Beach Bound Hounds

Just over a week…


Daisy with…
Originally uploaded by Nancy Dunne

I’ve got just over a week now to make some super progress on the current WIP because other than the amount of time before the battery dies on the plane, I don’t know how much writing will get done in the first few days I’m there. I’m betting on none.

I’ve got just over a week to work as much as I can, but with my niece coming to stay here on Allen Mountain that won’t be much, I’m afraid. Three gigs so far, but that may have to be it.

I’ve got just over a week to get some stock ordered to take with me to Beach Bound Hounds in September so that I can sign some books and get My Pack’s stories out to those who never got to meet the original Fab Five (with apologies to my EQ friends, I’m stealing that b/c my first pack WAS fabulous) and who haven’t had a chance to meet Psycho Puppy Girl because she’s been overseas. I’m still confident that the WIP will have become Proud Racer: An American Greyhound in Yorkshire by BBH and will be ready to sign and sell as well.

But best of all…

Just over a week from now I will be snuggling up to that face and smooching that noggin…well, when I’ve pried myself loose from Hubs and stopped putting my face in Mills’s fur, that is. I’ve not packed a thing, in fact I’m still not sure which bag I’m taking or what will go in it…but I’m counting down the days!

Beachbound Hounds

Well, we made it.

We set out yesterday at 11:30ish with the intention of picking up my friend Janet at the Myrtle Beach Airport at about 4pm. Along the way we slept, fussed, slept and slept…well, H and J did, Mommy was driving.

Somewhere past Florence I found a gas station that was selling unleaded for under $4 per gallon…and it had a sign on each of of the pumps stating that customers needed to limit their transactions to 10 gallons per fill-up because of the severe gas shortage affecting the Southeastern US.

Huh?

After putting 10.01 gallons in my car, we headed on toward Myrtle Beach. Jimmy Buffett on the MP3, dogs blissfully sleeping in the back…and the traffic screeched to a halt. Dead halt. Stopped. Car in PARK.

Turns out there was an accident up ahead…so I rang up Leah and she headed over to get Janet at the airport. Finally, after a 20 minute wait, we headed on down to the beach.

So far I haven’t even made it to check in with BBH staff, only into the hotel. Jeany isn’t happy about the non carpeted floors in the room, but she’s managing.

Best part so far? I have my Daisy Mae Mae Psycho Puppy Girl back with me.

Are we there yet?

I have written before about how I hate to hear the news of deaths in the Middle East due to the “war.” But when I hear things like the following that I just heard on NPR, it really makes me sad.

A pair of insurgent attacks in Iraq’s northern Nineveh province on Tuesday killed three U.S. soldiers and their interpreter, the military said.

Even though that was a spoken language interpreter, the job that he/she did and the job I do are the same…and I feel like a colleague, a peer, even a family member, has died rather than just one more nameless casualty of “war.” I hear that word above all others, every time another interpreter is killed, loud and clear, above the numbers of soldiers or the name of the place where he or she was killed…I feel it, if that makes sense. I think about whether or not I would have the courage to do that job, were I a speaker of that language rather than American Sign Language and English.

Is it January yet? Are we to the point of finally talking about getting our brothers and sisters, mothers and fathers, friends and colleagues out of this “war” and back home where they are safe?