allan e ansorge

Al Goes Grocery Shopping

2012-01-03T10:54:00.000-08:00

I don't think we have to delve into the history of Jane sending me to the grocery early on in our marriage for a loaf of bread and my expenditure of 176 dollars we did not possess only to return home and explain that I had forgotten the bread. Perhaps at another time.
Today Jane was with me at the store and sent me for two cans of beef broth. I arrived at the correct aisle only to find a gentleman restocking the beef broth from that step on a ladder that is two levels above the warning level.
I waited until he noticed I was standing next to him then I shouted, "Don't jump, stocking beef broth can't be all that bad."
He climbed down from his precarious perch and calmly said .,"May I help you sir?"
"I would like two boxes of that beef broth you were trying to hide up there."
He returned to the ladder, climbed to the very top step, grabbed the two beef broths, made is way back to terra firma and handed them over. He put one foot back on the ladder then stopped his ascent looked me in the eye and asked,"Your not like real people are you?"
I could only reply with the truth, "No sir I'm not , I'm a writer."

The Super Sub

2011-04-16T15:56:00.000-07:00

The Super Sub

Gary squinted into the sun as he tried to locate his sister on the bench along the first base line. He was sure he had her attention when he repeatedly signaled her to warm up, waving his right arm with an abbreviated throwing motion. She didn’t move.

He knew she was deliberately ignoring him. As angry as it made him, he wasn’t about to shout at her across the diamond. He would have with any of the other eleven registered players on his team, but not Sindy.

His slightly over weight, under conditioned catcher ended the District 3 Detectives’ fifth inning in underwhelming style: for the second time this season he was thrown out at first by the opposing right fielder. Careful to avoid stepping on either chalk foul line, Gary crossed the diamond, situating himself directly in front of Sindy.

“I need you to pitch these two innings; I have a one-run lead and the top of their order coming up.”

“Nope.”

“Not nope, YES. What are you doing on the bench anyway? You were supposed to be here half an hour ago.”

“I told you I would play if you were short of players. You aren’t: you have two extra guys down there on the end of the bench.”

“Those aren’t players, those are bodies. You’re a player. Come on, take this glove and go out there and strike these smoke-eaters out for me; and for you.”

“For me? I really don’t care if they strike out or your team wins. It’s not whether you win ─.”

“Yeah yeah, I know, but in this case it does matter to you. That fire truck I promised to have come to your school for your class’s Fire Prevention Week program? Well, if we don’t win this game, it ain’t coming.”

“You gambled my class on this dumb game?”

“Not your class, just your fire truck. I prefer to think of it as negotiating.”

Sindy’s black and white high-tops showed after she hiked her flowing black skirt between her legs and tucked the hem under the white cord serving as her belt.

Gary informed the Assistant District Attorney who was umpping home plate of the double switch. Gary’s pitcher took the place of the forlorn catcher. Before Gary’s sister made it to the mound Captain Les Larson of the fire department was in Gary’s face.

“What the hell is this Gary? She’s not a cop she can’t play for you.”

“Wrong on two counts, Les. She is my sister, The Sister. And any relative can play. She is also a cop, she’s our consulting psychologist. Show him your badge Sin, I mean Sister Mary Magdalena.”

The nun-turned-pitcher gave her little brother that look that sisters reserve for brothers who have once again fallen out of favor. She fumbled for the one and only pocket in the volumous black habit, extracted the traditional leather ID holder, and hung it by the fold over the rope belt next to her rosary.

The umpire attorney joined them in the middle of the field. “Hello Sister Mary. Is there a problem? Les, I have an arraignment in thirty minutes. Could we move this along?”

The fireman scowled at the umpire, “You’re going to let her pitch?”

“I have to or she won’t consult for my office. Besides, her boss knows my boss. PLAY BALL.”

Fireman Les flipped the ball up in the air in Sister Mary’s general direction as he muttered expletives on his way back to his team’s dugout.

The nun pulled the ball from the air and said to his back, “I heard that, Coach and I’ll pray for you.”

Nine pitches later, Sister Mary was in the dugout selecting a bat to lead off with. Passing Gary on her way to the plate, she let her little brother know he owed her a uniformed officer, a squad car, and himself for her class on The Policemen Are Our Friends.

“Just think of this as a negotiation Gary.”

A Dinosaur in the making!

2011-03-31T05:49:00.000-07:00

I happened across the homepage for Kirkus Reviews this morning.
I think it is a good time to elect someone to start working on a eulogy for this fixture of what the publishing world was.
All one has to do is study the list of the works they refuse to review and it is clear that they don't realize the boat has sailed on without them.
The list of what they refuse to review follows:

already published books
mass-market titles
self-published titles
reprints
print-on-demand titles
screenplays or other types of dramatic works
poetry
textbooks
technical or professional works
any work intended for an academic audience
reference books
instruction manuals
books of regional interest
computer & technology handbooks handbooks

leaves one to wonder what they do , do over there.

Probably reading the same twelve authors Borders carried on their shelves, and the James Patterson book of the month.

The World Gives You What You Are Willing To Accept

2011-02-23T04:24:00.000-08:00

A friend just mailed to complain about his neighbor who is singing to his Chia-pet lamb. I asked him if he noticed there were bars on all of the windows in his building before he moved in.
He said of course he did but the rent was cheap.

I have to do what? Say that one more time.

2011-02-16T11:06:00.000-08:00

Visited an Indie near my Florida place and approached the manager about doing a signing. He was kind enough to let me know I would first have to seek out an unknown reporter with the local news-paper, to get a feature interview, to correspond with the signing, without knowing what day that would be and I should also consider a half page add to facilitate the feature article.
Obviously I bear an amazing resemblance to Billy Gates I wasn't aware of.
I'm thinking about going to plan "B". A corrugated cardboard sign, "Writer , will sell books for food", and a real busy intersection.

No good deed goes...

2011-02-11T06:59:00.000-08:00

A few years ago I wrote a short story that Tony Burton of Wolfgang Press used as a fund raiser for "Toys For Tots".
I included two of the characters that appear in my "Bay Harbour" mystery series. Some kind hearted soul from one of the western states decided I must be a wealthy author type and proceeded with a legal action against me for depicting him as a thief since he shared the nickname of one of my characters.
I was sure he thought I would settle and just send him a tidy check. Just goes to show you how wrong he could be. I admit it may have cost more than the settlement would have been negotiated to, but once in a while even I grab hold of a principle.
Time consuming, yes, expensive ,yes, but was it worth it, yes. Sleep well tonight Bay Harbour, Gibby, your name is safe with me.

Love Is Murder LOVIES

2011-02-09T08:40:00.000-08:00

I was offered the position of acting as Governor of the Lovies at LIM 2012. Cash bribes are of no use and will reported to the proper authorities. Now in the case of raisin, oatmeal.... I say no more.

Travel Obsevations

2011-02-09T03:38:00.000-08:00

1) 2 size ten Sketchers do not serve well as brakes for a forty seven and one half pound suit case when it bears down on you as you are forward of it on an escalator.

2) TSA agents are not required to carry band-aids.

3) Nothing works as a sufficient book-mark when the aircraft you are in hits a wind-shear and abruptly drops three hundred feet.

4) Airline food has gotten colder but not better.

5) Do not attempt feigning sleep to prevent your seat companions recitation of their biography, it doesn't work.

6) When asked , "what are you reading?" Do not reply, "a book I wrote." Striking them when they counter with, "Is it any good?" Is deeply frowned upon by any Air Marshall who is on the plane. I don't know about you but I swell a little at altitude and those hand-cuffs bite.

Couldn't be better, why do you ask?

2010-12-17T03:25:00.000-08:00

Nothing strikes terror into a persons heart more than someone walking up to you and saying, "Do you feel alright?"

Up until that moment I was feeling fine. I had gotten up early. I knocked out four pages that I felt were adequate and was considering asking my wife out to breakfast when that girl, with fourteen visible piercings, moved me one step closer to deaths door.

Having no bases to compare with what I look like normally how could she possibly know if this was a good day or not.

I signed the credit card slip and headed to the mens room hoping the mirror would give a fair appraisal of the possibility I might not make it back to my car.

It turned out the mirror was cracked and so dirty Matt Damon would have looked bad in it. I left the restroom still in doubt of my chance at longevity and decided if my demise was eminent I would go out with Butterfinger Bar crumbs on my shirt. I approached Miss Holes in the head's counter and realized her eyes were focused below my belt line. it wasn't until I got into the car I realized my fly was open. I have to find a different gas station before the needle hits "E:.

How Can That Be?

2010-04-11T09:00:00.000-07:00

A friend of mine asked me why I never answer his messages on Face-book. I informed him that I had never seen them. He suggest I try a new eyeglass perscripition.
I explained that I was fairly sure that that my glasses were a gift from S. King and were already over the legal weight limit but assured him I would look for his attempts at humor as soon as I got home.
Through no skill on my part I accidently landed on a Face book account with my name and likeness on it that I never knew existed.
Anyone who knows me should have guessed I had nothing to do with the publication, with the spelling correct and the puctuation impecable it obviously had no connection with me at all.
The question does remain who would bother to build a site with my name on it? An even scarier thought is there might be another me out there in the ether. Boogles the mind , doesn't it.

That's it, don't smoke even if you got'm.
That's all.

Good News --- Bad... there aint no bad news

2009-10-29T10:19:00.000-07:00

I just completed three weeks of what some people call a book tour. Looping through Michigan, Tennessee, and Indiana. I managed to collect one speeding ticket, a whole lot of hotel bills, gasoline charges and days of really mediocre food. I now find myself at home with the time to reflect on what really happened out there.

Lesson learned: If you have an out of state plate on a car and are being handily passed by several cars that are native to that state you will be selected out of all the cars in rush-hour traffic to be awarded a citation.
In this particular state the officer that stops you smiles and reveals to you that due to the fact that he considers you an alien, you are allowed to select one of three self-destructive options. He can impound you and your car until you pay your fine, he can seize your drivers license and they will return it to you by mail after you pay your fine (during which time period you will be operating a motor vehicle illegally in any state), or you can post a roadside bond in any amount, under 1oo dollars, the officer feels is appropriate. My officer felt every remaining bit of paper money in my wallet was appropriate. I moved on to my next signing poorer but wiser. I don't want to mention any names but Michael Moore was wrong. They shouldn't save this state and its economy they should level it or at least deport the people who voted for the representatives who write their traffic laws.
Heading down the road on my next adventure, stay safe.

Allan

POTPOURRI

2009-07-12T09:44:00.000-07:00

Not a bowl of stinky dead flowers but a miscellaneous gathering of items.

First and foremost: A thank you to Carol Dresser who came to visit me at the Mill Street Festival in Plymouth, WI. yesterday. (I tried to insert a picture of Carol and I here but this software aint up to the game.)

Carol was the very first person to send me fan mail. (It was just a note telling me she liked a story I had written for Dying In A Winter Wonderland. I prefer to call it fan mail.) She pointed out to me yesterday, "If someone goes through the effort to do something well, the least one can do is acknowledge that fact."
A lesson learned from a lady who has more class in her little finger than I will ever have in my lifetime.
So in an effort to make up for this lapse on my part, Thank You All From Amadeus to Mrs. Zimdars (a grade school teacher I was gifted with). Thank you all from the bottom of my heart.

The State of Confusion

2009-07-02T11:01:00.000-07:00

I realize that there is a down side to any place you choose to call home. Kansas has its whirly-winds, Arizona the moon like landscape and incredible heat, and I don't want to start in on ocean bound California, but I have picked two doozies.
I'm saving Florida for another time. I can't be bothered with little old ladies in huge Caddies without turn signals or brakes that don't function at red lights right now. I'm in the process of studying a phenomenon that may be peculiar to Wisconsin alone.
I should let you know that for most months out of the year I live here, and believe it to be one of the loveliest spots on the globe with the qualifying, but!
For all of the fair weather months, when the major highways are traveled by tourist, nearly every intersection is occupied by a large tent or permanent building packed full of explosives.
Don't get me wrong, I love fireworks. I have on more than one occasion trimmed my hair and eyebrows with gun powder. I loved lighting up the sky, particularly with rockets I had judiciously set aside for new years eve. There is a particular attraction by me of a burst of color reflected off new fallen snow.
That was until they issued the citation. Naive as I can be, I thoroughly miss-understood the concept of it being against the law, and so costly, to actually use a product that was so readily accessible.
When one considers the overall impact of this system it is quite ingenious. Our government representatives have devised a way to collect sales tax on a tantalizing product and also fill the state coffers by fining those of us stupid enough to fall into their insidious trap and light the stuff.
Of course I don't believe that makes our elected officials particularly smart, just very cunning.

The Error Of My Ways

2009-06-30T05:02:00.000-07:00

I was standing in line at my favorite bakery, ( I sometimes stand outside and sniff for hours) Sunday morning, when a gentleman who shall remain nameless walked up to me and informed me he knew what was wrong with Crossing The Centerline.
I immediately assumed a defensive position and waited for the body shot to come in front of a dozen other customers. Perhaps he had also discovered for reasons unknown to man a characters name changes within a two page span.
I looked down at the floor and start writing imaginary letters with the toe of my right shoe. A habit I picked up in a principal's office long ago. I take the customerary deep breath, and ask. "What would that be?"
He grinned a little and said, "It was way too short."
I offered to buy him a dozen donuts, but he just shook my hand and was on his way. He doesn't know it but I will never forget him.

Sometimes Neat Things Happen

2009-06-24T13:33:00.000-07:00

I doubt many writers have had the opportunity to be involved in a project as I am about to describe.
Not unlike a great number of people, I frequent a particular restaurant a bit more than what my waistline requires.
On our several trips there Jane and I have become friends with Nora the head waitress. She is one of the most delightful people I have ever had the good fortune to meet.
We of course invited her to last Saturday's launch for Crossing The Centerline. Unfortunately she had to work and was unable to attend, but did send her daughter in her stead to purchase two books. Both with exact signing instructions
Today by chance we stopped in for lunch and found she was gifting one of the books to a regular of her's who was celebrating her 93rd. birthday. This customer had purchased an anthology I was part of last year and so enjoyed my story therein she told Nora she was eagerly waiting for my book to come out. Nora being Nora made sure her wait was not wasted.
I won't bore you with the dialoge that passed between us all, but I will tell you the kiss on the cheek I received made all those hours at the keyboard well worth while.