Ah, it's that season again. I have a Very Important Graduation to attend next weekend, which kicks off summer as far as I'm concerned. And being brave, I'm putting forth my goals for summer 2012:

1. Actually go camping in the tent I bought two years ago. Really.

2. Manage to get my pasty white legs to glow with the same great tan as my arms.

3. Finally put in the flowerbed in the back yard that I've been planning for at least 10 years.

4. Be realistic the next time I make potato salad -- there is only one of me in the house, after all!

5. Remember that for the sake of small childfren and those at risk for heart attacks, I should only go out in a swimsuit at night.

Ah, now off for some sweet tea!

My Maggie is a great big Sheltie, well-trained and my best friend (well, of the canine variety). When my granddaughter adopted a black Lab puppy, Maggie wasn't sure of this turn of events, but eventually accepted it. In fact, thanks to traveling together to the farm, a five-hour trip, they're becoming buddies.

So I felt fairly confident that all would be well when I left Anna, now nearly six months old, with Maggie as a dogsitter. Puppies learn from big dogs, right? And as a herding dog, surely Maggie wouldn't let Anna do anything really bad.

I was so wrong.

On first glance, everything seemed pretty much okay when I got home. The house didn't seem any messier than when I'd left. And Anna had gone with her master, so the house was much quieter than when I'd left. Until Maggie started barking.

She ran right to the couch, the big tattletale. And there was evidence of what had gone on in my absence. Crumbs and bits of waxed brown paper littered the cushions, proof that a puppy had found the half-roll of round buttery crackers I'd left on the table beside my chair.

I knew Anna was the culprit for two reasons: Maggie has never done such a thing and besides, if she had been the bad one, would she have been so eager to tell on herself? Besides, Anna had tried to sneak the baggie of puppy treats the night before and been stopped by Maggie's immediate tattling.

I am no snitch. So I made light of the incident when telling Anna's mama about it, and garnered the expected laughter. I do, however, intend to make some changes before two doggies stay home again – like maybe hiding all the yummy stuff inside a locked iron chest.

What better way is there to spend a Friday afternoon than with your fellow writers ... unless it's also with readers?
That's where I was last Friday, with about 20 authors at a First Friday at the Jesse Stuart Foundation in Ashland, Kentucky, where I live. It was an eclectic group, with a number of people who wrote local history or memoir and a few of us plain old fiction writers there, too.
Sharing the question "So what do you write?" is so much fun, because it really gives you an insight into people, and you quickly learn a little of their history and a lot of their philosophy toward writing.
Chatting with readers is an experience I love and introducing them to the world of e-books is something I often get to do. Of course, there are a whole lot of people who ask "Is it available on Kindle?" which means they're already reading digital books.
Ten years ago, when the e-book phenomenon first started, who would have imagined where it would be today? I figure books are doing what music did a long time ago, creating a format that allows people to use electronic devices for their enjoyment. Remember when MP3 players first became big? Yeah, and look at them now.
I must confess I like to hold a book in my hand and have an author sign that front page. But for sheer convenience, you can't beat a device that lets you carry hundreds of books on vacation and fits in your carry-on!

Whew -- a review from TwoLips Reviews is up and guess what, it's great! I'm so excited.

Here's the review; see what you think.

Out of the Shadows, the first book in Cammie Eicher's new Shadow Ancient series, starts out with enough heart-stopping suspense to pump your blood pressure up within the first few pages. Not only that, her amazing originality will bowl you over. Ms. Eicher presents a fascinating new premise that – although she doesn't come right out and say it – portrays her long-lived ancients as the people of the Old Testament who lived hundreds and sometimes a thousand years. WOW! What a startling thought! Bravo, Ms. Eicher!

Griff isn't immediately presented as your typical hero. He's rather nondescript in the beginning, except for his hatred of the Ancients. That part of his persona is vividly well-developed in fairly short order, but it takes awhile before it becomes apparent that his impressions of the Ancients are changing. In direct counterpoint to the in-depth way Ahnya goes through her emotional struggles, Griff's journey through his personal issues isn't nearly as well developed. Ahnya is strong, determined, and brave despite her fears. The journey she takes to reach the choice she ultimately had to make between the two most important people in her life provided exceptionally good conflict and led to a believable and happy ending that warmed my heart.

There's one fairly sensual sex scene between Griff and Ahnya in this book.  Unfortunately, the sexual tension leading up to it isn't well developed. Nevertheless, I enjoyed this book immensely. Out of the Shadows is sure to capture a new fan base in the vampire genre for this talented new author. I can't wait to get my hands on Misha's recently released story, Hell's Belle, out now at Resplendence Publishing. Another Shadow Ancient book, Devil's Ball, will be out in time for Halloween. The hero of that one will be Giorgio, the Ancient's chief enforcer. Ah, I knew he wasn't all bad!

It's been darn hot here at the Kentucky homeplace, up in the high 90s, and a sweltering miserable time has been had by all. It's the kind of hot where ice melts before you get out of the drivethrough with your drink, marshmallows toast without a fire and it seems like a great time for those '80s sweatbands to make comeback.
My son, who is nice to me even when he doesn't want something, called me at 10 p.m. last night. He remembered that he forgot to put the air conditioner in my bedroom window and wondered if I needed him to come do it.
No, no, I protested. It's fine. Really. I'll just plug in another fan.
As I found out afterwards, he wanted to escape from wife and home for a short period of time and this was his excuse -- or so he said. He could have been lying.
Anyway, there we are at going on 11 p.m., setting the air conditioner into the window of my 1930s house. The metal storm window frame isn't made to support the weight of the unit, so we put a nice thick board in to support the air conditioner.
What neither of us thought about as he prepared to put the unit into place was that no one was holding the board. And yes, it tipped out of the window and straight onto the big toe of my naked right foot.
I uttered -- well, screamed -- a phrase one shouldn't say around her children. The pain was intense; the angled edge of the board had walloped right into the center of my toenail and lordy, it hurt. And kept on hurting.
My son, ever the chicken, was quick to point that that it really wasn't his fault, or mine, because we didn't expect the board to tip. True, and no, I don't blame him. However, being reminding we'd done something stupid didn't lessen the anguish at all.
After he went home, I used the home remedy of my childhood and soaked my foot in epsom salts. I took an OTC painkiller and found a pillow to prop my foot on when I slept.
So here's the situation today:
I slept like a baby in my wonderfully cool room. My toe isn't broken, I don't think, although it's swelled and purple. Shoes are a no-no, but at least it's flip-flop season.
And did I mention that I slept like a baby with that air conditioner running?

Although my "family" has usually included a dog, I'm really a cat person at heart. And my favorite cats are Siamese, with their attitude and inbred knowledge that they rule the world and we must obey.

My cat these days came from the animal shelter. I adopted her shortly after my darling Hubby died, as much to keep my Sheltie company while I was gone as to give me a companion. She was a tiny ball of gray fluff, docile for a kitten, that I named Tabby because of the trademark M on her forehead that is indicative of a tabby cat.

What I didn't know was that Tabby's mixed heritage includes Siamese. She is still primarily gray, with a patch of calico here and there, but everything else about her screams royal lineage. She's a sleek, lean creature with attitude in spades.

One of her favorite places to sleep is on top of my scanner/printer. Of course, to get there, she walks across my keyboard as I write and gives a scathing glare if I dare suggest she walk around the next time. She has also discovered which button to push to make a sheet of paper go through the printer. That's her favorite trick when I get lost in my writing and forget she's there.

Her absolute desire, however, is to roam outside. Since we live on a busy street, she's confined to the house. And, honestly, she really doesn't want to be an outside cat. She simply wants me to understand that if she chooses to go out, it is my duty to open the door -- and to be ready to open it again when she wants in.

We disagree on this. After two years of chasing her, I decided to leave her out until I was good and ready to let her in. That almost worked. I was forced to obey her need to come in after she knocked the screen from her favorite window and yowled loud enough to wake the dead.

I will say this about my Tabby -- she keeps life interesting. And if you someday read a book of mine with a haughty, demanding heroine, you'll know how the model for that particular character is!