Bleu Moon

Furbaby pictures. Let’s see, what is his most recent antic? Oh yes. I made the mistake of leaving some semi-pricey chocolate peanut butter ball things from Fresh Thyme on the kitchen counter overnight. There were 2 left in the bag when I went to bed. When I got up, one was on the floor with tooth marks in it. The other one was nowhere to be found. I still don’t know where it is.

I am pleased to report that when my daughter’s aquarium frog got out, he didn’t murder or maim it. I actually found the frog because of him. It was sitting on my sandal and Bleu was looming over it. Otherwise, I probably wouldn’t have noticed it was there. The frog is not really supposed to be out of the water, so I’m not quite sure how he made it so far away from his tank. Now, every time I walk through the house at night, I’m afraid I’m going to step on the frog.

Anyway, here are some pictures of buttface.






Writing Updates

Despite the fact that the cold is making me want to hide in bed until spring, the writing is going pretty well. There are times that I feel like I’m just spinning my wheels, but I am making progress. I’m working more consistently than usual, which is good.

The current project is a rough draft for the sequel to the middle-grade book that’s coming out near the end of February. The first book in the series is currently in the hands of final proofreaders. I have vowed to touch it no further, except for book formatting, etc.

I’m actually launching 2 series next year: one for kids and one for adults. Did I mention that before? I can’t remember. The series for adults is going to have Gaiman-level weirdness and Evanovich-level attitude, both things that I love, so I’m really excited about it.

I also found a book that I forgot I wrote last spring. That’s normal, right? To forget you wrote a book?  That one is a kids’ book but not part of the series. I think it needs some intensive rewriting, so I might put that release off until I get both the series rocking and rolling.

And now, here is a selfie I took with Bleu. He tried to eat a cookie through a ziploc bag the other day. That incident is not pictured.







Hey, what’s up? I have pictures of things. Last week, the boy was at Boy Scout camp all week. The girl works all the time and the husband often takes evening naps. That left me with a crazy amount of alone time. Most of that was spent playing Skyrim (ESO online, which is not technically called Skyrim but I call it Skyrim anyway) and hanging out with the animals.

The in-house animal population currently consists of Sneaker the cat and Merlin, the girl’s bearded dragon. There’s also a fish (the Captain) but he’s in my daughter’s room, therefore not in a location to be good company.

I feel bad for Merlin. He hangs out in his cage and sleeps a lot. He really likes snuggles, and I think it makes him sad to be alone so much. Yes, a lizard enjoys snuggles. He curls up like a little, scaly cat, and falls asleep on a person or near a person. It’s pretty much adorable.

Not only does he like snuggles, he enjoys watching trees. I got him out one night to feed him and decided to give him a window seat.

Then Sneaker came in and started nosing around his chair. She knew he was up there, so she didn’t want to actually jump up onto the chair. I got her a chair of her own and put her on it. This was the scene.

They hung out in this way for about half an hour. It was strange and funny and made being almost alone a bit more tolerable.

Current writing status: making notes for a book/novella that I should not be writing at this moment because I have other, more important things to write. Writing is the most fun when I feel like I should be working on something else.

RIP Maxwell

My furbaby died last Saturday. If you’ve been reading the blog for a while, you probably know who Max is/was. This is him.


One day a long time ago, a cat that belonged to a friend of mine had kittens. We saw these kittens when they were a few days old if I remember correctly.

They weren’t really of petting/holding age yet, but I do remember kneeling next to them to inform them how adorable they were. One of them broke from their little kitten group and started crawling toward me.

I didn’t think anything of it until a couple of months later, my friend brought me that kitten in a shoebox.

I did not request said kitten delivery, but I took it, nonetheless. I thought he could be my daughter’s cat.

That didn’t work out because she was a toddler and her tendency to carry him around by his head may have resulted in a lack of interest in wanting to be her cat.

So, he became mine.

It’s amazing just how much of my life involved him, my routines. Part of me still expects him to show up at certain times or whenever I do certain things.

I sit at the kitchen counter. He’s supposed to sit on the stool next to me and beg for my food.

I sit on the floor in my closet to put on my shoes. He’s supposed to come in and walk around like he just casually showed up, even though he’s there for a hug.

I go to bed. He’s supposed to sing his cat song and bring me his toy mouse.

I work at my desk. He’s supposed to curl up underneath.

But he doesn’t do that anymore, because he’s gone.

And I feel selfish for wanting these things because he was sick for two long years. I also feel guilty because if I had taken him to the vet a day or two sooner, he might’ve lived a little bit longer.

I’m looking forward to the day that my memories of him are fond and not just thoughts that make my heart sit heavier in my chest. I want to stop having to remind myself that he’s not coming back, that I am minus one furry shadow.

I am feeling a bit better about the whole thing, not perfect, but better. I have our other cat, Sneaker, to sort of keep me company.

As far as the future goes, I don’t plan to seek out another cat. That usually isn’t how we end up with pets. If I get another cat, it will probably be the one that shows up in my yard or some other delivery method, courtesy of the universe. Maybe I’ll get lucky and a reincarnation of Max will find me.


Gratuitous Moo


Things Believed by Max the Cat (right)

The dog has wronged him in some vile, unforgivable way, and she absolutely must be smacked directly in the face at every opportunity.

Midnight, every night is the perfect time to sing the song of his people as loud as he can.

Every time is snuggle time, unless you happen to be the dog. And if a person resists snuggle time, persistence is the key.

No matter what is in the can being opened in the kitchen, the contents belong to him. He would also like to receive them five minutes ago.

Paper is for sleeping on.