I’m covered with sweat, want a glass of ice water instead of my usual coffee fix. It’s muggy. We don’t do muggy here in Eastern Oregon. Where is the manager??!
My book is out. The Adventures of Grumpy Odin and Sexy Jesus. I somehow landed a job interview. And my yard toads seem to be doing okay. I also got the leak in the dog pond fixed, so my scheme to sink it in the ground has worked.
My country. Ugh.
Anyway!
My brain is toast. It’s too hot at night to sleep. My cat goes in and out of my window all night.
Fall will be here soon. And winter. Pumpkins. The time of pumpkins will be upon us. Halloween. Frost and cold and stormy nights and snow. Hopefully it will snow here this winter.
It’s hot and muggy. Maybe a thunderstorm? To go with the over a hundred weather? Bang! Boom!
Salty Monkey Mystery is included in this collection, for a refugee charity.
It’s July. Hot. It’s hot. Ugh. Hot.
With that out of the way!
Been applying for jobs. I suck at finding jobs. I suck beans. Don’t know what that means but it sounds keen.
All attempted rhyming aside, it’s the waiting that is truly abysmal. See title!
Will I get an interview nod, at the very least? Will I get the form rejection letter, months later, that says they’ve passed on me? Will there be a black void of ‘we couldn’t even be bothered to send you a form rejection notice’? I have better luck placing my pitiful darlings [short stories] than landing a job. Unless it’s health care and they just need a warm body.
I’m also waiting for November. That’s the midterm elections for ‘murica. I am waiting in absolute dread for that one. Gonna be…? It could go either good or very very very bad. I’m thinking bad because Americans have no capacity for learning, history, showing up to vote or pretty much anything but screaming about how great ‘murica is while waving the nation’s flag that has a Confederate battle flag stamped on the back of it…mmm.
And then sobbing over how awful everything is while blaming the wrong set of people for all of it. Yep.
Okay, I’ll end this very short scream on something uplifting.
My yard toads are thriving. They like to shelter under these two pieces of bark I have placed by the old red rose bushes. It’s right by the drain for the washer, which is how they get into the house. Clever little demons. I can hear them croaking in the pipes in the house. You know spring is coming when you start hearing the toads calling from seemingly inside the walls.
Anyway.
I find them all over my small bits of garden. I often get startled by one as they blend so perfectly with dirt and dead leaves. They’re not big toads. They fit in the palm of my hand. Yes, I’ve picked them up. I have no squeamishness when it comes to frogs, toads or yes, snakes. Have not seen my yard snake this year yet but I’m sure he or she will work its way into the grass eventually.
There’s just something magical about toads. At least to me.
I did attend the Nyssa Thunderegg Days festival. Got some neato rocks. Got out of the house. I am nearly at the point where I don’t want to leave my surroundings even to go to town. It often takes me days to get up the oomph to drive about ten miles to go buy some milk. Days. I’ll go tomorrow. Oh it’s too late now, have to go tomorrow.
Waiting to hear back on jobs, toads and turning into a hermit cat lady.
Thank you as always for reading and hey, go check out my books, short stories, poetry and plays. That’s my strong-arm sales pitch.
I slog onward, wanting to give up all the time now. I slog onward…
Here’s an excerpt from THE ADVENTURES OF GRUMPY ODIN AND SEXY JESUS.
***
Becki looked up. Grok had the Bobbler pinned down beneath a hoof-like paw.
Joani blinked, managed to achieve a worried expression across her several eyes. “How can you write at a time like this? There’s never been a time like this! Batboys gone insane, Tentacles missing, Jesus stopped Odin, Halfway Offices destroyed…did I miss anything? Oh! Minette gone. Who’s going to replace her?? And now Grok bringing her work here? Oh and that Ali wandering about. Spooky thing! What’s next, a visit from those nice Mormon tasty treats? They are tasty. So good with potatoes.”
“Stop that. We don’t eat dirt monkeys. You don’t know where they’ve been,” Becki slapped at Joani, who caught her sister’s strange fingers, kissed them, let them go. “No need to be afraid. Change happens. You’re such a…I’ll think of what you are, tell ya later, my dear.”
ANN WUEHLER 