Happy Little Lizard Tail

Thought for the day:  I always keep a supply of stimulant handy in case I see a snake— which I also keep handy.  [W.C. Fields]

I've written numerous posts about dogs, cats, rabbits, and birds, but never about reptiles. Hmmm, I wonder why that is? Okay, so maybe they aren't exactly cuddly critters, but it never hurts to know a little something about them, because ya never can tell when some stray little tidbit of knowledge might come in handy.

I'm gonna share a few of those tidbits before telling you a funny tale.

Did you ever have any of these little guys as a kid? I'm pretty sure red eared sliders are still fairly popular pets, but they have been known to carry salmonella. As far as I know, our sliders never carried salmonella. In fact, they lived very happy little lives in a little plastic habitat, complete with a little plastic palm tree. Until they died of boredom.

I had one of these fellas for a while as a kid, too. Found him. Yep, I went out in the front yard, and there he was. Granted, a postage stamp yard in front of a row home in suburban Baltimore wasn't exactly his natural habitat, but there he was. Just as cute as he could be. I figured he must have been someone's escaped pet, but I couldn't find his rightful owner anywhere. Okay, so technically, I didn't look. So sue me. Wouldn't you have kept him, too? Two things he taught me: horned lizards eat a lot of flies, and I am an extraordinarily crappy fly catcher.

I'm not a huge fan of snakes, but I do admire their beauty. (From a distance.) My brother raises ball pythons, and his albinos are especially beautiful. Know why snakes stick out their tongues? They aren't being rude. That's how they smell. Same for lizards.

When our daughter was growing up, she wanted a pet iguana. Nope, no way, nohow. I didn't have a problem helping our kids care for their menagerie of cuddly pets, but I had absolutely no interest in having a scaly critter that big in our house. Sure, I had chameleons as a kid, but they were little. And cute. Iguanas get to be as much as twenty inches long, by golly, and they have to have those fancy heated rocks, heat lamps, and all that jazz. No thanks.

Instead, in my infinite wisdom, I bought her one of these little guys. Awwwww. He was a little on the expensive side, but he really was cute. Only about the size of a quarter when we brought him home, and he had the prettiest light green eyes you ever saw, and an adorable scalloped shell. Know what he is? An African spurred tortoise. Uh, yeah, matter of fact, that is the kind of tortoise usually seen in an outdoor enclosure at a zoo. See, they're the third largest tortoise in the world, and can get to be up to three feet long, and 200 pounds. Oh, and they also live more than a hundred years. She named him Yoda, and had him for quite a few years. Took him with her when she moved out on her own, and by that time, his habitat filled an entire bedroom. So yeah, he did get a little larger than that iguana she wanted. (Now he lives in a nature preserve with other African spurred tortoises.)

A couple other quick tidbits before we go on to that tale:

• Most lizards have autonomous tails, which means they can break them off to escape predators.  I must confess, I caught and snapped the tails off quite a few skinks when I was a kid, simply because I thought it was funny as heck to see those detached tails wiggle. Besides, I knew their tails would grow back again. However, now I know the regenerated tails are smaller, boneless, and sometimes of a different color than the original. (So to all those skinks whose beauty I marred, I deeply apologize.)
• Some lizards can squirt blood two to four feet... out of their eyes!
• Lizards can conserve water by excreting salt. When water is scarce, they excrete enough salt  to form a white residue on their bodies.
• Most lizards have suction cups on the bottoms of their feet.
• The gecko is the only lizard with a true voice, because he's the only one with vocal chords. As anyone who's ever seen those insurance commercials could tell you, they also speak with a British accent.

                                                             Okay, ready? Story time.

Cute little guy, isn't he? And he looks pretty doggone pleased with himself, too. Just picture that expression in the story that follows.

WARNING: This is one of those laugh-out-loud funny stories that went around the Internet without attribution some years back, so you might want to set your drink down before you start reading it.

Just after dinner one night, my son came up to tell me there was "something wrong" with one of the two lizards he holds prisoner in his room. "He's just lying there looking sick," he said. "I'm serious, Dad. Can you help?"

So I put my best lizard-healer expression on my face and followed him into his bedroom. Sure enough, one of the little lizards was lying on his back, looking stressed. I immediately knew what to do. "Honey," I yelled, "come look at the lizard!"

"Oh, my gosh!" my wife exclaimed. "She's having babies."

"What?" my son demanded. "But their names are Bert and Ernie, Mom!"

I was equally outraged.

"Hey, how can that be? I thought we said we didn't want them to reproduce," I said accusingly to my wife.

 "Well, what do you want me to do, post a sign in their cage?" she inquired (I think she actually said this sarcastically!).

"No, but you were supposed to get two boys!" I reminded her, (in my most loving, calm, sweet voice, while gritting my teeth).

 "Yeah, Bert and Ernie!" my son agreed.

 "Well, it's just a little hard to tell on some guys, you know," she informed me (Again with the
 sarcasm!).

By now the rest of the family had gathered to see what was going on. I shrugged, and decided to make the best of it. "Kids, this is going to be a wondrous experience," I announced. "We're about to witness the miracle of birth."

"Oh, gross!" they shrieked

"Well, isn't THAT just great? What are we going to do with a litter of tiny little lizard babies?" my
 wife wanted to know.

We peered at the patient. After much struggling, what looked like a tiny foot would appear briefly, vanishing a scant second later.

 "We don't appear to be making much progress," I noted.

 "It's breech," my wife whispered, horrified.

 "Do something, Dad !" my son urged.

 "Okay, okay." Squeamishly, I reached in and grabbed the foot when it next appeared, giving it a gentle tug. It disappeared. I tried several more times with the same results.

 "Should I call 911?" my eldest daughter wanted to know. "Maybe they could talk us through the trauma." (You see a pattern here with the females in my house?)

 "Let's get Ernie to the vet," I said grimly.

We drove to the vet with my son holding the cage in his lap. "Breathe, Ernie, breathe," he urged.

 "I don't think lizards do Lamaze," his mother noted to him. (Women can be so cruel to their own young. I mean, what she does to me is one thing, but this boy is of her womb, for God's sake.).

The vet took Ernie back to the examining room and peered at the little animal through a magnifying glass.

"What do you think, Doc, a C-section?" I suggested scientifically.

"Oh, very interesting," he murmured. "Mr. And Mrs. Cameron, may I speak to you privately for a moment?"

 I gulped, nodding for my son to step outside.

 "Is Ernie going to be okay?" my wife asked.

 "Oh, perfectly," the vet assured us. "This lizard is not in labor. In fact, that isn't EVER going to
 happen. Ernie is a boy. You see, Ernie is a young male. And occasionally, as they come into
 maturity, like most male species, they um... um... masturbate. Just the way he did, lying on his
 back." He blushed, glancing at my wife.

 We were silent, absorbing this.

 "So, Ernie's just...  just... excited," my wife offered.

 "Exactly," the vet replied, relieved that we understood.

 More silence. Then my vicious, cruel wife started to giggle. And giggle. And then  laughed out loud.

"What's so funny?" I demanded, knowing, but not believing that the woman I married would commit the upcoming affront to my flawless manliness.

Tears were now running down her face. "It's just that... I'm picturing you pulling on its ... its... teeny little..." She gasped for more air, and laughed even harder.

"That's enough," I warned. We thanked the vet and hurriedly bundled the lizard and our son back into the car.

He was glad everything was going to be okay. "I know Ernie's really thankful for what you did, Dad," he told me.

"Oh, you have NO idea," my wife agreed, collapsing with laughter.

Two lizards: $140.
One cage: $50.
Trip to the vet: $30.

 (Memory of your husband pulling on a lizard's winkie: Priceless!)

****

So what little tidbit of information could have prevented that priceless experience? Simple. Most lizards... lay eggs.

Don't forget: Every comment you make here during the month of May earns you another shot at winning a FREE signed copy of Hot Flashes & Cold Lemonade. Mention it on your blog, and earn TWO shots.

Oh, and guess what? Both the paperback and e-version will be available on Amazon on the 28th!!! That's just one week away... Woo- HOO!




Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.


[Images from Wikipedia, icanhascheezburger, morguefile, and seniorark]

Special Delivery

Thought for the day:  The worst feature of a new baby is its mother's singing.  [Kin Hubbard]

And oh baby, am I ever singing. If I weren't afraid of breaking something, (like myself) I'd be doing a lot of  happy dancing, too. And banging the tambourine and yelling OPA!!!!

Ya see, my baby was delivered yesterday.

Wanta see the cute little tyke? Whattayathink?  I think he has my smile...

Here, let's move that blanket out of the way, and let you see his... MY... heart.

Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod, is it? Is it? YES, it is. It's a bouncing baby...  BOOK!!!

Delivered naturally, too. (Okay, so I may have had a  glass of wine... or two... to celebrate his arrival.)

 Psst! Know what happiness is? Hearing my man Smarticus laugh last night... while he was reading  MY BOOK!

Okay, I had a whole 'nother post ready for today, but since the stork the postman delivered my baby yesterday, that means launch day is getting ever closer, so instead of taking y'all on a virtual tour of South Dakota today, how's about a visit to Dundalk, Maryland?

That's a suburb of Balmer. (Or Baltimore, to the uninitiated.) Where I grew up.Where Hot Flashes and Cold Lemonade takes place.

That's Dundalk shopping center in the picture. The picture was taken much more recently than when we lived there, but even though the occupants of those stores have changed many times over, the buildings are pretty much the same. A picture taken in the '30s would show that same string of buildings. However, it's entirely possible the cars would look somewhat different.

In the prologue, Pearl remembers going to Arundel's Ice Cream Parlor with her father. At one time, the parlor was located about halfway down... in that first corner building, if I remember right. Doesn't matter, but I'll bet you can remember a place just like it from your home town. The BEST ice cream sodas, shakes, and sundaes in town. A great place for teenagers and families to hang out. Rich frothy root beer floats, and strawberry shakes so thick with strawberries, they kept getting stuck in the straw. BIG shakes, big enough for two to share. The fella would sit on one side of the table, and the gal on the other. With their knees barely touching under the table, they slurped on their straws at the same time, while making eyes at each other, and listening to the popular music playing in the background. Do you remember a place like that?

The Strand movie theater used to be located at the far corner of the street. For fifty cents, you could escape into the air conditioning, watch a double feature, cartoon, coming attractions, newsreel AND have popcorn and candy. On Saturday afternoons, the place would always be jam-packed with kids. Rambunctious kids. It wasn't at all unusual to get whopped in the head with popcorn or worse... sticky candy. From my experience, I'd have to say wet jujubes and milk duds had the most sticking power, but I'll plead the fifth as to whether or not I ever engaged in such shenanigans. However, I will admit to making obnoxious noises by blowing into my empty milk duds box. (Hey! That's circumstantial evidence!)

Enjoyed many a date at that theater, and quite a few of them were with Smarticus. And very often... the evening would be topped off down the street with a root beer float or strawberry shake.

Now, the movie theater is no more. For a while, it was some sort of sports center, but now, I think it's a Dollar Store. (sigh) Just like the other local theaters. The old Carlton is now a funeral parlor, and the Abbey Lane is a Salvation Army store. Time marches on. Are any of the old movie theaters in your home town still movie theaters?

Here's Pearl's church. St. Rita's. It's located on the opposite end of the street from the movie theater.

It was built in 1922, and is one of the few constants in the area. Which is one of the reasons Pearl loves it so much. Like her, it spits in the face of change.

How about your town? Is there anything left that's been able to hang tough through the years? And you? Is it easy for you to accept change?




Okay, enough. I know what y'all reeeeally want to know. You want to know who the heck won Dianne's book, doggone it!

Inside of that cap (AF4FO is my amateur radio call sign) are little slips of paper. One for each of you who commented on the last post. (Except for those who opted out.) It was my intention to procure some able feline assistance in drawing one of those slips, but as you can see, Dot was a little dubious about the whole thing. Dash? She was busy taking a nap.

No problem. I procured the able assistance of my better half Smarticus.
So without further ado, (insert drum roll here) the winner of the Kindle version of Dianne Salerni's book The Caged Graves IS... (ta-DA!)

                                                                     Beach Bum

                                                    CONGRATULATIONS!

Sorry, all you guys and gals who were hoping to win this terrific book. But, hey! You can still BUY it. PLUS, you still have a shot at winning MY baby. (Um, not one of the two-legged ones... the BOOK. Signed, even.)

                                    Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

[Images courtesy of Wikipedia, Morguefile, and the Dundalk Public Library.] [Oh, yeah! And ME!]

Inspiration Plus Investigation Leads to Publication

Thought for the day:  A smart person isn't someone who knows all the answers; it's someone who knows where to look for them.

And Dianne Salerni definitely qualifies as one of those smart people. She's the kind of person who, when faced with something that piques her curiosity, loves to crawl down the research rabbit hole to explore every little nook and cranny to see where the information leads her. And then, lucky for us, she utilizes that information to write wonderful books.

In January, 2012, I featured a post about Dianne's first book, We Hear the Dead, a really cool historical novel about the Fox sisters, seances, and the birth of spiritualism. During the Q & A session on that post, she stimulated our appetites by telling us a little something about the plans for her next book.  Guess what? (ta-DA!) That next book is being served TODAY! Yep. It's finally time for lunch  launch.

As much as I enjoyed Dianne's first book, I enjoyed this one even more. A quickie review:

Verity leaves the safety and comfort of life in a modern (by mid-1800 standards, anyway) city to move to a podunk town to live with a father she barely knows and marry a man she's never met. There, she discovers the graves of her mother and aunt, inexplicably covered by metal cages, and placed beyond the boundaries of the church's consecrated burial grounds. She wants answers. 

In a skillfully woven tale, Salerni delivers those answers. Verity encounters ugly rumors, malice, and danger, but she also finds her mother's stash of diaries, unexpected romance, and eventually, the truth. 

 ***

Reeeeeally good. Lots of intrigue, and a VERY good read.


Psssst! Wanta see pictures of the actual Pennsylvania gravesites that inspired Dianne to write this book? 

     Cool, huh? Gives a whole new meaning to don't fence me in. (The book is even cooler!)

No Q & A this time around. This time, the lovely Dianne has written a guest post for us, and her topic?

                                                         Writing Historical. 

Writing a novel is hard, really hard, no matter the genre. But people often ask me about the research involved in writing a historical novel. Where do I get the information?

I have no idea how writers did it before the Internet. Books? How did they find books that contained the exact details they needed? Historical societies? I imagine authors spent a lot of time poring through aged letters and journals, searching for the everyday aspects of life that are essential for bringing a historical novel to life.

For me – Google is my friend. And so, of course, are the historical societies that post documents and photographs online so I can view them without visiting the archives in person. In writing THE CAGED GRAVES, I read accounts of the Wyoming Massacre (1778) that were written less than a hundred years after the event, nineteenth century descriptions of the history and settlement of Catawissa, Pennsylvania, lists of businesses and a census, diary entries written in the early 1800’s, and photographs of the region taken shortly after the Civil War. All without leaving my home.

Some things were still hard to pin down. How long would it take to travel by train from Worcester, Massachusetts to Catawissa? Which neighboring towns were less than a day’s travel away – and in existence at the right time? I spent a lot of time trying to figure out how someone would acquire ornamental plants in a time when florists and nurseries were non-existent. Eventually common sense prevailed. My main character would acquire clippings from a neighbor who already had those plants. (How the neighbor got them – not my problem!)

One of the most interesting internet hunts I’ve ever done was for a different historical fiction manuscript, (not THE CAGED GRAVES – so no spoilers here). I needed to know how someone would handle an accidental poisoning by arsenic in 1885. Try googling that!  I did turn up a newspaper article describing an accidental poisoning of an entire family in the mid-1800’s. From that article I was able to identify symptoms and recovery rates, but not how they were treated.

Eventually, through Google Books, I stumbled across a 1903 cookbook. (I figured 20 years off was close enough.) In the back of the cookbook, there was a section titled: What to do Before the Doctor Arrives. It listed various types of household poisons and recommended treatment for each. In the case of arsenic, in case you’re wondering, the recommendation was to induce vomiting with salt water, have the victim swallow raw egg whites to coat the stomach, and if the doctor didn’t arrive quickly, make the victim eat rust.

Yes, rust. Iron binds with arsenic. The doctor, when he arrived, would be administering a suspension of ferric hydroxide and magnesium oxide, which is basically … um, also rust. Who knew?

*****

Thanks, Dianne. Guess what, y'all? Dianne is offering a FREE copy of The Caged Graves... yes, that's right, I said absolutely FREE---FREE---FREE Kindle version of her book to one of you fine folks who comments here. With the help of our cats, (They insist on helping with EVERYTHING.) I'll be drawing one of your names out of a hat at 11 PM EST this coming Thursday. (If you'd like to opt out of the drawing, please let me know in your comment, okay?) GOOD LUCK!

                                                                    Thanks, Dianne!

                                        Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

Pssst! Every comment left here this month will also earn you a chance to win a free copy of my book. Mention it on your blog, and earn another two chances. (What's a little blatant bribery between friends?)