend Nan invited me to her neighborhood block party.

Those were always BYOB affairs.

~

I’m always curious as to whether the occasional use of italics, especially in dialog, is distracting or useful. I guess you can tell which way my opinion leans.

What do you think?

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November Again

Hope You Had a Happy Halloween!

Hard to believe the year is coming to a close. Time moves so fast since I left the workforce. I’m blessed to have so much time to write for my enjoyment.

On that note, November means it’s time for National Novel Writing Month. I believe this is my eighth year of participation. The goal is to write fifty thousand words before December rolls around.

To be honest, I almost didn’t sign up this year. I wanted to work on unfinished tales from my series. There are so many project ideas resulting from prior writing challenges (I also wrote fifty thousand words for ‘Camp NaNo’ in both April and July).

A friend changed my mind. It will be his first attempt, and he told me he looked forward to my encouragement.

~gulp~

How could I back down after that? So, I am setting aside my beloved series and plan to rewrite something else started many years ago. Back then inspiration came from another writer’s original characters shared, of all places, on a fanfiction website (now defunct). I wanted to finish his or her story, in fact.

But this talented person (whose interesting pen name was DonkeyJaws19) was nowhere to be found to ask permission.

Thus, a very different original tale came into being. Today I’m going to start fresh on ‘Awakening Arick’, a tale of magic and love, adversity and discovery. Arick is a very special young man with no clue as to his potential.

First, I need to clean my two fresh water aquariums. It should have been done a week ago. If I start writing now there is a good chance the chore will be postponed yet another day.

I can’t have that. Guilt is weighing my mind as it is. But once I get moving the whole process only takes about an hour.

Wish me luck on the challenge. Should be fun.

Do you keep fish tanks?

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Do Not Disturb – or – Another Reason to Love My Life

The other day I lamented about my spouse bringing home some groceries other than what I requested. Since that post started to get long, I decided to edit out some of what I wrote. This is both a defense of him and, of course, another expression of gratitude.

What’s not to like about a guy who tolerates my obsession with Palaye Royale (see below)?
 

A Boy and His Dog, Because I Can...

For starters, let me tell you he used to call me whenever a question arose regarding my shopping list. For years I counted on at least one telephone call whenever he went solo. This is no longer the case.

I think two reasons come into play.

The first is that my cheap Tracphone often jumps to voicemail before I have a chance to pick up a call, so there’s a time lag in communication. Also, he knows I hate interruptions when writing and subscribes to the (doubtless now frowned upon) old adage: Happy Wife, Happy Life.

There is an underlying tease between us that I’m no fun to be around when I’m grumpy. Who is? Ultimately, he wants me to live a life of peace and comfort. I feel the same toward him.

The bottom line is about respect in our relationship.

I have mentioned to him that it might be best he just not buy a product when in doubt, but I am not going to full-on berate him for taking chances. It’s rather appreciated when he steps up and makes a choice without a consult. Too many times we have gone back and forth on where to dine, for example, neither of us willing to make a decision.

So now I’m going to heat up a soggy, cheese filled soft pretzel stick and not complain. At least I won’t be hungry for a while.

Do you dread or enjoy grocery shopping?

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