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2006 gNat's Notes

December 18, 2006

The Maxinator

Yes, another dog article. He's not a bright animal -- and I receive fresh evidence of his lack with every day that passes.

Speaking of things that pass (or don't). Max is, um, ill today. Digestively. And we just decorated for Christmas this weekend. I have no idea what he might have ingested. Still, this article was reassuring:

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/16208922/

Hey, at least he hasn't eaten a hamster yet. Or razor blades. Count my blessings, right?

Update this afternoon: My dog is chewing on my son now. I think he's okay. Yeah, did I mention I'm working downstairs again? Consider me the Christmas Tree Guardian. I'm so honored. Back to work . . .

December 14, 2006

Bovine Bliss

Okay, just stop thinking whatever ugliness you're thinking, whether it's porn-inspired or related to the imagined (leave me my delusions, please) inches I'm adding to my butt, thanks to the bowl of Hershey's Kissables I'm consuming (hey, I ran four miles this morning, so you might say I earned it already).

Actually, I'm blogging about something so innocently sweet I really should choke on the next chocolate that passes my lips. Here's the story:

http://www.slate.com/id/2154954

Is that cute or what? Poor steer got himself a girlfriend! And I'm such a sucker for a good love story.

All right. Back to work with me. I'm brainstorming a new project (another paranormal)and would like to get the foundation set before Christmas chaos consumes us all . . .

December 07, 2006

How many shopping days until Christmas?!

So, exactly when did it get to be December? And do I say this every year? Duh, of course I do. Strangely enough, I've managed to get a decent amount of shopping done in a very haphazard fashion. I even know what I'm getting dh for Christmas this year -- shhhhhhh! (heh, heh, heh)

What we haven't done yet is decorate for the holidays, heaven help us. I'd elaborate, but that would be silly when you can read about it in excruciating detail on Deadline Hellions.

Ah, but we've had lots of company and are expecting more. We're loved. (Or at least a common obligation among family members?) My brother-in-law and his new wife visited us over Thanksgiving and we had a blast with them, and after that, we enjoyed a visit with my parents who braved mountain ranges to spend time with us and their grandkids. In a few weeks, my in-laws will grace us with their company. See? Loved.

Meanwhile, I've been knitting and reading and researching and plotting another work of evil genius (or so I hope) -- but I really, really need to convince Max that he's not a lapdog. He's decided he's a very cold puppy dog and insists on having his paws off the floor while napping. That's almost 50 lbs. worth of squirming and heavy hound. Try typing around that lapful, why don't you.

November 09, 2006

Purple Mania

It's amazing what a fresh coat of paint can do to a mindset. Okay, if we're talking about this particular room, it's amazing what any coat of paint can do to the cobwebs, mansize dust bunnies and mounds of paper dead weight populating a dreary room and head.

Obviously, my cold meds are making me too sleepy to get to the point, assuming I have one. I painted my office last week. Two shades: Hyacinth Tint and Indulgent, both by Sherwin Williams. I painted all the north/south facing walls one color and all the east/west facing walls the other, just to play up the cool angles and such. It looks great, if I do say so myself. I was very careful not to leave any specks of the ugly builder's white showing, and cleaned up my many mistakes -- knowing full well that anything, but anything, can serve as a magnet to the eye when I'm procrastinating.

I used to have these elaborate plans to paint my office like a sky, with a pretty blue background, showcasing fluffy white clouds and maybe even a subtle lightening where the sun would be. Shadows, even. It was very cool in my imagination. So cool, in fact, that I knew the reality would be way too distracting for me to get any writing done. I'd be too busy staring at the walls and pondering what I could have done differently or better, when I should be staring at the computer screen.

And so we have solid shades of this pretty blue/purple color. Even better, I killed, once and for all, the ficus in the corner that's prayed for death for going on six years now. Poor thing. It could go six weeks without water and still not die. What plant in its right mind would refuse to give up the ghost, knowing it had only me to care for it? Silly plant.

Maybe I should go take a nap before I hallucinate my plant conversing with me. Scary.

October 09, 2006

Lick Your Worst Fear

[Note from gNat: I originally wrote and posted this on October 5 at DeadlineHellions.blogspot.com. Given the subject matter, however, I couldn't resist bringing it home to join its predecessors.]

Sunday marked a momentous occasion in the Stenzel household. On that remarkable day, the youngest family member faced one of his (and our) greatest fears . . .

Max the 11-month-old beagle/basset hound met the two guinea pigs who have secretly inhabited my children's bedrooms lo these many months. He never had a clue until now. Not the brightest crayon in the box, our Max, but certainly the one with the biggest, squishiest heart. But I digress.

As a hound dog -- and believe me, he's all hound dog, from wrinkled brow, to clumsy paws, to floppy ears, to deafening ROOOOOOO for a bark -- Max is considered a rabbit dog. This is his place in the food chain. Guinea pigs are much like rabbits. They occupy a link in the food chain, just a tasty step below that of rabbit dog. My husband and I have feared Max one day discovering the guinea pigs on his own and eating his gory fill. Can you imagine explaining to your children that their beloved puppy, with the melting brown eyes and endearing tail-chasing habit, ate their defenseless little squeakers?

Picture me cringing.

So the bedroom doors remained closed, containing their fearful little secrets. My children, who took the hint only too well, were neurotic in their quest to hide the pigs from the dog, even as they adored canine and cavy alike.

Meanwhile, on Saturday morning, Max's obedience school instructor (pardon me while I snicker -- Max was popularly regarded as the special needs student in this class, as in "hey, but that was good . . . for Max") insisted that Max meet his mysterious little housemates as soon as possible. So we staged the meeting, with pigs in the cage and dog on the leash.

Max. Was. Terrified.

His hackles were up, and he was bracing low and backward even as he lunged forward, barking his head off. When my husband backed up to give the animals room while I held the leash, Max backed up, too, glancing hysterically at me as if to say: "Save me! They'll nibble on my toes with their little rat teeth while I sleep. Puppy toes everywhere are in danger here. Hello? Save the puppy dog!"

Eventually, however, Max calmed, his hackles smoothed, and he started sniffing at the cage. The guinea pigs, satisfied that the big galoot was done shouting at them -- hey, that other dog, the old lady, never talked to them like that! -- emerged from their little houses and came to sniff at Max. He was shocked. They grew bolder, climbing the side of the cage to stick their wiggly little noses out. Max lunged forward, back, forward, then paused. And licked them. Over and over. It was adorable. Buddy, the bolder of the two, kept getting closer and closer, sniffing at Max's tongue. Henry, the finicky guinea pig (picture the odd couple and you'd have an accurate illustration), would approach, get licked, then back away in disgust to flip his food bowl at Max. But Max just kept licking away at Buddy, like a confused but eager cat grooming an unlikely kitten.

Granted, my husband and I were pretty sure Max just wanted a little taste more than he wanted to show affection, but the kids thought it was darn cute. No little bones went crunch -- neither guinea pig ribs nor puppy toes -- and no little kids' hearts were broken. Sure, the guinea pigs were tucked away behind closed doors again afterward. But just for now. It's a relationship in progress.

So what great fears have you licked lately? Any unlikely fuzzy friend alliances to share? And you gotta know I welcome any and all suggestions for promoting friendly dog/guinea pig relations . . .

August 21, 2006

Hello, Stranger

I can't believe the summer's almost over. And I've been embarrassingly absent, too. Highlights: a wild trip to Busch Gardens (amusement park) with my family in June; a long and seriously packed weekend to Washington, D.C. (can't wait to go back!) in July; and the annual visit with our extended relatives, from which we've just returned.

And then there's the even more recent trip, this time a solo visit to stomach bug hell. Aren't those things only supposed to torment for 24 hours? Not this baby. Day five and counting. In the interest of recovery, however, I'm currently practicing denial. Act healthy to become healthy. Yes. Work it, baby.

(Never mind.)

Saw a really good movie this weekend, albeit not a recent one. Called Frequency and recommended by my wise sister-in-law, this story stars Dennis Quaid and is basically a much better version of the Butterfly Effect concept. Quaid stars as a fireman who died in the 1960s. Fast-forward to the present (1990s), his son is a cop and troubled, living in the house that used to be his parents', when he turns on his father's old hack radio. Somehow, someway (and they make it pretty darn believable, although this is the part where we have to suspend reality), the son ends up talking with a man thirty years in the past . . . his father, just a day prior to the fire that takes his life. Very, very cool movie with a satisfying ending. Highly recommended.

Also, since I'm an HBO-deprived individual, I've never seen Deadwood, which it seems everyone, including my brothers, is talking about. Dh and I rented a DVD from the second season and, while the jury's still out, very interesting characters. Interesting enough that we're going to rent another next weekend . . .

And back to work with me.

May 25, 2006

Just bopping around up here in the clouds

Aaaaaah. Did you hear that? That was my muse laughing herself silly. She's just tickled pink. Yes, I sound like an idiot, but I'm a happy idiot. I had one of those moments today that makes writing such a pleasure. I've been working on this proposal and trying to redirect it as well as add secondary plotlines to it (smaller stories within the big story). Well, while plotting and researching today, I had a major ah-ha moment, where secondary plotline and primary plotline crossed paths at a pivotal moment in both storylines -- the big reveal!! -- and it was just explosive. I couldn't have planned this. All serendipity. Just perfect. And, since I can't even go into the details without ruining it for myself, I can't even describe it properly. Sigh. Nearly as good as chocolate. I'm telling you.

And my commitment for today: Proposal written and swatted off to the postman by June 16. (That's my drop-dead date. I'm really trying for two weeks from tomorrow.)

P.S. It was my turn today to post to www.DeadlineHellions.blogspot.com . Come check it out -- funny ladies abound.

May 19, 2006

Returning from the back of beyond

It has not been that long since I blogged. Okay, yes it has. I'm bad.

What have I been up to? Yes, a fascinating question, I know. (Small audience directed to simultaneously yawn.) I've been floating around in synopsis limbo, doing research and fitting different possibilities together. I think they finally clicked into place today. Now I just need to lop off all the extraneous detail I included in the summary as I mentally meandered along, waiting for the load of brainstorming bricks to fall on my head. Picture me plucking clay out of my hair. And pushing puppy paws off my shoulder. Honestly, I don't know why Max insists I need my ears munched on when I'm sitting at the computer. I fear for my earrings. Can a dog pass a pair of earrings? No, we're not going there.

Okay, so I've been reading Angela Knight's books. Very, very good. The woman writes dark, gritty, very sexy, action-packed and witty. I'm impressed -- and collecting all the books of hers I can find. Man, I just love finding a new author to enjoy. I also got my paws on Katie MacAlister's latest -- Even Vampires Get the Blues. I'm only a third of the way through that, but it's entertaining me so far. I'm looking forward to her next Aisling Grey novel. Also on deck, I have Lori Foster's latest, Jude's Law. She never fails to entertain -- nobody does hunky heroes better than Lori.

Can you tell I have spring fever? One of the best things about being a writer is the work environment. I can open all the windows, let in the sunshine, and walk my dog at noon while I brainstorm. The dress code (flip-flops, shorts and T-shirts) is pretty nifty, too*g*. Still, spring fever or no, I will have that synopsis chopped, polished and out the door by Tuesday afternoon.

April 27, 2006

Deadline Hellions

So I'm cheating on my own blog. Surely I'm not the only one in the world to do this. There are many of us who procrastinate on our real work and get nothing done because we're too busy posting to various blogs. Yeah, I know. That's only logical if I actually post to my blog every day. Bad Natalie.

Still, some writer friends and I started a group blog called Deadline Hellions. They're hysterically funny women who've all written romantic comedy at one time or another, although many have gone on to write in other genres. Check us out if you're interested at www.deadlinehellions.blogspot.com It was my turn to post today, or maybe I shouldn't say so and scare you away?

April 11, 2006

Life Lessons, Courtesy of Max the Canine Genius

Tired of the dog stories yet? Well, this one's great -- I only wish I could provide the visual to go with it. Ever see a dog chase his tail? There's nothing funnier. Really. My dog Max recently took up this pastime. I'm not sure why. He must have always known he had a tail, right? Or maybe I give him too much credit.

Regardless, he'll just be standing there, doing dumb dog stuff and thinking dumb dog thoughts, when he'll glance just a little too far over his shoulder and see -- gasp! -- the evil villain in all its slender, furry length! Yes, the dastardly tail is still following my canine boy genius. And stalking, predatorlike, is more challenge than any dog can ignore. Max freezes. Gives his tail the stink-eye. A challenge in exchange for a challenge.

The villain. Doesn't. Back. Down.

So Max is off and madly circling, circling, circling, until he corks his head on the coffee table and falls to the floor, stunned. Often, however, the boy is successful. Courtesy of a limber spine and a hard head, Max will catch that tail, staggering around the room in his little pretzel shape, until he loses his balance. Yes, the tail is still in his mouth. And he doesn't know what to do with it. Sure, he tugs on it, eventually chomping sharp puppy teeth down hard on a startled puppy yelp. (Yes, genius, it hurts when you bite yourself.)

It makes you wonder, though, how often humans (a smarter species, we hope?) chase their own tails, seeking some elusive goal out of greed, joy, curiosity, revenge, habit, ambition, obligation or some other motive. What will we do once we achieve it? Is it really the end that we want? Or for some reason do we just need the journey required to get there? A quest. Any quest. That adventure-filled hunt for the buried treasure that's probably not even there. The dizzy excitement of chasing after the impossible, the elusive, the one thing we never expect to actually attain. The size zero dress, the big promotion to boss, the six-figure salary, the finish line of the marathon run, the entree to some cliquish group. But . . . why? What's the draw?

Maybe . . . it's purpose. Maybe . . . it's a substitute for something else. Maybe . . . I'm way out of my depth posing as psychotherapist in my everlasting quest to procrastinate . . . Uh. Oops. Yeah, back to the brainstorming and synopsis writing. Ahem.

April 05, 2006

Kiss My A$$

You may very well enjoy the subject of this article if you're a guy who also happens to be a misogynist and/or masochist (i.e., there could be violent retaliation from the eavesdropping women in your life, if there are any). Women, for the most part, will revile it. I know it brought out some of my more homicidal tendencies. Check it out:

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/12156585/

And, for the gist of it, a direct quote from that article:

"A donkey is like a housewife," declares the Hindi language primer approved by the state of Rajasthan, according to The Times of India newspaper. "It has to toil all day, and, like her, may even have to give up food and water."

"In fact, the donkey is a shade better," continues the text meant for 14-year-olds, "for while the housewife may sometimes complain and walk off to her parents' home, you'll never catch the donkey being disloyal to his master."

The comebacks and insults are slinging back and forth in my head. I don't even know where to begin, other than to suggest that the author spare women everywhere and marry his freaking donkey, then. (From there, possible responses could only descend into obscenity and perversion, thereby rendering them unfit for public viewing.) Granted, some spokesperson claimed the textbook was written with humor in mind, but I'm just a leeetle skeptical. The book, after all, was intended to instruct 14-year-old kids. I'm thinking the spokesperson's nervous little excuse is nothing more than a PC backpedal -- and a lame one at that.

April 04, 2006

Perfectly Insane

Ever see a perfectionist at work? Picture dilated pupils, bloodshot eyes, sweat-gleaming forehead, white knuckles and air that's thick and blue with every word your mother taught you never to say. Now put this person in front of a computer. Scary, isn't it?

Not to mention mostly unproductive. Yes, I'm serious. Unproductive.

Naturally, what led me to this conclusion first was my ceaseless diddling with my website. Somebody save me from fonts that float and guidelines that don't obey me and cursors that select and delete the wrong thing. Aaargh! (Okay, I'm better now.)

But even worse than the amateur fiddling incessantly with her website . . . is the writer writing, rewriting, deleting, editing, fixing, reworking . . . those first three chapters over and over. What about the rest of the book? Just write the nasty first draft. Spit it out. You can pretty anything up once it's on the screen. Just. Get. It. On. There.

And, sure it could be that I'm lecturing myself. Just write the thing already . . . those first five pages are going to die later anyway . . .

Maybe I should have entitled this verbal vomit? Yeah. Eeeeew. Skip it.

March 29, 2006

Psycho Kitty

Okay, so it's understood I'm a dog person, yes? No one raves about Jaws the puppy dog for several posts unless she likes the species. So we can all agree that I'm a little biased in favor of the canine and mildly nervous of the adult feline. Still, prejudices aside, I read this story that I swear would make even a cat person a little uneasy. Check it out:

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/12057893/

For those who prefer not to click on the link, it's a news story about a cat with six claws on each foot. Each foot also has one mutant toenail that's lethally long -- an efficient weapon that puts him in a category well above your average psycho cat. Scary stuff. You know, I could never, ever get away with making something like this up for a book. Fiction has to be believable and logical; real life can break all the freaking rules.

Still, it could be that I'm snickering (in a guilty way, I swear) over the injured Avon lady who helped result in kitty being placed under house arrest. A regular attack cat. He seriously put some of his victims in the hospital. Can you believe it? No doubt he could rake holes in my dog, who uses our daily walks together to perfect his patented bark-and-run maneuver.

March 27, 2006

Rewebbed

I've done it now. My website (www.NatalieStenzel.com) has a new look and the pukey Barbie pink is gone, gone, gone. Thank you. Happy day. Now if only I can keep myself from changing just one more little thing -- a font style or size, a different color shade, shifting a line or a box just a touch . . . yes, I've been obsessing. I swear I haven't touched it today -- spent weekend hours only on the site -- but it's been difficult. There's always just. One. More. Little. Thing.

(Still, to celebrate the end of pink, I also swapped out my blogger template to a blue one, too. I know, it's just a party, isn't it?)

Okay, shaking it off. I spent a good part of today gathering up my possible story ideas and writing up usable blurbs on each. I feel so organized now. Focused even. Like I rebooted my brain and listed files, sending the trash to the recycle bin, killing unused icons, and polishing up and reordering all the useful stuff.

Sure, it sounds like a really rational way of making a decision on my next project, but in all honesty, there's not a lot that's rational about this process. I think I'm really just teasing myself, wafting the possibilities under my nose to see how long I can hold out before I pounce on one . . . which will it be . . . any of these or a brand new, completely unexplored one that lands unexpectedly at my feet . . . ?

Oh, the mind games. Is it any wonder I'm insane?

March 24, 2006

Back from Beyond . . .

. . . or at least, from the kitchen table.

At last, at last, I can work in my office again. We've sacrificed a chair and a rug, among other, less traumatic things, to Jaws the puppy dog. Good thing for him he's so cute or he'd be an ex-dog. Now that parvo puppy quarantine's been lifted, he can go for walks outside of the yard, so we've settled into a routine that encourages less puppy mischief than before. And I can get some work done!

I've been a neglectful blogger this month, but at my less-than-professional kitchen table, I did manage to finish my paranormal and edit the daylights out of it. Definite feeling of accomplishment there. On a less-than-cheerful note, I've been swimming around in that ugly in-between-projects phase for a while but seem to be emerging gradually. Which is good. I think my family's ready to eject my grumpy butt from the house (can't really blame them for that one -- major bitch mode for a while).

Meanwhile, I'm planning to update my website, assuming I can relearn FrontPage. I'm sick of the blotchy pink background and just feel the need to experiment a little. Let's see what damage I can do. I learned to color block today, which is entirely unnerving. Now I just need to work on all the minutiae and, er, remember how and where to publish the thing. Heh, heh. Bet you think I'm joking, eh? I'll figure it out . . .

Ah, but only in my off-hours, I swear. Building/editing web pages is one of the biggest time sucks. You start fiddling with graphics and fonts and suddenly hours and hours have passed. Scary. But I need to get on with the writing or my sanity is forfeit. I'm juggling several story ideas right now, which is almost as bad as having no ideas. Okay, that's only bad if you're indecision personified (i.e., me). I'm going to let it all cook over the weekend and see what floats to the top . . .

Let the Friday begin.

March 01, 2006

Puppy Love

Ironically, I chose demon dog from hell day to post about the new addition to our family. Maxwell Charming Stenzel (no worries; we call him Max) is a five-month-old beagle with just enough basset hound in him to account for long ears, a wrinkly forehead, and paws the size of basketballs. He's utterly adorable, which goes without saying, and the boy is all teeth. The 'Charming' part of his name is a nod to his good looks and sweet nature and to the day we adopted him: Valentine's Day.

A rocky beginning, though. Max came down with parvo and spent a week as a sick little puppy at the vet's. He's better now, thank heavens, and making up for it in growth and attitude. It's good to have a puppy in the house again. Life for dog people in a house with no dog just seems too sterile and too quiet. Max, naturally, cured both of those problems in no time. I just had no idea piranhas had evolved into land-loving beasts resembling beagle/basset hound mixes. I've also mostly abandoned my office for writing until he gets a little older. You'd be shocked what a puppy can find to eat in an office. I've rescued rubber bands, paper clips, even manuscripts from lethal puppy jaws. Looks like I'll be toting the laptop downstairs on a daily basis, thereby limiting my online time and, quite possibly, getting more writing done. Remains to be seen.

Cute puppy story: before Max was sick, a spool of thin gold ribbon disappeared. Or, rather, the spool turned up as a ragged mess with the ribbon completely gone. This concerned us when Max starting getting sick the following day so we took him to the vet, who diagnosed parvo. Now that the parvo's behind us, however, Max did something amazing the other day. He produced The Ribbon. After doing so, fuzzy boy gallumphed his way up the deck steps, tail-wagged his way to the door, and presented his prize to me with all kinds of pride and amazement. "Look, Mom! I'm not just any old puppy. I can poop gold!"

February 06, 2006

That Nonsense Post I Mentioned

And this would be the post that moves the obituary-type post down the queue so I don't get depressed every time I try to blog. Yep. There we go.

In other news, I had a 32-page writing day. How awesome is that? My wrist is killing me, my jump drive is groaning (I'm a compulsive saver), and this rough draft is almost finished. Hot dog. I'm thinking a completed rough draft by the end of tomorrow. Is it crap? Why certainly. Does it require editing? Oh, good grief, what a stupid question. But a rough draft it is. Let the editing from hell commence!

And thus we end this nonsense blog, only to admit it might be later in the week before I post a *real* blog entry . . .

January 11, 2006

In Memoriam

Molly Stenzel

May 30, 1992 - January 3, 2006

For a dog, you were such an individual.

Intelligent, funny, moody -- and even complex, with that terrible dignity you defended from teasing loved ones, and the shameless adoration you expressed to new and long-lost friends.

We'll never forget you.

***

(God knows she'd haunt us if we even tried. Probably with that engaging bitchy look in her eyes and those ridiculous ears pridefully erect as she grumbled obscenities under her breath. Man, I loved that dog.)