oceandoggy.com

We are sooooo close.

The bathrooms just need a little bit of trim, and maybe a little less blurriness.

The kitchen just needs a backsplash and window trim. And maybe some food cooking.

Trim, trim, baby.

And the living area just needs a little bit more flooring, a little bit of trim, a little less blurriness, and a final inspection so I can take down those uber ugly, temporary stair railings and open it all up again.

But, ooh, baby, baby, we are sooooooo damn close.

Wow.

So how do I start?

In amongst everything else, I’ve been reading a pile of books and since I’m pretty sure both my readers are hanging on my pithiness- here it comes.

A Hologram For A King. Dave Eggers book is an elegantly, beautifully written piece of go-nowhere-ness. It didn’t do anything for me, but if you like really pretty, really dull writing, rush out and get it. Or actually, get two- in case you fall asleep and forget where you left one.

The Beast God Forgot To Invent. Jim Harrison is an amazing writer. I’m not usually a fan of a collection of short stories, but his are good.

The Wolf Gift. Long, long, ago, Anne Rice wrote some of the most beautiful books ever. Yeah, sure, they were about vampires, but they were beautiful. Then she got religion or something and wrote some yawners about something else and when nobody bought them she turned back to her tried and true. Only this time it’s werewolves. Think hairy vampires.

The Englishman’s Boy. This was actually pretty good but I read it so long ago that I kinda forget.

Reamde. I have never read Neal Stephenson before, but you can betcha sweet ass I’m gonna read more of his stuff. Reamde is a 1000 page romp of fun reading. Get it.

Next up, we’ll check into the Little House of Horrors.

The fun never ends.

My brother and me had to work late on The Little House of Horrors the other day so Miss Carol had walk the boys. Since I walk ’em every day twice a day, I didn’t think too much about asking Miss Carol to take them.

But when we got home, Miss Carol was in tears and Cutter and Tug were sitting in the corner, their ears down and looking guilty.

I looked back and forth between them and said, what the fuck?

Cutter and Tug lowered down on their bellies and Miss Carol stammered between sobs, Tug almost ran away, she cried out.

Glad that no one had died, I went to the refrigerator and got a beer. I twisted the top off and said, what happened?

Miss Carol choked back a sob, pressing her fist to her mouth and squeezing her eyes tightly shut.

I took them up to the beach, she said, her voice quavering.

And?, I said, leaning on the counter, eyeing Cutter and Tug.

And Tug took off, Miss Carol choked out.

I thought I’d lost him, she said, her tears rolling freely now. He ran and ran and wouldn’t listen, she said, hiccuping between tears.

I hugged her while she wept, and glared at Cutter and Tug.

Dudes, I said.

Cutter perked up a little and said, it wasn’t me, boss.

Tug grunted and closed his eyes.

I held Miss Carol until she had calmed down enough to make us a couple of cocktails and some dinner and then we went to bed.

Late that night I woke up and saw Tug staring at me.

Quietly I whispered to him, don’t never run away again, Tug.

He stared at me.

You’ll get picked up by some mean family and they’ll chain you to a stake in their yard and leave you outside, I whispered.

He looked at me, breathing hot dog breath on me. And then he licked my face.

I know, he said. I won’t, he said.

So I petted his big head, loving him.

Curled up at the foot of the bed, Cutter giggled in the darkness.

Buuuulllshit, he said.

I did it again.

50,618 words spewed in a month. It’s an amazingly fun thing to write unencumbered and unconstrained for thirty days, believe it or not. It’s kinda like running topless down the street in the middle of the day.

It’s invigorating and I’m glad I did it and I already want to do it again.

It’s that kinda thing.

Late last night I finished the first re-write of my book. This is the book that I wrote during last year’s NaNoWriMo, and tomorrow I start on my second book, a prequel to the first, during this year’s NaNoWriMo.

For years I’d tried to write something more substantial than my blog and being largely undisciplined it usually went like this- I’d write a few pages and then a week or a month later I’d edit the same few pages thinking I was really, really, grooming my shit and then I’d let it sit for another coupla months or years.

It was pathetic.

I’d heard of NaNoWriMo but had never registered to try and write a novel in 30 days. (Sorry, for them’s that don’t know, NaNoWriMo means National Novel Writing Month)

So last year I re-remembered NaNO and figured what the hell. I had to do something to try and flesh out my three page really, really groomed 10-year old novel.

And it worked.

Turns out NaNO was just the kick in the balls I needed. For thirty days last November I wrote like a madman, not worrying about the editor in my head and averaging 1700 words a day. (To validate you need to upload a completed 50,000+ word novel by November 30)

It was just what I needed. Instead of thinking shit to death, instead of repeatedly word-smithing my greasily miserable three pages of pent up nothingness, I just rocked and rolled. I wrote and wrote, and by the end of the month I had a workable platform. I had story.

‘Course it took me an entire YEAR to do the re-write ’cause I still have this discipline problem, but, hey, I yam what I yam.

So yeah. Tomorrow I send my first book to the folks at CreateSpace for edit and cover design and layout and maybe someday, publication.

And then tomorrow night I start my second writing marathon.

I’ve been doing some deep knee-bends.

This year, for the first year ever, Cutter and Tug have managed to find a bunch of flea friends and bring them home to us so today Miss Carol and me wrestled them into our shower and gave them a bath and drowned their little flea buddies.

I did the wrestling and Miss Carol did the bathing.

Once Tug was done and sitting forlorn and wet-rat looking in the corner of the shower I grabbed Cutter and pulled/pushed/struggled him into the shower.

Nooooooooo, he pleaded, planting his paws on either side of the entrance to our shower.

Dude, I grunted, pushing him into the shower and Miss Carol.

Tug sat looking morose and defeated and Cutter looked back at me all doe-like. Please, he said.

You guys are Labs, I said, breathing hard and bent over, my hands on my knees. What’s the matter with you two?, you’re supposed to love water, I said.

Miss Carol started to spray nice warm water on Cutter and he hissed at me, We don’t.

Yeah, Tug said. It’s the ignominy. And looked pathetic.

Cutter glanced over at him while Miss Carol was sudsing him. The what??, he said.

The ignominy, Tug said again and settled back and forth a little. Ya gotta realize, he said, the first time we ever got a bath we were taken away from all of our brothers and sisters and the only nice warm little home we’d ever known and were given to you, he said.

Not that that’s a bad thing, Tug said hastily.

Cutter glared at him while Miss Carol rinsed.

Ignominy? Cutter said looking at his brother. Where’d you learn a word like that?

Tug shrugged and stood and shook the water off of him.

In another inexplicable unexplainable chain of events I found myself on Saturday saddling up to ride my bicycle 25 miles for a charity sponsored by a little church in North Carolina I’d never heard of.

My little brother and Miss Carol had decided last spring that they were going to ride the 50 mile course and somehow convinced me I needed to join them in their efforts and at least ride the 25.

In a moment of weakness I agreed.

I blame alcohol.

So I got a new chain and new tires ’cause the old ones had rusted and dry-rotted, respectively, did a ‘coupla deep knee bends, strapped on my required gay-ass helmet, plugged iTunes and headed out.

The first mile was hard and the others were harder. But the hardest thing was finding something to think about, or do, to pass the time. iTunes helped immensely but it wasn’t enough.

For a time I looked around at the homes and stuff we were passing at 12 miles an hour until I started noticing the mile markers that North Carolina has thoughtfully placed at EVERY HALF MILE along their roads.

Thank you North Carolina.

So then I looked at the horizon but the horizon never seemed to get any closer so I stopped doing that.

Then I tried just closing my eyes and listening to the music but that didn’t work very well either for obvious reasons.

Finally I just pedaled and wondered what other people doing longer races thought about.

And guess what? I won. I actually finished first.

This is what happened- only 10 of the riders took the southern 25 mile route, (Let me explain- the 50 mile course was divided into a southern half and a northern half, the northern portion being the nicer waterfront ride, the southern being the easier for my little brother to find me and rescue me when I bailed on this bullshit) and for probably the same inexplicable and unexplainable reasons that led to this nonsense in the first place Miss Carol and me wound up leading the southern routers and then with about 6 miles to go, Miss Carol got tired of my slow ass, hit the gas and disappeared over the horizon I was trying not to look at.

I pedaled on wondering if maybe I’d missed the turn when I saw Miss Carol stopped at the turn-off and talking to my little brother and his cupcake and telling them I’d probably miss the turn if she didn’t wait for me.

But I didn’t and I powered by with a primal scream and iTunes rocketing around in my head and pedaled like a madman to the finish.

Woo-hoo. I’ll never do that shit again.