If you has, sends to me.

Hit Send…and receive!

Hey all,

My new fantail shirt! Sweet as.

Plenty of you seem to pity me enough to click my post links on occasion, and as such you're likely aware that my road to making my second sale to Harlequin Blaze has been…shall we say…uphill. Well this morning I hit send on my FOURTH proposal since selling my first—and for now, only—book with them.

This latest attempt emerged after much frustration, persistence, and well-timed guidance, which you can read all about in my scheduled post with the Blaze Authors Blog tomorrow (I'll post a link to it here.) I felt confident as I sent this new story out into the editorial ether… Well no, "ether" is wrong. My experience with my editor at Blaze has been nothing if not clear and open, nothing ephemeral or murky about it. But anyhow, this time feels different. Not because I'm positive it will hit the mark, but because my fingers aren't crossed gangrene-inducingly tight for once. The theme of this submission has been "Don't Overthink It." Probably ought to get that tattooed on my palm, an added reinforcement the next time I find occasion to slap some sense into myself. Shouldn't be long at all. Anyhow, what will be will be. Perhaps fourth time's the charm?

Three varieties of Almond Gold!

So, I hit Send and spent the rest of the morning feeling that weird mix of post-submission hopefulness and paranoia. By lunchtime I was feeling downright blue for a variety of non-dramatic reasons, but things took a nice change by the time I got back from my daily walk. Not only was there a royalty check waiting for my evil conjoined erotica-writing twin, but my faithful Kiwi pen pal Gerry's yearly birthday care package had arrived! He sent me an ace bird-nerd shirt (a fantail is a common New Zealand bird) and the requisite pile of Almond Gold chocolate bars, plus some Spaceman Candy Sticks. My new shirt smells of them. Bonus. Also had some new cover art waiting in my inbox for the evil twin, which I'll post on her site and Goodreads this afternoon. So I've perked up a bit. I hit Send in good faith, and good things have already come to me in return. Feels like a hopeful enough omen.

Now if only someday soon I get to write the blog post entitled, HELL FROZE OVER! I SOLD MY SECOND BLAZE!!! But patience, oh spastic one.

Close Encounters of the Bird Kind

From this mornings's hike in the Ipswich River Wildlife Sanctuary (Mass. Audubon). Photos by the manfriend…

I enable a chickadee.

Gray Catbird (a new find, for us)

A nuthatch enables me.

Red-Winged Blackbird (nice shoulderpads)

Yellow Warbler (yellowest of all six trillion warbler varieties)

Does everyone get it, now?

I take a lot of flak from my extended family-in-law for my desire to squeeze round birds. Not to hurt the birds, mind you. Just to, you know…squeeze them. Gently. In my cupped hands. My cousins like to paint this as sexual deviance, but that's because they themselves are perverts. Ignorant perverts, trying to shift focus from their own issues. My bird-squeezing inclinations are one hundred percent nurturing. I mean, look at old Huggums up there, and tell me you don't want to give him a little squeeze. Just look at his thumbs!

Okay, technical stuff: this bird is not called Huggums, he is actually called a buff-breasted sandpiper. He does not have thumbs. He is not actually looking to get squozen, but rather he's performing his species' [hilarious] armpit-flashing mating dance. Photo credit to the talented Gerrit Vyn.

Heavy Metal Penguin

My thanks to Kramy at City Dangers for the heads-up. We have a rockhopper penguin at the New England Aquarium who used to do this on occasion, back when I was a regular pengo volunteer. We called it Noir's Happy Dance. How silly I feel now, to realize he was just moshing.

Ducks Topple Over in Strong Wind

That was the title of the original article my Kiwi pen pal e-mailed me from the NZ Herald. He's a journalist (though he didn't cover this breaking news, sadly) and he sends me every duck-related story that hits the New Zealand press. And you would be truly shocked how often ducks make the Kiwi news. The ducks from this, the most hilarious / tragic / delightful / horrifying thing I've seen all month, were actually in Canada, but they still made the news two hemipheres away. Watch it. You'll laugh. You'll gasp. You'll awwww and oh noooo! and exprience every human emotion in the span of forty-five seconds. And don't worry—it ends well.

Bird-Nerdery at Halibut Point

Someone else's lovely picture of a northern gannet,
about to fold up and dive.

Went to Halibut Point in Rockport this morning to do a little birdspotting. Normally you can expect to see groups of bufflehead ducks floating in the choppy ocean or flying past on their migration routes (they summer in the arctic and spend their winters in the comparably balmy northern states), and daredevil harlequin ducks traveling dangerously close to the rocky coast in wave-tossed clumps. We didn't spot either of those usual suspects today, though we did see a quality group of juncos (mixed flavors) out in the open grass near the bushes, passing mergansers skimming the sea, and several gannets. The gannets were the highlight. At first glance it's easy to mistake them for gulls out in the distance, cruising over the waves, but for starters they fly a bit more athletically than gulls. Then they rise. Then they commit suicide. Well, they don't, but it looks that way. A gannet will spot a fish, rise up in the air, then tip over, fold up like an umbrella and shoot downard to dive deep into the water. We got some great ogling done with the binoculars, and braving the cold coastal wind was well worth the chapped hands and runny noses.

Angry Birds…Halloween!

Just as I was lamenting finishing Angry Birds, what does Rovio do but come out with a special Halloween installment! And not just a few measly holiday-themed screens, but an entire episode (as the game calls its collections of levels).

Let me back up. For those who don't know what Angry Birds is, it's the awesomest game I've played in a long time…well, since Machinarium. Which wasn't all that long ago. But it's way different than that! I explained it a bit in an older post so I won't go into it here, except to say that if you've got an iPhone or iPad, go and get it now! The App Store charges a pittance for it, and I suspect that when the Android version is released it'll be free, much the way the original game was. Here's a little taste of its spooktasticalz:

Thrusty Thursday: Sir David Attenborough

Sir David in 1956.

Admittedly, it feels just a bit weird suggesting we all thrust against one of my idols…particularly as he's well into his eighties. But if pressed to name the dreamiest man ever, I honestly can't think of one who makes me swoon more than David Attenborough.

Let's just start with his titles, shall we? To get technical, his name looks like this:

Sir David Frederick Attenborough OM, CH, CVO, CBE, FRS, FZS, FSA

Overachieve much, Davey? But I forgive you. After all, you mucked around all over the world in your khakis and light blue button-up to bring nature and natural history to life for the millions upon millions of people who've enjoyed your documentaries, books, and recordings. My favorites are predictably the bird-nerdiest ones—Attenborough in Paradise and the Life of Birds series (both available to stream on Netflix Instant Watcher).

Let's see the man in action! Here's a clip that fuses three of my favorite things ever: David Attenborough, birds, and New Zealand:



Oh, Davey…swoon! I could go on all day, but I won't. Again, if you have Netflix, there are hours and hours of Attenborough's BBC documentaries available to stream. And now I'll close by leaving you all with what I like to call the famous Albatrossenborough photo:

Greetings from Minnesota!

Quick post. I'm in Minnesota for a few days visiting one of my old penguin-wrangling cohorts from my aquarium days. We're way out in the boonies in her charming little village, which is basically run by her mom and stepdad. The beating heart of town is the BP gas station, where I'll shortly be grabbing a coffee (16 ounces for 95¢!) before we take a walk.

This is my third and final day here, and may I just say, Minnesota rocks. Garrison Keillor always had me believing it, but now I know for sure. We're out in farm country, and so far I've met guinea hens, regular chickens, a rooster, several cows dressed as Oreos, a gazillion barn cats, four horses, a half dozen dogs, three turkeys, and who-knows-how-many no-see-ums. I got to take a guided tour of my friend's childhood, and see where she was crowned Butter Queen. It's also homecoming week so the town is very bustley and excitable, plus the fall foliage is putting on a good show.

Yesterday I got to shoot skeet for the first time ever. Despite growing up in Maine, I was never a hunting gal, but I'd done target shooting before, with both a rifle and a hand gun. The shotgun was heavier than anything I'd held before, and I tucked the butt against my armpit, not my shoulder, for the first couple shots, so I now have a lovely black bruise as a souvenir. But on the bright side, I hit two of the dozen or so pigeons I took aim at, which I think is pretty respectable for a first attempt.

We later got burgers at a place called Guenther's (delicious) and went bowling in the MSU student center. I was hoping to break a hundred, but I think I only got 94…though I did get to do my strike dance. I used the hot-pink wussy ball, and the end of my thumb nail came off. Still, it was nice to do some proper bowling for a change, as I live in Massachusetts where candlepin is mistaken for "real" bowling. Sorry, Mass, but you're just wrong on that one.

Today we're planning on doing a little mini-golfing, so I'm getting to indulge in all sorts of awesome non-sports. I'm later meeting some more of my friend's relatives, some of which have a whole house full of animals, including, it has been alleged, some button quails in the basement. Not sure if a basement is the best place to raise quails, but I'm curious to get my hands on them if the opportunity presents itself. After that we're swinging by the town's bar to buy a six-pack, then it's off to a bonfire.

This morning, post BP coffee, I'm recording my part of a podcast for Harlequin. Ooh, my first audio interview! I'll be chatting about how I got into writing, and about my first Blaze book, Caught on Camera. Two other new Harlequin authors will also be taking part, and the podcast will be out next month. I'm wretched at public speaking, but luckily this will be more like a casual conversation, so I think I'll do just fine.

Better get some Cheerios in me. Minnesota waits for no woman.

Angry Birds

The manfriend and I have discovered something new to do in bed as a couple, and it kept us up well past our bedtimes last night.

It's called Angry Birds, and it's simply the awesomest game ever for the iPad. I have certain standards for video games. I don't like being shot at too much. I don't like games where there's pressure on me to do things quickly or with great coordination. I don't like games that take themselves too seriously. Nothing too gory. Or mindless. I like puzzle and strategy games, basically. My favorite from childhood is a pyramid exploration game for the Macintosh called Scarab of Ra. Shadowgate was cool too, but the torch burning down stressed me out. Favorite finds of the past few years have been the perplexingly awesome Katamari Damacy, the Rhem games (similar to Myst), and Machinarium. Holy crap. Machinarium. So wondrous. If you're reading this, you probably have a computer, so you can download and play it. Do so now! Or at least play the free demo. If it weren't enough that it's fun and challenging, it's utterly gorgeous. Great way to pass a blizzardy indoor weekend this winter.

But I'm getting off topic. Angry Birds! Yes, the fact that its heroes are round birds doesn't hurt its case for me. But beyond that it's just super simple and fun and addictive. It's available for the iPad, iPhone, and a beta version is available for some non-Apple smart phones. If you buy the full HD version it'll cost you as much as a glass of wine and it's worth every penny, plus a two-dollar tip.

Basically, you slingshot little round cartoon birds at funky constructions made of wood, ice, and stone, trying to vanguish smug green pigs. There's a bit of strategy to it, because you have to do some reasoning to figure out which bit of the structure to target. Here's the one-minute trailer:



But even if that looks fun, it's not even a quarter as fun as actually playing it. I can't vouch for the gaming experience on a phone, but if you have an iPad, I highly recommend you download it. If you don't love it, there's something wrong with you.

Farewell, Oregon

It's our last day in Oregon before we have to get up at a truly ungodly hour and fly home to Boston. The past two days were spent in Silverton at a nice resort (don't let the label fool you—there were no facials or massages being had by yours truly) which the manfriend and I used as base camp to take a couple of very nice, scenic, waterfall-riddled long hikes. The best part of the resort (no offense to the Frank Lloyd Wright house on the edge of the property) was the quails. Quails quails quails!!! I thought I'd struck it rich when we spotted those three back in California, but the resort had oodles, oodles I tell you! We were walking around the resort's vast gardens and along a brush-lined area, and KA-POW! Like thirty quails, parents and bumbly little quailets all scattering this way and that. Ah, bliss. Keep your spa treatments, everybody. I gots my quails.

The first hike we did was Opal Creek, where we enjoyed a seven-mile trek through the certified wilderness, and what used to be old mining land. There was ancient rusting equipment strewn here and there, giant mysterious gear-laden monstrosities. The terrain was largely smooth and semi-gravel-paved, with the exception of a loop that offered some more strenuous climbs. A nice mix. I love the streams here—they're freakishly clear and the coolest color, a subdued greenish blue, from algae, maybe? We did the hike without snacks and not quite enough water, plus the manfriend had puked his guts out that morning from what we suspect was food poisoning. He's such a trouper. So by about mile five we were both dragging, but we made it. And I got yet more valuable experience peeing in the woods—a skill I hadn't really cultivated before taking up with an Oregonian.

Hike number two was Silver Creek Falls. That trek was a little over four miles, nicely paved, and pretty quiet, although when peeing in the woods I had to make the manfriend stand guard. We must have seen about six waterfalls. None were gushing magnificently this time of the year, but they were still very impressive. And one of them cascades from a shelf that juts way out from the rest of the hill, and the trails goes right behind it. Very cool.

That's about it. Today we do laundry, have one last family dinner, and generally take it easy before jetting back home at about four a.m. Well, I take it easy, while the manfriend troubleshoots a gazillion technical issues for his mom. It's been a fabulous trip—just the right mix of outings and down time. I require a lot of down time. I even got a decent amount of writing and brainstorming done. Hopefully I'll have Thrusty Thursday ready to go tomorrow to keep you company while I'm shooting through the air due east. See you around.

Roadtrip report

Just got back from a two-day road trip with the manfriend last night. We drove down to Northern California to the redwoods and hiked around the unreasonable large foliage. I got some good ideas for a novella my evil conjoined erotica-writing twin is percolating, ooh'd and ahh'd over the massive trees, and didn't twist an ankle in my Chucks, contrary to my hiking boot elitist manfriend's prediction. The Smith River is crazy pretty—a fascinating shade of clear green-blue, with very gradually sloped banks comprised of smooth rocks, way different than the granite drop-offs and coarse sand I'm used to in New England. Also saw an interesting dark blue jay which I've yet to identify in the bird guide.

After the hike we headed to Crescent City, walked down a cement jetty we probably weren't supposed to, and I got to bag a few new bird sightings…though I haven't ID'd them with my Peterson's guide yet. One was definitely an oystercatcher of some kind—can't mistake that beak. It took off with a call that sounded a lot like a rape whistle…I must have looked ill-intentioned. Also saw some little cousins of my local coast's ruddy turnstones, or maybe purple sandpipers. Bigger than the sandpipers I'm used to though, with a dark purplish back and a pale belly. Down on the sand we saw a tiny gull-like bird, like if a plover and a seagull made fruitful love.

That night we stayed in Klamath at the ReQua Inn, a super neat historical hotel overlooking the river. No TVs in the rooms, very few outlets, but an awesome staff, amazing local food and wine, and a big old cozy lounge full of board games and books.

The next morning we did a quick hike down from the outlook near the inn then hit the road for some scenic driving. Twisty, rugged roads run along the mountains with a sea breeze like nature's AC—a godsend, given it was in the 90s there. I got my vacation wish and spotted not only one quail, but three! You would have thought there was a baby in the road, the way our car skidded to a halt for a better look. We then headed back into Oregon to Ashland, my manfriend's erstwhile stomping grounds, and stayed outside the city at his old professor's house. Well, farm. They keep goats, chickens, and pigs. They built their house and it's indescribably cool, so I won't even attempt to describe it. We had pork chops, chutney, corn, tomato salad and potatoes for dinner, every last bit of it (minus the vinegar) from the premises. Hot damn, best pork chop ever. The next morning we had veggie omelets and bacon, also 100% über-local. Oh and goat milk in my non-local coffee. My manfriend was an old hand at milking the goats, but I hadn't milked anything in a couple decades. I was a bit slow. But I was an ace at gathering eggs, even from beneath one grumpy chicken who refused to move as I rummaged around under her feathery butt.

After we left the farm we drove to Mount Ashland and enjoyed an excellent six-mile hike. Mount Shasta loomed in the hazy distance, all purple and majestic. Mount Ashland's trails are very nice, well worn and not nearly as craggy as I'm used to. Got a little bit too much sun, so my dreams of ditching my farmer's tan before the next time I have occasion to wear a sleeveless dress may fail.

After that we drove four hours back north for dinner with the assorted parents-in-law and their partners. Today should be nice and lazy, and I may even manage to bang out a couple thousand words on my work-in-progress. Hope everyone has a stellar start to their weekend. See you for the Sunday Puzzle tomorrow.

Greetings from Oregon

I'm on vacation in Oregon at the moment…as I said before, don't bother trying to burglarize my house—it's very difficult to get past two stories of neighbors and two deadbolts. This morning marks the start of day three, and because tomorrow we're off to see the redwoods and visit some friends-of-manfriend, today we have very little scheduled. Ahhhh.

Day one was relaxed, a short hike in Cascadia Park with my mom-in-law (PNW, I love your spongy trails and mossy trees) and a visit down the road to see my dad-in-law and stepmom-in-law, where we were plied with much authentic Mexican food (and watched my stepmom-in-law make tamales we weren't yet allowed to eat). Also got visited by a very fat baby, my…um…step-nephew-in-law? The nomenclature in these blended families is complicated.

Yesterday, day two, was a trip to the coast. Coffee, rainy roadtrip eventually turning sunny, a treacherous-but-totally-worth-it walk down a craggy jetty where this bird-nerd spotted some common murres and red-necked phalaropes. Excellent, though I'd been hoping for some guillemots as well. We had lunch at the Rogue brewhouse—very ambitiously sized burgers and some good beer. Then more driving and beach nosing-around, then dinner with the in-laws in Corvallis. Afterward we stopped at a Borders and I made it a point to check out the Harlequin end-caps in the romance section. My mom-in-law got all excited when I showed her the Blaze section where my books will be living in April. And yeah, I got excited too.

That's about it for now—I'm hoping to get some writing done after we finish watching this episode of James May's Toy Stories. And did everybody solve the Sunday Puzzle yet? Shouldn't be too tough for my fellow book nerds. Enjoy your Tuesdays!