Tag: Houndstooth

All cats are grey

The reason for another coloring page is because I ended up giving myself a massive headache last night. I had dinner cooking when I decided to go back to Tim’s to give him his mail and have a chat of ten minutes or so to catch up after his return home from Maine.

Beware: long and winding story ahead.

Suddenly I realized 25 minutes had passed, but I wasn’t too worried because Tom was home. When I walked in the door, four dogs were freaking out (and one of them peed on the dog bed in the master bedroom), Tom was trying to shut off the smoke detector, and the house was full of smoke. Nothing from dinner was burned, but the mini meat loafs (loaves?) which I make in muffin pans (meat muffins?) had spilled grease into the bottom of the oven. Tom put a baking pan on the shelf below the muffin pan, which basically meant that meat grease was smoking on two surfaces. Thus the mayhem that followed.

Tom took the dogs to Aunt Debby’s so they’d stop freaking out about the noise from the smoke detector. He also detached the main smoke detector to shut it up. But the smell of burning grease was so overpowering that I lost my appetite. After Tom ate and did dishes, I threw the dog bed in the washing machine and set the oven to clean. If you don’t have a self-cleaning oven, at least a gas one, this means the temperature is so high that the door locks to prevent any injuries. And it basically turns anything on the interior surfaces to ashes. It takes three hours to complete the job.

The smell was by then giving me a headache, so I had four diffusers misting and four sticks of nag champa incense burning in different parts of the house. All the widows were open with fans blowing. When the oven finished cleaning, the dogs came home, the smoke detector was reattached, and everyone went to bed. Except I couldn’t sleep because of the headache, plus I could feel my blood sugar dropping because I didn’t eat. So first I got up and ate a snack and drank some water, then I tried again to sleep. Nope. So then I got up again, put the dog bed in the dryer, and took headache meds and drank more water, plus put the Wyndmere essential oil blend “Head Aide” on my pulse points. All that knocked me out, so SUCCESS.

I still had a residual headache when I woke up today, and my blood sugar was REALLY low. Drank some apple juice, ate some sweetened cereal, and wiped out the oven and cleaned the glass on the oven door and the stove surface. Afterward, I tried to write, but I couldn’t bear to look at the computer monitor, so I colored the rest of my headache away.

Then I thought I was cold, so I went to take a warm shower, but in the shower, I realized I wasn’t cold, I was shaking because my freaking blood sugar was too low again. So after the shower, I finally ate last night’s meal as a late lunch.

Everything’s normal now, and all you got was a long, boring story and a gray cat. The post title comes from The Cure song “All Cats Are Grey” (in the caves), but it’s also a Benjamin Franklin phrase, “All cats are gray in the dark.” So now you got some trivia, too (and I spelled “gray” both ways to satisfy everyone). You’re welcome.

Button Sunday

Happy Halloween! We won’t be giving candy for the second year because of the pandemic, but I’ve had a hell- raising good time through October on Instagram with the Eleventh Earl of Houndstooth Hall, Lord Cuttlebone.

Here’s a spooky Texas-style reminder from a cow skull and some gnomes that if you partake in the eating of the Devil’s Teeth, as I call candy corn, tonight is your free pass to do so.

This is my favorite photo of Lord Cuttlebone from the month. I won’t post all of the photos from October, but I’ll put the music-related ones behind a cut for fun if you want to see them.

Continue reading “Button Sunday”

Questions, No. 6


Forgive me for delving into some of these books for posts. I’m doing a lot of writing right now (this is good news), as well as keeping up with my October skeleton posts on Instagram (staging those photos can take a lot of time), plus trying to take care of household stuff. Yesterday, I emptied all my lower kitchen cabinets and cleaned and reorganized them. It’s so funny to remember The Compound and how limited my cabinet space was and wonder where the heck I kept all this stuff that now fills so many more cabinets–plus a pantry! The kitchen at Houndstooth Hall was a definite selling point for this house.

From the 3000 Questions About Me book: 1474. What three songs will always be found at the top of your playlist?

The first two are easy answers, although they often switch positions. But that third one… I mean, there are hundreds of songs that I never get tired of hearing. But for the sake of answering the question:

1. The Boxer – Simon and Garfunkel
2. Thunder Road – Bruce Springsteen
3. Til I Die – Beach Boys

It’s all about the poetry in those songs’ lyrics (although the music is also fantastic). If you only knew how many Beatles (group and individuals), Randy Newman, Beach Boys, Crosby Stills Nash and Young, Byrds, and Bob Dylan songs are eyeballing that number three spot, and I haven’t even mentioned the female artists, who are legion.

It’s funny that I found “Thunder Road” with lyrics that say “Mary’s dress waves.” This is an ongoing battle among fans AND Bruce’s own documents as well as his team’s–whether Mary’s dress waves or sways. I once taught this song with Andrew Marvell’s poem “To His Coy Mistress” as fine examples of the carpe diem theme, and Mary’s dress was waving in my version. I visualized it as the breeze making the lower half of a dress undulate like waves. To me, “sways” makes it seem like the dress is moving to the sway of hips, and I kind of feel like the sway’s gone out of poor Mary’s life. Listen to the speaker, Mary! Get your sway back and wave goodbye to the ghosts in the eyes of all those boys forever!

I’m sorry, students, if I led you wrong, but I have plenty of support for “waves.”

Tiny Tuesday!

From The Tiny Book of Tiny Pleasures, “A Page to Color.”

I realized today that I haven’t colored any pages during the month of October. I think it’s because I use coloring time to think about what I want to write, and instead, I’ve been actually writing. It’s slow, but it’s happening.

Just in case I need to put colored pencils or pens to paper, I chose my next page from Paris Street Style: A Coloring Book. It’s one of my favorites. I had a whole stack of coloring books that accumulated during September in the Writing Sanctuary, and I finally reshelved those on the craft side of the home office. Uncluttering moment: accomplished.

Who manages whom?

I’ll be distracted from the blog this month, as I was last October. In 2020, I spent the month working on a short story for a possible anthology. That anthology didn’t materialize, but I’m glad I wrote the story. It was a chance to try out a new genre, which engaged my creative energy, and it was also cathartic. I shed a lot of tears writing it. I may revise it and make it available as a 99-cent e-story at some point. Or maybe I’ll see if there are any calls for submission with guidelines it meets for other collections.

I also had something that brought me great amusement last October, when Tom found me a plastic skeleton. His name is Lord Cuttlebone, and I let him take over my Instagram account once a day that month in various settings and situations at Houndstooth Hall. Since I featured my Muse here on the blog in September, which was an emotional roller coaster, I decided to let Cuttlebone out of the closet, and again feature him in daily Instagram posts this Halloween month to make me (and hopefully others) laugh.

Today I went looking for a photo prop at my favorite antique mall while I was running errands. I didn’t find what I wanted, but I did make one good find: an album to replace this one I lost in Harvey.

Brian Wilson’s self-titled solo album, released in 1988 (11 years after brother Dennis released his)

I’m not a music critic and even if I were, I’d be like many who discuss Brian’s work with unapologetic bias. I remain intrigued by the history of the band and its members; there’s so much story there, and its reality hits every note.

What’s particularly interesting about this album is that I have a press kit put out by Sire Records to promote its release. Because current day is three decades later, and so many things that went down during the Eighties are better-known now, it fascinates me to see how information was spun for the album’s release.

This was the period when Brian’s therapist (Eugene Landy) had been re-hired and was over-managing his life, had insinuated himself into his music, and became executive producer of this album. Many articles and nonfiction books cover all this. Landy was ultimately fired and sued. His license to practice was revoked in California, but he could still practice in other states. A restraining order kept him permanently away from Brian.

A version of this story is shown in the film Love and Mercy, though one never knows, just like with this upbeat, optimistic press packet, how accurate it is.

It’s more gratifying to write outright fiction; however, I think Landy had a lot more control over Brian than I have over my musician. Right now, he’s angry in his chapter and needs me to write him into a happier place.

Skeletons and artists can be very demanding.

Photos from the Brian Wilson press kit for journalists and reviewers to use.

come up with your own

I’m going to advise you to find your own quote about laughter. There are about a million of them encouraging you to do it for your good health and state of mind, and these are times when laughing is hard. I was glad for today’s idol challenge:

Because an Instagram friend recently posted this photo:


September 2 — Laughing cropped photo ©Ed Roach

Thinking about the effects of climate change courtesy of Hurricane Ida on the country, and the effects of yet another Texas law stripping rights from women and the poor, does not keep me from thinking about COVID. I haven’t verified the numbers in the below captures, but they are thought provoking and also nothing to laugh about.

I guess today’s household task to keep me too busy to freak out will be making Tom’s bathroom clean like mine. And I have one disk left in the Feel Flows collection to listen to.

Thirty days hath September…

Thirty days hath September, April, June, and November
All the rest have thirty-one
Excepting February alone
And that has twenty-eight days clear
And twenty-nine in each leap year

I can never remember any line but the first one of that little poem that was meant to teach the number of days in each calendar month. I’d rather cut out a day of August and give it to September, especially this year, but nobody asked me. So I’ll celebrate the thirty days of September in my own way.

I have four newly revised, full novels in the saga and 140ish pages of the next one. I’m thinking of slashing a bunch from those 140 pages and revising/rewriting. With that in mind, I decided to take a brief writing break, because August writing was intense and challenging.

I’ve made some daily goals to give me structure until I write again:

  • Do at least one housekeeping task per day.
  • Listen to music, not as background, but for the music alone.
  • Do one of the things that allows my brain the freedom to think about my fiction writing (coloring, sewing, petting a dog or four, creating art, contemplating, or writing poetry/lyrics).

Today, I cleaned my bathroom. That’s some exciting material right there, I know. Thank your lucky stars I’m not giving you details about last night’s palmetto bug adventure.


I’m still listening to the Feel Flows CD box set. I did that while coloring today, and I was moved to tears by 4:47 minutes of an alternate version of a song I already love. I guess I must be a multitasker, because music + coloring = a breakthrough idea on that fifth book. SCORE!

Sometimes when I post about the Beach Boys, whether it’s their music, their history, or their drummer, I feel like I need to issue a disclaimer. I’ll put one at the bottom of this post to amuse myself.

Someone I know only via a social media site who’s a big Eddie Van Halen fan is doing a “30 Days Idol Challenge” in EVH’s honor. I don’t know if I can find a photo for all of these categories for my muse Dennis Wilson, but I can enjoy the heck out of trying. If I know the photographer, I’ll give credit. If you are the photographer, please tell me so I can credit you!


September 1 — In sunglasses cropped photo ©Ed Roach, 1980

Disclaimer: Unless you are a member of the Beach Boys, or have traveled or recorded with the band, or personally know members of the band, or are related to a member of the band, or you are married to me, or you are my lifelong friend since the age of twelve, or you are a sibling or cousin who handed over your Beach Boys records to my care, carefully consider what you might say to me. Do not tell me “facts” about the band. I’m likely aware of them, true and false. Do not talk about the bad things connected to the band, e.g., mental illness, addiction, untimely death, a fraudulent therapist, or a certain psychopathic cult leader. I’m fully educated about how these impacted the lives of band members, and they aren’t fun for me to talk about though you’re certainly entitled to find them tantalizing on your own time. Do not tell me what years of their music are superior to other years unless you are a music critic with a by-line in a reputable publication or you did several years of research to write an authorized book about one of the band members. Do not perpetuate the contrived myth that the Beach Boys and the Beatles resented or competed with each other. That applies to some of their fans, not their musicians (a single Beach Boys member’s rambling speech at a recognition ceremony notwithstanding). There are two current versions of the Beach Boys: the band that tours under the name, and the band that Brian Wilson and Al Jardine, among others, work and perform with. If you don’t know which of these two bands has my loyalty and owns my heart, do you even know me?