Al Goes Grocery Shopping

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

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!

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

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.

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...

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

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.