But it wasn’t supposed to end like this. After ten days of forced confinement, followed by four more days of simply choosing to stay in the basement, Moochie finally decided to return to the great outdoors. He returned the next day and snoozed in the shade of my front porch. The last time I saw him, he was curled up in the wicker chair next to the door. Sometime between Saturday afternoon and Sunday morning, he was hit by a car and killed as he crossed the road near our house. After all he and I went through recently—the bite, the rabies scare, the confinement—I’d become attached to the ol’ guy. He’d finally started using the litter box, so he wasn’t such a bad houseguest there at the last. But he was, in his heart and soul, an outdoor cat. A free spirit with a touch of wanderlust. Did he simply run out of his supply of nine lives? Did being a pampered indoor cat for two weeks weaken his survival skills or his road smarts? I don’t know. But I’m glad I was able to spend thos...

I'm back to working on my racetrack mystery. After being away from it for a while, it's like coming home and spending time with old friends. Another benefit is the research. I HAVE to hang out at the track. Dang. That's sarcasm, in case you're wondering. Any excuse to spend time with horses is a good thing in my book. I took my camera and got some shots of this guy: Mr. Superman. FYI, he's for sale! Click here for more info, more pictures, and some video of him moving.

Kensi wasn’t all together certain she liked this camping stuff at first. She spent most of our two initial trips to the camp in Confluence hiding in the closet. During the day. She made up for it at night by exploring every nook and cranny and getting into stuff that I didn’t even know we had. However, she’s now a seasoned camping kitty. She and Skye actually get along, sitting side-by-side on the table, looking out at the world. You’ll have to take my word for it, because I didn’t get a picture of them together. For cats, windows are like television. Windows with screens add the extra dimension of smell-o-vision. Our windows have some pretty good programming in Confluence. There was a family of wrens who liked to sit on my bicycle and scold the cats. There were also moles, chipmunks, and a pine squirrel. Hubby tells me pine squirrels are the Pit Bulls of the squirrel population. I say they’re more like Chihuahuas . Small, but they have no inkling of their diminutive stature. And t...

This morning, the rabies-threat chapter of my life story came to a close. Yesterday, the lady from the department of health phoned to check on me and announced she was closing the case. This morning the fellow from animal control came to take a look at Moochie. I opened the basement door. Mooch ambled out of his nest and yawned. The animal control guy said, “Good enough for me.” Moochie is free . But he’s still in the basement. His prison has turned into a bed and breakfast. I opened the door to let him out and he looked at me as if to say, “Surely you can’t be serious.” So for the time being, we have a basement cat. He’s finally learned to use the litter box. It only took nine of his ten days confinement to figure it out. Guess he decided if his status as house guest was going to continue beyond what was mandatory, he’d better get with the program. I have no idea what to do with him. Skye and Kensi have found a common cause. Neither one of them want another cat. Besides, his ten...

I'm at Working Stiffs today, putting last week into some kind of writerly perspective and figuring out how to make use of my "experiences."

It’s been a rough week. Or a wonderful week if you count all the fodder for my writing. Life started getting interesting on Wednesday when I was doing the dreaded prep for my first (and if I can help it—LAST) colonscopy. I realize how important this test is and how many lives it’s saved, but let me just say, if they can put men on the moon, they should be able to come up with a prep that doesn’t taste quite so dreadful. But I lived through it, and as I’d been told, the test itself was a piece of cake. I slept through it. Although I made many mental notes about the hospital experience for use in a future story. The weird complication came when I woke up and announced, through a drug-induced fog, that my eye hurt. Somehow, I’d managed to scratch my cornea. Recovery room staff hustled to bring me eye ointment. The thing hurt like the dickens and my vision was seriously blurred for the rest of the day. By Friday morning, my eye and my vision were improved. However, the universe was...

Today, I'm guest blogging at Five Scribes talking about stuff to do while waiting for "the Call."

Our camp in Confluence has always been my own personal writing retreat. After a week of missed writing opportunities, I look forward to a couple of days away to boost the old word count. Such was this past weekend. We arrived at the campgrounds by 10AM and settled in. After a short bike ride to loosen up after the drive (and to check the river conditions for my fly fishing hubby) and some lunch, Hubby headed for one of his favorite fishing spots, and I unpacked my laptop. Which is when I had one of those slap-myself-upside-the-head moments. I’d forgotten to pack the power cord. Yes, I said a few choice bad words. Followed by a few more. I hadn't even fully charged the battery. So I had very limited computer time for the next few days. But once I calmed down, I found a bright spot in my gloom. Instead of staring at the computer screen trying to conjure up words, I turned the gadget off and pulled out my notebook and purple pen. (I love funky colored inks!) For the next two d...

I'm at Working Stiffs today trying to find reasons (make excuses) for my shoddy daily word count.

Considering that Skye refused to be in the same room with Kensi when we first brought the new baby into the house, the fact that she's sharing desk space with her now is a major victory. Oh, they still fight on occasion. Okay, daily. But Skye no longer retreats in a snit. She's put the pesky little sister in her place and is back to being the Queen, while Kensi claims the title of Princess. And, no, I haven't found the memory card yet. This was taken with Hubby's little camera.

The sun has finally come out. My rhododendron is in full bloom. The locust tree across the road is dripping with blooms. Photo ops abound. This morning, I lugged my beloved Nikon to Mountaineer Racetrack bright and early because my friend Jessi had a horse in an 8:30AM schooling race. I found myself in prime photo op territory, perched right next to the starting gate. I pulled out my camera, giddy at the thought of the great pictures I’d make. But to my dismay, the window on the top of the camera read –E- That means EMPTY. As in no memory card. And that means no photos. I said some bad words. Shoved the Nikon back in its case. And tried to shake off my state of total annoyance in time to at least enjoy being there. Jessi’s colt broke well and the exercise rider was pleased with his performance. But I have no photos. I spent the next hour or so pondering the location of the missing memory card and decided it certainly must still be stuck in the slot of my laptop at hom...

Late last year I wrote about my farmer neighbor who was in the process of selling off his cattle herd. I’ve missed watching those cows and steers from my office window. At some point in the last several months, the neighbor on the other side of us sold his herd as well. I didn’t miss them right away since they generally spent the winter months on the far side of the pasture where the farmer kept their hay and feed. But as spring approached, I started looking for the annual crop of calves only to discover there were none. In fact there were no cows at all. After living in cow country my entire life, I find myself surrounded by empty pasture. It’s kind of lonely. But I have a feeling I should appreciate the quiet while it lasts. As the farming business is dying off in my corner of the world, a new industry is taking its place. Drilling for gas. I’ve known for several years that we’re living on what amounts to the Saudi Arabia of natural gas. Marcellus shale is the hot button topic in s...

I forgot to mention that I was posting more memories of the Pennwriters Conference at Working Stiffs yesterday. If you missed it, you can still see it here . Last night I attended the launch party for Pittsburgh Noir at Mystery Lovers Bookshop. I had so much fun catching up with old friends, I didn't think to take any photos. You'll have to take my word for it. It was fun. And the book is great. But you don't have to take my word for that. You can order a signed copy here . Since I'm plugging anthologies, and in case you haven't bought it yet, Mystery Lovers also still has signed (by me, Beth Groundwater, and Daryl Wood Gerber at least) copies of Fish Tales in stock.

I'm at Working Stiffs today with more on the conference and a bunch of photos.

Another Pennwriters Conference has come and gone. Almost two years’ worth of planning goes into the weekend event that’s over in a blink of an eye. Having been the coordinator two years ago, I know all too well what’s involved. It makes me appreciate it all the more. Julie Long and Meredith Cohen did a fabulous job. FABulous. I’m saving the bulk of my report on it for this Wednesday’s Working Stiffs (hey, I’m just too lazy to try to think of another topic!), but I’ll share a few highlights here. First, there was the bellhop who lugged my stuff to my room Thursday afternoon and asked if I was in town to run the Pittsburgh Marathon, because (he said) I looked like I was in good enough shape for it. Okay, yes. I’m a sucker for a compliment. I gave the guy a really good tip. Which was probably his goal all along. Then there was the guy who told me I looked like Susan Sarandon. HA! THAT fellow needs glasses. Seriously. But I told him he was my new favorite person. Near sightedness and all. ...

Tomorrow, the 2011 Pennwriters Conference gets underway with the Thursday Intensives. I didn’t sign up for one this year in an attempt to save some pennies. But I know I should have. These workshops are fabulous. Instead, I’ll head to the hotel in plenty of time for the Board of Directors meeting. I’m now Vice President of Pennwriters, which sounds like a bigger deal than my old Area 3 Rep title, but in fact is much less work. And, NO, I have no intension of stepping into the president’s position next. Ain’t gonna happen, folks. Don’t even joke about it. Anyhow, the conference itself gets underway bright and early Friday morning. I’ll be helping with the Twitter for Twits workshop at 10:30AM led by the incredible Tamara Girardi. There are sooo many workshops that I want to see. It’s overwhelming. And wonderful. Meredith Cohen and Julie Long have done a phenomenal job putting this thing together. But before I get there, I have to handle one important bit of preparation. What to pack? ...

As I mentioned earlier, I had grand plans for the weekend. What I didn’t mention is that the “cave” I was crawling into was our camp in Confluence. I usually get lots of work done there. The first sign of things going awry was the news on Friday that my Kentucky Derby pick, Uncle Mo, had been scratched. But writing-wise, I was on a roll. Hubby was off doing his fly fishing thing. Both cats were napping. Life was good. Then Hubby came back to camp complaining about his shoulder. By Saturday morning, he was totally miserable. He hadn’t been able to sleep. And when I asked him if he wanted to go home early, he said, “Yes.” Not the answer I expected, so I knew he was in serious pain. So my writing plans went up in smoke, and we headed home. My consolation prize was getting to watch the Kentucky Derby on TV instead of online. By post time, I’d finally made my picks: Soldat, Dialed In, and ArchArchArch. Typical of my weekend, none of them finished in the money. I thought, well, maybe I’d get...

It’s been a busy week…for everything except writing. So I’ve decided to bug out for a few days. I’m not exactly going “unplugged,” but I’m avoiding such distractions as the Internet and phone. Basically, I’m crawling into my cave and hanging out the DO NOT DISTURB sign. My goal is one chapter by Monday morning. The only distraction I’m allowing myself is a bike ride each day. Plotting on wheels. So even that distraction counts toward production. Okay, I will come out of exile on Saturday afternoon for a little thing called the Kentucky Derby. Generally, when I make predictions about who will win, the wisest thing to do is bet on any other horse. However, I’m still going to be cheering for Uncle Mo. I picked him for the Breeders Cup Juvie last year and he won. Hopefully, he’ll do it again. Yes, I know there are lots of unanswered questions about him. Is he recovered from the ailment that plagued him in the Wood? Can he handle the extra distance? Can he overcome his post position (18)? O...

Today at Working Stiffs , I'm sharing my experience and photos from Monday's Festival of Mystery in Oakmont, PA. What a blast!

I had a post all drafted out about our weekend camping, but with the news this morning, it seemed too trivial. So I’ll save it for another day. Instead, let me say GO USA. Thanks to all our armed forces all over the world. You rock! Okay, I do have to add this: if you’re going to be in the Pittsburgh area this afternoon, come to the Festival of Mystery in Oakmont. I’ll be there with two of my anthology mates signing copies of Fish Tales.