The Day SKYNET Failed

Okay, I'm not one to point fingers, nor am I apt to be a hypocrite.  As such, if you hear me say "Get off the Internet and you'll get more accomplished," you can bet I'm talking about no one else but Me. Number One. Numero Uno. MyOwnSelf.  Alas, as hard as I try, I am a Facebookaholic.  I post something, then I can't help but run back and see if/how other folks liked it, particularly if it has to do with my 3-G Network (Ghoulie, I Am Grooty, and The Grimmy Beast).

Then SKYNET failed.

Sometime yesterday afternoon our router self-destructed.  SKYNET might think it has control, but when the hardware bombs... HA!  The Husband (Weston Ochse) futzed with it and futzed with it, and finally today declared the router deceased.  So off to Best Buy we went, where we also finally admitted that our five-year-old modem was pretty decrepit.  We then came home and he set about reconnecting us to SKYNET, er, the Internet.

But I just want to point out what happened when my hands found themselves not attached to a keyboard this morning and afternoon.

 For three years I have grown various and sundry herbs in the screenhouse I built while The Husband was deployed to Afghanistan.  Year after year, fall came and went... and with it, those herbs.  They dried up and crumbled away, save for the few times we went out and used bits and pieces for whatever we-- okay, not usually me, I seldom cook-- were making.  Most of the time it was basil to throw in pasta or on a pizza.  Occasionally we'd use some of the lemon thyme.

But without the keyboard hoarding my fingers... voila!

Now drying in Ye Olde Laundry Room:

Basil
Italian Oregano
Garden Sage
Pineapple Sage
Lavender

And what to do with all the lavender that was too small to hang?  Make something I'd been meaning to ever since I planted it:

Lavender Butter!

And hey... let's make it really interesting.  After all, it is Halloween Season, right?

 Thus I give you Skull & Crossbones Lavender Butter Pats (presently shaping up in the freezer).

Happy Halloween!

Beating Up the Boogeyman

So back in July, The Husband (Weston Ochse) and I were Guests at the 2016 Scares That Care convention in Williamsburg, Virginia.  (Yes, I know-- I should've done a little better about that on this here blog, but I did, at least, promote it on Facebook. Anyway.)  We had a great and grand time hanging out with east coast friends we don't get to see that often, given the way the airlines [insert unmentionable word here] people who try to travel across the country.  But that's a rant for another time.

Besides the normal drinking and eating, we did a lot of fun things at Scares That Care, including getting to attend a wedding held in the lobby.  But we spent most of our time in the Celebrity Room, offering our wares (in our case, books) to people and gawking at all the stars.  The Husband even got to meet one of his movie idols, Diane Franklin.  And yes, the first words out of his mouth were "I had such a crush on you!" (::snicker::)

Most of the time The Husband was around, supervising and pestering me.  Eventually he had to go to the restroom.  That, of course, is when I finally struck.  I told Kelli Owen, who was sitting next to me, "I'm going in."  And I headed over to use my old and trusty martial arts skills on the Boogeyman himself.

Okay, so maybe I didn't exactly take him down, and maybe, MAYBE, I squeaked a little when he grabbed me.  But I had courage, damn it!  COURAGE!  And hey, I can still throw a good jab and do a decent front kick.

Didja see the SIZE of that guy?

Special thanks to Kelli for catching the big battle on her phone.  And y'all think about attending and/or donating to Scares That Care.  It's a wonderful, all-volunteer charity organization that picks three deserving people per year to help out.  Check out their website and you'll see the enormous extent of their sheer awesomeness. 

StokerCon 2016 Schedule - Viva Las Vegas, Baby!

Yes, I've been a bit absent.  In all honesty, I spend too much time on Facebook, which is where you can zip to if you want snippets of daily life-- pictures of flowers, bugs, the Three-G Beasty Babies Network.  I blame two of them, the boys, the boys, for keeping me busy-- they've been fighting.  But that's a post for another time.

So here I am in Las Vegas at StokerCon 2016.  I look at The Husband's blog, and of course, he's posted his schedule.  Gee, do you think I should do the same?  Uh...

Saturday:

10:00 A.M. - Panel: THE HORROR OF ROMANCE (Red Rock 4)

11:30 A.M. - Library of the Dead anthology signing (Dealers' Room)

3:30 P.M. - Signing (Dealers' Room)

7:30 P.M. - Bram Stoker Award Banquet (I'm presenting the award for Short Fiction with Michael Marshall Smith)

That's it -- a nice, light schedule this time. Stop me and say hi if you're there!  And if I've never met you in person, don't be afraid to tap me on the shoulder and say, "Hi! I'm XXX from Facebook!" (or just re-jog my aging memory.

VIVA LAS VEGAS, BABY!

Up to Date!

Yes, believe it or not, I have FINALLY gotten my website links up to date.  You can poke around and see it all on the right side, under "Links".  Because of Blogger weirdness, you should open these in a new tab or window (Right Click, then choose your preference).  It's all there -- where  I'll be (appearances), ebooks, even the big ol' Short Stories page has not only been updated with publication info, but where you can find the story.  There's even a free one in there, if you dig around.  Nope, not gonna tell you-- you gotta go visit.  Check it out!

Live in the Moment

I'm on a roll here!  Yes, I did another guest blog for Women in Horror Month, this one at the request of J.G. Faherty.  It's called Live in the Moment, and it's all about when not to write.  You can find it here.  I'm always interested in your thoughts, so feel free to let me know what you think of it!

A Woman's Time

February -- already -- and it's Women in Horror month.  Yep, I'm one of those.  I've written a couple of blogs to celebrate, and the first of those came out today, on the Grey Matter Press site.  It's called "A Woman's Time," but it really applies to everyone.

By the way, the fine folks at Grey Matter Press are publishing an anthology called PEEL BACK THE SKIN, which will be out in June of this year.  Included in the stellar lineup is a particularly nasty story I wrote for them, called "Superheated."  This is an anthology you don't want to miss.

On my list of Things to Do is "Blog Posts: Personal."  I'm going to get better at this, damn it!

Tight Little Stitches in a Ghoulie's Head

This is our poor baby Ghoulie Bug, with the addition of 5 stitches in her head, various nicks and cuts, and 2 more stitches in her lower eyelid. Although Grimmy did this, the blame falls squarely on me. I knew he had food aggression since the first week I was home with him and he growled at me when I tried to add a forgotten pill to his bowl after he'd started to eat.  I've been working with him on this and have finally gotten him to where he will tolerate me petting his head after he has his food bowl without growling (a growling 160 lb dog is a scary thing, let me tell you). This does not, of course, extend to dogs, and I know that. It's not an issue, as by the time Ghoulie finishes her food, Grimmy is licking an empty bowl and no longer feels protective about it; Groot eats inside. 

Grimmy has been having some digestive issues, so the vet started him on meds; alas, they upset his stomach.  He yarked up his breakfast yesterday in 3 portions, but the heavy dose of meds had already been given so I figured he wouldn't throw up again but he would definitely be hungry at dinnertime.  He surprised me by picking at his food and finally trying to upend the bowl (like Goblin used to do when he wasn't hungry-- it's like an attempt to "bury" it).  What didn't register in my brain was that if he wasn't eating, this meant Ghoulie would finish first.

I went inside and checked on Groot; he's an anxiety-riddled pup, so with me on the patio, he stopped eating and came to the window.  With me inside, Grimmy started trying to bury his food instead of eat it.  I ran back out, then back in; Groot finally finished his food so I headed back outside. But I didn't make it in time.

Ghoulie is a good girl and she doesn't sniff up to another dog's bowl, but her path to head onto the rocks and go potty took her too close to Grimmy.  He perceived her as a threat to his food and attacked.  I didn't see the whole thing-- Wes started bellowing and grabbing at the doggy door (there isn't enough space between it and the patio door for him to get through) and I leaped through the space.  I caught a glimpse of Ghoulie crouching and heard the horrible snarling that any dog owner knows has gone way beyond the warning phase.  Then I was outside but Grimmy had, thank God, already stopped and was back over by his bowl.

My heart breaks for our blind Ghoulie baby when I think how terrified she must have been, trying to defend herself against a dog she'd thought was a housemate and not understanding the reason for the attack.  She's fine now, all stitched up and calm, with the All-Seeing Eye of Mommy firmly following her every move.  But my heart hurts for Grimmy, too.  I don't know what happened to him in the time before we got him to make him so afraid that someone will take his food away.  Was he underfed and hungry?  It's hard to imagine that, given his size, but it's a definite possibility.  Was there another dog in his original home or at some breeder's, one that chased him away at feeding time?  I read from his records that when he was turned over to a shelter in San Antonio, Texas at about seven months old, he had to immediately undergo surgery because he'd eaten a can of cat food.  You read that correctly-- a CAN of cat food, not just the food.  I think it's a valid speculation that whoever owned him didn't want to bother with the expense of the surgery.  He lucked out when San Antonio Great Dane Rescue stepped in.

Can a dog be sorry for something he did, immediately afterward?  It's interesting that after the chaos stopped-- we got Ghoulie inside, dosed her with hydrogen peroxide, and got the bleeding to stop-- I went back out on the patio to check on Grimmy.  He was like a different dog.  Wes's deep-toned shouting broke up the fight before I could get to it; although Grimmy is deaf, he feels sound vibrations and reacts to them-- shouting, barking, my overly loud sneezes.  He was contrite and submissive and kept running back and forth from his bowl to me.  This morning?  He still doesn't have his usual appetite, but after watching me carefully as I stirred his food to moisten it, he was totally okay with me being there... even to the point of not batting an eye when I repeatedly took his food bowl out from under him (as I kept hand-signaling that he was a good boy) and sprinkled little bits of Parmesan cheese on it to entice him to eat.

So here I sit, typing away while all three Danes-- the Beastie Boys and Ghoulie-- are sound asleep in my office.  They aren't cuddling, but they aren't avoiding each other either.  Ghoulie, bless her grumbling little soul, seems to hold no animosity toward Grimmy.

Maybe we should all be a little more like dogs.

Forgiving.

(Inspiration for the title goes to Joe Lansdale, who wrote a terrific story called "Tight Little Stitches in a Dead Man's Back.")