Come out and play!

So, Atticus has a new hobby, which is trying to get me to come play while I'm trying to work. He doesn't want to come in, he wants me to come out. He's found a perch on the window sill next to my computer and sits and yowls his head off until I at least open the window and pet him . . .

New! Favorite Thing Friday!

Okay, so if you haven't read the series Ladies No. 1 Detective Agency, you need to run right out and read you some! I LOVE these books, and now I love the new series on HBO.

Redneckedness

Some random thoughts on Redneckedness,

The question is, why would any woman who isn’t of the redneck persuasion marry one of these men?

That question came up at Pulpwood Queen Kathy Patrick’s Girlfriend Weekend, when a panel of lone star literati, end for some reason, me.

It was a fabulous weekend, I got to meet, have lunch, and drink bourbon and Diet Coke with Sara Bird, Carol Dawson, Cyndi Hughes, David Marion Wilkinson, and THE fabulous Sam Barry of Harper Collins who still owes me for the tiara he swiped during the downing of said bourbon and Diet Cokes. We'll talk later, Sam :)

The final question posed to the panel was, “Why don’t people in other states like Texans?” And while the rest panel pondered this question with wit and brilliance, I could only offer one word: Redneckedness.

Redneckedness is a special brand of crazy, of which Texans take great pride. I hear up north, they lock their crazy up in the attic. In Texas, we prop ‘em up on the sofa and invite the neighbors over for iced tea.

While rednecks are not locked up (though they are often incarcerated), they do sometimes roam freely about the country, inflicting their redneckedness on unsuspecting strangers.

It was one such case with my own personal redneck that I used to illustrate the profound affect rednecks have on people outside the state of Texas.

We were heading to California to visit my sister and step-brother. My sister was working, and my urbane step-brother, who happens to be half Japanese, suggested we visti a winery.


Texas rednecks are easily identified by their uniform—Wrangler jeans, boots, and some sort of t-shirt in disrepair, topped with a gimme cap proclaiming a slogan for cars, beer and or Tito’s Titty Bar.

Of course, there will also be an image of the Texas flag somewhere on their person, and often on their underwear.

I know of no other state where people would wear their flag on thong underwear, or for that matter would want to. But in doing so, Texans can go anywhere in the world with the state flag up their butt.

The house, the house & Cauley of the Day

The guys have the dormers almost done, and R is sealing the logs. In other, writing-related news, I'm finished with the first four chapters of Redneckedness, and about to put together the proposal (hooray!).

Because both of these activities are nerve-wracking, I have taken out stock in Doritos, because nothing soothes a troubled soul like fake, powdery Nacho cheese . . .

Cauley of the Day (In honor of the new book): There's only three kinds of men in this world--the ones you play with, the ones you stay with, and the ones who just need killin'.

Buy My RV

We're finally building, so if you're looking for a terrific RV in showroom shape, here's your chance!

Yikes!

So, we're working on the house today and R got a terrible splinter!

Fighting

I hate fighting. It's amazing how often I'm in a situation that calls for it. But, like all things worth saying, there's a Cauley-ism for it:

I'll knock a knot on your head and dare it to rise . . .