A new book

Thanks to Lisa in Iowa, I just became aware that Bart Yates has a new book coming out. I loved his first book, LEAVE MYSELF BEHIND, so I checked out his site for information on the new novel.

His cover is so close to what Tim had envisioned Alyson doing for us on THREE FORTUNES IN ONE COOKIE. When Tim described his vision to me, I said, “Yeah, and they should make it look a little dreamy, with that kind of colorization that was used on Ethan Mordden’s first couple of Buddies books.”

Kensington has done that for Bart Yates on THE BROTHERS BISHOP. When I wrote our editor there and praised the cover, telling him it brought tears (of envy) to my eyes, he said the novel itself brought tears to his eyes because it’s so good.

Congratulations, Bart Yates. I’m not only looking forward to reading your novel, but I love your cover.

Lost, not found

In 1998, on my first trip to NYC, accompanied by my friend James, I met Timothy J. and Timmy in person for the first time. Another special someone suggested I do one really touristy thing while there, so he took Tim and me to the top of the Empire State Building.

I’d taken my Canon 35mm on my trip, but it was large, so I purchased a smaller Canon in NYC that slipped easily into my coat pocket.

It also slipped easily out of my coat pocket, into the back of a cab, with a finished roll of film inside that included most of my great photos of the Tims as well as my shots of the Special Someone with Tim and me at the Empire State Building.

Occasionally, I try out various phrases in Google pictures to see if anyone developed my film and tried to get the pictures back to me. Amazingly, this actually happens for lots of other sad tourists. If only craigslist had existed back in 1998.

Message to Mary T

Last year, along about August or September, Tim went back to Maine for a friend’s wedding. While he was there, he met a young lady who told him a joke that cracked him up. When he told it to me, I decided to find a way to work it in to our upcoming novel because I like things that make Tim laugh.

Over the past 24 hours, I’ve read the entire blog of a fellow Montrose resident, and she featured that same joke in one of her blog entries. So, Mary T*, should you ever stumble onto this Live Journal or our book, I wanted to let you know that I didn’t steal the joke from you. I stole it from a six-year-old; don’t hate me for plagiarism. You can, however, hate me because I’m one of those women who puts up my hair in that half-bun, half-ponytail stickie-out style. I’ll understand.

*What, you think I’m going to link you to the joke? Buy our book, dammit.

I know it’s not news…

…that I am crazy about my friend and writing partner, Timothy J. Lambert. But the last week has just reminded me again as I’ve watched him with the Big Goofy Yellow Dog now known as River. I have always called Tim “the dog whisperer” because he taught Margot and Guinness many things after taking up residence in the apartment behind our house. They are wonderful dogs anyway, but he made them even better.

So I’m not surprised by his patience and kindness with River. Or the many walks he and River have taken as Tim has tried to find River’s home and family. Or the way he scheduled River’s upcoming vet visit so we can make sure he gets or stays healthy. Or the way he’s already taught River to sit, to behave well on a leash, and to accept his crate.

Just now, the girls and I sat on the office couch, staring out the window, as Tim came outside to put fresh water in River’s bowl. And watching this big, gentle dog wag his tail and follow every move Tim made with that adoring expression unique to dogs just melted my heart.

I don’t know if River will stay with us. He may be in poor health. His other family may eventually see our “found dog” signs and call. Someone else may adopt him away from us. But I know that for whatever time River gets to stay with Tim, he’s the luckiest dog in the world.

Warning to Whippersnappers

Weird shit happens as you age. I’m not talking about the way things sag, wrinkle, and gray. Everyone knows that. I’m talking about brand loyalty.

I grew up a Crest kid. Oh, sure, I’d indulge myself in an occasional fling with an Aim or a Colgate. I was briefly tempted by Pearl Drops. (Mmmmm, it’s a great feeling!) Thanks to Farrah, there was even that summer interlude with Ultra-Brite. But I always came back to Crest.

Then there was Secret. You know, it was made FOR ME. A woman.

But as I entered my pre-menopausal years, things changed. Secret wasn’t so secret. I abandoned it for Adidas. Which, oddly, smells good instead of like tennis shoes. And Crest seemed to lose its flavor. But so far, I just can’t give it up. Probably my last grin will be a Crest grin.

Cry!

Does anyone remember that Godley & Creme song from the 80s, “Cry”? I can’t get it out of my head today. It may have something to do with recent moments—epiphanies, really—in which I’ve realized how VERY fortunate my writing partners and I have been in the past. Because right now, Tim and I are getting a taste of some dues-paying.

Dues-paying does NOT taste like barbecue Fritos™.

However, I suspect that in the long run, we’ll be better off for having done it.