Older & Wiser

I just celebrated my birthday yesterday and I came to realize that my youthful exuberance is gradually being replaced by some old goat with suspenders on his jeans. I have not fallen into the fashion trend of our youngsters and choose not to have my pants exposing my Superman-themed drawers. I think age brings a degree of practicality.

I quit smoking years ago because being cool was not compatible with breathing, climbing stairs and ladders or listening to a nagging spouse spew her disgust endlessly. I quit drinking because my aging body declared an impasse and started yelling, "You quit or I will." My innards still haven't totally forgiven me for pickling them.

I began to remember the good ol' days when I could get away with such shenanigans with no consequence. I was one of those guys that was incensed by having to go outside to smoke. Now the smell of it gags me. The same reaction happens with the smell of booze.

So now, I celebrate having a great family and enjoy the benefits of a fine cup of coffee or juice with the benefit of no morning-after hangover and all of my wits about me, meager as they are. I hope that if you're on the road to wisdom you'd consider what I've said. We ain't gettin' any younger!

Gary

Awaiting the Early Throes of Winter

All-in-all the weather has generally been decent most of the Fall around here, but the weather guy says that's about to change tomorrow or so. Some big blast from Siberia and Alaska is supposed to drive evening temps into the 20's and the daytimes will be just above freezing. So much for easing into Winter.

We can't complain too much. The middle of the country is getting hammered as I write this. The place I visited in July is hovering in the single digits now. It was 103 when I was there and people were scrambling for ways to cool off.

It's no wonder the neighborhood squirrels and rabbits have been out in force looking for food to store. This might just be a long, cold winter. I think I'll follow suit and stock up on hot chocolate mix. I hope the power stays on for Thanksgiving. Frozen giblets just don't appeal to me at all!

Whew, October Sucked!

I can't remember a time when more than one family member went through some sort of medical or emotional crisis within two or three short weeks. It happened this month. It was beginning to feel like we should be dabbing lambs' blood on the front door to have the wrath of God pass over.

It was impractical to consider writing. Things happened too fast. I'm sure that other writers have faced this sort of thing, but have never experienced it for myself until October. My respect for these colleagues has grown immensely.

I noted that my escape has been through writing. When that is not possible, my belly is exposed to the arrows slung by the circumstances at hand. Oh wait, I suddenly remember that someone else is watching over me and everyone else.

How easy I forget sometimes.

Gary

Color Me Concord Purple

Seldom do I get very excited about what grows out of my jungle in the back yard, but this year is a major exception. This is the first year out of the last seven or eight that I have a bountiful crop of grapes hanging from my arbor.

Granted, there aren't enough to make a vat of wine (I don't drink anymore anyhow), but there's plenty to play Caesar Augustus and pop them into my mouth while quaffing a fine root beer and watching the Seahawks.

I've noticed that there are a few tiny birds who like my grapes as well, but they don't take much. I haven't even had any raccoons raid the stores.

I am asked, "What do you do with the seeds?"

Duh, I spit them out like watermelon seeds? Is everything in the grocery store seedless these days? I just make sure that Lily the Terrorist doesn't get any. They're not supposed to be good for dogs - even terrorists. It's a good thing she doesn't like 'em anyway.

I didn't even know when these things ripened until this year. They were always frozen or ripped off by some critter before they were ready before. Now I know. I will mark this on my calendar for next year and keep my fingers crossed.

Between the grapes and the blackberries, I could become a king of my hill!

Who Flipped The Switch?

This is the first year in many that I can remember an immediate change of seasons...no transitions. The last post I did was smack in the middle of a red flag warning with bone-dry conditions. The very first day of Autumn all of the forest creatures around here were scrambling for their Personal Flotation Devices and we experienced a climate change, although I didn't see Al Gore's jet go over to confirm that.

I've seen this kind of thing happen before only at higher elevations. You get tucked into your toasty sleeping bag and the next morning is dead quiet, which motivates a person to find a nearby tree. That's when you find the six inches of fresh snow on the ground and you're looking for much closer trees.

I failed my Farmers' Almanac course, so I can't tell you what kind of winter we might have - normal or ugly. I find myself being thankful for my 4-wheel drive. No one likes to get stuck in 2-inches of icy slush. You'd have to live in Western Washington to understand that logic.

The nice part is that plenty of writing can be accomplished in the foul weather months, assuming you've got a story line to work on. I can only surmise the attendant boredom that might occur with a few power outages, since we have some healthy wind storms and tall trees that begin to become nuisances around November here.

I might have to rough it and use pencil and paper plus a good candle if it gets bad enough. I'm not even sure that I can hand write anything any more. It's been a while. Will someone let me know when Summer gets here?

Gary

Two Weeks Already?

I noticed that it's been a bit since our last parlay, so I figured I'd better catch up before someone noticed my absence! Everything has been straightened out as far as the new book edits go. I double-checked that a couple of nights ago.

The next book is brewing somewhere in the recesses of my grey matter and I fully expect it to burst forth any time now...any time now, brain. I've been perusing the notes I kept from the Montana trip and they amuse me no end. I am perhaps the only person who has been excited about seeing a bazillion prairie dogs out on the plains only to find out that they were ground squirrels. What a Greenhorn!

I had to take a little more time off due to my Dad's second round in the hospital last week. Thankfully, it wasn't his heart. His symptoms stopped as soon as the Paramedic stabbed him with an IV. I have always believed in acupuncture and this just proved my theory.

Would you believe that Western Washington of all places is under a red flag warning? What that means to those who may not know is that it is too dry to burn anything, including campfires. It kind of screws up the old weeny roast season, but winter will arrive soon enough.

Meanwhile, don't forget to feed your sourdough and make sure your cast iron skillets are seasoned up and your longjohns are patched. It might be a long winter.

Gary

Constructs Of A Mild Panic Attack

There was a period of time between my Fire Service retirement and writing novels that stress was not a major factor...except that one instance where my heart quit for a few seconds in the Cardiac Cath lab. Otherwise, things weren't too bad. I had a good thing going, but started to get bored. The next thing you know, I took up writing fiction and loved it. My long-stifled creativity came to the surface and, like every other author in existence, had moments of envisioning a comfortable existence lounging on my veranda with a nice bottle to nurse while I penned my next masterpiece. Then it started happening. Everything had a deadline of one sort or another, just like before my retirement. Edits, forms, marketing plans, more edits, and learning new rules from somewhere in Chicago to write by that I had never seen before, but had to reformat my manuscript to fit them in amazingly short periods of time. The rubber was not only meeting the road, but also running over the author, especially in my latest submission. All of the necessary documents were sent to me in "read only" format. Everything I completed and returned was unchanged. No corrections noted even after supposedly switching off the "read only" feature. My first deadline was August 24th and I sent the manuscript on the 9th. I got word back on the deadline of the problem. Now she wanted it by the 1st. There was no way to re-edit 522 hours worth of corrections. That's where the panic began to rise. I became stressed. Then I realized that my contract had a deadline of October 1st - not September 1st, and wouldn't you know it, but I think I found the file I needed and sent it along the next day. Stress relieved, at least momentarily. Moral of the story: Don't panic until you're the slowest guy running from the bear. Gary