Stink Bug As Pet

I'm on the couch in the library with my laptop, checking e-mail, when I notice a beige something at the top of the fish tank. At first I think it is one of our two cory's, feeding. But no, the beige blob does not do the Cory trick of hitting the top of the tank then diving back down, then racing to the top then diving back down. 

The beige blob is stationary. 

Crap. I bet it's a Cory gone belly up. We just lost Big Blue to some sort of eye disease and it seems cruel to lose another fish so soon.

I go over to the tank and realize that not only is the beige blob not a Cory, it's also not stationary. It is a stink bug, legs paddling madly to keep its head above water.

Since a bug is involved, I call in the husband. (I'm more of a traditionalist than you think.) Blair pulls out the net but before he even scoops up the stink bug, the little guy climbs along the edge and, I think, collapses with relief. 

"Yea, you saved him," I cheer. 

"There you go, little fella," says Blair, turning the stink bug onto the floor. 

Uh, the floor?

And so I say, "Uh, the floor?" 

Blair looks at me. "The floor is bad?"

I hasten to assure him this is not so. "I mean, I was thinking more along the lines of releasing him outside but you know, whatever. We can keep him as a pet." 

Blair scoops the bug up but now I'm worried about his health. God knows how long he was treading water. "You don't have to take him out right this minute," I say, motherly concern kicking in. "He's all wet and I don't want him to freeze."

"Well, let's just see what we have," says Blair. He steps outside and finds a sunny spot in which to release Phil. (I named him as Blair carried him to the door.) "I think he'll be okay."

"Bye, Phil!" I call. "Good luck!"

And oddly enough, I mean it. 

"Who Moved My Mouse?" Coming Soon To A Bookstore Near You...

Sorry to be blog-silent for so long. I got back from Ohio and had an e-mail waiting from my editor at Ten Speed Press. We're on round two of revisions. Round one was the editor going through the book and making suggestions/comments. I was surprised (and quite happy) at how few revisions there were. I'd heard stories of books coming back with all but five words crossed out, asking for rewrites. I had tissues and Tylenol standing by but, thankfully, they weren't needed.

This round is all about the copy editing. And this copy editor is GOOD. Straightening up my prose right and left. Plus, she's a cat person, and had some helpful comments/suggestions on some of the text outside copy editing. 

It's hard to believe I'll have to wait until October for the finished product. The book seems to be just winging along. I've got sample pages for how the book will be laid out and I've been approving illustrations for over a month. The book is already listed on Amazon and on Random House's author page. 

This is it though. This week is my last chance to make any substantial revisions to the book, so I'm going through with a fine tooth comb. My writer friends have been there in spades for me, responding to my anxious e-mails about "which is the funnier cat litter joke" as though they had all the time in the world to spare. 

I'm surprisingly calm about the whole thing. The only thing that makes me ancy is thinking about all the publicity I need to stir up. I've got a mile-long to-do list when it comes to marketing and promotion and I'm at the point where I need to start making things happen. 

Got any great ideas for making a cat self-help book a bestseller? Send 'em my way!

Cheers,

Dena

The Life & Times of Albert The Bug

Police sketch of AlbertYesterday afternoon, I noticed a small, flat-backed, gray-brown bug near the top of the kitchen sink.

"Bug," I said to Blair, pointing at it. (This is marital code for: "Deal with it.")

"That's Albert," said Blair. (Marital code for: "It's just a bug and I'm trying to make a sandwich and if it bothers you so much, you deal with it.")

I didn't want to deal with it, so Albert stayed. His presence quickly grew on us. About an hour later, I went to put a glass in the sink and noticed Albert had shifted position about a foot to the left.

"Hi, Albert," I said. I heard Blair offer a similar greeting when he returned to the kitchen for a snack. 

Early evening, I go into the kitchen to make dinner. As I'm pouring steaming hot pasta water into the colander to drain the spaghetti, I see Albert perilously close to where the water is splashing up in the sink.

"Albert, look out!" I cried.  

We were cleaning dishes up from dinner when I asked Blair what he thought Albert ate.

"I don't know that we need to carry it that far," he said. 

Huh. In my book, if you name something, it's a pet for life and now you're responsible for it.

Which is why I'm sad to announce that Albert has disappeared. He was nowhere to be found this morning. Maybe we just didn't love him enough. Maybe he was bored. Or hungry.

Or maybe he was just a bug. But he was a good bug. Our bug.

We miss you, Albert.