Blog Archives

Whine or Wine? Writer's Block

4/28/2015

Why whine about writer's block when you can wine?

My cousin recently stopped by the house and presented me with a most fabulous wine: Writer's Block! My writing gets blocked from time to time and a little wine gets the words flowing again. (And whining feels good, too!) But I had no idea there was a vintage by this name or with a picture of the Bard on the label. Uber cool!

And on a related note, I'm happy to announce that I gave birth yesterday to a twenty-one chapter, 55K word book, revised and polished and just about ready for beta readers. Book and author are both doing fine and I'm in the process of cleaning it up (i.e. formatting it for submission). It's a YA novel titled The Simon Sylvestri School for the Supernaturally Challenged.

Cheers!

0 Comments

Remembering Goober

4/10/2015

0 Comments

Goobs: 2011-2015

Goober shared a spiritual kinship with Marley the dog in the movie Marley & Me. Both dogs were high energy, prone to destruction and ate what they chewed up. Marley passed everything he ate, often in very bizarre poops. Goober was not so lucky.

After two previous obstruction surgeries and a serious restriction on the type and brand of toys he could play with and how long he could stay unattended in the yard, he swallowed something yet again that stopped him up. Each surgery and post-op care ran over $3K. We just couldn't justify putting money we didn't have into a dog that wouldn't stop eating what he chewed. Our other dogs would have chewed a muzzle off of him. And keeping him caged 24/7 would have killed his spirit.

So we had to say goodbye.

If there was an opossum in the yard, Goober had to hunt and tree it.

He completely dismantled and ate a large wooden hot tub, but ironically was never obstructed from that.

After the hot tub was destroyed, he started on our wood privacy fence and would rip boards off with his teeth, chew them up, and then escape the yard for a high adventure of running willy nilly through the neighborhood. He could do this in less than ten minutes.

Until he was three years old, he'd grab a corner of the couch or a chair cushion and rip it apart. Anything we didn't want destroyed had to be kept out of reach. He eventually grew out of that and stuck to his vet-approved toys.

He showed up on our doorstep when he was 6 months old. Thin, no collar. I put an ad on Craigslist, but the one person who answered it had lost a basset hound.

He was quite a popular fellow at the veterinarian's office. Everyone loved Goober.

He taught me to never name a dog anything that rhymes with No. Our first name for him was Bo. And because he thought I was constantly telling him no, no, no, his behavior was less than stellar. After his first surgery, we changed his name to Goober and his behavior did a 180 degree turn overnight.

He loved to cuddle. He weighed 37 pounds when we took him in. He reached 65 pounds at full growth, yet he'd still climb up in our laps to be held.

He'd lay on the bed with me and hubs on Sunday mornings and rest his snout on our arms.

He was a fabulous watchdog barking ferociously at people and other dogs through the front window. No one would ever have dared try to break in with Goober on watch.

He loved people, but detested other dogs. The only dogs he ever got along with were our older pitbull Moxie and our newest dog Luna, a border collie mix.

He loved to play. He'd get a wild hair and go dashing across the yard in huge figure eights, running like the wind. Sometimes his back feet would run faster than his front feet.

He did not like the swimming pool.

He adored our house sitters.

We taught him to "speak" on command. He'd woof when I held a hand to my ear and get a treat.

He'd loved everyone's food but his own.

Every night you could set your watch by him when he'd want to go outside and patrol the perimeter at eight o'clock.

He wrestled with a raccoon once under the historic cottage in our backyard.

He would not come in from outside when called.

He liked to kiss and would sneak a little tongue if you weren't careful.

Goober--also called Goobs and The Goobster--was just a big galoot with an even bigger heart. He taught me patience and tested my commitment.

Rest in peace, sweet boy.

0 Comments

Whine or Wine? Writer's Block

Remembering Goober

Archives

Author

Categories