And Now She Walks with a List to the Left

Early last spring Emma, the eldest, the happiest, the most easy-going, and perhaps the best loved of the too-many dogs, got a cancerous tumor in her throat. But she made it through the summer and winter just fine.

Last week she ran outside but stopped, and I saw her through the window moving back and forth jerkily, like a video-game character stuck in a corner. I coaxed her inside, but she could not stand, so I whisked her off to Dr. Dave.

She had a stroke on the left side of her body (she is, after all, almost 14). She's recovered quite a bit now, and gets around okay. She just lists to the left, like a drunken sailor.

But she's happy.

When Internet Friends Become Real

Yes, it's good to meet your internet friends in person. Here is the wonderful Teresa Rhyne, of The Dog Lived (And So Will I).

What Do You Do When You Get Very Good News?

I, apparently, burst into tears so copious and vigorous that I develop a spontaneous nosebleed, my first since Miss Shackleford's seventh grade English class when I suddenly began to drip blood on my desk, thereby acquiring a degree of respect from the seventh-grade boys that my skills in pre-algebra hadn't garnered. Unfortunately I do not notice the nosebleed until I move my arms away from my face, whereupon I discover blood running down my arm and of course all over my face -  the complete vampire effect. I am fortuitously not in public but out of town in a hotel, which requires a bit of dexterity to manage clean-up whilst avoiding getting blood over the fluffy white towels. And I am even more fortuitously am with the world's best mystery fan, traveling companion, and photographer (although she sometimes has her camera on the wrong setting), who, having a perhaps naturally calm disposition and having worked in a vet clinic for years, is completely unfazed by both tears and blood.

Here's to good news and good friends.

Why to Never Trust the "Return to Hertz" Button

Because the "return to Hertz" button on your rental car GPS unit may mean Hertz in Topeka instead of Tupelo. Or Auburn instead of Austin.

Which you may not realize until you look and see the exit sign that says DULLES, when you thought you were heading to the Baltimore airport.

No, this didn't happen to me, and wouldn't, because I always have my route printed out and my laptop with Streets and Trips nearby and if I'm vaguely uneasy about route or direction I pull off and check.

My friend Linda started her Hertz journey in Maryland, then had to drive the 58 miles back to Baltimore. Yes, she missed her flight. (She says she did think the trip to the airport was taking longer than it had on the way there.)

But you gotta love a friend who will tell this story on herself.

We Are Pleased to Report ...

that the author friend who penned the hilarious "Twelve Days of Editor Responses" - which has lines like this: On the fifth day of Christmas my potential editor said to me: "Do people want to read troubling material during troubling times?" (well, we can't all read Twilight) - has happily sold her novel.

Kids Are Too Damned Talented These Days

This is from Emilia Plater, aka Punk Writer Kid. If you don't recognize the masks, they are various agents and writers, well known to writer internet junkies.


There's also a contest involved, if you wander over to Emilia's blog.

My Dog Bites Are Much Better, Thanks

In case you ever wondered, dog bites hurt. They really, really do. Even when from a tiny mop of a dog.

Four days later, the one on the right hand is just a big bruise (I was wearing gloves - I may be dumb, but not stupid). The one on the left arm is a circular bruise interspersed with punctures (maybe I am stupid - the dog reached above the glove). My left arm still aches from the tetanus shot, because I had no idea when I had the last one (for the record, world, I don't need another tetanus shot until 2015, thank you very much).

I think the moral here is not to not do favors by taking someone's dog out mid-afternoon when they are delayed at work. I think the moral is to know when to give up.

I knew this dog didn't like me much - I had taken it out before, but the last time was a struggle. This time I showed up armed with dog biscuits and heavy work gloves. But apparently barking madly at me was much more appealing than the dog biscuits. I tried to reach behind it to put the leash on, and snap! snap! I was done. Vanquished by a little mop of a yapping canine. I didn't quite keel over from pain. But I wanted to.

Instead, I staggered back to the house, wrapped my arm in ice and a towel, and drove to the vet's to pick up Emma, who was having an old-dog-mysterious rash treated.

So now I have the curious satisfaction of having had my dog bite treated in the back room of a vet's office. And it's doing quite well, thank you.

And I won't ever try to walk that little dog again. And hope I have learned when to give up.

But probably not.

If You Ever Want to Know Where Your Day Goes ...

Go to your internet browser and look at your browsing history.

Yow. Yes, I did flit from this site to that site and keep rechecking this other one to see if a change had posted yet.

I love the internet and how easily I can look things up - but yeah, I can skip some of this browsing. For sure. Bet my work output will double.

Writing That Second Novel

It should in theory be easy: After all, you learned to write doing the first book, and its many revisions. You developed characters you're bringing back. You have a contract for it, so you don't even have to worry about how or if you'll sell it.

But in fact, what you do is think: How on earth did I do this the first time?

Here's what a friend of mine said about working on that second book:

I wish future-me could have warned past-me that my self-doubt would get so bad! ... It kills me (I can't write without thinking of all the people who will read it, and what they would think, and thus, freaking out).

In a nutshell, yes.

I had no idea what I was doing the first time. I just wrote. And I wrote fast, because I knew if I stopped to think about it, that parental-inculcated voice in my head would say loudly You can't possibly write a book, and I would have agreed. There was some awful stuff in that first version, and I did a lot of work to fix it. But I had no idea that people would like the finished product. And they seem to.

So now I have to write another book that people like. And have no actual idea how.

Other than try to forget anyone will ever read it, let my characters do what they want, at night lie in bed and think through the plot lines, and in the morning do it all over again.

Until I reach the end.

And then revise, until I'm happy with it.

Other authors out there: What was writing your second book like for you? Any advice? Any regrets?

An Email Exchange That Does Not Engender Confidence

From: SARA HENRY

To: Customer Solutions

Subject: pricing

Date: 23-03-2010 5:34 AM

Sorry to ask such a perhaps obvious question, but I am trying to find out the annual price for renewing my domain name registration with you! Also the cost if I wanted to add email. Thank you!

Date: 29-03-2010

Dear Valued Customer

Thank you for contacting us.

A domain renewal for a .com domain, is around $70 AU a year, but is less the more years you renew for.

Should you require further assistance, please do not hesitate to call us.

Our contact numbers are as follows: [redacted]

Regards,

Mike

eBusiness Support

[REDACTED]- 'Trusted for Online Success'

From: SARA HENRY

To: Customer Solutions

Subject: Re:

pricing CRM:0348004930

Date: 29-03-2010 9:26 PM

Thanks much. I switched to GoDaddy after I didn't hear back from you.

Dear Valued Customer

Thank you for contacting us.

We are pleased to have been able to help you.

Should you require further assistance, please do not hesitate to call us. 

Our contact numbers are as follows: [redacted]

Regards,

Mike

eBusiness Support

[redacted] - 'Trusted for Online Success'

How You Know the Dogs Had Way Too Much Fun When You Were Out

Your folder of important papers, left tidily on a table on one side of the office, is now open and scattered on the floor. And your laptop, left open and running on the desk, is now closed and flat on the floor.

With, ironically, your just-purchased not-yet-opened one-terabyte backup unit sitting nearby.

Miraculously, the laptop still works despite its plunge to the floor, although the CD drive is iffy (under full warranty; no worries).

And all the dogs are looking determinedly innocent.

Why Are These Pants Getting Larger?

I bought a pair of pants recently at Banana Republic. Cargo pants, because I love cargo pants. I love having pockets in which to cram my wallet and keys and cell phone and pen and snack and whatever else seems essential for the current outing. I don't carry a purse, because (1) I would lose it and (2) I think it an extraordinarily odd practice to put all your valuables in one tidy package with a handle that you carry on your shoulder, as if to tempt would-be thieves. See, here are all my great things, in a little bag you can easily grab and steal. It always seemed illogical.

Instead, I have become a human purse. If I'm asked to step on the scales at the doctor's office, I first must download a pile of things from my pockets.

So I was happy to find these pants, of course on sale, because I am both frugal and a writer, two traits that go well together. They fit; they had pockets; they seemed sturdy and were a practical color that would not show stains if I felt compelled to crawl under my car or plunge through underbrush. I was happy.

And then the pants began to get larger. And started slipping down as I walked. I mean, seriously, perilously slipping down. I tried washing and drying them on hot. That worked for a very short time, and the pants got larger again. So now I have to hitch these pants up continuously, or wear a belt, another thing I don't like.

I finally looked at the label and saw the words 98% cotton, 2% spandex, and the dire word "stretch" next to the size.

Who needs cargo pants to stretch? Who knew I was supposed to buy cargo pants skin tight so they would fit me an hour later? In what universe does this make sense? Who expands so much and so quickly that they need their clothes to get larger without provocation?

But now I know to read labels before I buy.

Note: Judging from this photo I found, apparently I was supposed to wear these with cute and impractical shoes. I don't.