Summer Vacation Angst

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When I was a kid the first school assignment each fall was to write about my summer vacation. The only problem was my family didn’t go on summer vacations, not as a rule. We didn’t have the extra money and it just wasn’t something my parents were accustomed to doing. I come from a long line of people who work forty to sixty hours a week and the only vacations they took involved baling hay or the odd hunting/fishing trip. My summer vacation essays were short and generally avoided the assigned topic as much as possible.

Last year I combined three library events in Missouri with my vacation. My brother and I played tourist in the St. Louis area and despite the heat, had a great time. We went in the Arch and viewed the exhibits. My brother actually took the tram/elevator up to the top. I confess, I’m not crazy about heights or small cramped spaces. We were there the week after the tram had gotten stuck and riders had been stranded for a few hours. Just the thought of that was enough to keep me on the ground. I was perfectly happy sitting on a bench, reading, and waiting for my brother to return with photographs.

I’ve been thinking about where I want to go this year during my time off from my day job. Usually I just stay home and catch up on all the things I never get to during the rest of the year. You know – painting, cleaning out closets, cleaning out gutters, well, just cleaning in general. Nothing too exciting.

In July of 2001, my brother and I took a big trip. We flew to North Carolina, rented a car and spent a week on the Outer Banks. We saw all there was to see and then some – the Wright Brothers National Memorial at Kitty Hawk, Ocracoke Island and the Blackbeard Museum, the reenactment play of the Missing Colony of Roanoke, and the beach at Nags Head. A nervous flyer, it was my brother’s first and probably last airplane flight. We came home sunburned and happy, then less than six weeks later planes were crashed into buildings and life in the United States – especially travel – changed forever.

This year I don’t have a new book to promote (yet), so I won’t be planning my vacation around libraries and bookstores. If gas prices don’t hit $5 a gallon before the end of the month, I may drive to Branson, Missouri for a few days. Branson is a country music boomtown and home of the Silver Dollar City theme park. It’s a fun place if you don’t mind the heat and the summer crowds. I figure I can last about two days, maybe three, before I’m dying to come home.

I don’t know – it wouldn’t take much to talk me into staying home in the first place, investing in some new patio furniture, and reading a few dozen mysteries. Might even work on the next Evelyn David book! Okay, I’d probably have to do some painting and yard work too.

What about you? What was your best summer vacation? I promise you don’t have to write an essay about it if you don’t want to. There will be no grades assigned.

The Southern Half of Evelyn David

True Crime

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Jeff Markowitz has written two mysteries for Five Star, A Minor Case of Murder (released in 2006) and It’s Beginning to Look a Lot like Murder (coming from Five Star in 2009). He will join Evelyn David, Jack Getze and David Handler on the panel, Laugh or I’ll Kill You: Humorous Mysteries at the New York City Public Library on July 15. Jeff’s website can be found at www.publishedauthors.net/jeffmarkowitz. Jeff blogs at www.xanga.com/doahsdeer.

When my mother read my first book I could tell that something was troubling her. Finally, she just had to ask. “Did you intend it,” she asked, “to be funny?” You see, it troubled my mom that I had written a funny mystery. Mysteries aren’t supposed to be funny, she told me.

I didn’t set out to write a “humorous mystery” in the sense of identifying “humorous mysteries” as the subgenre I intended to inhabit. But I did set out to write a mystery that reflected my own worldview, and apparently, some of you find that worldview funny. (Of course, to put this gently, some of you are deeply disturbed).

So now I write humorous mysteries. And people expect me to be funny when I talk about writing. I have until July 15 to figure out what’s so funny. Or to lower people’s expectations.

Sometimes, when I’m having trouble coming up with a plot for my next mystery, I think I’d like to write true crime. And I know just the story. Long before I ever considered becoming a writer of murder mysteries, my wife and I would make a trip every winter to the White Mountains of New Hampshire. It was an annual pilgrimage, a week of cross-country skiing in and around the Jackson Ski Touring Foundation. Every trip was memorable, but only one trip was memorable for murder.

It was the winter of 1985. Driving north, we caught the tail-end of a news item on the car radio, nothing unusual, something about an open murder investigation. And then we arrived at this very small inn, one that we had not stayed in before, just outside of Jackson. The place had perhaps a dozen guest rooms, so, even at capacity it wouldn’t be busy, and yet, when we checked into the inn, things seemed especially subdued. But the snow was outstanding.

It was the kind of place where you would step outside, wax your skis and ski right from the door of the lodge. We spent the first day deep in the back-country. But when we returned to the inn, we noticed a news crew finishing up at the front. And that night, the inn was nearly deserted. If I hadn’t known better, I would have said we were the only guests.

But the conditions were outstanding. The next day, we took a long ski tour on the East Pasture Loop, and, returning to the inn from a different direction, we were confronted by yellow crime scene tape.

It took a few hours to piece together the story, but, apparently, several days before we arrived, someone had murdered the innkeeper and his wife, setting the bodies ablaze. My own wife was understandably anxious.

But the ski conditions were outstanding. I didn’t want to leave. “They’re not killing guests,” I told my wife, as I pushed furniture up against the door.
But we did leave, cutting short our vacation in the White Mountains and heading for Cape Cod, the beach beautiful in the dead of winter, ice floating on the water.

And that was really all I knew about the story until I stumbled upon a website recently. Apparently, in January of 1985, several days after the murders in New Hampshire, the remains of two charred bodies were found in a burned-out barn in Alachua County, Florida. Although there was evidence connecting the dead bodies in Florida to the dead bodies in New Hampshire, it took eighteen months to make a positive identification. The bodies in Florida were eventually identified as the daughter of the innkeepers and her ne’er-do-well boyfriend. A lengthy suicide note explained that they had killed the young woman’s parents because they didn’t approve of her boyfriend. Then they took their own lives so that they “could be together forever in death.”

I was right. They weren’t killing guests. This was no random act of violence. It was a crime of passion committed by a disturbed family member. I am tempted, even now, to tell my wife I told you so. But she is a passionate woman. I worry about disturbing her. It’s probably safer just to use it in a story.

Jeff Markowitz

Pollyanna Grows Up

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I was flipping through the channels the other day and there it was. A movie that my kids wouldn’t be caught dead watching, but which I am perfectly content, nay happy, to rewatch on an endless loop. It’s not Hitchcock, Scorsese, or Coppola. It’s pure, unadulterated, treacly sweet Disney: Pollyanna starring Hayley Mills.

While it was the American debut of Ms. Mills, the movie also starred old Hollywood favorites like Academy Award winners Jane Wyman and Karl Malden, and the ever-brilliant Agnes Moorhead.

Watching this movie is like eating a grilled cheese sandwich, followed by chocolate pudding served in an old, blue custard cup. It’s visual comfort food that takes me back to a quieter, gentler time – even if in my heart of hearts, I know that period in my life wasn’t ever quite as calm or as kind as I remember.

There’s a sweetness and simplicity to the Pollyanna story. A poor orphan girl comes to live with her rich, cold aunt, and with innocent goodness transforms a whole town. Pollyanna doesn’t need years of therapy having lost both her parents at an early age. She isn’t haunted by demons or bitter about being forced to live in an attic by an uncaring guardian. When she falls and is paralyzed, her hair is immaculate. When the doctor picks her up to take her to Baltimore for delicate spine surgery – there are no backboards to immobilize her body, just Doc Chilton tenderly carrying her in his arms to the train station. Little Jimmy Watson is adopted by old man Pendergast (bravo to the incomparable Adolphe Menjou), and there’s no home inspection by social workers. For that matter, Pollyanna at 12, still wears pigtails, has no body piercings, and her greatest joy is to win a doll in a carnival game. It’s not even an American Girl or Bratz doll.

There is, thankfully, no gritty realism in this movie. Maybe it’s a cop-out, but Pollyanna is the perfect antidote, at times, to my troubled world vision. It’s refreshing to believe that we should always look for the good in our fellow man. It’s comforting to think that sheer decency can make an enormous impact. It’s heartening to believe in the power of an individual to effect change.

Carolyn Hart has explained that she likes to write traditional mysteries because “the good guys always win.” Me too. I can’t control much in this world. But just like in Harrington, the “Glad Town,” in the universe I help create of Mac Sullivan, Rachel Brenner, and the Irish wolfhound Whiskey, the good guys always win.

Evelyn David

On a Wing and a Prayer

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“I don’t know what to do.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“What can I do?”

How many of us have said these same things when we have heard that someone is walking a bumpy road or enduring a trial? The answer is simple. For number 1: pray. For number 2: say a prayer. For number 3: same as number 2. It’s that simple.

And you can always do the tuna casserole if you have to keep your hands busy. That works pretty well, too.

Life is alternately hard and easy. It is a series of ebbs and flows. Sometimes, you are riding a wave of good fortune and mild seas while at other times, you are adrift, navigating bumpy waters, hanging on for dear life. Sometimes it’s other people who are in the midst of bad times. But one thing is for sure, we will all experience some kind of hardship and we all need each other to see us through. Cherish the good times and reach out in the bad. Because by reaching out—by saying “I need you, I need your prayers”—you will be allowing others to do what they can to see you through the rough times. Accept it graciously because without the ability to receive, nobody will ever feel the joy of giving.

I had a couple of years of bumpy seas myself. The first thing that was done for me, en masse, was a prayer service at my church. Very simple, very plain—just a darkened church with some votive candles, my favorite songs, some prayers from the heart—but the room was filled to the brim with people I knew, some I didn’t, and some just acquaintances. The word had gone out: one of us needs help. And everyone responded. I didn’t need anything else.

The group was diverse in every way possible: by age, by faith, by economic status, by hometown. But it was one thing that they could all do, to say, as a group: “We’re here; we love you; we’ll help you get through this. We are doing something.”

And if you have ever felt the power of someone, or everyone, sharing your collective burden, you know that it is a comfort. Together, despite our many differences, we came together to pray.

Prayer is a funny thing: some people embrace it, while others eschew it. I feel that prayer is a way to put positive energy into the world and to me, there’s nothing negative about that. When we pray—and I don’t care to which God or higher power you pray or we’re talking about—we focus on a power or energy that is beyond us. And if it centers us and takes us out of ourselves and into a different space, it’s all good.

One of us needed help today. So five of us gathered at a critical hour in this person’s life, when she would submit to a test that would tell her if what the doctors thought they saw on another, more general test, was indeed cancer. As we held hands and offered prayers between the silent spaces, I felt a power pass between us, an energy. And as the tears flowed from her best friend onto the individual hands of each woman, we acknowledged that we are here. We are doing something. We are praying.

Maggie

Time to Celebrate (for a few short moments)

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I typed The End on my latest Deputy Tempe Crabtree mystery. Of course now I have to do the most important part and that is editing. I’ll wait a couple of days to get started with that.

One thing many readers don’t realize, it’ll be about two years before this one is in print.

The next offering in this series is called Kindred Spirits from Mundania Press. It will be out in September. The following September I expect the following Tempe book to make it’s debut, Dispel the Mist.

While writing, every author is busy planning how they will market each book. Like most everyone else, I have events going on all the time.

The places I’m going this month are listeed on the website. What that doesn’t tell you is for the park gig on the Fourth of July, it not only means hauling my books, but also an EZ-up (tent without sides, 2 tables and 2 chairs) probably half way through the park–and that depends upon how easily we find a parking spot near te park.

The West Coast Author Premier is a bit easier becauase all I have to haul is my books and handouts for my presentation. (Of course I must remember to print them out.) My presentation is at 10:30 a.m., which is good, then I’ll be all done.

The first night in Ventura we’re staying in a haunted room in a Bed and Breakfast at our request, the second night in my youngest daughter’s brand new home. Will blog about both.

For the writers’ group, of course I have handouts.

With a schedule like this, sometimes it difficult to find a time to breathe, much less write.

This is what I’m doing for the books I already have–and I’m also working on the schedule for the new book due in September.

Slight confession, I love it, just wish I were younger.

Marilyn
http://fictionforyou.com

The Movie or the Book?

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I’ve always been one to read the book before seeing the movie or television series spinoff; thus I’m usually disappointed in the movie. There have been exceptions of course. A good actor or actress can tip the scales.

My top ten for where the movie or television series was better than the book:
1. Jaws – the cast, the visuals, the music. That was some movie!
2. Lonesome Dove – loved the movie, never made it all the way through the book.
3. To Kill a Mockingbird – the movie was beyond wonderful; the book was merely fantastic. Okay so I love both but I’ve seen the movie more times than I’ve read the book.
4. The Client (the movie was one of Susan Sarandon’s best roles. Loved the banter between her and Tommy Lee Jones) – The book was good but I didn’t care for the television series
5. A Time for Killing – (the movie was better than the book.) The book was one of my least favorite of John Grisham’s list. I didn’t care for The Firm in either the book or movie version.
6. The Awakening Land (loved the miniseries although Conrad Richter novels are very good)
7. The Hunt for Red October – excellent movie, good book
8. Silence of the Lambs – Jodie Foster is and always will be “Clarice.”
9. The Shining (although that’s a close call, Jack Nicholson makes the movie stand out.)
10. The Godfather – the cast was perfect.

My top ten for where the book was far better than the movie or tv series:
1. Patriot Games – the plot in the book was much more exciting
2. The Kathy Reich novels – I just can’t get into the Bones tv series
3. Jeffery Deaver’s Bone Collector series – the books are excellent, the movies are exciting, but not nearly as interesting as the books.
4. In Cold Blood – the book was much scarier than the movie. The book Helter Skelter was also scarier than the mini-series.
5. The Little House On the Prairie books – when the tv series aired I couldn’t get over the fact that Mary wasn’t blind. Even at ten or eleven I was comparing the show to the books and finding the show lacking.
6. Da Vinci Code – I know some people don’t like the book but I enjoyed reading it – the movie not so much. Tom Hanks seemed totally miscast.
7. Contact – I had such high hopes for the Jodie Foster movie and was so disappointed.
8. Cold Mountain – the book was much better than the movie.
9. Jurassic Park – I liked the intricacies of the book’s plot best, but I have to admit the movie was exciting. I’ll call that one a toss-up.
10. The Stand – couldn’t make it all the way through the mini-series. The book was very good.

If you’ve seen the movie and read the book, which do you prefer? Do you think it makes a difference if you read the book before seeing the movie?

I’ve always hoped for a movie or tv series from Nevada Barr’s books. I can’t understand why some producer doesn’t see the potential.

Do you have a favorite book you’d like to see made into a movie or tv series? Of course my first choice is Murder Off the Books. My co-author and I would love to see “Mac and Rachel” on the small screen every week. We’re just not sure who we’d want to play “Whiskey.” Suggestions?

Evelyn David

Searching for a Starry Night

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Evelyn David interviews Christine Verstraete, author of Searching for a Starry Night.

1. Who is Christine Verstraete?

A kid who never grew up! Seriously, I enjoy creating, whether in writing or by doing a hobby like miniatures. I have more ideas in both areas than time to do them!

2. Tell us about Searching for a Starry Night? Do you own a Dachshund? If not why choose a Dachshund for a character in Searching for a Starry Night?

I confess that my dog is much bigger, a Malamute mix. I think Dachshunds are cute, funny dogs. I was doing a newspaper story on “Wiener Dog Races” and I got such a kick out of them. I fell in love with them. So Petey the Dachshund in my book just kind of came to me.

3. Why do you write? As opposed to some other creative venture? What was the event that spurred you to write your first piece of fiction?

I “have” to write. It’s a way to make money and a creative release. Of course, if someone paid me enough to make dollhouses or miniatures for a living, maybe I’d consider it! I don’t think there’s one specific event that drew me to fiction. I’d tried writing short stories a while ago, but it took me awhile to feel comfortable with fiction writing and to “unlearn” some of my nonfiction writing style. It’s been fun to come up with an idea and see where it leads instead of having to write the facts, just the facts.

4. What books do you like to read? Do your reading preferences affect your writing style?

I’m a reading chameleon. I like historical fiction, mystery, suspense, and horror. I’m a Stephen King and Dean Koontz fan and have been reading a lot of Debbie Macomber lately for a change. I love mysteries with humor, too.

5. If you could meet any writer in the world – living or dead – who would it be and why?

Wow, do I have to pick just one? Ha! Hmm, I’d love to meet Stephen King or Dean Koontz and talk shop. In the past, I think Laura Ingalls Wilder would be interesting to meet. A girl with spunk. Or Louisa MayAlcott. I loved “Little Women.”

6. Your book is just out – do you have any personal appearances scheduled? Where? When?

I will list events at my website at http://cverstraete.com/. I also add fun new collections and items at my blog Candid Canine, http://candidcanine.blogspot.com/ You can also find news and an appearance schedule at http://myspace.com/cverstraete , click news. Check my blog and website for a special contest open to July 4, 2008.

7. What’s up next for Chris? Are you working on another book?

I am always working! I am trying to finish an adult mystery and have a young adult fantasy-mystery I’d like to outline and work on. That’s the plant for now, anyway. I may have a few more ideas that hook me first.

8. What’s your favorite pair of shoes? Why?

Ha, great question! If I had to pick, it would be sandals – definitely platforms. Being just near five –foot tall, I was ecstatic when they came back with platform and wedge shoes. And they’re still in style. I already saw a couple new pairs I have to get! And even if they go “out” of style again, I don’t care!

Christine Verstraete

http://cverstraete.com/

Babies Having Babies

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Time magazine reports that 17 girls at Gloucester High School are expecting. The moms-to-be are just 16 years old. Some younger. Apparently they made a pact to get pregnant and raise their babies together. The sperm donors, since I scarcely can call them fathers, include a 24-year-old homeless man.

I love being a mother. I can remember the first time John, my boyfriend (eventually my husband), and I talked about having kids. We were just beginning to get serious, but I blithely announced that I wanted six children. John has admitted that his first inclination was to walk, very fast and very far away. We ended up with four kids, which was the perfect size for us.

But what was clear to me long before I had these little darlings is that once you have them, um, you have them. I could envision dumping husbands (singular or plural), but there’s no divorcing kids.

Which is why I’m always astonished at couples who have no hesitation to procreate, but are worried about making a commitment to each other. To me, marriage was easy, and quite frankly, fixable if it was a mistake. But kids? Like it or not, and certainly all parents will agree that there are moments which are not blissful (I’m a writer so I dutifully checked for a synonym for my first word choice: ghastly), having children is a no-money back, lifetime commitment. Sure there’s nothing like new baby smell, which if they could bottle it, I’d buy a case of the stuff. But there’s also nothing like wall-to-wall baby poop, which the little one has smeared “everywhere” upon awakening from his “10-minutes I’m done for the day” nap.

I’ll take Brad and Angelina (do they need last names?) at their word that their refusal to marry is based on principle. They insist they’re committed to each other and their burgeoning brood. Of course, Angie’s already been married twice and Brad’s batting 0 for 1, so it’s hard to be sure that principle is the only reason why they’re avoiding the wedding cake dessert.

But what about P. Diddy, Puff Daddy, whatever? I’ve got nothing against the man. He certainly seems to take financial responsibility for the five children he’s fathered with three different women. But as to any strolls down the aisle, it’s not going to happen soon. “I have to be ready to get married,” he insists. Ready for what? I mean you have to be ready to raise kids too, and that’s more than writing a support check every month (although that’s obviously preferable to not writing one).

The teen years are a time to study, have fun with your friends, do crazy (but safe) stunts, and simply put, grow up. Sure, having a child puts you on the fast track to adulthood – but what’s the rush? Babies having babies is wrong for the mothers and their offspring. And teens getting pregnant, as part of some bad initiation rite, is a club no girl should be joining.

Evelyn David
http://www.evelyndavid.com/

The Week in Review

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I’m leaving for San Francisco on Saturday and for all of you West-Coasters/Bay Area denizens, please stop by M Is for Mystery in San Mateo, on Sunday, June 29th, at 2:00. I’ll be signing, reading, chatting, and having a great time talking about my second Alison Bergeron mystery, “Extracurricular Activities.” I hope to see you!I’ve been in that frantic pre-trip frenzy, getting ready to leave for a week. I’m leaving the computer at home and am wondering just exactly how I’ll stay in touch with the world. But whatever—I’ll be in San Francisco, the city that ranks right behind my hometown, New York City, as the best in the world. (And, oh yeah, Paris. And of course, Miami…I’m fickle.)

But in the midst of all this preparation, I’ve been thinking about the past week and had a few thoughts on a couple of topics/people. Ready? I thought so.

1. The death of George Carlin: OK, God, you took Russert, and now Carlin. I can’t even imagine who’s next and am not going to name names in case it gives you any ideas. You’ve got the smart guy, and now the funny/smart guy. No more. And by the way, I’m sure you have access to YouTube up in heaven; couldn’t you have contented yourself with watching old bits from Carlin and left him with us for another twenty years? Favorite bits: STUFF (your house is just a big receptacle for all of your STUFF); driving (why is the guy going slower than you a moron and the guy going faster than you a maniac?); intelligence (think about the average American and then remember that half of the population is dumber than that). That’s all I can think of for now and of course, I’ve taken literary license. We’ll miss you, George. Hope you got to meet Joe.

2. And speaking of Russert: Tom Brokaw subbed on “Meet the Press” this week and it sounds like he will be the guy until the election (and hopefully after). We needed Brokaw back. I’m just sorry it came about the way it did but his presence on television can only be considered a positive.

3. Michelle Obama: I never watch “The View” (I’m working, people!). But I took time out last week to watch her just to get a sense if all of those maniacal talking heads who have branded her a militant (the way that word is used…in the words of the Northern half of Evelyn David: Oy!), caustic, rigid, fist-bumping terrorist were right. Not only were they wrong, they now look like fools. She was warm, gracious, real, and unpracticed (or maybe that’s just my gullibility showing). She’s got a husband who she’s crazy about, despite the fact that she initially did not want him to run for president. She’s got two adorable daughters. And that dress she had on? Perfection. If I had a muscle in my upper arms, I would go out and buy it. Never did a $119 dress look so perfect. Go, Michelle.

4. Cindy McCain: Beer heiress Cindy showed her humanitarian side last week. And I liked it. Who’s with me that the women are going to outshine the men in this election? One can only hope…

5. Following your dream versus getting a job: A friend read my post called “Perception versus Reality” a few weeks back and then attended her son’s college graduation. The speaker was a young broadcast journalist who we all know who implored students to “follow their dreams.” My friend, who’s had enough of dream following to last a lifetime, reflected on my post and wrote me to chat about it. Very gratifying. But it got me thinking: what happened to that idealistic college grad that I was back in 1800? I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m not a dream killer, I just think you should have a job while pursuing your dream. Spoken like a mother, right? I’ve sold out. I’m THE MAN. I’m BIG TOBACCO. I’m THE ESTABLISHMENT. When did that happen?

And on a strictly personal note, thank you to all of you who read and comment on these blogs. I was talking to a fourth-grader the other night who told me that her dream is to be a writer and she asked me what it takes. While I said,“write every day,” her mother chimed in with “read everything you can get your hands on.” Those are the two main keys, certainly. And by allowing me to blog every week about any variety of topics, my writing has become clearer, sharper, and more focused. I’m writing more than I’m reading, admittedly, and that’s fine. I’m building up those Stephen King “writing muscles.”

I’ll catch you up on my trip when I return. Now I’m going to try to tackle packing a week’s worth of clothing into a carry-on bag. Wish me luck!

Maggie

Rats, and I do mean rats

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In real life these four legged critters with long tails are nothing like the cute little guys in the movie Ratatouille. Near the bathroom that’s being remodeled–a project that ought to be done, but isn’t–there’s a storage closet that juts into the backyard.

One of our cats, Squeaky, wanted to go in there in the worst way. Hubby asked her what she wanted in there, opened the door and she immediately trapped a rat. My grown grandson and hubby managed to get rid of it, started looking around and found four nests! Yuk! Yuk! Yuk!

After lots of work, they were sure they’d gotten rid of them all and cleaned up all the mess. That was yesterday. Today I was hard a work in my office at the far end of the hall from the closet. I had a box inside of a box next to my desk that I planned to pack some stuff in. Squeaky was poking around in it and I thought she wanted to get inside, so I lifted out the smaller box. What did I see? A big rat! I went screaming outside to get hubby.

He is not fast enough moving for me–needless to say, I did not go back into my office for a long, long while. Squeaky kept the rat trapped, husband disposed of it. More yuk! Later on in the day, something crashed down the hall. Yep, Squeaky had another one of the monsters cornered. Again, I called my husband and disappeared for awhile.

He has assured me that all of the rats have been taken care of, and Squeaky is taking a much deserved nap, but I’ll probably have nightmares tonight. We have two other cats, but they don’t seem to have the same instincts Squeaky does.

I’ve been trying really hard to finish the book I’m working on, but it was difficult to concentrate today.

Hubby says when you live in the country you have to expect to have critters now and then. Well, I’m not afraid of spiders, which we have plenty of, nor am I afraid of rattlers–not that I mess with them, but I don’t scream in horror when one decides to visit. I can kill a scorpion and catch a lizard and put it outside. But rats? I’m sure the neighbors heard me screaming even though none of them live very close.

Marilyn
http://fictionforyou.com