Catz & Cozies

So much for my once a week posting, huh? *snort* But you know, life gets in the way (as it is wont to do), and the intention is still firmly in place to post as often as I can, and when I have news to share.

SO!

Today, I do have some news to share, albeit a friend's news rather than my own. This friend is Tami, otherwise known as Hart Johnson, Alyse Carlson, or The Watery Tart. I have been friends with Tami since 2005, where we 'met' at an online Harry Potter fan site and became mutual fans of each others fan fictions. We both started our writing careers writing tales with Rowling's wonderful characters, and honed our plotting skills playing with alternative back stories, histories, and theories of the world of Harry Potter.

Tami has recently had her third cozy mystery traditionally published under the pen name of Alyse Carlson, and she is also currently self-publishing a conspiracy series under her Hart Johnson pseudonym. To me, she will always be Tami, though, and the Tami I know shines through in all of her stories. She's fun, fabulous, and feisty - my very favourite type of person!

I'm going to hand the page over to Tami now, who has written a little something to celebrate her third traditionally published novel.

What is it with Cats and Cozies?

Otherwise known as the pussy puzzle...

See, this is how I see it... Cats are cuddly and cozy, and as mysteries go, cozies are cuddly and cozy... they both go very well with a nice cuppa, a comfy chair, and if the time of year calls for it, a crackling fire.

But there is also the lesser known ability of cats to solve mysteries. I bet you didn't know about that. It's because cats are crafty. They lurk and watch and see stuff, and then they have minions under their control!  No, really. If you ever need a spy, no better companion than a cat!

Case in point... Ever try hiding?

If you have a cat, you know this is impossible. They will find you wherever you are and expose you.

But think how handy this is if you are the SEEKER!  That cat will expose the person you are seeking quickly!

A cat's sometimes needed to solve

When the messiest mysteries involve

boxes or strings

or small mouses and things

Those clues that will try our resolve!

No?

I once knew a pussy detective

Who found killers with speed irrespective

Of status or looks

Or their knowledge from books

It gave us a whole new perspective

Erm... am I losing you here? Should I get to the point? (Was I supposed to have a point?)  Pretty sure my orders were to digress...

Available at Amazon and other retailers

So the Garden Society Mysteries have cats on a couple of covers, and more importantly there is a vagabond stray who has a cameo in a few of them. Davey Jones is a tough, but lovable stray who lives by Cam and Annie, and who they feed and talk to from time to time. It probably would be wise to have him solve the murder in the next book of the series, don't you think?

Keeping Mum:  Roanoke, Virginia, is home to some of the country’s most exquisite gardens, and it’s Camellia Harris’s job to promote them. But when a political fundraiser turns deadly, everyone’s a candidate for murder…

Cam and her best friend, Annie, are planning a gala for a local Senate candidate—a murder mystery themed silent auction where the guests bid on who will be the night’s “victim.” Coordinating a beautiful display of fall flowers and planning the perfect fake crime is hard enough, but with a guest list that is a “who’s who” of the Roanoke elite, Cam has her hands full navigating the egos and grudges of her high society guests.

When local financial tycoon Derrick Windermere is found dead next to a shattered pot of chrysanthemums, the night’s fun and games quickly turn serious. Half the guests had good reason to want Windermere dead, but only one is suspiciously missing in action—Annie’s father. Now Cam will not only have to figure out which partygoer is a killer, but find her friend’s father before all their reputations end up dragged through the mud…(from goodreads.com and back cover of book)

Alyse Carlson (aka, Hart Johnson) writes books from her bathtub. A social scientist by day, Hart spends her evenings plotting grand conspiracies and murdering people on paper. You can learn more about her at her blog: waterytart23.blogspot.com

Thanks, Tami! I'll be adding your book to my bookshelf to match your other two. I LOVE have famous friends. *grins*

April Antics

Well, I did it, despite telling myself I wouldn't. I signed up for this years April A-Z challenge. *points at badge on the right* This will be my third year, though I failed last year, and didn't quite make it all the way through the alphabet. Still kicking myself that I never managed X. Y and Z, but there we are.

This year, I'm not going to do limericks. Well, there might be one or two, but I don't want to restrict myself. With my debut novel scheduled for release on April 29th, I really think I should take this opportunity to use the challenge as a sort of promotional lead-up to the big day. Still not sure how that's going to work, but I'll just do what I normally do and make it up as I go along... *shifty*

In other news, I've been participating in 'March Madness' - a sort of WriMo event hosted by my writer's group, except rather than the conventional 'write a 50,000 word novel in 30 days' challenge, it's more of a 'finish a project that's been bugging you' sort of thing. We like to bend the rules, you see. Me being me, I bent the rules further by choosing NOT to finish a current writing project, but instead work on a brand new novella.

This novella was in response to a specific submissions call by an e-book publisher, and despite the deadline being March 15th, I shocked and stunned myself (and probably my fellow writers) by writing, editing AND submitting my 20k effort in under a fortnight.

Clearly, somebody took over this Procrastinating Princess during the process.

Now I am putting most of my efforts into promoting If The Shoe Fits, but hopefully I can channel the Writing Fairy that took over me in the first half of March, and produce a decent word count on my next furry fairy tale before the end of the month.

Then it's April A-Z madness! Along with finding out whether my novella has been accepted or rejected on or around April 15th, followed by release day for my talking pussy-cat on the 29th.

Crikey, April will DEFINITELY be a crazy month...

Also, keep your eyes peeled on The Furry Tale Chronicles blog... there's going to be an update - with cover art reveal! -  post sometime this week!!

Image borrowed from here...

UPDATE!!! And Laura - blogger at Daily Dodo and Chick Lit Love - has just posted my first official promotional blog visit. Yaaaaay! Thanks, Laura! Check it out here: Dithering Debutante.

UPDATE #2!! I'm nuts, but I've also decided to blog through the April A-Z over at The Furry Tale Chronicles, where I will make up for not posting rude rhymes on here by limericking over there...

Playpuss

Whenever my daughter brings her toys into the living room, one of the kitties gets involved. I tried my best to capture Belle when she was trying desperately to pull some of my daughter's Polly Pocket dolls from the toy pile, but alas, you'll have to settle for a picture of her standing guard over her hoard instead.

Paws on Pause

About the only time Angel isn't being a devil is when she sleeps...

My little kitty has been suffering with a third eylid problem for the a while. A few weeks back I noticed that the inner eyelid on both of her eyes was covering half of her eye. It was a sudden thing - wasn't there one day, the next it was - and first I thought it was just a cold or something. After a couple of days it still hadn't cleared up, so I checked it out and discovered it was most likely that she had worms. Eww.

Anyway, I dutifully wormed her (and my other kitty too), and while this appears to have slowed down her eating habits, her inner eyelids are still visible.  She is fine in herself, perfectly healthy in fact. Turns out she has 'Haws Syndrome', which generally affects kitties under the age of two, and is not something to worry about. It will clear itself in six to eight weeks apparently.

And that's my ramble to go with the first of my 'Phebruary Photos' posts. :)

Awaiting The Third.

I'm sure a lot of you will remember when I limericked last week about my kitty. Poor, sweet little Angel who had been subjected to a visit to the vet to be spayed. She's still recovering well, although with another six days before the stitches can come out (thus another six days of wearing the torture tool that is The Cone Collar), she is still somewhat disorientated.

Altogether now; one, two, three... Ahhhhhh!

You may also remember when I limericked the week prior to that about my infamous Tara-Trips (I'm pretty sure you may know where this is going. *snort*) You know, those silly things that I find myself tripping over from time to time. Like fresh air, for example.

Anywho, on Monday, dear, sweet little Angel, who has been going slightly doolally in the last week owing to her head-wear, decided that a scamper through the kitchen might be a nice idea. Perhaps a frolic by food dish, or maybe a playful swatting of a dishcloth seemed to be the order of the day. All well and good, but when she timed her scurry-by to fit neatly with the time I was poised to empty the mop bucket, then things didn't quite go to plan. Several curses and desperate grasping motions did little to stop the bucket from slipping from my hands and upending all over the floor. *mutters darkly* I managed to rescue my flooded kitchen, but I'm pretty sure my tiles - which are only meant to be cleaned using a damp mop (and not a bucket full of hot soapy water) - will never be the same again.

Honestly, I love my baby to bits, but I'm pretty sure I glared at her. And cursed. A lot.

Despite the dirty look and foul language, Little Miss I Shouldn't Be Called Angel did not learn her lesson. Last night she decided once again that a sprint through the kitchen was the absolute only thing in the world that she wanted to do.

Yup, Trip #2 coming up.

I'm pleased to report that I was nowhere near the mop bucket (though if I had been it would have been fine seeing as it was empty). Unfortunately, I'm not so pleased to report that I was in the middle of ironing. In my surprise of almost being knocked from my feet by a Very Fast Pussy, I inadvertently ended up ironing the inside of my arm rather than my son's school shirt. I'm not sure how clear the picture is (my phone has a poor camera), but you should be able to make out the lovely burn that I have. Isn't it fetching?

With another six days before the collar comes off, hence another six days of extra frantic scampering, I am dreading what the third trip will be, because me being me, there is bound to be another one.

*candles self*

Hmm, perhaps not the best choice of words...

Edit: Ha! I just noticed that Angel managed to get into the picture of my arm. How apt! 

V is for...

Vets!

A trip to the vets can be scary,

For my feline friend (who is hairy).

She's not one to roam -

She likes to stay home.

And the men in white make her wary.

The inaccurately named 'Angel'.

'V' was very appropriate for today as I had to take my kitty to the vet to be spayed. She thought it was great fun to be put into the pet carrier, but I'm pretty sure she won't feel that way later on today...

Picture update!!! 

Angel is doing fine after we finally managed to get her to keep the collar on. :)

Post and Run

Yup, it's a case of sending a picture message, opening my email, saving to desktop and uploading to Blogger. Absolutely no interesting photo opportunities today, so the picture that I took this morning for emergencies such as these is being used much sooner than I hoped. Ah well.

Anywho...

Wherever Big Puss goes, Little Puss follows. I guess the double temptation of heat from the radiator and heat from the sun-warmed windows was too much to resist.

And yup, they were fighting about two minutes after I took this.

Fond of Found Favourites #2

Ack!! It's almost 6pm and I've been on the go all day!  Nothing's inspiring me in the house, and as I'm currently slouching around in my pyjamas, I don't think I'll be venturing outside this evening to take a picture. So it's going to have to be a 'Fond of Found Favourites #2' post today. *nods*

I have taken a picture - so it's still a fresh photo (sort of) *shifty* - of a photo that I found the other day of my previous puss. Dipsy (my son was one at the time of naming, and heavily into the Teletubbies *eyeroll*) was run over and killed by a speeding driver five years ago, and I still miss her. She was supposed to be the family pet, but as far as she was concerned she was MY cat - she was bad tempered with everyone except me, and I was the only person she allowed to hold her. She was soft and cuddly, and she used to love being cradled just like a human baby. Damn all speedy drivers who use small side streets to avoid speed bumps!!!

Posing Pussycats

Yup, anyone who knows me at all, knows how much I love my pussycats. *nods* I'm very maternal in nature, and as I'm unlikely to have any more children (the two that I have already are more than enough), my cats are my babies. I've usually only ever had one at a time (hubby is not so much of a fan), but last year, my hubby floored me by getting me a kitty for my birthday.

The tabby is the elder puss - Belle - and my daughter rather unfortunately named the tortie Angel, which, considering what a little minx she is, is not at all apt. They cost me a fortune to feed, drive me insane with their almost constant fighting, and always seem to be getting under my feet, but I love them to bits. And every now and again, they pause in their scrapping and actually get along rather well, going so far as to groom each other between boxing bouts. Ah bless.

We is pawsing in our fighting...

*is shaking her fist at fate*

Oi! Ms Fate! I'd like a word with you, Missy. *glares wrathfully* What's with all the crap you've been throwing in my path lately, huh? If I was speaking literally, I'd have been cleaning muck off my shoes for the last month. What the heck happened to giving me a break, huh? *glares again*


You know, I do my best to get along, I really do, but when you keep doing horrible things to me, it's kinda hard.  First you decide that my husband needs to have weekly accidents on his upper limbs for a while. Look, Mrs - my hubby can get himself into scrapes all by himself, he doesn't need any other help thank you very much. *pointed glare*

And as for my son... well, when exactly did you decide to turn him from a reasonably well behaved child into The Teenager Most Likely To Threaten His Teacher With A Hammer? What's up with that?

Oh, and don't even get me started on my daughter. You know, the One Most Likely To Drive You Insane - remember her? Not content with making her possibly the most exasperating little girl within a twenty mile radius, you seem to have decided that excess cheek, downright rudeness, and infinite wind-up capabilities are now Miss Ellie's new foibles. She's my daughter, and I love her to bits, but really... you need to let up a bit with her or she may end up being strangled. Or at the very least gagged.

And what on earth have my poor pussies ever done to you to deserve near death experiences? I'm a conscientious pet owner. I feed them well, they have the run of the house, I keep my daughter away as much as I can (though there have been a few incidents of the poor things being Ellied, granted), and I make sure they get treated with anti-flea stuff regularly. So, any chance you could tell me why this month's flea treatment caused most of their fur to fall out, gave them open sores, and caused my older puss to constantly shake for almost a month?? *glares through narrowed eyes*

Now don't get me wrong, none of these things happened to me personally, but still, they've happened to my nearest and dearest, and that's not on, Missy, that's not on at all. Give the Smith family a break, can't you?

Of course, although none of the above directly happened to me, you couldn't leave me out, could you? *eyeroll* Oh no, that wouldn't be right, would it? I have been happily cough free for the last two years (after suffering every winter for twenty odd years) - probably something to do with not having to walk to work in the bitter cold at the crack of dawn - and I thought I was clear of the damned thing. So what did you do? You gave it back to me. Well thanks very much for that. No really, thank you. It's really made my year. Not only to I struggle to get above five hours of sleep at the best of times, but now I get to wake up every hour or so and enjoy a fifteen minute coughing fit. Lovely.

You're a bit of a bitch really, aren't you Miss Fate. Take that. *punches*

Pussies Galore!

Last evening the hubby and I took the kids to a friend's house for a few hours of socialising. Nothing special, just a few drinks in the backyard and a little tarot reading from yours truly. The kids had a whale of a time because our friends have a dog, two lizards, two cats and last, but by no means least, four little kitties. The dog had great fun attempting to hump my daughter *shifty* (we told her that he wanted to cuddle her), the kids enjoyed handling the lizards, and everyone, whether they were cat lovers or not, thoroughly enjoyed watching the kittens frolicking on the grass.

Of course, I am a BIG cat lover, having grown up with them and almost always having one for a pet. Hubby is not the biggest fan of cats (he generally loathes them actually), but even he can't ignore the cuteness of kittens. Anyway, despite the fact that we already have a cat - and one that the hubby is actually quite fond of - I was floored when just before we left to come home, I was informed that one of the kitties was coming home with us. *faints* Hubby had arranged it weeks ago and kept it quiet, bless him. The most shocking thing of all is that my eight year old knew of the surprise, and had kept her lips sealed for the past three weeks! *faints* Now, my daughter is not known for keeping her mouth shut, so the fact that she kept it from both me AND her brother was a huge surprise, almost as big a shock as being told I was taking a kitty home with me.

We smuggled the kitty (who has been named 'Angel' by the daughter) into a taxi and arrived home faced with the task of introducing the new baby to the old baby. Now, the old baby is called Belle, and isn't really 'old' as such, but she's almost three now and is used to being the baby of the family. Much hissing and fur-on-ending happened, and Belle gave a good impression of the Puss-in-Boots eyes thing  from Shrek (at one point her pupils were so large it looked like she had completely black eyes). Kitty was relegated to the bathroom for the night and Belle was fussed over - well, about as fussed over that is possible when she was hissing and scratching at me - before we settled for the night.

So today we are progressing a little. Belle is swinging between the glaring and ignoring strategies, while Angel is happily making herself at home by avoiding her own food and stealing Belle's, ignoring her bed and taking over the sofa, and growling at Belle (well, squeaking more than growling really) when she catches her glaring at her. It's all fun.

The Fairy Godmother's Handbook

Yes, all Fairy Godmothers have to follow rules, and they have a trusty handbook to refer to in times of need. There is also the Godmother Council, of which the Chief Fairy holds supreme authority over, and has the power to strip a Fairy Godmother of her abilities. 
No, I'm not going mad (mostly because that would suggest I was sane to begin with), I've just been working on my prologue for Cardiffella in the last week or so, and during the process I came up with the idea of a handbook for Fairy Godmothers. You see, my Fairy Godmother is a cat - a talking tabby cat to be more specific - and there had to be a reason why I had a talking cat in my novel. I've always known her back story, I just never figured out how I would explain it in the novel. As I began to type last week, the idea for a handbook popped into my head, and before I knew it I had a Chief Godmother, a whole court system, and a complete godmother history champing at the bit to come out of my brain. Mad, eh?

Anywho, seeing as I am writing the sequel next month for BuNoWriMo (Lordy, that sounds really scary now *snort*), it's probably just as well that I had the idea for the handbook right at this moment. My talking cat is set to appear in not only the sequel to Cardiffella, but several more books too. Suddenly my Fairy Godmother is not a peripheral character, she's the main character. Suddenly my interfering pussy is taking over the world (or my stories, at any rate).

Anywho, I thought I'd post up the first five rules from The Fairy Godmother's Handbook, but before I did that I needed to explain a little bit about what it was all about. Hence the ramble posted above. *snort* I'm toying with the idea of having a different 'rule'  included at the beginning of every chapter (not necessarily in any particular order). I'm not one for creating chapter titles anyway (I usually stick to the boring 'Chapter One' etc format) and I thought that using a rule to kick off each chapter might be a nice little gimmick. Thus I now present you with the provisional first five rules as printed in the official Fairy Godmother's Handbook, and endorsed by none other than the Chief Fairy Godmother herself.

Rule Number One - Only accept true damsels as clients; fake damsels, wicked widows, evil step-mothers and witches-in-disguise need not apply.

Rule Number Two - When performing one's duties, a Fairy Godmother must at all times remain ladylike and polite. Profanity, vulgar language and displays of temper are not encouraged lest they set a poor example to the client.

Rule Number Three - Always remember that the client is never right, and doesn't know what is good for them.

Rule Number Four - Never allow a client to expose themselves publicly. Remember, a true damsel remains covered from the neck down at all times.

Rule Number Five - Exercise is important. All clients should be encouraged to partake in some exercise on a regular basis. This will not only benefit the general health of your client, but also will also facilitate 'accidental' meetings with their prospective partners.

Of course, these rules are in the draft stage and are subject to change, but I couldn't resist sharing my latest spurt of insanity, not least because I couldn't think of anything else to blog about. I am being overtaken by BuNoWriMo at the moment, and can think of nothing else but my talking cat. I sense that I may be blogging about her quite Alot * in the weeks to come....

*Not a typo, I intended to type 'Alot'. For you to understand the inside joke, then I am afraid that you'll have to become a member of BuNoWriMo and read their page on Facebook. Not that I'm bribing you or anything, honest.

Dear Writing Mojo

Dear Writing Mojo,

I realise that it has been quite some time since I required your services, but I am currently gearing up to participate in BuNoWriMo, which is, as I'm sure you know, a rip off borrowed concept of the more widely known NaNoWriMo. In just a few short days I shall find myself invisibly glued to my laptop in order to write around 1800 words a day for the duration of the month of June.

Now, as I'm sure you'll remember, you serviced me greatly last November when I took part in the previously mentioned NaNoWriMo. You weren't always obvious with your mentoring - indeed, some days I suspect you escaped to the local pub for a bevvy or two - but for the most part you did your job well. By the skin of my teeth, I finished my novel with a final word count of 50,091. Yay!

This time around, I wanted to make sure that you knew what your actual requirements were, for when you are employed as a Writing Mojo, there are certain things that you must be able to do. For instance, you must be able to be around as and when you are required, preferably during daylight hours, and most especially when I am without my children.

That means no more trips to the local pub.*glares*

Next, I would require you to maintain full cheerleader skills for the entire month. An aspiring author needs a little pom-pom waving and verbal encouragement on a daily basis if she wishes to achieve her goal. For that purpose, I am providing you with full outfit and accessories in order for you to fulfil your cheerleader requirements.

Now, seeing as 'Mojo' is part of your title, I am also demanding that you take the form of one of my mojos whenever you are in residence. I am not going to be overly picky here and demand a particular persona for you, but if you would be so good as to take the form of Jensen Ackles, Viggo Mortensen, Gerard Butler, Ian Somerhalder, or that bloke from Spartacus: Blood and Sand, I would be suitably grateful. And if you combine both mojo and cheer leading elements at the same time, I assure you that I would be most demonstrative with my gratitude.

Next up is something that is crucial to achieving my BuNoWriMo Winner status. You must - I repeat must - be sure to punish me when I am slacking. If you were to find me playing Bejeweled Blitz, for example, a thorough spanking would definitely be in order. Indeed, nothing else would do.

And if you catch me procrastinating in any way on Facebook or HPANA, then you have my full permission to put me in chains and punish me in which ever way you deem fit (I would suggest whips, and maybe a little ice cream, but the choice would be yours, of course).

When it comes to the actual writing of my BuNoWriMo novel, I have a couple of other demands requests. Obviously I will have to include several pussy jokes in the manuscript - one can't have a talking cat in a story and not have pussy jokes after all - but I would humbly ask that you keep an eye on me in case I go overboard. It's never a good idea to overuse a pussy, as I'm sure you'll agree.

Another thing is is innuendo. Once again, there has to be a certain amount of innuendo in this type of novel, but in order for me not to go crazy and include innuendo in every other sentence, I shall require you to nibble my earlobes at frequent intervals. The pleasure pain from these timely reminders should hopefully be enough to override any innuendo impulses that I may experience. *shifty*

Lastly, in order for me to truly succeed, my fingers will need to be in prime condition in order for me to type properly. As I'm sure you are aware, fingers that aren't in prime condition are liable to produce copious typos and spelling errors when one is writing a novel on one's laptop. After last year's NaNoWriMo effort - which I suspect had larger numbers of incorrectly spelled words than correctly spelled words - you really must make more of an effort this year. Suitable treatments for producing perfectly pliable fingers include massage and manicures, though my personal preference would be for you to suck on them occasionally. I really find that this type of treatment can work wonders on poor, overworked, and aching extremities.

If you could just confirm that the above suggestions are agreeable, I would be most grateful. I humbly ask that you reply as soon as you possibly could as I am anxious to get matters settled before the end of the month.

Sincerely,

Tara Smith

I iz Taffin' again....

Whassup, peeps? I is 'aving a bangin' day today! First ov all, itz bluddy BOILing yer in the Kair of Diff, itz unfriggin'believable how 'ot itz got in the last two dayz like, innit? I mean, it was bluddy rain, rain, and MORE rain a coupla dayz ago, but now itz like, I dunno, a bluddy foreign country or sumfink.

At the moment I iz sat on the sowfa and typing this yer blog like, with sum moozic blastin' in the background. Me doorter is bopping around like the Mini Disco Diva that she iz, and I iz tappin' me foot along to Lady Gaga. Issallgood, innt?

P-P-P-Poker face, p-p-poker face....

Anywayz, while Lady Gaga (digitally) warbles in me lugholes, I thought I'd squeeze a blog in. I've bin busy all day today, spending lotsa time and 'avin' lotsa fun wiv me very amoozing pussy. Now, if you've bin paying attenshun - and I 'ope you 'ave -  you'll know that me amoozing pussy is not anyfink rood like, itz just me furry little friend. *reads last sentence* That's still a bit innuendo-y, ain't it? What I ment is me pussy is me furry little literary friend, cos my pussy is called Muse and she is like a characta in me novel. 'onestly, you is all filfy-minded peeps, ain't ya?

Anyways, coz I 'ave to add, like, anuvver ten fousand words to me novel if I wants to submit it fer publishin', I needs to like add quite a bit to it. There's a coupla new charactas to squeeze in, and some scenes need a bit of lengthenin' like, but a good free fousand words is gunna come from the prologue. And this is where I've bin having fun wiv me pussy. See, Muse is a fairy godmother, and she's like a recurrin' characta. Okay, she's not a recurrin' characta as of yet, coz me novel is the only book she's in like, but me novel is book one of a planned series, so eventually she'll be a recurrin' characta, see? *nods*

So, today I've bin puttin' me pussy threw her paces. She's been reminiscin' on her previous cases, see, and itz in order to flesh out her characta. You see, there's nothin' better than a fleshed out pussy.

And that's anuvver fing; today's bin bangin' becoz I've bin innuendo-in' all day long, coz innuendo is like the best fing since sliced bred, innit? You could be 'aving the worst day evah, but as long as you get a bit of innuendo in, everyfing just seems a little bit betta, don't it? Youknowzitmakezsense!

In ovver Itz Bin A Bangin' Day So Far news, I'm chuffed to beans becoz me networkin' is definitely paying off. I've now got almost two hundred more Facebook friendz than I 'ad three weeks ago - thatz like, more than double what I 'ad before! Sweet! And everyone is like, so nice! I 'ave to admit, this adding and accepting new friends fingy is so addictive, itz like, I dunno, choclut or sumfink. I loves it, I do, I loves it!

Lastly, there is one more reason I is 'aving a bangin' day, and that's BuNoWriMo. Now, I know that reading 'BuNoWriMo' might make you fink "what the 'ell is that?", and 'onestly, I wouldn't blame you becoz, well, unless you is psychic, you won't have a bluddy clue what I is talkin' about. See, BuNoWriMo is basically NaNoWriMo, only wivout the 'Na' bit at the start (and wiv 'Bu' there instead). Now, NaNoWriMo is short for National Novel Writing Month, which is like a worldwide fing that 'appens in November, and 'as peeps from all ovah the planet attemptin' to write a 50,000 word novel in firty dayz. Itz bluddy manic, I can tell you, but lotsa fun too. The only reason I had a pussy to play with today is because of NaNoWriMo, so I loves it, I do, I loves it.

Anywayz, my writers group is doin' itz own version of NaNoWriMo, and coz we is called The Burrow, we like altered the name like, innit? We iz gonna attempt a 50,000 word novel in June. Now, this is where me recurrin' pussy comes into play, coz I is gonna write the sequel to my original NaNo novel for BuNoWriMo, and the provisional title is gunna be Beauty has the Beast (nuffink like an innuendo-y type title, is there?), and will once again be set in me home town, the Kair of Diff (that's 'Cardiff' to anyone who ain't familiar wiv Taff speak). I like, can't wait to get crackin' on it, so I iz like totally buzzin'!

If anyone would like to participate in BuNoWriMo, I'll be like posting details and stuff when I knowz more, and we will like advertise and stuff on our Burrow Facebook page. It's gunna be crazy, but fun, and the more peeps who take part, the betta!

I'll keep you posted on BuNoWriMo, but in the meantime I needz to go back and have sum more fun wiv me furry little friend, so I'll catch you all later! Byez fer now!

Here Pussy Pussy....

Oh, I am tired. It's exhausting, this 'being a cat' business. One minute you are asleep, the next you hear,

"Puss! Puss- puss!"

Really, when you imagine that we are rolling our eyes, we probably are.

"Puss! Here, puss-puss!"

No! I want to sleep! I will not catch your pesky mouse. I caught one only yesterday, and brought it to you. What did you do? You wrinkled your nose and told me to "Shoo!"

Silly humans.

Yes, now I am sniffing with disdain, you did not imagine it.

"Puss!"

No! I am stretching lazily and ignoring you. 'Shoo' yourself!

Purrrr... 


Ha! Gotcha! I bet you thought that the title would mean I was being all Taffish again, but I fooled you, oh yes I did!

*coughs*

Well, maybe I didn't fool you at all, and maybe it is only ME that has a dirty mind....

Anywho, I've been a busy bee all day again today, and I'm not sure how much time I have on the PC before the hubby gets home, so I thought I'd share a drabble that I wrote last year. Hence the pussy post. In actual fact, the image that inspired the drabble wasn't the picture above, but I decided to share a photo of my own pussy instead. My pussy is in fact my third child (or maybe fourth if you count the hubby). I cwch (that's how we say it in Wales) her like a baby, and talk to her in that special voice reserved for children under the age of one.

I speak to her, and she speaks to me. Really. She honestly does speak to me. And sometimes she doesn't even have to utter a meow, she'll talk with her eyes and let me know exactly what she wants. It was Belle (my pussy's name) who inspired me to include a talking cat in my NaNo novel. Okay, so the cat in my novel, Muse, actually speaks with a human voice (which quite obviously my own cat does not), but in looks and character, Muse is the carbon copy of my own feline friend.

I've always been a cat person. Growing up, my family always had at least one cat in the household. Some we unfortunately lost prematurely due to the two biggest worries that a cat owner stresses over - traffic and wandering. But we had the one cat for seventeen years. Now, Fluffy (highly original name, I know *rolls eyes*) was really part of the family. She survived countless house moves and was treated like a human more often than not. When we lost her we were devastated. For those people that don't have family pets, its seems strange to say that we really grieve when a pet dies, but we do. I think I cried more when Fluffy died than I did when I lost my grampy. Of course, I only ever really saw my grampy about twice a year, so we were never what you would call close, but still, it seems strange to think that I was more upset at losing my cat.

My current pussy, Belle, gave me a scare a couple of months ago when she disappeared for two nights. Normally she rarely ventures out, and on the odd occasion when she does, she's back in under an hour. I was convinced she had been attacked by the neighborhood dogs and/or had been run over. I was on pins for the whole time she was gone, and cried buckets of tears when I thought no-one was looking. Thankfully she came home, none the worse for wear. *wipes brow* She was also completely oblivious to the stress she had caused (I know, she's a cat, and therefore doesn't think like we humans do, but still, you'd have thought she would have at least given me an extra cuddle by way of apology). She strolled in, ate her fill at her dish, and sauntered into the living room so that she could zonk out on her favorite chair. And do you think she would let me make a fuss of her? Not bloody likely.

Still, that's cats for you, eh? As long as they get fed and have a warm place to snooze, they really don't care about us. I suspect that they see us as their pets actually. They're very crafty, those cats. *nods wisely*