Turpentine meets Buffalo Bill

I know, it was billed as Buffalo Bill meets Turpentine, but Turp was the definite underdog and it is my web site. Here is Vicky Panzich of the Next Chapter Bookstore in Woodland, California. (This is a GREAT bookstore. It used to be a hardware store and all of the great hardware ghosts must be roaming around being helpful and interested. It's got a wonderful feel, a gallery running around the upper floor, a coffee shop, a wide and fine array of books, and Vicky and John are friendly and interesting. Go to Main Street and hang around for a while, you'll love it.)

It was a lot of fun to appear with Louis. I didn't realize how nice it was to have a break in between reading passages. While Louis talked (and he can talk) I could sit back, wave at friends, (Louis may have found this very irritating) get a drink of water. I, at one point, took a call on my cell phone. It was Jess and when Louis looked askance at me I said, "It's one of your sons." Next time I'll turn the phone off because the next time it could ring while I am reading.

It was also great to have an expert on the scene. If anyone were to take exception to my depiction of the past, they knew I would put Louis on the case, and no one gave me any trouble at all.

Further, he bought me coffee afterwards and drove me home.

I'm not sure what the perks were for Louis in sharing the podium with me...I didn't buy him coffee or drive. According to the photographs, I did look adoringly at him a few times.

I'll ask him what he liked about the experience. If he can't come up with something good, he's in big trouble. He can usually be counted on to say something sweet and if must be true, because he's the historian.

Old and Gorgeous-it can happen!

It's Thursday, the busy day at our house. I did get a run in, now I'm off to my office. Work, work, work. So- to cheer all of us up who are facing another long day, Pippin is providing comic relief. You can be old and gorgeous. Check out those fangs!

My Cell Phone HELPS ME WRITE!

I'm old enough that a cell phone still seems miraculous to me.  And...I'm guess I'm young enough that I feel good instead of irritated that I can always be reached.  In fact, I am willing to give my cell phone a great deal of credit for the writing I do.

Because I've got it, I can go to my "office" (Starbucks) all day long  and focus on the keyboard not having to worry that my family can't get hold of me.  

Because I've got it I can call people and ask for words that I just can't think of and can't go on without.  (What's that word for...?)

I've made appointments, had interviews, set up schedules...on my cell phone.  

I got the call from my agent saying she had sold my book on my cell phone.  

And today my writing buddy and I did writing sprints together, though we were a hundred miles apart, because of my cell phone.  

My cell phone and my lap top...

Oh, let me tell you how thankful I am for my laptop!   (Another entry)

CRAZYRODENTACTIVITY

I AM THE MAD SQUIRREL OF CORRESPONDENCE!
Yesterday I scuttled, scratched and tapped out 20 e-mails, 8 actual letters, in envelopes, signed, stamped and mailed. Bwahahahahahahah! Today I will be a mere mouse and quietly finish off a few notes that I started yesterday. But I will write. Back to the novel!

To the Breach

It awaits. The 279 e-mails that have been put into your inbox that require some kind of attention. And then requiring filing into folders. For every hour I spend writing notes and e-mails and letters, I spend twenty thinking about it. I compose in my head. I think about how much nicer it would be to write actual letters. I fret over where I will find actual addresses. I worry if I have one more step, that is finding actual addresses, it will be years before I get anything done. It goes on and on.

This morning I had a dentist appointment at 7:30. I am NOT a morning person and definitely NOT a dentist person. I thought perhaps if I went so early it would make things better, not being fully conscious to worry about my teeth, the pain, and the future pain therein.

It was worse. I was cold. I didn't get breakfast. Riding my bike to the dentist woke me up sufficiently to worry and feel pain both. I got bad news.

However, the bad news didn't take long, and I was home by 8. My computer staring at me. I, having faced the worst already, sat down and charged through correspondence. At least a quarter of it. And the day is still young.

Thursday, the day after the reading, a day of eating, and hanging around the airport

Thursday morning I woke and had breakfast with Gingy and Chris and then Gingy and I went to Acequia books, a great used bookstore in Albuquerque run by Gary, a true bibliophile, and Marilyn Stablien a fantastic writer and artist. (Vermin, The Census Taker, a memoir of her travels in India) I bought books, though I had no room in my luggage and the volumes made dognapping Ben a definite impossibility.

Sarah Paine, Graduate Student, writer, assistant extraordinaire, took me to the airport after I had eaten yet another serving of green chile. (Green Chile enchiladas, green chile stew, green chiles on roated chicken sandwich, green chile quesadilla, yes, all in only two days. Why did I gain 2 pounds while I was gone? I didn't even think that was possible.)



At the airport I found that my flight's departure time had been changed from four pm to seven thirty pm. I now had four and a half hours to hang around. Perhaps because of this the airline put a code on my ticket. SSS. When I gave my boarding pass to the guy at security he announced that my airline had chosen me for special inspection. Yahoo.



I stood at the sign with all the s's and waited and waited. I finally yoo-hoo-ed and the security team at the regular line glared at me, snapped to wait. Finally, two young men escorted me to the special machine that would discern if I were carrying explosives in the lining of my bag or not.



Apparently people with heart conditions often get a false positive and have to go through additional interrogation, a process that seems rather ironically dangerous and not a little heartless. The guy told me people do get a little bent out of shape when chosen for special inspection, but he merely crooks a finger and they quiet down real quick when the cops swoop down. I behaved myself.



I ate a quesadilla here. TEN tv sets. Nine were on the Dallas San Antonio basketball game.



Hours and hours, and hours later we were over LA.



in our very small plane.



I finished the Thursday NYT crossword puzzle and then we landed. Hard. It was like the pilot thought the ground was ten feet farther down than it really was. Louis was waiting for me outside of baggage. Ah, home.

Flying to Albuquerque and the reading at BookWorks, Wednesday, November 14th

The vacuum bag at work. This is my pemmican clothing; A long blazer, pair of pants, tights, pajamas, all squashed into a notebook sized space.


The desert is sooo beautiful. New Mexico is gorgeous.


The BookWorks bookstore patrons. I took this picture noting that if we were in a murder mystery I'd be the victim, someone in the audience not wanting to have it known he/she had been there. Thank God I survived.


Preparing to read, enthroned in the large chair, seemingly puzzling over something at the back of the book.


One of the best things about readings is afterwards, having conversations with people I wouldn't usually get to talk to.


Gingy Scharff, aka Virginia Swift. She not only writes REAL history, but also has penned a fantastic mystery series, The Mustang Sally books, which are set in Laramie, Wyoming.


The bookstore was fantastic, but the owners, Nancy (center) and Mike Rutland were even better. Real book lovers, charming, and very hospitable.

Gingy in her garden. I only wish I had gotten a picture of her dog Ben as well. I would have slipped him into my luggage if I hadn't bought so many books.

Ready for Albuquerque

As my lovely 94 year old neighbor says, "I have been thinking of the hereafter quite a bit today." (I walk into a room and ask myself WHAT am I here after?)
There's a lot of great things about travelling. But truth be told, it's expensive and not just in a dollar amount. It costs me in focus. I told myself that I would make the invitation for the Buffalo Bill meets Turpentine Reading (2pm on December 2 at THE NEXT CHAPTER in Woodland!), I would pack, go over my reading, then spend half the day writing at my office, catch up on e-mail and do a blog entry. Ummm. Got the invite done, I think.

Well, there is something else to think about other than work, and that's eating. And though I am going to New Mexico for a reading, and I do hope it goes well, New Mexico is one of my favorite places to fill up. I can't wait to wrap my tongue around some sopapillas. I want green chile stew and flat enchiladas, I want rellenos, I want chile, chile, chile. The trouble is, I am only going to be in Albuquerque for about 36 hours.

Sigh, I will do the best I can.

Ol' bat ears, the barfalo herself, has a following. She is big in Germany. (Her picture showed up on a German site!) Well, she's big here, too...but we're talking BIG,sis. In any case, I am not one to stand in the way of feline attraction. Here she is again, world. And if anyone wants her, just let me know. She threw up on my feet last night. Other than that, she's a GREAT cat. Really, let me know.

I'm back to the new project. Back to my office where they brew my coffee to order. The only trouble is, sometimes when I walk through those double swinging doors someone is sitting in my seat! I give the person the evil eye, and yet they do not move. I complain at the counter, but apparently other people are ALLOWED to sit wherever they want in Starbucks when I'm not there, AND when I am. Very sad. I did manage to get some work done. Thank you Jill for finding me a place to perch. As for all those people who go to my office only to drink coffee- that's OK, I guess, but how about scooting over?

I wonder if I could call ahead and make a reservation?

Salt and sugar

The old saw-lemons and lemonade. I sure hope I am working toward lemonade...Back to work on the new book, I've been at Starbucks every day this week. I'll be back there today, hiding out from the internet, the pantry, geese, cats, and telephone in order to find that elusive lemonade track.

The good news-that's my lemon tree in the picture above. It is FILLED with lemons for the first time in the 8 years we've been here. Sam is going to make jars of preserved lemons, which I love. Even more than lemonade.

When life hands you lemons, soak them in salt and serve them with pasta.

Off to Starbucks to brine a novel.

links

I've received several queries about why I've stopped blogging. I haven't STOPPED, I'm just vacationing for a bit because I've felt like...well, Pippin demonstrates above. I am feeling a little more myself now. I'm back on track running and biking. All the clothes are washed. I am imbedded in the books that I picked up on tour, and they are wonderful, and I have even managed to be taught by my webmaster extraordinaire, Sally, how to link. Really, me. I can do it. Say I wanted to talk about The Outlander, a book written by Gil Adamson. I could then invite you to...
Check out this interview
And you would be whisked magically to it! WOW!

Let's try it again. If you haven't read Locke 1928 yet, you really should. Find out more about the book and the author at..
Stone, Ink Brush and Paper, Shawna's website

Ta Da!.

Now that I can do this, I will go back and link to all those people on the tour, so scroll back, find out more about authors of the west and authors from that sister nation of ours, Canada.

Billings to home

Yet another large decorated animal in Billings, this one I found interesting for the ungulate painted on ungulate action. Bighorn/Angus/sheep. A sort of inverted hierarchy?

The panel: THE NOVEL QUESTION went really well with a good turnout, good readings and good questions afterward. Here you see Tom Watson (Montana 1949) and Russell Rowland The Watershed Years in back.


Alyson Hagy


and our host and moderator, the charming Corby Skinner.


This is Craig Johnson, mystery writer, former law enforcement official, gallant.

Sunday morning Cherie Newman took me to the airport. As has been the way, clouds rushed in as I was about to board the plane.


I always peer in the window, if I can, afraid to catch the pilot swilling vodka, hoping, instead, to see a stalwart, sober person with exceedingly quick reflexes and keen eyesight. How I would discern this I'm not sure. Perhaps he would be siezing flies from their flights with chopsticks. This guy had his head down. I was hoping he was reading something flight-related and not nodding off. He managed to get us to Salt Lake-though the flight was kind of wobbly. Then Salt Lake to home.

It was great to be home. Louis picked me up at the airport, it was WARM! (Today it is 85) Great to see him, the kids, cats, creatures, the house. I was gone for twelve days. I had a wonderful time, but boy, there's no place like home (click, click)

And Turpentine? I bent it, clipped it, wrote notes in it, stuck paper in it, spilled beer on it twice...you can see on the top pages that I worked it hard. However....


The front looks brand new. The cover, the flaps held up like nobody's business. Grove sure did do a great job.

And how did I hold up? Not 24 hours in, some virus that snuck onto the lining of my nose on the plane to Billings, I suppose, struck me down. I collapsed on the couch to watch 30Rock. Went to the doctor and he said the trouble swallowing wasn't strep, but the muscles in my neck. I sprained my throat? I guess I'll be quiet now.

Heading for Billings

The weather only got worse as we headed west from Missoula to Salt lake, yet it held off snowing, remaining chilly, wet and grey.

This guy didn't mind, perpetually stuffed and dry in his glass case. It is such a western practice, not only to practice taxidermy, but to encase it and place it in a public place. We visit an emperor penguin every year at Little America, just before exiting (or just after entering) Wyoming.


Large decorated animals are now ubiquitous in every city from coast to coast. This one is in the Billings airport. There are also herds of painted bighorn rams scattered throughout Billings proper. I believe you can make one out, just beyond the mosaic horse.

My new lodgings. Well, perhaps not new, exactly.


An interesting rope ballustrade along the stairs leading to...


My room. I'm not sure what the condition of the hotel says about my standing among the Great Plains Writers. I imagined the greats staying in places with clean carpets while I thought it wise to keep my shoes on. When I went to the dinner on Friday night, however, everyone I met was incredibly nice. I had excellent conversations with Cherie Newman (from Missoula public radio) Tom and Jennifer, Corby Skinner, Russell Rowland and Swain Wolfe. Craig Johnson, author of Wyoming based mysteries came to my rescue as I arrived in Billings with nothing but my luggage, a hotel address and a sense that I was to appear on a panel on Saturday. He shepherded me to the MSU event and gave me some basic information about what was what and where. THANK YOU CRAIG!

After the awards dinner we went to Corby Skinner's "castle" and enjoyed more conversation and wine. Dang, I just remembered I left my whiskey glass at the dinner! (Actually, it was a very small beer glass, but doesn't a generous whiskey sound better?) Perhaps Corby can provide me with another.



The good thing about the Dude Rancher is that it is right next door to the library, and while I couldn't get anything but a fluctuating bead on the internet in my room, I got to sit at the library, (with a beautiful 1960's spiral staircase) and work on my blog.


I went looking for my venue in preparation for this afternoon. I didn't have a list of events and so asked the woman at the front desk who ripped a piece out of the newspaper and motioned me toward the street. I, predictably, went the wrong direction. I kept walking though, powered by pure hope that the building ahead was the UniversityIII. It LOOKED University-like. It was the Billings clinic.




I turned myself around, walked all the way back, got directions from the library, found the place, and found Lou Taubert's ranch outfitters. At Crest Hill Elementary School I had a crush on Robert Taubert (great rhyming name) He is Lou's son. I put my name in for a drawing. The winner (chosen this afternoon) gets a pair of 400.00 boots!


I had breakfast for lunch here. The place specializes in soups and cheese sandwiches. I bypassed the western special; velveeta on white bread. Welcome to the world of my childhood. I had chipotle jack on multi-grain with tomatoes, avocado and tomato pesto. Some things have changed.

Thursday, October 18th. Happy Birthday, Summer!

By the University you can see Grizzly tracks impressed into the sidewalk. I noticed this because I was looking downward, steaming ahead, trying to get to the shipping depot by Missoula Albertsons in order to mail home some of the books that I had told myself I wouldn't buy, and my dirty clothes. I decided to do this because leaving Calgary I was in a sweat over the possibility that the customs/security people would decide to open my luggage and because it was sooooo full, I'd never get it closed again. Picture me sitting on my luggage and trying to get it zipped. It takes me back to my teens, department store dressing rooms and jeans. The memory is not good. I'd rather not worry over it.


The weather turned. Skies darkening, the wind picking up, yellow leaves alight in the air. I hope it doesn't get bad, I have to fly in the morning.


I spent the afternoon in the Missoula library. I love libraries, and this one was a good one. I wrote a little on Kandee Widows, caught up on e-mail, and people-watched.

Upon my return to the hotel I had a message from the wonderful Elizabeth at Grove. She's great, Grove's great. It makes a big difference to me to have a phone call, an e-mail message...Away doesn't seem so adrift.



I attempted to utilize the stair stepper at the Doubletree fitness center, but the machine was smarter than I and I gave up after several minutes of balancing on one foot until the step went down, then trying the next. It felt ridiculous and looked stupid, nothing at all like the spirited workout that I had seen other people engaging in. I went to the bicycles. I ride my REAL bike at an average of 17-18 mph, while talking with my girlfriends. This one had me pegged at 7mph. And it was harder, and more boring, and I managed to last 20 minutes. By then I was sweaty, had burned 20 calories and was ready to go consume 2,000.

At the dining room I asked for a window by the river and after a Balvenie, dreamily wrote about the heron and the kayakers, the ducks and the joggers rushing by. It was a good dinner of prosciutto, whiskey and cake.


Now all that is left is packing... (AM I PACKING AGAIN?!!!)
and as soon as Louis gets home he is going to give me my sister's phone number off my rolo and I will call and sing to her even though it is not pleasant to hear, it must be pleasant for her to think how much better her voice is than mine.