I was once again reminded of something I wrote some time ago. It happens when someone reviews an item of mine which has come up on Random Read. This one I did not remember at all; the title did not stir a memory. So, I had to read it. I thought I'd share it with whomever might stop by my blog today.

ID: 1648147   (Rated: 13+) Flowers, Puppies, and Watermelons  A thinking man knows what to do by Karen

Hrumph - a tidy little word that expresses distaste, dislike, or disgust. I have no real idea how to pronounce it, but I grasp the meaning quite well.

In a previous blog (which no one has read) I mentioned finding interesting things in a book which actually have little to do with the story line. Something that sticks with you after you've finished the book and put it down. (Put it down? Huh. Kinda like the old dog who needs to be....put down????) But I digress.

One such little item in the book I finished last evening - The Dark Backward by Gregory Hall - was one of annoyance which continued in my mind off and on throughout the day. I had to go get the book and look up the exact words which I found on page 180.

It's in a little scene where the main character, - a woman in her forties - in her search for information about her dead husband, has gone to the home of an elderly woman. The author does not tell us how old the woman actually is, but he has the central character think these thoughts as she enters the other woman's home: "She grabbed the shopping bag and pushed the open the door of the front room. It smelt of cat or old lady or both." Hrumph!

Smelt of cat or old lady or both!!!!!!! Now we know damn well, this younger lady character meant cat-pee. And what in hell do old ladies smell like? Is there a consistent smell for every woman over a certain age? Does it go with the aging territory? Hrumph!

This phrase alone could have been a deal breaker in this book. I was rather inclined to "put the book down" - pull out a 45 and go blam! shattering those pages all over the room. But I'd already invested 180 pages, had a dead person and a mystery to solve. By the time I got to Chapter 22, page 408, the end, I could still her the refrain: "Smelt of cat or old lady or both." Hrumph!
 

You know, on those web sites where people ask questions and assume someone will answer. Normally, someone does - in the same insipient manner in which the question was written. Some time, some day I want to give the REAL answer in the words that will convey the message clearly. Here is an example:

Question on a diet page: I don't know if I'm just moody lately or is my coffee ticking me off? Does anyone know if coffee/caffeine can make you irritable?

MY HONEST ANSWER: Nah, Hon, you're just a bitch. Quit farming out the blame!
 

I see no good reason why everything in life has to make perfect, logical sense. Why not some whimsey or what I call "heart moves." Decisions not based on mental reasoning or linear thinking - this leads to that - but small capsules of cake with icing instead of bread with butter.

I think the most difficult inner pain is that which comes as a result of regret. The Lou Rawls "Woulda, Shoulda, Coulda." It creeps in and captures what might have been the most beautiful part of your life - if only.

At this stage in my life, I'm not ready for any major "heart moves," but some little ones to keep the hard crust of life fluffed just a bit. No big reasons. No huge turmoil to get there. Just some things which make the heart strings "plink" at the mention or a small smile curve the lips.

Think of it sort of like a special box - a place to put the little things collected along the way. A sea shell from THAT vacation, a feather found in the wind, a snatch of fabric from a favorite skirt/shirt/dress, a doorknob to a door you've never been through.... But instead of physical items, these small treasures are stored in small actions, words, phrases and when remembered...hummm....that smile, that single joyful tear.. No regrets.
 

Windsor "Win" Horne Lockwood, III - Now that's an impressive name. Impressive enough to be a Central Character in a novel, but he isn't. He's the back-up, the secondary but in a major way. Here are some of the traits his author, Harlan Coben, mentions:

Rich guy
President an top producer of Lock-Horne Securities, run by his family since the market first opened
Preppy, Philly Main-Line accent
Answers the phone with, "Articulate"
Looks like he's posing for "WASP Quarterly"
Blonde hair, complexion slightly ruddy, features porcelain-high-a little too perfect
Casual attire: Khaki pants, blue blazer, Top-siders, no socks, loud Lily Pulitzer tie
The look: elitist, self-absorbed, wimpy
Full Wattage Smile: the one that almost touches his eyes
Former FBI
Sixth degree black belt, highest ranking Caucasian in the world
The look of a pampered, preppy pantywaist - in reality a devastating fighter
See him and think: normal, well-adjusted human being - in reality, he is anything but.
Drives a Jaguar
Unlikely passion for Broadway musicals
Does not believe in love or relationship with the opposite sex
Roommates with Central Character at Duke University
Handles the money matters for MB SportsReps clients (Central Character's company)
His vantage point: his life had been one long lesson in how to take care of himself, not trusting or depending on others
Not many people he cares about but those he does are cherished with an intensity.
Cool, calm collected - lock and loaded

Love, love, love this guy in the Harlan Coben Myron Bolitar (Central Character) novels!!! There are 10 novels in this series, starting in 1995 and the most recent in 2011.

You can probably tell I just finished one last night. Heck! I read the whole thing yesterday...couldn't put it down.
 

Wish I could remember the book and the character who basically got me started with the "huh." It seems a natural part of me - maybe it was before but I didn't notice and it hadn't crept into my writing. Huh. Oh, well. It occurred again in the most recent John Sandford book I finished last night called "Dead Watch." It didn't have a familiar repeated central character, so this wasn't my first encounter nor did he use the "huh" all the time like what happened previously.

Manners of speech, idiosyncrasies, personal traits which make a person unique, one of a kind - things that stand out and make me go "huh." Ponder, wonder, think about. Huh. I can hear Percy/Bob right now - make it clear who your central character is - it should all revolve around her. Those crisis should come rushing in and smack her in the face...just like real life. Afterall, isn't that what novels are for? Reading about someone else's "real life crisis" in order to escape my own?

Little Sweetness kitty is sleeping on the printer. She's one of the outside gray tortiseshell kitties, one of three surviving sisters. She takes to coming in when it's cold or rainy outside. She gets to stay in my office overnight. This morning, so far, she has shown absolutely no inclination to go back outside. That's okay with me, but when the dogs come in, they will chase her if she gets off the printer. She's had more than a few dog traumas - her own real life crisis - surviving one real attack and another that scared the poop out of her literally. It's interesting about Sweetness. In the house, she loves to be petted - outside she shies away most of the time. Sweetness was born in May 2004. That makes her about 8 years old, a senior citizen according to the vet. Sweetness hasn't met this vet - has not no shots in awhile. It's too hard to capture her on an appointed day and time. She never strays too far from the front of the house only occasionally going over to the neighbors through the fence. Huh
 

Yesterday, I referred to "more to the story" and indeed there is. When I went to the doctor's office, rather attempted to go to the doctor's office, I got lost along the way. The internet map thingy showed it simple. Five steps just to get from our house to the highway. I knew those; I've been there before. It's only a few miles. Then get on the Interstate - 35 by name. Rev up to 75 and rumble on down the highway. Slow down for the 410 North Loop exit and zoom around like crazy and head into the big city of San Antonio. THEN, then, then...IT SAID...go to Medical Drive. That's it, no other instructions.

WRONG!!!!! There is no Medical Drive exit! I not only went to "hellandback" in San Antonio, I went to its neighboring community - "longwaypasthellandback." I panicked. I was going to be late! Not accepted by this doctor I was told. I doubled back to where I didn't know. I pulled into a drive and called the doctor's office. "Help me please. I'm lost as a goose in a fog. I need directions." She gently said, "Oh, you went way to far!" She sounded shocked. Then she said, "Go, back. Take the Babcock exit. Go to the Valero on Louis Pasteur and call me. I'll give you further directions from there."

Okay, so I go a long, long, long way to the Babcock exit or what I think is the Babcock exit. I'm on it. No Valero in sight. How far do I have to go to find it? I'm not even sure this is Babcock; no signs. Panic! I turn around. Why, I don't know...wrong move. It was Babcock; now I have to find a way to turn around. Harder than it sounds.

Finally, arriving at Valero - an important landmark; I call the doctor's office. "Okay, go on Louis Pasture until you get to Floyd Curl (who was Floyd Curl; Louis I've heard of). Turn left on Floyd Curl and go past the stop light. You'll see our building." Okay, so I head down Louis looking for Floyd. There is a stop light and I can only turn left but is this Floyd Curl. Approaching, I finally see really small print over the street...yeah, I found it. Floyd. Down Floyd past the stop light. Yeah, there's a building. Oh, no parking garage. I hate those, but there is no option.

Parked with my little ticket in hand, head to the building knowing I need Suite 122. Enter the building, its dark...now where is the first floor. This doesn't seem to be it..and there are no instructions. Damn! I'm in the building and still not where I need to be. I ask a woman standing there. "Up one floor," she says. So I wait for the elevator with her.

First floor arrival. No signs to indicate which way 122 is. There are several options. I finally find it...introduce myself to the receptionist and then ask for the restroom. Wander around looking for it. I guess I didn't listen well enough to her instructions.

Relived and finally where I need to be, I return to the doctor's office where by a miracle and the held of the office staff, I've arrived ON TIME. Complete my paperwork and WAIT on the doctor who is NOT running on time - something I've been told emphatically he never does..NOT run on time, that is. Oh, well.

I later learned the Valero will come in handy again. When I go for the CAT scan (which my cat does quite well when he is looking out the window at the birds), I need to go to the Valero and look behind it. That's where the CAT scan building is. I guess they probably have more than CATS there, but I doubt if dogs come around much. There don't seem to be many trees or grass.
 

With baited breath you've waited all day to hear the news about my neurologist appointment today at 10:00. Ben. I don't think I know any Ben's, but so what?

Here are the facts, nothing but. Mutt (and Jeff B.) The neurologist was running late. After his staff making such a big deal about MY being on time because HE ran on time...Huh. More on the arrival time, etc., after the preliminary unloading of the factual results of the appointment.

Okay, so here's the deal. I bared my soul or least the part of it that has to do with the persistent rhythm pattern in my head. He paid attention, or at least seemed to do so. Joe. He asked some questions which I answered honestly. Why lie when it's your head at stake. Jake.

Then he did his neurologist stuff - banging on places to make me jump, seeing if I could follow his finger with my eyes, listening here and there, doing that doctor stuff.

THEN, and THEN, and THEN...... HE SAID.... "If we hadn't had our discussion, I'd wonder why you're here. Your neuro exam is completely NORMAL."

I wanted to scream, "NORMAL?!!!! What do you mean, I'm NORMAL!"

What I did say was, "I guess then you don't have a magic bullet or a special pill you can give me? Huh"

NEXT: CT scan of my head on March 6. Why so far away? To come up with the money. Honey.

A bright note: the staff were wonderful Christian ladies with a lot of God bless you and God is good stuff going on. They charged me only $190 when it was supposed to be $260. Still higher than Ink's offer of a consultation for $130, but hey. A lady's gotta do what a lady's gotta do. And the staff Christian lady talked to a lady named Becky and the CT scan will ONLY cost $250. It's usually a lot higher, but being cash-pay...hey. No one sniffs at cash these days.

Later on the other stuff I want to tell you about my marvelous day............Ray
 

Did the title help draw you in today, tonight, whenever? Huh Oh, well. This entry is going to be one of my "scattershot" type missives. A bit of this, a bit of that. Matt.

I'm reading a Lawrence Block book, title something like "We all Die." The book is in the other room, and I'm not going to go get it just to get the title right. Anyway, there is a character name T.J. He's this really cool dude who assists the main character. He's into computers and stuff, but he's into sort of ghetto/black speak with his own twist. After he speaks a sentence or two. He ends his conversation with a name that rhymes with the last word of the last sentence of his monologue.

For example, "Take me to the track. Jack." Now, he's not speaking to Jack at all. In fact, more likely he's speaking to Matt. But I don't know another name that rhymes with Matt. Isn't that a relief? Heath.