Do loops and such

My webmaster (aka husband) renovated my site in the last few weeks. I now have a gallery of miniatures that's easy to access and easy to add to. The link leads to a rough draft that will eventually go on my site.

Looking at the programming he did for the project, I was very impressed. On the other hand, he has it easy! I wrote code for a machine, parts of which are pictured here. The computer is now in the Computer Museum! Imagine carrying that in your pocket or even fitting it on your desktop. I wrote my thesis in experimental physics at a time when the grad student did everything, from doing the experiments and collecting the data to writing the program to process the data.

Every time we ran the data with new numbers, we'd have to compile the program. It's the equivalent of installing Word over and over, every time you want to use it!



Programming is tedious and I wouldn't want to do it, ever again. So this is a public thank you to my resident programmer!

Anyone else able to pawn off the tough parts of your business?

Everyday Is Mother's Day Memory Questions

(Clockwise from 12 o'clock position: me, Meg, Mom, and Jane.)

I'm a little late with this post because my plane didn't get in last night until after midnight. I flew from Miami to St. Louis after visiting with my mother and sisters, and I was pretty zonked!

People often compliment me by saying, "You are so creative." But really, I'm just one of the four creative women in my family. My mom was a classically trained ballerina, and she's always been a whiz at choreography and coming up with dance ideas. My younger sister Jane has done bead-work for earrings, runs her own blog (SleepCompass.com) and loves to decorate, and my youngest sister Meg is an art teacher at an elementary school, plus a font of all sorts of crafty ideas. Meg taught me to scrapbook. All of us are, in my humble opinion, amazing in our own ways, perhaps because whatever one of us doesn't think up the other surely will.

So Meg got this middle-of-the-night idea. She wrote out these questions for all of us to answer when we went to brunch on my final day in Florida:

Meg's Mother's Day Memory Questions

1. Using your 5 sense, what are some memories you recall from growing up:

* Touch

* Taste

* Smell

* Hearing

* Sight

2. Name 1 thing your mother taught you--

3. Name 1 thing you'd thank her for--

4. Name 1 thing you really appreciate that she did for you--

5. Write a quote your mother often says:

6. Describe a memorable event or trip:

Over brunch, we filled out the questionnaire. The answers led to many great memories, and lots of laughter. I asked Meg for a copy of all our responses, and she suggested I take some blanks home. I plan to have my son and my husband fill these out. Jane thought she should have her mother-in-law and daughter fill them out, too. I think it'll be a pretty interesting family map, defining continents of interests, seas of shared values, and mountains of memorable moments.

So, I'd like to hear what YOU think about the quiz. And whether you try it with your family.

P.S. As I flipped over the papers, while I was copying the questions for this blog, I discovered Meg's answer to "Name 1 thing you'd thank her (your mother) for--" and somehow, I'd forgotten or hadn't heard this over our meal. Meg's answer was, "My sisters."

Me Organized?

This isn't the best time for me to be writing about organization. I can hear my husband laughing about the idea. I can't say I blame him. He's wearing a kelly green muscle shirt and red floppy basketball shorts - a sure sign he's at the end of the clean clothes. Luckily, he has a home office.

This past week I've been doing the revisions for A Stitch in Crime and laundry, dinner, even crocheting have all been put on hold. My single focus has been on my manuscript. Well, I did go to the gym almost every day. As far as I'm concerned exercise is a necessity. I think anyone around me would agree. If I don't go for a few days, I get cranky. And I sent in bills that were due.

I always have the intention of being organized. I think about stopping working and then straightening everything up, so it will be ready for the next day. Except I work until I'm bleary eyed, which means I'm also too tired to do all that straightening. And I have a high tolerance for messy papers.

I'm a big nap person, and I'll just push aside all the books, magazines, crorhet stuff and whatever else is on the couch with me and curl around all of it. Maybe getting organized is hopeless for me.

The end of the revision is in sight. Even with the time crunch, it has been intereting since it is my first time using the track markup or whatever its called. I expected to have problems with it, but I ended up liking it. There was another bonus. I have been using WorkPerfect since my firt computer in the 80s and heard that Word was icky. But I had to use Word for the revision. I discovered I like Word and think I might switch to it. I said the end was in sight for the revision, but it's not done so....back to work.

Organization

Organizing

I’ll tell you a secret. I think we’ve gone organizing crazy. There’s a whole industry that counts on us to buy the books that tell us how to store our stuff. Of course, that means buying more stuff, but somehow that’s different.

There is something disconcerting to me about a clean house. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t have piles of old newspapers stacked up in the basement and am not near a Grey Gardens situation. I do love it when the kitchen floor is spic ‘n’ span. But I think neatness is stifling our creativity.

I just spent hours undoing an very organized file of papers. In its own box, with individual folders, neatly labeled. Easy access. Did I ever look at this file since I spent hours fixing it up several years ago? Not once.

I’m the kind of person that can’t deal with things being put away. Take my blender off my counter and I’ll forget I own one and buy a smoothie maker when the mood strikes. (Carol’s recipe: 1 cup milk, 1 frozen banana, 1 T peanut butter. Yum.). My George Foreman grill found a home in the pantry cupboard two summers ago and hasn’t been out since. Same goes for quilting projects. Put that sucker in a cute little box of its own, and it’s forgotten. Out of sight, out of mind.

So a little clutter is okay by me. I don’t want to live in a showroom. I like books around me and thread and unfinished projects. That’s what you see when you walk in my house.

I worry about people whose houses look like something off HGTV. Too neat begs to be left alone. Too tidy means “Don’t Mess Me Up.” That translates to: don’t cook, sew, play with paints, inks or stamps. And that doesn’t work for creative urges.

I need to be able to place my hand on my dictionary or my favorite writing books (current fave: The Fire in Fiction, by Donald Maass. The last chapter will make your heart sing.) I need to fondle my fabric and admire it. I need a place where I can leave out my glues and papers. It does mean walking through a mess at times, but I’m okay with that.

So come on over. The bathroom’s clean, the dishes are done. Just don’t bump into my sewing machine when you come in the family room.

Signs of Sorrow

We KillerHobbyists discussed writing about our methods of organization this week. Since I’m one of the least organized people I know, I wasn’t sure about doing that.

So, instead of focusing on my lack of neatness, I realized that what was more on my mind was a street sign I passed this morning on my way to the vet to pick up more of my younger Cavalier King Charles Spaniel Mystie’s special prescribed food. There used to be one paper sign on its pole about three missing cats. Now, there are three signs on it: that one, another about a found dog, and a third about Max.

Max is a cat who belongs to our backyard neighbors. They rescued Max and his sister, and now have three cats, including Daisy, who is the one most often in our yard--the one both dogs take pleasure in chasing away. I’ve seen Max and his sister there, too.

But now Max is missing. Our neighbor came by to tell us, and to give us his contact info in case we saw Max. Later that day, I saw a cat who resembled Max’s description roaming way down the street, but, no, our neighbors hadn’t given Max a new pink collar, so it wasn’t him.

I saw and heard the neighbor’s pain. It’s heartbreaking to have a pet missing. I think I blogged some time ago about someone else in the area searching for a lost dog that, I believe, wasn’t found. The thing about pets is that we adopt them for the love they give to us, and when they’re lost, that love is missing, too.

Found pets can’t tell us where home is. ID tags help, and so do microchips. But I just heard about one found dog, a lonely-looking Saluki, who was, indeed, microchipped--but the pup was found in Carlsbad, California, and the microchip info suggested he came from the Middle East. The chip had been sold to a U.S. military distributor in Saudi Arabia, so presumably the dog came home with someone in the service--but there was no further information registered with the microchip company.

I’m researching a new mystery series about a pet rescuer. In it, I hope to have some happy endings, at least about lost pets sometimes finding their ways home.

How about you--have you heard of any more happy endings lately?

--Linda

BASKETWEAVE KNITTING

Excuse me for barging in early, but I want to post two pictures and I'm not sure I can do it without help -- and my web mistress is NOT an early riser.

Another thing I ran into at the Quilt Show in Duluth two weekends ago was a yarn booth. I don’t quilt, so you’d think I’d be safe from buying things at a quilt show, wouldn’t you? But noooooo. The woman at the booth was knitting a scarf in this fascinating pattern, and showed me how it was done. It didn’t seem terribly difficult, and it was a very interesting pattern. So I bought a skein of yarn, as that was the only way to acquire the instructions for knitting it. She calls the pattern Basketweave and it took me several tries with scrap yarn to acquire the skill. I’m still not terrific at it -- you can see a couple of errors in the pattern -- but I’ve started the scarf on the yarn I bought which is a fabulous blend of silk, wool and mohair, and a gorgeous color. One thing I didn’t realize until I was well into it is that the backside is a completely different pattern. The pictures here show the front and the back – amazingly different.

We have a bed that is very high off the floor – I literally have to take a flying leap to get up into bed at night. There are drawers in the bottom of it, so you can’t get underneath. I knew I’d had at least one pair of reading glasses fall between the head of the mattress and the headboard onto the floor, so when a paperback I’d been reading went missing, I took a flashlight and peered into the narrow space and sure enough, there it was, out of reach. I pushed the mattress out of the way and squeezed my forearm down between the box spring and headboard and still couldn’t reach the floor. I resorted to a pair of kitchen tongs and came up with the book and three (!) pairs of reading glasses. I didn’t realize that’s where they’d all gotten to. On the other hand, it makes me feel competent to have figured out how to get them back without dismantling the bed.

We’re going up to Cass County this coming Sunday, will be there till Wednesday evening. Look for a report next Wednesday on loons, a German POW camp, the source of the Mississippi River, and whatever else I can learn in aid of Buttons and Bones, the book I’m currently writing.

I took a one-hour lesson in driving, as that is my weakest part of my golf game. I think I came away more confused than helped, but we’ll see next time I play. Meanwhile, I’m going to go hit a bucket or two of balls to see if any of it has matured in my head since the lesson. Whoever thought hitting a ball with a stick could be so complicated?

Speaking of slow learning, I think I’m slowly starting to get the hang of writing a synopsis for film as opposed to a book. Think visually, that’s the ticket. But oh, how much easier is that said than done!

Speaking of visually, I think my eyes have at last started to improve.

A friend and I are planning a long train trip around this time next year and she came over this past weekend and we got out the schedules and maps and timetables and started plotting the stops we hope to make along the way: Fargo, Wolf Point, Cut Bank, East Glacier Park, Spokane, Seattle, Portland, Sacramento, Reno, and Salt Lake City. We figure we’ll be on the rails something over two weeks. If any of you are from one of these places, I hope you’ll come and see us wherever we're appearing, a library, a bookstore, or a needlework shop!

Twist Family

Do you know what the title of this blog means? Neither do I. I found it written on the note pad next to my bed on Sunday morning. No, it's not a note from aliens, but something I wrote myself in the wee hours, the fruit of a disorganized brain. It's a brainstorm I had, about a story I'm developing.

Fortunately, this doesn't happen too often, but when it does, it's frustrating! Most of the time, I can figure out what these cryptic notes mean, even if it says only "The Man," or, as last week, "End with fire."

I've given it two whole days and still nothing comes to me. Could I have been reminding myself to contact Twist Phelan, my wonderful fellow author? Did I think of putting a twisted family in this new story? Was I going for a Dickens thread? I don't think so.

So, here's my offer: a prize for the most creative suggestion about what my note might mean. Who knows? Maybe someone will randomly come up with what I actually had in mind!

How to Make a Difference in an Author's Career--and a Special Offer for You

Last week, Terri suggested we all write about getting our craft organized, but I'm going to just add a few of my best organizational tips at the bottom of this post, because I have something I really want to share.

You, dear reader, have tremendous influence over the career of any author. Especially when an author's career is young. As you might have read or noticed, the publishing world is in a state of flux. Once upon a time, authors were expected to grow and mature over time. They were allowed to build a following. Editors worked with authors extensively to learn their craft. But today, publishing is more like every other industry. The goals are much more short term--and as a consequence, authors don't have the luxury of time to grow an audience.

One of the most important ways you can influence an author's career is simply by writing a review on Amazon or Barnes & Noble. You see, your input really counts. And, when you think about it, if you enjoyed a person's book, don't you want to tell your friends? I know I do!

These online reviews have tremendous power! Here's what Brent Sampson says in his book Sell Your Book on Amazon : "...Amazon recommends products...The more reviews your book has, the more popular Amazon thinks your book is. Similarly, the more five-star reviews your book has, the more valuable Amazon thinks your book is."

So, in essence, you become the bookseller when you write a review on Amazon. I imagine it works the same on Barnes & Noble's site and so on.

How do you write a review?

First of all, I suggest you write it in something MS Word, or whatever wordprocessing program you have first. This makes it easier for you to spell-check, for you to copy the review on more than one site, and for you to be certain your review isn't "eaten" by the computer gods.

For Amazon:

Then go to Amazon, select "Books" from all their products. Type in the name or author of the book you wish to review. Scroll down the page. Stop when you see "Customer Reviews" in orange on the left. On the right of those words, you'll see a small phrase inside an oval that reads "Create Your Own Review." Click on that. It will ask you for your customer information--your email address and your password. If you've never ordered from them, I don't think you can go any further. If you have, and you supply that, you'll be taken to another page. From there, it's pretty self-explanatory.

For Barnes & Noble:

Go to their website, click "Books" and put in the book title. At the bottom of the paragraph of information, there's a spot to click called "Customer Reviews" or something similiar. When you click that, at the bottom it says "Write a review." Click on that "Write a review" and it will take you to a spot to log in. You have to create an account--and then it will walk you through everything you need to do.

Receive a FREE Gift from Me for Taking the Time...

Now...let me sweeten the deal. I know this takes time and you are busy. So here's what I'm offering. If you write a review for either Cut, Crop & Die or Paper, Scissors, Death, I'll send you a small thank you gift. I have some pretty little album kits, complete with stickers and paper. As long as the supply lasts, all you need to do is email me at joannaslan@aol.com, tell me where your review is, and share your postal address.

Okay, back to our regularly scheduled post...

SCRAPBOOKING ORGANIZATION TIPS

1. Buy a labeler. I picked up a small one at Office Max, and I can't believe how much it encourages me to label my storage containers. Mine is by Brother, and uses a variety of thin vinyl tapes. I can change the font size. I'm actually thinking about doing some journaling with it, but meanwhile, it's the best organizational investment I've ever made because now I can see what's in containers!

2. Use one of those multi-chambered craft boxes (like fishing tackle sorters) for your small bits and pieces. And here's a big tip, I use a huge rubber band around each box. Why? Well, sometimes the lids don't close as well as I'd like and you don't want to have grommets and brads all over your floor. Keep EVERYTHING you can in these. If you don't, you'll forget where stuff is.

3. Buy extra-large resealable plastic bags. Keep sets of paper and embellishments in these. In fact, if you use these, you can pull together everything for a page as you work. Sometimes while you are putting together Page A, you find stuff for Page B. Instead of hunting down that cute sticker, those chipboard letters, the phrases and so on again, sort it now.

4. Sort left over paper by color in plastic bags. Before I ever cut a new sheet, I go back to the "old" partial sheets.

5. Sort sheets of letter stickers in 8 1/2 x 11 inch page protectors and put in a big ring binder. It's much easier to flip through them. I don't cut alphabets apart. I want to see if I have all the letters I need for a word without digging around.

Okay, I'll stop for now. What organizational tips can you share?

A Yarn's Tale

This will be a short post. I am in the midst of revisions for A Stitch in Crime which my editor needs by June 29. The good part is that I will be able to send it electronically which gives me up until the last minute.

I loved all the posts about craft economy. My only hint dates back to my early sewing days. I had watched a friend decide to take up sewing. She had to have all fancy tools right away. I don’t even think she ever ended up finishing one dress before she threw in the thread. So when I decided to start sewing, I was worried I’d lose interest as she had. She had been backed by her parents. I had only my babysitting money to use (I was in high school, so this is ancient history). I made a conscious decision to buy just what I needed to make one dress and then if I continued sewing, I would buy one tool with each thing I made. I never lost interest and ended up using everything I bought for a long time. The only things I never could quite afford were really good scissors and pinking shears. I did fine without them, anyway.

Thanks to my blog sister’s earlier posts, I was inspired to go stash shopping. Not as easy as it sounds. At one point I took all yarn I had and arranged it on a couple of book shelf. Arranged it is not quite the right word. More like stuffed it into the shelves. The problem with looking through it, is if I take anything out, the rest of the yarn comes flying out behind it. What I could see from not disturbing the arrangement made me wonder what I’d been thinking. There seems to be a lot of boring beige yarn.

When I couldn’t shove any more yarn in the shelves, I started with plastic bins you can stack on top of each other. They kind of got covered up with some projects I’d actually completed. When I finally uncovered the bins, I found way too many balls of crochet thread. Was it on sale? Or did I just forget I already had some and kept buying more?

Then came the dangerous part of stash shopping. All the plastic bags. No matter how careful I was, they kept latching onto my shoes and trying to trip me. What was inside all those white opaque bags? The wrist warmers I started, but the pattern of which had gotten separated. What size hook was I using? Which book has the pattern? Maybe it would be better to unravel and start from scratch. The partially done shrug at least had the pattern with it, but what happened to the rest of yarn? Again, I was at a loss about the hook size since it was missing from the bag. And I was clueless about where I was in the garment. Another thing for the unravel and start over pile, along with finding the rest of the yarn. I keep vowing to include notes with projects with the essentials like what size hook I used and where I am in the pattern. All good intentions so far not realized.

One really big bag has all the glow in the dark yarn. Michael’s was closing it out and bought almost all they had. How could I turn it down? It was half price and I do use it in A Stitch in Crime. I had visions of making glow in the dark flowers to give away. I could still do that. The book doesn’t come out until March.

Eventually I took a break as the mail came. There was a post card from that new wonderful yarn store I found. They’re having a sale starting tomorrow. A big discount on all their gorgeous yarn. Limited time only. Uh, oh.

Craftonomics

We've been talking all week here at KH about the economy and its impact on our hobbies (and animal family members). Quilting is an art that traces its beginnings back to frugality. Not that long ago, folks made their own bedding. Quilts were made from clothing scraps or feed sacks, and used until they were in tatters. But even our frugal ancestors made quilts just for the beauty of them and used new fabric bought specifically for that purpose. Quilts were utilitarian as well as beautiful, practical and artistic.

First quality fabrics is something I won't skimp on. I learned my lesson years ago. I made a quilt from cheap yardage from a chain store. None of the points matched, none of the seams lined up. The quilt looked off kilter. I bought good fabric and made the same quilt. It turned out great. The good fabric didn't stretch or behave in odd ways. Well worth the extra money. That second quilt, now well loved, is still going strong.

If you can't afford to add to your stash right now, how about trading with your friends? We all have fabric that has been sitting in our closets for too long. Have a fabric swap. Of course, this is good for more than fabric. Patterns, stamps, extra rulers. Set up a date and have a swap party. Everyone brings things they want to get rid of. Go home with something new-to-you.

Our guild has a table of bargains for sale each month. Members donate fabric, magazines, notions and the guild sells them at a deep, deep discount. A dollar goes a long way at this table. Many guilds have booths like this set up at their annual quilt shows. Shop on Sunday, when buck a bag deals saves you even more. If your guild doesn't have this, why not start one.

Many of us have huge investments in our books. Make sure to pass on those you're not using any more. I find it easy to let go if I imagine a new quilter finding the book and enjoying the new-to-her information.

Don't finish projects you've grown tired of, or lost interest in. I know it feels like the economical thing to do, but believe me, you won't hate it any less after you've finished it. Save the money you'd have spent on batting and backing and move the project along to a good home.

But if you're like me, you've got plenty of projects awaiting you. Borrow some DVDs from friends or the library, and start making those quilts you've been meaning to get to. It costs nothing to dig into the sewing room and finish up a few projects.

Despite the Economy, Everything for My Pups

I’ve said often before that I’m most appreciative of being a member of the KillerHobbies blog crew, but I’m not sure I belong. The focus of my mysteries is pets, and they’re family, not hobbies.

That means, no matter what my financial situation, Lexie and Mystie, my Cavalier King Charles Spaniels come first!

Last week, I blogged about how scared I was when Lexie was shrieking because of some unidentified pain. Well, she’s doing great now. I took her to a specialist vet who put her on pain meds, and they worked. She’s off them now and seems fine. My only hesitation about taking her to the vet was concern about what was best for her and when. When it became clear she needed a vet visit, I took her.

On the other hand, I’ve used today’s economy as an excuse to put off some dental work I need. Maybe some other minor medical stuff for me, too. They can wait.

Mystie’s on prescription dog food. We keep her well supplied. No scrimping there, although fortunately the stuff isn’t overly expensive. As to feeding the humans in my family? Generally, I go with whatever has prices reduced, or is subject to a coupon.

Also, these days, I’m less likely to buy clothes or other items on a whim. Doggy toys, though? That’s a different story.

I’m also a bit more cautious this year about expending money on writing conferences and any related travel expenses--although I attended the California Crime Writers Conference in nearby Pasadena last weekend, and it was worth every penny! It was a joint conference presented by the local chapters of Mystery Writers of America and Sisters in Crime, and had several different tracks for people at different stages of writing, plus research into forensics and criminology. I loved almost every session I attended, and I learned a lot.

I’m off next to the Romance Writers of America conference next month, and although there were other conferences I’d love to attend this year, those may be the only ones.

But if my pups need to go somewhere, you can be sure we’ll be on our way!

Think they’re spoiled? Of course!

How about you--how do you spoil your pets?

--Linda

Saving Money on Stitching

I am on the mailings lists of several local needlework shops. I read the cards and fliers announcing sales and find they’re dangerous, because when I get to the shop, I see other items begging to be taken home. If I really have to go to a shop, I find it helps to leave my credit card and checkbook at home. It doesn’t help that all the things I buy I can claim as "research," and make them tax deductible.

Y’see, I didn’t get into this game of writing needlework mysteries because I loved needlework. I have come to love needlework because I am writing a mystery series about it. This came about because my then-editor at Berkley/Prime Crime was looking for someone to write this series. I had just broken up a collaboration with dear friend Gail Frazer, and was at loose ends. It turned out to be a terrific idea my editor had – once I learned enough needlework to make the first book believable. (To this day I am embarrassed to see the several errors that snuck in that first book about needlework – and no, I won’t tell you what they are.)

Anyway, another way to save money on needlework is to substitute the high priced silks some patterns call for with low-priced DMC or Anchor cotton floss. If you miss the subtle sheen of silk, a spool of Kreinik Blending Filament can add a slightly-less-subtle glitter that is very attractive. Plus, you get to work your pattern twice, when you go over it again with the filament.

But probably the best way to save money is to ignore that flier and go into your stash (you DO have a stash, don’t you?) and start sorting through, straightening out, bringing some order to the thing. I’ve been doing that and came across a piece of crewel I’d almost forgotten I had. It’s a bit more than half done, and a very attractive thing. So next time I’m looking for something "new," I’ll get out the sheep in the meadow piece and just maybe get it finished this time.
I spent two days last week in Duluth, at a quilt show. I have given up any ambition to make a quilt on my own; it’s just not something I have any talent for. But I love to go around at the shows looking at the gorgeous quilts. For me, the highlight of the show was a king-size quilt depicting a realistic bear splashing through water. I’m sure I’ve seen a photograph of that bear in that pose, but what the artist in fabric did was cut out thousands – literally, thousands – of one-inch squares and painstakingly stitch them together to make a pixel-ated picture. Up close it’s barely recognizable, but the farther back you stand, the sharper the image. When I think of this quilter with her eyes inches from the fabric, my own cross in sympathy. What an acheivement!

A little hobby is a dangerous thing

My life-size home décor has been described as "early dormitory," with mismatched chairs, inexpensive kitchenware, and posters stapled to the walls. Among the most boring stores to me are the enormous furniture or household emporiums with five varieties of sofas and bathroom rugs. I look at the price of a simple tea kettle and decide I can boil water in one of my three sauce pans.

But shrink everything down to dollhouse size and I can spend many hours and many dollars on that perfect Victorian couch or a really tiny barometer for a dollhouse living room wall.

It's always easy for me to pass up clothes for myself, also, but I'm a pushover for an adorable pair of jeans, 2 inches long, or a winter cap made from the fingertip of an old woolen glove.

I made a trip to Shellie's Miniature Mania in San Carlos, CA, about a month ago, with the idea of setting up a signing. I did that, but I also found the tiniest kilt, the most amazing 1/32-inch paper clips, and other items that I had to have, including lots of guns. (It's always fun to ask a crafts store owner: "Where are your weapons?")

You have to love miniatures stores. Where else can you spend hundreds of dollars and walk out with everything in one small bag that fits in your purse? (Okay, jewelry stores, but I'm not really attracted to them!)

What else am I'm willing to do/spend for my hobby? Much like Joanna, in her great blog yesterday, I have lots of travel-far-and-wide stories, detouring for a miniatures show or shop.

Once I spent a whole day's per diem from my employer! I was in Chicago on business. I'd heard so much about the Thorne rooms, but never seen them. I was disappointed to learn that Art Institute, where 68 of the rooms are housed, was clear across the city from the hotel where I was staying.

After work, my colleagues headed for happy hour and dinner; I got in a cab and spent my entire per diem ($75, a lot at the time) on a round trip to the museum.

The Indianapolis Children's Museum has one Thorne room that I've never seen. If I'm missing at one of the panels at Bouchercon this fall, you'll know where to find me!








The Thorne Miniature Rooms enable one to glimpse elements of European interiors from the late 13th century to the 1930s and American furnishings from the 17th century to the 1930s. Painstakingly constructed on a scale of one inch to one foot, these fascinating models were conceived by Mrs. James Ward Thorne of Chicago and constructed between 1932 and 1940 by master craftsmen according to her specifications.

Join Me Tonight--and What I Did for the Love of Crafts

How do you save money when you craft? That was the question we Killer Hobbies blog sisters posed to each other last week. We intended to bring you a week’s worth of thrifty tips. That quickly changed, as we admitted to each other what we do WITHOUT to spend $$ on our hobbies and pets!

For example, years ago when I first started scrapbooking, there were no LSS’s here. LSS is scrap-speak for Local Scrapbook Store. So as I traveled around the country in my work as a motivational speaker, I’d look up the LSS’s (okay, maybe that should be LSSs without the apostrophe, but it sure looks weird that way!) in whatever area I was scheduled to visit, and I’d plot out how to make it happen. That led to some pretty weird situations. In Las Vegas, I took a taxi to a rubber stamping/papercrafting store. I spent a lovely couple of hours wandering around, buying stuff, and learning new techniques. But…I couldn’t get a taxi to take me BACK to my hotel. Seems they all wanted to stay in the strip. Finally, a customer took pity on me and gave me a ride!

In the Kansas City area, I actually hired a town car to drive me to a suburb so I could shop. Worried by what happened in Las Vegas, I asked in advance how to get back to town. The driver was a sweet older man. He shook his head at my dilemma, told me I might as well plan on walking, and then, he decided to wait for me while I did my shopping! He took his lunch break, loaded me and my purchases up like a dutiful “husband” and drove me back into town. I spent $70 on the ride, an amount I still recall because it was about equal to my purchases. I loaded up on punches, because they had a great selection. At the airport, security demanded to see all the metal I was carrying in my backpack. They'd never seen punches, so I wound up punching little baseball players out of my ticket to prove none of my stuff was dangerous! One security guard called over the other, and before I knew it, I was punching out all sorts of shapes for everyone in the airport!

I’ve decided to go without outfits in order to pack craft supplies on vacation. I’ve carried backpacks filled with heavy supplies rather than do without. Last week at the Great American Scrapbook Convention, I bought two absolutely charming rubber stamps from my dear friend Judith. Check her stuff out at www.stampsbyjudith.com The last thing I need as we pare down to move to Washington D.C. is more stamps, but I couldn’t resist. I bought her lovely rendition of a coffee mug and a water bucket. She specializes in stamps that work together so you can create your own charming scenes.

Yesterday, while at For Keepssake Scrapbook Super Store, I bought a canister of antique-looking Prima flowers. Like I need that! But I do want to work on my heritage albums and they were too cute to pass up. I did take a pass on the die cut chipboard album in the shape of the state of Missouri. Luckily, I need to make another trip to For Keepssake, so I have a grand excuse to buy the album.

No doubt about it, this is an addiction, this crafting bug. But in a world of really bad habits that are life-threatening or annoying to others, this is an addiction I whole-heartedly endorse!

Join Me Tonight--Come Listen to the Interview!

Join me tonight on Blog Talk Radio's MURDER, SHE WRITES with host Sylvia Dickey Smith at 5:00 P.M. Central Daylight Time.

I’ll be discussing my latest book, CUT, CROP & DIE, a Kiki Lowenstein Mystery. If you are a scrapbooker or you love mysteries, you won't want to miss this program.

If you miss the live show, you can tune in later and listen to the archived session.

Tune in to www.blogtalkradio.com/murdershewrites

What's in a Name

I went to Border’s to sign stock of By Hook or By Crook. I can never leave a bookstore empty handed and besides I had a nice 25 percent off coupon. I picked up a dictionary of names and another book that promises more than 30,000 names from around the world. And there was the Edward doll from Twilight. What can I say, I collect odd dolls and I really liked the book and movie. What else can you call a collection that includes Barbie the detective, Star Trek characters and a Ron Howard doll from Happy Days among others?

I already had a couple of books of names, but they are light weight compared to these new ones. Naming characters is a big deal. What you choose says a lot about their age, background, nationality and what soap operas were popular. When I was writing a picture book for a workshop I took at University of Iowa Summer Writing Festival, I wanted to find a name for my dog main character. He was a dog with an attitude who I was sure would roll his eyes at me if I tried to give him any sort of cutsy name. When I saw Monty in a book of names, I knew it belonged to him.

I was reading the Sisters in Crime Newsletter and Charlaine Harris talked about the care she takes in picking out names for her protagonists. She said she might get other character’s names by thumbing through the phone book, but not her main character. She picks their names to be reflective of their lives. As an example, she mentioned choosing Lily for a character needed a tender name despite her tough, practical exterior.

I wish I could say I had some complicated reason for giving Molly Pink her name. Actually it just popped in my head one day and I knew that was her name. It was only later that I realized I had some kind of unconscious thing for names with color. I honestly didn’t notice Molly Pink, Barry Greenberg or Blue Schwartz all had colors in their names. At first anyway. With Blue as I was writing I realized both her names were colors. Schwartz is German for black. I ended up incorporating the bruise aspect of her black and blue name in the book.

The cool thing about the books I got today is that they have international names, so if I have say a Korean character, I can find an authentic name. It’s also fun to read what the names mean. The name dictionary seems pretty authentic in the derivation’s it offer. Better than another book I have that tries to determine meaning by what celebrities have a particular name. I just have to be careful not to get so enamored in reading through all the lists that I use up all my time.

A yarn update. I started knitting with the yarn that was such a nightmare going from hank to ball. So far, it seems to be very nice to work with. It survived the test of unraveling and didn’t get tangled and I was able to start over with no problem other than being annoyed that I had to start over. I’ll post a picture when it’s done.

The Printers Row Book Fair was lots of fun despite the cold and rain. I am sure glad I brought a sweater, a jacket and an umbrella. A lot of nice people stopped by the table and bought books. Julie Hyzy did another great job of organizing the Mystery Writers of America Booth. Margery Flax from MWA supplied us with brownies and the warmth of her personality. And I discovered an amazing yarn store down the street from the fair.

It should be warmer and dryer this Sunday at noon when I sign as part of the Los Angeles Romance Authors book fair at the Encino Barnes & Noble.

Trip Tips

I've been home about a month, just enough time to reflect on my 3-week, five state plane, train, and automobile trip back East. I started at the International Quilt Show in Chicago, and ended up at the Festival of Mystery in Oakmont, PA. Visits with relatives and Malice Domestic in between. I was in five airports, three subways, five states, three microclimates, sixteen Starbucks. One suitcase.

In case you’re heading out this summer, here are a few travel trips:

• Don't pack more than one bag. Depending on the airline, two bags can cost anywhere from $15-30. Southwest is still free.

• It’s easy to go over 50lbs if you’re traveling with one suitcase and start off at a quilt show. Be prepared to jettison unwanted items. I needed new sneakers anyhow.

• Don’t buy bottled water – fill up the bottle in the gym. You know the place with the treadmills and such.

• Dress for bed as if there might be an evacuation in the night.

• Free wifi is not as available as you might think. All my hotels charged an outrageous daily fee and coffee shops were sketchy. If you can’t be away from Facebook for more than a day or two, you’ll have to get a better phone than I have.

• Some towns are closed up tight on Sundays. I’m looking at you Arlington.

• Despite Joe Biden’s dire warnings, I was in the subway in Chicago, New York and Washington, D.C. and on five fights and never caught the Swine Flu. (Knocking wood feverishly.) Rather, I got where I needed to go quickly and cheaply and never met anyone coughing their lungs out.

• Reunions with long lost friends found on Facebook can be a great way to spend lunch.

• It’s important to have a GPS speaking to you if you have many quick turns in an old neighborhood. Clear skies are helpful too.

• You can eat pretty cheap in Bob Evans.

• Airlines are different. At times I felt like chewing gum might be the only thing holding the aircraft together. Other times, I felt like a pampered pet. I was on American Airlines, Delta, Southwest and Jet Blue. Draw your own conclusions.


• Mom’s is still the best place to be. Tied for first: my son’s guest bedroom. It doesn’t hurt that he has one of my best quilts on the bed.

Worry

As those of you who know me, or have read my posts here, are aware, my dogs are my babies. My sons are both grown and live away from home, but my Cavalier King Charles Spaniels Lexie and Mystie are here for me, and I try to be here for them, too.

I think I blogged a lot about when poor Mystie, now a year and a half old, had some mystery illnesses as a pup that robbed her of feeling hungry, left her in pain and also provided other symptoms that were quite worrisome. Fortunately, a referral to a specialist veterinarian solved the problems, by a special diet and medication.

That’s why we skipped our regular veterinary group and just took six-year-old Lexie to the specialist this week.

One day, she was lying in my office while I worked, sleeping. When she awoke and moved, she was obviously in pain--shrieking. I couldn’t figure out what hurt, and she soon quieted down. The same thing happened hours later, when she visited my husband in his office. I was ready to take her to the vet, but then she went for a long period without any problem. I assumed it could be something like gas pains or a cramp.

Over the next days, she had a couple more of these sessions. When she started screaming, she would keep moving, as if running away from the pain. Then she would quiet down and seem fine. No way could I determine what hurt her. And as I prepared to take her to the vet, the sessions tapered off and seemed to end.

Then came Monday night. The pups sleep in our bedroom, and each time Lexie woke up in the night she would scream and run around as if trying to escape the pain. I would hold her and again try to figure out what hurt, but the areas I’d thought might be more tender one time were fine the next. During a lull, when I couldn’t sleep, I got on the computer to see if I could find a diagnosis. I got some ideas, but of course nothing definitive. I considered taking her to the emergency vet right away, but I really wanted to try to wait for the one who’d been the miracle worker for Mystie.

Fortunately, when I called his office early, he was in that day and had a morning appointment available. We got Lexie there--after one of her screaming sessions getting into the car.

Guess what. The miracle vet poked, prodded, pulled and otherwise tortured Lexie in an attempt to figure out what hurt. No reaction. No shrieks. No indication of any pain.

Of course most of her pain sessions occurred after she had been at rest for a while. The vet said it could be that something was pulled in her back, or she had a pinched nerve, and it only hurt when she started moving after a lull. He sent us home with some pain medicine for her. He also reassured us that, since he couldn’t get a reaction out of her with the various methods he tried, he didn’t believe there was anything seriously wrong.

The medicine seemed to be a miracle cure. Either that, or Lexie was cured by the idea of visiting a vet. Or the ride, which she loved. Since then, she’s walking a bit gingerly but only an occasional yelp of pain, and no problems at all when she starts moving after a nap.

My nerves are still somewhat frazzled, and I keep an eye on her nearly constantly. But this was another of those times that I identified with the protagonist of my Kendra Ballantyne, Pet-Sitter mystery series. Now and then, she wishes she could speak Barklish to converse with the dogs in her charge, especially her Cavalier, Lexie. Over the past few days, I really wished I could converse in Barklish with my Lexie, that we had some better way of communicating so I’d know what hurt her and what caused the pain.

How about you--do you ever wish you could communicate better with pets or other animals? Or... even human beings?

By the way, I recently blogged on Harlequin’s Paranormal blog about my latest book, the Silhouette Nocturne BACK TO LIFE, and will also blog tomorrow on the Nocturne blog. Come visit me there, too! Links:
http://paranormalromanceblog.com/
and
http://community.eharlequin.com/content/silhouette-nocturne-authors-blog


--Linda

Life in the City

Another wildlife in the city report: Day before yesterday I heard some songbirds, robins and finches, going absolutely berserk outside our front window. I finally went for a look. And there on an electrical wire sat a short-tailed hawk looking very grumpy about all the fuss. We’re thinking he came into the neighborhood drawn by all the juicy young rabbits that infest every back yard. He sulked on the wire for about half an hour – the robins (a male and a female) never shut up the whole time, while the finches came and went – then flew into a big tree across the street. An hour later he was back, and the songbirds went back to creating a racket. He lasted about fifteen or twenty minutes this time, then flew off for good. He was a handsome tan bird with an oddly-short black tail.

We have a balcony in our apartment that our cats just love to visit. They become a nuisance in fine weather, always asking to go out – and sometimes they’ll take up a quiet stance under a chair or table and get forgotten out there, which they hate and I’m sure our neighbors don’t think much of either, as they yell to be let in. So we bought a cat door that fits onto the screen of the sliding door off our bedroom. At first they were baffled by it. We took turns shoving them through and became convinced we own two very stupid cats. Then Snaps caught on and now he’s in and out as easily as if he invented the door himself. But Panzi, poor Panzi, still doesn’t get it. She’ll sit and watch Snaps go through, then sit and stare out the screen, hoping one of us will notice and shove her through. I wonder if some of it is stubbornness or some other syndrome because she has, on at least two occasions, been abandoned out there only to turn up in the kitchen in time for supper. We have stopped pushing her through, which makes life easier on the pansies I planted out there this spring. She adores eating roses but if there are no roses around, she will eat the blossoms off pansies.

I am discovering how incredibly simple it is to stitch an argyle pattern in cross stitch. I love argyle, I keep meaning to learn how to knit it. I’m making a bookmark in just two colors, orange and black and debating whether to graph it into a traditional charted pattern or just do it in words, since it’s so easy.

Buttons and Bones is making progress but more slowly than I would like. I’m hoping it picks up speed once then identify the skeleton they’ve discovered in the root cellar.

I learned a whole lot about beer for the forthcoming Blackwork, but wish I’d run across this story while it was still in the planning stages. I could have used this. Meanwhile, I’d sure like to taste at least some of the beverages described here: http://www.scientificamerican.com/blog/60-second-science/post.cfm?id=9000-year-old-brew-hitting-the-shel-2009-06-05

A hobby by any other name

Our guest today is JULIET BLACKWELL, aka HAILEY LIND, author of the art lovers mysteries. Juliet is now the author of Secondhand Spirits, due in July, and the first in the new Witchcraft Mystery Series, featuring Lily Ivory, a witch who opens a vintage clothing store in the Haight-Ashbury neighborhood of San Francisco.

from Juliet:

For many years now, I’ve been turning my “hobbies” into poorly paid professions. For more than a decade, I’ve run my own painting and design studio where I faux-finish walls, paint portraits, and generally having a blast. Lately I sit around the house most of the day spinning tales of mayhem and murder. Even before that, I was an anthropologist, which is almost like a hobby…Clearly I’m not cut out for a regular day job.

So when I set out to guest on this wonderful Killer Hobbies blog, it brought up a question: What are my hobbies? Do I have any --Killer or otherwise-- or do I pretty much turn any attempted hobby into a paying (which is not to say lucrative) gig?

Since I rarely have an original thought – especially on command --I asked my friend Anna whether I have a hobby. She informed me that I was the only person she knew that could bring up, in casual conversation over a nice bottle of wine, the fact that a mummified body was found in a beautiful Mediterranean-style home in nearby Piedmont, a posh section of Oakland less than two miles from my house.

“Most people don’t talk about mummies,” she pointed out. “And they especially don’t go on the internet and search ‘mummified corpse in empty house’,” which is precisely what I did after reading the Piedmont story. (In case you were wondering, there are any number of incidents in which a corpse, mummified not by design but through environmental factors --dry heat is especially helpful-- has been found in a home. Often those houses are empty and the departed apparently died from natural causes and went undiscovered for months or years. On several memorable occasions, however, adult children had been living with the corpse, often cashing Social Security checks and bringing to mind Norman Bates…Mother?Mother!)

Of course, amongst mystery writers this sort of morbid curiosity is a common hobby. Bring up the topic of serial killers at a Mystery Writers of America or Sisters in Crime meeting and you’re in for hours of lively conversation, complete with plenty of true-life, macabre tales.

So this is my Killer Hobby: research. I love it. I adore it. I have to make myself stop doing it in order to actually write books. When I was writing my Art Lover’s Mystery series as Hailey Lind, I got to delve into all sorts of nefarious dealings related to art and art forgery; now writing as Juliet Blackwell, I spend a lot of time reading about spellcasting, vintage clothing, and the history of witchcraft for my new series about a witch with a vintage clothing store in the Haight. (Interested in the macabre? Thumb through the Malleus Maleficarum, or what is affectionately known as the “witch hunters’ bible” for a taste of what the witch hunts must have been like in Europe.)




On the other hand…even research like this can get one thinking about crafts…and I don’t mean witchcraft. While looking for images of talismans, I came across little mini- or pocket-shrines made out of old Altoid tins. Now doesn’t that sound like fun? I wonder if there’s any money in it….

Afterword by Camille/Margaret Grace

Check out this painting by Julie/Hailey/Juliet. I should be so good at a "hobby!"



Painting by Julie/Hailey/Juliet

The Kindness of Strangers

Just break a bottle of champagne over my forehead, will you?

Tonight (Monday evening) is the “official” launch for Cut, Crop & Die, the second book in the Kiki Lowenstein Mystery Series. I’ll be giving a presentation at 7 p.m. at Left Bank Books, 399 N. Euclid, near downtown St. Louis. We’ll be signing books and serving wine and cheese.

I’m debating on whether to read something out of my book—which I’ll probably do—or do a Blanche DuBois imitation, because that’s a bit more honest. You see, lately, I’ve really been dependent on the kindness of strangers.

It began last Wednesday afternoon, when Joe Fox, the 20-year-old son of our dear friends in Charleston SC drove into town. “Joseph, do you have a place to stay?” I asked.

“No, ma’am. I thought I’d just find a hotel,” he said.

“Okay, come over to our house. David and Michael are on the East Coast. We’ve got plenty of room,” I said. “But I might disappear after dinner because I’m heading for Dallas the next morning.”

After Joe and I had fantastic steaks at Andria’s in Chesterfield, it occurred to me that I had no way to get to the airport without my husband or son being in town. So I asked Joe if he could drop me off. I held my breath because despite being incredibly polite, Joe is, after all, not much more than a teenager. They HATE mornings. But the next a.m., he was up with the birds, pulling my big suitcase to his car before I knew it.

At the airline gate, I noticed a friend of mine, Marilyn, who works for Build-a-Bear. We started chatting and walking onto the plane. But my paper boarding pass didn’t go through. The plane was headed for Seattle and I was bound for Dallas-Fort Worth. Oops. I stepped to one side. Then a pilot who watched this said, “Uh, your plane is boarding RIGHT NOW, next gate over.”

I got to my hotel in Arlington TX with only a slight detour. My driver was new to this country, and he got a bit lost.

I was staring at all the six boxes of books I’d sent ahead when couple of nice ladies noticed me in the foyer. “We’re going over to the scrapbook show. Want a ride?” These sweeties actually helped me load books and drove me over. When my bag of trail mix—my lunch, breakfast and dinner—burst open in their car, they were very nice. They helped me make sure I didn’t have a big raisin glued to my butt.

At the show, Sally Slack, the event goddess, allowed me the perfect spot to set up: Right in front of the ladies’ johns and the food court. My table neighbors—Susie Rushing and her daughter Rebekah of GloverStamp.com—loaned me a BIG cart when they heard my dilemma. The next morning, a wonderful taxi driver helped me haul five boxes of books (weighing 40 lb each) and my teaching kits (50 lbs) into the convention center. I have no idea how Arlington TX thinks a convention center works because there are lots of stairs and little/no helpers.

At 8 a.m. on Friday, I taught my first class. We had oodles of fun.

I went back to my table and opened the five boxes of books, 36 per box. My pal Terri Thayer counseled me that she usually sells about 200 books at a convention. I sold 108 in 3 hours, by myself, processing both cash and credit card payments. I use a crayon to rub over the numbers. (It’s low tech but it works!)

Over the weekend, I sold 216 books in total. That's a photo of me and Pat Coates, one of the lovely scrappers I met. I taught 2 classes of 20 people each. I revisited some “old” pals from the scrapbook industry. I met some new friends. Folks who read Paper, Scissors, Death dropped by expressly to buy Cut, Crop & Die. The scrapbookers who bought PSD on Thursday started raving in classes and to their roommates, which drove more traffic to my table. Scrapbookers shared meals with me, reminisced with me, gave me rides, encouraged me, and cheered me on. There are no kinder people on earth.

Monday I’ll celebrate with my book-loving friends and family and author pals here in St. Louis. But the glow I'll wear comes directly from my weekend in Dallas.

Hank and Me

As I continue my discovery tour of yarn, I have found something surprising. Paying more for yarn doesn’t mean it’s going to be easier to work with. I bought yarn at both of the local yarn stores I stopped in. The garnet colored worsted I got to make a shawl came in sort of a twisted hank rather than a ball or whatever the shape is called that Red Heart and Vanna’ Choice come in. With the Red Heart or all the yarn I’ve gotten at Michael’s or Joann’s, you just find and end and begin with your project. Not so with Mr. Hank.

I’ve heard you can use the back of chair to drop it over while you wind a ball. You can use a friend’s hands to hold it while you roll it in a ball, or you can use a yarn swift. I bought one a while ago, but had never used it. It looks kind of like the underside of an umbrella and comes with a twirly thing that makes the actual ball. I tried to put Mr Hank on the swift and threaded onto the twirly ball maker, but instead of turning it into a nice orb, he turned into a nightmare of tangles. I did finally manage to painstakingly untangle the mess and hand roll it into a ball, but luckily I was watching television which at least made the two hours it took entertaining. Of course, I was sure I had done something wrong.

The next day I took the rest of the yarn back to the store where I bought it. I had noticed they had a yarn swift and thought if they showed me how to do it, I’d be home free. Well, it turned out Mr. Hank 2 was all twisted and even with hanging it on the yarn swift the correct way, it took an hour and a half to wind a ball by hand because it had been badly twisted by the manufacturer. I asked the store owner why the yarn came in hanks and she said it was all about marketing. If it were in balls, shoppers would squeeze them and mess up the yarn. So basically it’s for her convenience, not her customers.

I will say that Mr. Hank 3 did work on the yarn swift and flew into a ball in a few minutes. The same for the hank of yarn made from recycled sari’s.

The cashmere yarn I got last week did come in a nice workable ball, which I certainly appreciated.

When I tried knitting with the garnet yarn it seemed okay to work with. I made a gauge swatch for the shawl and it didn’t split or knot up. I figured that was the least it could do after the pain I went through turning it into balls. And for all that effort, each ball wasn’t that big. All three together barely make one skein of Vanna’s Choice.

The sari yarn was a different story. It doesn’t like being unraveled. The threads come loose and become kind of a halo that grabs onto everything around it. I decided simple was best with it and am making a skinny scarf with double crochets on a big hook. Even though it didn’t want to be unraveled, I fought with it until it came undone. It’s kind of embarrassing, but I had gotten mixed up about which side was up on the scarf and started the next row on the side of it. I am pleased to report that after starting over, it is now going the right way. However, when I picked up some Lion’s Brand cotton yarn to make a scarf, I sighed with relief and my fingers flew and any unraveling that needed to be done was a breeze.

I have big plans for the pink cashmere. I found a pattern for a ruffly scarf that should be beautiful. The question is how will it be to work with?

The good part of all these problems is they are material for the next crochet mystery.

By Hook or By Crook came out Tuesday. Berkley does such a great job with covers. The colors of my three book’s covers look so nice next to each other. I already stopped into a Borders in downtown Chicago and signed their stock. Saturday I’ll be signing books at the Printers Row Book Fair at the Mystery Writers of America booth from 1-3. And next Sunday, I’ll be signing books around noon at the Encino Barnes & Noble along with other members of Los Angeles Romance Authors.

Making Bread

Sara Rosett, author of four mysteries featuring a military spouse, recently likened her synopsis to bread dough, saying that it needed to rest before getting one last read. I’ve been thinking about the similarities between bread making and writing ever since.

I’ve just finished a manuscript and am setting it aside for a month. Back in the day, before artisan breads were available at every grocery store, I made a lot of bread. Rye, whole wheat, raisin, cinnamon, challah. I never got bored making bread. Because it’s all about what you add to it.

The thing about bread is that it only has four or five major ingredients. You need flour, you need yeast. The yeast needs sugar to help it along. Oil is added. A pinch of salt. Whether or not you add caraway seeds, or walnuts or swirl in chocolate, it’s up to you.

All books are made up of the same ingredients. Characters. Plot. The leavening agent is the author’s voice. That’s the thing that can make a book rise above the rest. Raisins added might be in the form of crazy subplots, or a flight into another era. Seeds of quirky characters and fun facts pique our interest.

It’s all about what you add to it.

Bread dough is tough. The more you pull it and push it and knead it with your knuckles, the better. Up to a point. If you stop too early, you risk having dough that is not light and chewy. Too late and you’ve got a hard rock on your hands. You learn from experience what that point is. You’ve ground it under the palm of your hand just enough. The bread feels pliable, compliant, elastic. The only way to know is to make lots of bread.

A manuscript is like that too. There are a lot of holes in my manuscript right now. It’s unreadable in fact. But this is my sixth book. I know when to stop pushing and to just let things rest.

Bread needs to rest. It helps if it has an oiled top, is covered with a cotton dish towel and put in a warm place to rise. I’ve done that to my latest manuscript.

Before too long, I’ll pull it out, slap it on the floured board and give it another round of kneading. It’ll be ready to shape into its final form at that point.

The Face-Off

Okay, I admit that my pups Lexie and Mystie aren’t as well socialized as I’d like. They shy away from other dogs that we meet on walks. They acted nervous when visited by my older son’s exuberant Puli, and when my younger son brought a friend over with her two dogs. Still, they both were essentially gracious, though reluctantly so.

We have a large backyard, and both dogs beg to explore it several times a day. That’s partly because neighborhood cats come in to explore, leave their scents, and occasionally kill mice, which I don’t complain about much, or birds, which bothers me a lot.

But the cats who come here seem to have an unwritten rule: When dogs chase them, they run away. They always leap over the fence back into their own yards.

Except earlier this week. One large, fat gray cat that I’d never seen before came into our yard. When the dogs ran after him, he stood his ground. Squatted. Fluffed up his fur until he looked big and nasty.

That scared me. I’ve always had concerns about whether some cat might decide to break their rule and attack. And I wasn’t sure what my dogs would do in the face of a persistent feline that didn’t run. Would they attack?

Fortunately, my pups acted wisely. They barked but didn’t attempt to physically force the cat to leave. I, on the other hand, decided to confront the recalcitrant kitty and get him to go away, so he wouldn’t hurt the dogs.

Hah! He stood his ground with me, too. And meowed in protest at my attempts to run him off.

I immediately wondered--What would Kendra Ballantyne do? My pet-sitting mystery protagonist would have an answer that would get that darned cat outta there fast. She always seems to be able to deal with any problem.

Not I, necessarily. This time, I decided not to attempt to touch the cat, but instead looked for a stick with which I could poke it--gently, of course, but it would hopefully get the idea that I wanted it to move.

I found an appropriate stick and returned to the spot, my dogs barking the whole time. The cat had stalked his way up a hill. He soon headed into a neighbor’s yard, so I fortunately didn’t have to try poking him. This way, he saved face, leaving on his own terms, so it was a win-win situation for all of us.

I haven’t seen him since, which doesn’t bother me at all. A neighbor said he was a feisty old tom cat she’d seen in another neighbor’s yard, also annoying the dogs.

If he never returns, I’ll be okay with it. The other playful cats are most welcome, but not him.

But he, or a counterpart, just might show up in one of my mysteries...!

--Linda

GOLF AND STITCHING

I had my last golf lesson last evening. I should say, it was the last lesson in a set of five I signed up for at my local public golf course. The class got to play on an actual par-three, nine-hole course, though we only played two holes. Our instructor, Matt, is a chipper pro, very helpful and friendly and adamantly, almost obstinately optimistic. No matter how poorly a ball was hit, he’d find something to praise – the swing, the stance, the effort.

I have been going to the driving range and hitting bucket after bucket of balls to almost no good effect. If I had been making the same mistake over and over, I could have done something to correct it. But I topped some balls, struck the ground on others, sliced some and hooked other balls I hit. Once in a great while, I’d hit a good one, but I could no more see what I was doing right than what I was doing wrong.

Then this past Saturday I went over and there was an older man berating a much younger one – his son, perhaps – about his stance. "Bend your knees!" he shouted at him. "Arms straight, lock those elbows!" The hapless young man couldn’t hit the balls any better than I could, and at last the man turned away and began hitting beautiful drive after beautiful drive by himself. Grateful the tirade was over, I took my place on the line and bent my knees, and locked my elbows and by God hit a beauty. And then another, and another. They didn’t go far, only about sixty or seventy yards, but that was twenty yards farther than I’d ever hit a ball. And I could do it almost every time. It was wonderful. I will be forever grateful to that angry man.

And glad Matt didn’t use that method on us, it would have destroyed my pleasure in the game aborning.

My first drive off the tee on the actual course wasn’t too awful, it went straight out for about sixty yards. That was the only good stroke I made, but at least I wasn’t the worst player in the class. My other strokes were merely bad, not disgraceful. One unfortunate classmate seemed to have forgotten everything she’d learned, I think because we each had to take a stroke while everyone else stood and watched.

Now I want to play some more. I want to play all nine holes of the par three. All the way home I thought about the bad strokes and what I did wrong and how I would correct that my next time out. My current set of clubs was purchased for five dollars at a garage sale and included the bag and cart. My woods are made of real wood – they are beautiful, but I need a good driver, one of those titanium things. I don’t know if I’m ready for a better set of clubs; I think I’ll play this summer with these old ones. But if in the autumn I’m still playing, I think I’ll see about getting a nice second-hand set.

Here’s another hint for beginning stitchers. How may times have you been told not to tie a knot at the end of your floss, but to run it under some other stitches to fasten it down? That’s all very well when there are some other stitches to run it under, but what to do when you’re starting out? I tie a knot, BUT then I go down through on the right side of my fabric about eight stitches down from the starting place. Come up from the wrong side at the starting place, and begin stitching. Five or six rows down, snip the floss on the wrong side near the knot and discard the knotted end. Your floss is fastened down by the other stitches. Isn’t that cute?

Yesterday was my thirtieth wedding anniversary. A few more and I’ll have been married half my life. Question: Would I do it again? Answer: Yes.

I’ve been working on three things, not counting my golf swing: The galley proofs of Blackwork, Chapter Six of Buttons and Bones, and the short synopsis of what might be the pilot of the Betsy Devonshire mystery television series. I think of the three the last is the one with two chances: fat and slim, so I’m working hard on not getting too worked up over it. The other two are dead serious. I really like Blackwork, and think it might be one of the best, if not the best, of the series so far, so I want it to be really clean and sharp. And it’s important to get things right in the early stages of a novel, so I’m trying to focus in on Buttons and Bones. So why, when I go to bed at night, do I find myself wondering the next steps would be if I actually got an offer for the television rights?

This cradle won't rock

Since we've been talking about making gifts and how-to's, I thought I'd share a little present I gave to my niece and her husband, who are expecting their first child in August.

This cradle won't rock because it's glued to the carpet. Otherwise, things look pretty realistic, I hope.

Wouldn't you know I forgot to put a ruler in the scene, so I'll have to tell you, the cradle is about two and a half inches long. The container of baby powder in the cradle is less than a half inch.

I added a ball (a balloon from a cake decorating set) and a small piece of red plastic that I hope looks like a rattle or other toy. {This was probably the least expensive scene I've ever created!}

Their nursery colors are lavender and green, so I knitted a small blanket in lavender and have complementary colors in the scene. I wanted to cover both kinds of toy, thus the racing car and the doll. I included a picture of the parents-to-be, and a few books. Mom is an analyst and Dad is a metal worker, both artistic and practical. Mom majored in math; Dad builds custom bicycles. Thus the choice of books.

My favorite moment: when Dad saw the bike book and said, "I didn't know about this book. I'll have to check it out." The book, of course, is just a cover downloaded, shrunk to scale, and glued to a piece of foam. I guess it looks realistic!



Oops, how did that periodic table get in there??

Apprently, to me, making a gift personal includes a little something that represents the giver!

How do you "label" your crafts gifts? Do you sign them? Do you have a little symbol or icon that you put on each one? Something "hidden" that will make it extremely valuable someday??

The Place Where We Were a Family

This week the “For Sale” sign went up in our front yard. A small caveat, “Coming Soon!”, warned folks we aren’t quite ready for prime time and looky-lou’s. What a bittersweet time this is. My son is home from college, leaving half-empty bottles of Gatorade around the house, getting calls at all hours, and constantly asking what there is to eat. My husband is distracted by phone calls from real estate agents, vendors, music institutes, and would-be employees. My sisters phone me with news about my mother’s tests, indicating she has cancer of her lungs, and how we are in a holding pattern until the doctors test her (some more) to decide how to proceed. I sit for hours winnowing through boxes of old documents, speeches I wrote for the executives of Diamond-Star Motors, ad copy I created, ad campaigns and focus groups that I ran, and bits of books and articles which never went anywhere.

On Saturday, David and I finished cleaning our newly remodeled garage. First I photographed the growth chart we made with black marker on one wall. We used that space to note Michael’s first bubble with bubblegum, the one and only baseball game his team won, and finally, “College Bound” which we stopped the car to add the day we set off to take him to school. Grumbling, he agreed to be pulled from the backseat, to stand against the wall, and to be measured against other years’ growth.

The next occupants of this house will find a freshly re-done garage, now insulated, dry-walled and with a painted floor. Plus a new built-in set of shelves. But no growth chart.

And of course, our house will soon be nearly empty of clutter. We tossed enough stuff to fill our SUV twice with items to take to Goodwill. I rummaged through my son’s old Beanie Babies, his crib bumper, and a doll that belonged to my mother. Those things I kept.

When the garage was done, we moved to work in our basement. We have 4,200 feet of livable space, with a lower level walk-out. On this walk-out level are three rooms: my office, a spare bedroom/storage area, a big screen tv viewing room, plus a large open area that used to have a pingpong table, weight set, pool table and pinball game. I worked my way through old storage boxes, looking sadly at Michael’s fingerpainting efforts, his cards to me saying “Mom, I love you more than Dad does!” and photos of pet chameleons which never lived long. We found an old jewelry box that belonged to David’s mother. I insisted that rather than dump the contents we stop and take it to a jeweler. We did. Good thing. There was an old garnet pin inside, which easily could have been taken for costume jewelry. David also unearthed a beautiful strand of pearls, larger and creamier than the one he bought me years ago.

So far we’ve replaced our roof, added bigger gutters, painted the front door, tiled two areas formerly linoleum covered, cleaned the carpets, had paint dings fixed, replaced the old laundry sink I hated with a sink/cabinet combo. I took a break while writing this for David to pull three ticks off of me. Ticks I am sure found me yesterday while we were planting lemon yellow marigolds and red salvia around our mailbox. Or while I planted the window boxes that sit merrily on the banisters of our deck.

About the time I planned to take a break and write, the real estate agent called. She had a young couple who were driving around and asked to see our house. The couple has three kids. David, Michael and I played “beat the clock” finishing up getting the house presentable.

As the couple walked through, I had to restrain myself. I wanted to tell them, “You think this is just a house, but it isn’t. It’s a place where a happy family has lived. A place where we raised my son. Where we laughed and loved and played together. It could be happy for your family, too.”

But I didn’t.