failure

Minnie snoozing next to me last night on the couch. Cat was draped across my thigh with the most contented look on her face.

Trying to trap Ghost was a dismal failure Tuesday afternoon and evening. I planned to get Twin in the catio first since the other two would be easy. I figured Robin would be in at the door and open it when I was coming up the stairs with Twin in my arms and he would be in before he knew it but when I got across the street Robin already had Lovey and Handsome in there. So when I came up the stairs with Twin she was not at the door, she was holding Handsome to keep him from going out so I had to use one of the hands I was using to hold Twin firmly to open the door. Twin freaked, pushed out of my arms claws extended and landed on the floor just inside the open door determined to escape. Robin dropped Handsome, we’re both crouched trying to block Twin and get the door closed. We succeeded but not before Twin got Robin good on the meaty part of the outside of her hand. And then Twin was frantic to get out, trying to push through the screen and chicken wire (chicken wire on the outside of all the openings because the indoor cats had torn the screen in many places). I slipped the food dishes and bag of food through to door to Robin and then set up the trap while Ghost watched. And then we waited. Twin claimed down a bit but only as long as one or both of us were in there talking to him and petting him. The other two were fine though Handsome tested a few spots. And we waited and waited and waited. Ghost got close to the trap only once sniffing at the food at the back of the trap. Nope, not going in there. Ghost has been feral all his life I suppose, he’s been hungry, he knows hungry, he can deal with hungry, and he’s wary, has to be to have survived, and he definitely wasn’t hungry enough having eaten the day before. 

I went home about 4:30, needed to walk Minnie and start dinner. About five Robin reported that twin as still trying to get out and she was afraid he would hurt himself so she basically stayed out there only going in for a few minutes now and then. Wasn’t long before Twin was frantically trying to claw his way out again. At seven she reported that not only was Ghost not in the trap, he had left. We decided to stick to the plan and keep the other cats in all night. At 9:40 she reported two more escape attempts from Twin and now Handsome had teamed up with his brother to try and get through a particular spot they felt was the most vulnerable (where the bricks are in the picture). I told her to go ahead and trip the trap and let them out but she decided to wait a little longer. Then it started raining and the food in the trap would not be tempting. She waited until it stopped raining and then opened the door. All three run out, I asked her. She said Lovey went first, then Handsome who was still trying to tunnel out and she had to show him the open door. And then Twin who took the longest as if he wasn’t sure what he wanted to do. I think he really liked the cat bed a lot, she said, but he finally shot out. How funny, Twin who was the most frantic and determined to get out was the last to leave.

Now I don’t know what to try. There’s no way we can lock the other cats up every night on the off chance that Ghost will get hungry enough to venture into the trap. It could take days and I’m not sure I could get Twin in there again, at least not right away so there’s no way I can feed the three brothers and not Ghost even if I don’t put a portion out for him. He’ll manage to get some of it. I’m thinking a big net and a blanket if we can get close enough to him. Plonk the net down and throw a blanket over it but how do we get him out from under the net/blanket and into a carrier without him shredding the net/blanket and more importantly, us. In the meantime I'm leaving the trap out where they see it all the time to get used to it and maybe in a couple of weeks, try again only this time using canned food for bait instead of dry.

I decided to put the monarch wing painting in the other frame with a mat. I like it better with the mat. I took it over to the HH market yesterday for their extended hours today, open until 7 pm. 

Haven’t worked on Paisleigh’s blanket the last several days trying to tie up various loose ends so that’s my dedicated activity for the weekend.

painting, sewing, and so far no luck

The tallow in the little backyard illuminated by the outdoor light.

We had our coldest two nights Sunday and Monday nights. Near freezing but not, I decided to tempt fate and not cover anything or bring anything in and so of course Sunday afternoon in the north wind blowing I was out there covering my enormous Queen Of The Night and a few other things and bringing the enormous stag horn fern into the garage with a few little tender things. Already on a warming trend now which I knew and was the reason I initially decided not to protect anything. 

My new trick for rolling out my yoga mat on these cold mornings before the house has warmed up and I’ve slept later than usual is telling myself it doesn’t have to be a lot but it has to be some. Once on the mat it’s easy to just go through my basic routine. Regardless I did not roll out my mat Monday morning which I justified with the knowledge that I was going to class that night.

I finished the little painting, pulled off the tape, slipped it in the frame I measured it for and, oops, some of the white border showed because my measurements were off so I painted the white border trying to smudge the hard line created by the tape. It worked mostly but because I know I can see, although once in the frame it’s not really noticeable. I had two solutions, the one I acted on or using the bigger frame I have and cutting a mat to the tape line. I do like matted paintings so I may ultimately do that. We’ll see. I’m mostly happy with the background though the ‘clouds’ are too evenly spaced. Nothing I can really do about that now except remember for the next time I do something similar. I created those by using a paper towel to randomly pick up the blue color while it was still wet, not so random as it turned out, but it’s fine since the butterfly wing is the focus.

Now that I’ve finished the painting I can put my paints away and get my sewing machine back out and start on Paisleigh’s name blanket. If you read Ms Moon who writes Bless Our Hearts you know that she made name blankets for each of her grandchildren which I thought was a lovely idea. Since my grandkids are all adults in their 20s, I’m making them for my great grandchildren starting with Paisleigh. Harrison’s will be done when he’s older. So Saturday between working on the little painting I started on the blanket. I cut the printed fleece to the size I want and then made patterns for the letters and omg, that girl has nine letters in her name (thanks Mikey who decided the spelling), set up the spacing and measured for the solid color rectangle the letters will go on. Yesterday I cut the blue background piece for the letters and cut the letters out while Cat insisted on helping. 

Today I try to trap Ghost. Got the other cats in the catio where they will now spend the night since Ghost knows something is up and has shown no interest in the food in the trap. So we’ll see if he’s in there in the morning.

ornaments, pecans, soup, painting

I took this picture of one of the gingko trees yesterday. You can see all the dead branches from the drought summer several years ago when the squirrels desperate for food and water stripped the bark off the branches, 2” x 1/2” pieces covering the ground. I was afraid both trees would die but they’re doing fine. Once they turn yellow like this the leaves fall rather dramatically. The trees will probably be bare by tomorrow, Monday for certain.

I don’t dislike everything about this time of year. While I don’t care for the inflatable decorations which are a puddle of plastic on the ground more often than inflated, I love the light displays that people put up outside. I like christmas trees, or rather the trees of my youth, asymmetrical naturally grown holes and all, not the ones farmed and manicured into a perfect  unnatural cone shape. Unnatural being the key word here. Might as well be fake which so many are nowadays anyway. More specifically, I love the ornaments. I have a small collection, four antique German glass ones from my youth, one cross stitch and one starched crocheted snowflake that my sister made, and eight that I’ve bought from artists or otherwise acquired, and one faux stained glass one that my brother gave me. I’d have more if I had a way to display them all the time. Most hang on the armature I found at an estate sale (I've shown these before but it's been awhile), one on the hook to the side, 

the other four hang above the kitchen sink. So, fifteen in all. Well, 17. I have two more in a drawer, also antique German glass from my childhood, that are not in very good condition.

I’ve been shelling pecans and have shelled enough for the ones I give away. Out of 24 pounds of cracked pecans, I got a little over 10 pounds of nuts (already given three away). 

I still have five full boxes of pecans from my yard and four full boxes from the neighbor’s two trees that overhang the fence around the shop yard. Those I’ll sell along with the ones from my trees. I’ll hold out maybe another 30 pounds, that should give me plenty for the next year or longer if I don’t get any next year. The trees are still dropping nuts, you can see them high up in the trees now that most the leaves have dropped, but I’m over picking them up and probably about half the ones falling now are dried up inside. Edit: I held back about 32 pounds and sold the other eight boxes yesterday, 153 pounds of pecans.

A couple of weeks ago I bought a can of coconut milk and then couldn’t remember what I bought it for but when I looked at the recipe for the soup I wanted to make I remembered. I had a cup of cooked butternut squash left over from the casserole I made for Thanksgiving which weighed out to a little over a pound. I needed 2 pounds for the butternut cashew soup so bought a little over a pound of sweet potatoes which stand in nicely for the butternut and made that last night. Onions, garlic go in it as well as curry powder, ginger, cumin, coriander, turmeric, salt and pepper of course, chicken or vegetable stock (I used both), the coconut milk. Sauté the onions, garlic, and cashews, add the stock and spices, the uncooked cubed butternut and sweet potato and simmer for 20 minutes. Puree it in a blender, back in the pot and add the coconut milk and a sprig of rosemary and simmer for another 20 minutes. Since my butternut was already cooked and mashed I didn’t add it in until I was ready to puree the rest. Makes a very good creamy rich soup. Naan and a green salad on the side. If anyone is interested in quantities I can give those in the comments.

I finally started back on the painting I began before Thanksgiving. It’s been two or three weeks since I last worked on it and I’m almost ready to do the background. I found this tattered Monarch wing on the ground and envisioned it floating against a blue sky though I’m not painting it tattered. 

After the fact, I thought it would have been better if I had painted it not quite so perfect but it’s too late now for that.

Haven’t trapped Ghost yet, appointment isn’t until Wednesday.

 

SHARE social and Ghost

Today was our holiday potluck social at SHARE. I made my offering last night after spending about an hour trying to find the main ingredient, pearl couscous, which is really a form of pasta, not a grain, so I don’t know why they call it couscous unless it’s because it’s round. There are two grocery options in this town, HEB (the Texas chain) and the Evil Empire (aka Walmart). A few years ago the HEB here upgraded adding a larger variety of goods, so they told us. However to do that they had to discontinue other items which invariably were the things I buy. So because I had previously bought pearl couscous (also called Israeli couscous) in the pasta section at HEB, that’s where I went. Guess what, it wasn’t there. I used the phone app to see where else it might be in the store. Guess what, nowhere. So off to Walmart and not in their pasta section either but then I thought to look with the rice and other grains and voilà, success. It’s a fairly quick little dish, cook the pearl couscous, add chopped cucumber (sans seeds), chopped green onions including the tops, chopped dried fruit (I used cherries this time but also have used dried apricots), toasted slivered almonds, and this time I added chopped parsley as well and a little salt, then mix in Newman’s Own classic oil and vinegar dressing (that's what I use but I suppose you can use whatever you like). Quantities whatever you feel is enough (I don't measure anything) and really you can use whatever ingredients you like.

Another cold front blew in yesterday afternoon putting an end to our few days of warmer weather. One minute it was still and the next a very strong wind started blowing immediately dropping the temperature and continued to blow for the rest of the evening. Currently 46˚ and dipping down into the 30˚s tonight but they are promising temps in the 70˚s and high 60˚s for a week starting Wednesday. It was so windy I was surprised to see the two plumerias and the pink trumpet flower in pots by the barn still upright this morning.

Robin and I have decided that something has to be done about Ghost, well, not some thing but a thing in particular. 

Ghost needs to have his little balls clipped. When he first showed up he would hang back by the back of the shop until the other cats had eaten and dispersed before he would come eat what was left. Then he would wait by the front of the shop. When we started putting out food for him as well he hung out by the shed and would submissively come join the other cats. Over the months he has gotten bolder and bolder and now he is well fed, has shelter under the house, and while he still won’t let us touch him and hisses when we try, he lets us get within touching distance. The problem is that now that he’s confident that he has a place to live and food he’s getting aggressive with the other cats. Lovey has never accepted him and hisses at him but Twin and Handsome were more accommodating. Not so much now. Handsome will hiss at him and I’ve seen Ghost attack Twin, who of the three is the most timid, and Handsome and all three now keep a wide berth between themselves and Ghost. The three would take shelter under the house but not now that Ghost has moved in. I see Ghost come out from under the house but not the other three, not anymore. They hang out in the front. And now Lovey has basically moved across the street over to my house much to Cat’s displeasure, only going back when I feed them. We think he spends the night under our house now as he is always here when I open the garage every morning. I don’t mind except for the fact that it upsets Cat, they face off and snarl at each other, and she doesn’t want to go out when he’s here. 

So we have a plan. I’m going to borrow my neighbor’s live trap, call the local organization that helps with the cost of spaying and neutering feral cats and get a voucher sent to the vet and make an appointment. Lovey and Handsome will voluntarily go into the screened back porch and I’m pretty sure Twin trusts me enough now to get him in there and I’ll feed them in there and bait the trap with food for Ghost. The problem before was getting the other cats isolated and Ghost being untrusting but that’s not a problem now. Hopefully Ghost will fall for the ruse and I can take him to the vet before they close for the day.

dreary days, streaming, the season

The days this week have been wet, overcast, cold, and dreary. We did get about 2 1/4” of rain last Monday so that was good. Days like this I plug the star lights in.

I’ve always been a Beatles fan. They were an extraordinary group whose music in the decade the band existed evolved dramatically. their output was astonishing, every album unique and better and better. Though at 15 in 1965 when I had a choice between seeing the Beach Boys or the Beatles live, I chose the Beach Boys because I was put off, and didn’t get, the whole delirious screaming of the girl fans that made it impossible to hear the music. Besides, I thought, I could go the next time they toured through Houston, only they quit touring soon after that so I never saw the Beatles live. And while Marc and I watched the Peter Jackson production of The Beatles: Get Back when it came out on Disney in 2021 which to me really highlighted the end stage of the Beatles and the dissolution of the band we had never seen the Beatles Anthology released in 1995…until this past week. The newly remastered and remixed Beatles Anthology 2025, the story of their meteoric rise from their Liverpool beginning and eventual dissolution of the band as told from the point of view of the individual surviving members of the band, including clips from recordings of interviews with John Lennon before his murder, with a new final episode 9 added on. It was wonderful to see George, Paul, and Ringo getting together and interacting after 25 years of water had flowed under the bridge, their genuine affection for each other. George Harrison’s remark at one point that he was only 23 when  Sergeant Pepper’s came out in 1967 really brought home how young they were trying to just make music and deal with the worldwide fame and pressure. Anyway, we thoroughly enjoyed The Beatles Anthology 2025, streaming on Disney+, remembering that part of our youth and viewing the Beatles through their own eyes and recollections, four best friends who took the world by storm.

The Beatles Anthology interrupted what we had been watching and have returned to, American Gods on Amazon Prime based on the novel by Neil Gaiman of the same name. We’re were halfway through the first of three seasons and when we went back to it, episode 5 was not available, nor was episode 7 (of 8). We watched six and eight and supposedly there are two more seasons supposed to be available of amazon Prime, but they didn’t show up. Apparently, for #s 5 and 7, the license to show them ran out and I suppose for the other two seasons. I don’t know if we’ll be able to watch seasons 2 and 3 but the series was canceled before the end so no big loss I guess. I’m going to see if the new little book store has the book.

We are fully into my least favorite time of year, the Christmas ‘season’ which actually starts before Halloween with small displays of Christmas stuff. Now after Thanksgiving which barely gets a nod from retailers these days, it is full blown. Christmas music everywhere you go, one radio station plays nothing but, everything on tv is Christmas themed, the stress and the impossible expectations, the feeling that giving gifts is an obligation of the holiday, the ridiculous ‘war on Christmas’ that surfaces every year from those that refuse to accept or acknowledge all the other holidays that happen in December. I used to actively hate it and it would put me in a foul mood all month because, people get a fucking grip, it’s one day of the year, does it really have to start before Halloween? Now, not so much. As a non-Christian and anti all religion in general I just ignore it as much as possible which is easier to do out here instead of when I lived in the city. The closer it gets though the more often I’ll be asked if I’m ready for Christmas. My standard non-reply is, as ready as I ever am. Of course my kids and grandkids are grown, have aged out of the mandatory gift giving. Instead, if I see something I think someone would like I’ll gift it to them regardless of the time of year. That said, I will occasionally buy a holiday gift for someone but the point is not because I feel obligated to give a Christmas present and it so happens I have two gifts I intend to give this year. When I have a good pecan harvest, people get a pound of shelled pecans but that just coincides with this time of year. They’d get them if it was spring or summer.

If I did celebrate this time of year it would be the pagan roots of the winter solstice that has morphed into the Christian/secular Christmas; the return of the light; the yule log, decorating with evergreens, candles, the giving of small baskets of fruits and nuts or small tokens of nature. The early Christian Church rededicated this festival to the birth of their Savior in an attempt to bury paganism and impose the new religion same as they did the spring celebration and festival of Eostre (Ostara), the goddess of spring and fertility because they knew the common people would not give up their earth and nature based celebrations and festivals. I did set up a small altar last year with a cedar branch and a candle for the solstice. Perhaps I’ll do the same this year, add a few pecans and an orange.

 

one giant step into winter

I’m a little cranky today. Woke up to cold and rain and we had yet to turn on the heater. Minnie was convinced right away that she didn’t want to go outside but Cat kept going from door to door, meowing at me constantly. Sorry Cat, can’t do anything about the weather. She finally ventured out the back door far enough for a drop of rain to hit her and came back in convinced. And when I say it’s cold, it’s 46 and only supposed to get two degrees warmer and drop down to 39˚ tonight. Guess who couldn’t cajole herself into rolling out her mat and who is definitely not going to yoga class tonight? Abby’s probably going to cancel tonight anyway.

The heater is now on, I’ve had my coffee, and Cat has finally shut up but my feet are still cold. So, not so cranky but I’m definitely not going out today until I must to go feed the cats across the street. I imagine they are huddled under the house. 

I think we’re finally getting some measurable rain, at least I hope so. All we’ve been getting the last several days is a few quick showers, less than five minutes and not enough water to get the ground wet under the trees. The water level in the old turtle pond looks higher (I can see the water level through the gray plastic sides) and it’s supposed to rain off and on all day and even this week. 

You might remember that last fall I dug up my little Japanese azalea and my camellia neither of which were growing, hadn’t bloomed in years, and were obviously struggling and put them in pots and brought them in for the winter. Well, the azalea has buds forming for spring and the camellia has six buds, two of which are opening! 

This little podunk red town has two new small businesses. Sarah, Robin, and I went and checked them out on Saturday. There is La Despensa Dry Goods and Refillery that sells bulk (bring your own container) organic and small business sourced things like olive and avocado oil, vinegars, some herbs and spices, tea mixes, various trail mixes and nuts, rice, laundry soap and softener, dish soap.

The second shop right across the street is a new small book and gift store with gently used and new books and some great little quirky gifts. I don’t have a picture of the interior but right away I saw a used book that was on my to read list that the library doesn’t have. It’s at my house now. After I finish it I’ll donate it back to the store because I want them to succeed. I want both little businesses to succeed. Coupled with the Hesed House Market that sells art and crafts and various fresh, frozen, dried, and canned food items from local producers and artists and craftspeople we’re beginning to have some great alternatives to the Evil Empire or driving into Rosenberg. It’s a tough go for small businesses in Wharton though. Wharton historically has not supported Wharton small businesses. Many have tried and many have failed but with the greater metropolis of Houston edging our way Wharton is becoming a bedroom community. Two new housing subdivisions are building and bringing in a younger population (and hopefully more liberal as well) so hopefully these two new shops will make it.

And speaking of a younger population, I drove by the house that had the Trump sign on the fence and it is definitely a new family with small children so regardless of how it happened, we have at least one less Trump supporter in town.

Thanksgiving

I intended to post this yesterday but Autumn came over and spent the afternoon and then about 10 minutes after she left to go back to Austin, Jade showed up and spent the early evening and then I had pecans to shell.

When I was growing up we didn’t celebrate Thanksgiving. My mother always said she didn’t want to go through the effort and then have to repeat it all a month later for Christmas Eve dinner, not the she did any of the cooking for that. We always had a maid/cook when I was growing up. I think her only contribution to that was making the angel food cake. 

Our family was very small…parents and three children and my maternal grandmother who lived in her own little apartment attached to our house by a porte cochere and they did not get along. After a few years Ma stopped coming over to our house and I don’t think Mother ever went over to visit her either. My mother was a menopause baby born long after my grandmother considered her days of raising children were over but her father doted on her and spoiled her rotten and then when my mother was 16, he died. Her two older sisters, older by a decade plus, were both childless and lived in different cities and Mother was not close to them either. My father’s family lived in Lubbock on the other side of this very large state and my mother did not like his family and they didn’t much care for her either so we rarely saw them. My father’s one sibling, his sister, had one child so I had one first cousin who I have only seen maybe about 10 times in my whole life.

When I was 12 or 13 my father rented a little beach house in the brand new development of Sea Isle on the far west end of Galveston Island, five miles of nothing past the previous last beach house community. Now of course the island is developed all the way to San Luis Pass and the bridge that connects the west end of the island with the mainland, a bridge that didn’t exist back then. My father bought a lot on the bay side on one of the three canals and had a house built. After that every Thanksgiving weekend, really every weekend, holiday, and summer, was spent there and Mother, unwilling to do Thanksgiving in the city, was doubly unwilling at the beach house. I don’t remember a single Thanksgiving dinner with my core family growing up. If my family did Thanksgiving before the beach house I don’t remember it but definitely never after.

After Marc and I got together we would go to his mom’s for Thanksgiving, easily the first decade or so when the kids were little. When Diane got old enough that she didn’t want to mess with it we would host Thanksgiving at our house. When I started the river guide era in 1993 when the kids were teens but not fully grown I spent most Thanksgivings on the river, one of the four annual trips. But then things started to fall apart for the outfitter and I quit guiding in 2002. By then Sarah and Mike had four kids and Thanksgiving was happening at their house. And so in the years since we have all gathered at Sarah’s house when we all lived in the city. Once we moved out here and Sarah and Mike followed a few years later we still gathered at her house until a few years ago we hosted it here. This year we once again gathered at Sarah’s house. With Mikey and Audra having two little ones it was easier for Marc and I to go there than everyone come here.

And so I got my cooking done, packed up everything and we spent a very fun afternoon and evening, four generations of us. And oh by all the powers that be we had so much food! The dressing, butternut squash casserole, and cranberry sauce I made; the smoked turkey and stuffed jalapeños Mikey made; the roasted turkey, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, broccoli rice casserole, deviled eggs, green beans, honeyed carrots, and apple cranberry pie that Sarah made, and the dinner rolls that Autumn made but no picture of all the food. Board games and card games followed, food was divvied up and Marc and I got home about 9:30.

Paisleigh set the table.

No words needed.

Mikey keeping an eye on Harrison.

Paisleigh telling me to wait before I took the pic.

Robin, Sarah, and Autumn.

Paisleigh having a moment.

Game time.

prep day

We marveled at how big this egg was, the biggest chicken egg we had ever seen. Cracked it open…a double yolk. Do double yolk eggs produce twin chicks? Must be awful crowded in that egg.

I am reminded on mornings I feel resistant, like this morning, that the hardest part of yoga is rolling out your mat, or getting your butt to class. 

This week has been prepping for Thanksgiving. My standard contribution is the dressing, a butternut squash casserole, and cranberry sauce. Monday I roasted the butternuts, scooped out the cooked flesh from the skin and put it in a container and set out the bread to get stale. Yesterday I cut the crusts off the bread and cut it into cubes. Today I fry the bacon, make the cornbread and set it out to get stale (which I should have done yesterday but just now remembered), cut up all the vegetable stuff for the dressing, and make the cranberry sauce. Tomorrow it all gets put together and baked before taking it over to my daughter’s house for our late afternoon meal with family.

I was surprised to find I have 13 books on my list that I have not posted so while I’m doing all that here are the first five to consider.

The Last One At The Wedding by Jason Rekulak - Frank has been estranged from his daughter for three years when he gets a phone call from her. She’s getting married and wants him to attend. First of all, this guy Frank is a real jerk, never happy about anything and still trying to control his daughter. He doesn’t turn into any kind of decent until close to the end. His daughter Margaret is marrying into a wealthy and influential family and Frank is suspicious from the beginning since she and her fiancé Aiden have only known each other for 6 months. The weekend of the wedding arrives at their private camp in New Hampshire and the day before Frank leaves he receives an anonymous photo of Aiden with another girl asking what Aiden knows about the girl who went missing. When one of the guests at the camp is found drowned Frank, suspicious that something nefarious is going on, spends the few days trying to convince Maggie to call off the wedding and leave with him but Maggie is unconcerned but Frank is determined to unravel the truth and save his daughter.

Beautiful Ugly by Alice Feeny - Grady Green is an author with four books under his belt and the day he learns his most recent is a New York Times best seller his wife Abby goes missing. She was on the phone with him when she saw a body laying in the road and stopped to see if she could render aid and that was the last time Grady had any contact with her. The next year proves to be disastrous for Grady. He can’t write, he can’t sleep, he can’t think about anything but his missing wife, how much he loved her, how she was his whole world, how everything has fallen apart since she disappeared. He runs out of money, he loses his house, he’s losing his sanity, and fears he is about to lose his agent, Kitty, when she calls him into her office. Kitty proposes Grady go live on a small Scottish island with a total of 25 residents for three months in a little cabin she has inherited from one of her other authors hoping that the change of scene and the solitude will enable Grady to get his act together and write another book. She even fronts him money to live on so Grady and his dog Columbo travel to Amberly Island because he really doesn’t have any other choices and because solitude is what he needs and desires to write. Let me just say that Grady is a thoroughly unlikable man and the first three fourths of the book is him whining over and over about all that he has lost (and it was getting tedious). But weird things happen on the island, all the residents that he encounters seem to already know who he is, and he is convinced that he is seeing glimpses of his wife or else he’s hallucinating from lack of sleep. When he finds an unpublished manuscript written by a previous inhabitant of the cabin he concocts a plan that he hopes will give him back his life but then things really start to unravel for him. The last fourth, though, when as they say, the plot thickens, had me staying up late at night to finish.

Sleeping Worlds Have No Memory by Yaroslav Barsukov - Shea is a minister to the Queen sent to supervise the building of a tower ostensibly for defensive purposes against the neighboring country and it’s Crown Prince. It is being built with the aid of unstable high tech brought by the Drakiri refugees. He meets a Drakiri woman who tells him of an ancient legend about a Mimic Tower, the destruction it caused, the mounting danger the tower being built represents. When he discovers a portal to a dead world, Shea must decide what should be done to save the world he knows, what is real, what is a reflection of what was real, even the nature of reality. The author has a very flowery writing style that took some getting used to. I don’t know if I recommend this book or not. There’s one section about one of the characters that really didn’t have anything to do with the continuation of the story, I thought.

Death Of A Snob by M. C. Beaton -  a Hamish Macbeth novel. Hamish declines to go to his family’s home for Christmas because his aunt who lives in America and who he doesn’t get along with will be there. Instead he is talked into spending the holiday at a health resort on a small Scottish island by the owner Jane who thinks someone may be trying to kill her. Someone does die but it’s one of the other guests and Hamish must convince the detective from Inverness that it is indeed a murder and not an accidental death and solves the murder in the process.

By The Light Of Dead Stars by Andrew Van Wey - Thirteen year old Zelda’s parents are killed in a car crash, one that she survives. Her uncle Mark who lives in Spain sees an apparition of his sister and returns to the US. Zelda’s parents specified in their will that it was their desire for Zelda to be cared for by her uncle instead of her paternal grandparents. Now the two of them find they are both facing very different lives while learning to trust and depend on each other and decide to move to the small community of Graywood Bay in northern California for a fresh start but something evil lurks in Graywood Bay, something that thrives on pain and suffering and is trying once again to become manifest in the real world. In summer school making up a failing math grade Zelda makes immediate friends with Ali and Maura and it falls to the three friends and an old eccentric man in his creepy falling down house and creepy sculptures in his junkyard to save their community.