How cool is this!

Main Street, you have to love it!

The Geezer and Mrs. G have made it official! I get to go on an adventure. In the near future (they haven’t told me when) we all will go to North Carolina. Not to big cities. To festivals held in the mountains. In cool refreshing unhurried small towns where America still lives. I’ll get to sit on the side of a mountain and enjoy the view.

Returning to a totally different world…..and loving it!

The Geezer is touring, promoting his newest mystery, The Grave with Greener Grass. We’ll be in Burnsville at the Mt. Mitchell Arts & Craft Festival August the 5th & 6th. The following week we’ll be in Black Mountain (near Asheville) to attend the Sourwood Festival on August 13th & 14th. He’ll be stopping at By Hand Ink (in Hilton Head, SC) for a book signing on August 16 from 10 to 2. These are great events!

The Mt. Mitchell Craft Fair in Burnsville

Shopping at the Sourwood Festival

DL (that’s the Geezer) has prepared an exhibit about the early history of Spanish exploration of western NC. It something not widely known and very interesting. The Spanish tried to establish colonies four decades before Jamestown! Come visit us!

 

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Shark!!!

Hey, that’s more than a love bite!

The Geezer and Mrs. G are off to something to do with sharks this weekend. It’s called Sharkcon. The Geezer told me that it is held so people will appreciate the place these big fish hold in the environmental chain. If you want to learn more about these predators, you can join him and Mrs. G at the Florida State Fair Grounds in Tampa this Saturday and Sunday. He will be in booth 624. The Geezer will be meeting and greeting the readers in the crowd.

Talk about a big mouth!

I have to stay home with the house sitter.

What humans do!

Watching humans sweat outside from the cool bed inside. Ain’t life grand?

I watched from a vantage point in the air conditioning as the Geezer and Mrs. G. toiled away loading their vehicle with books, displays, history corner, etc. for the show tomorrow. They visit the Venice Community Center for Christmas in July, tomorrow, Saturday, 10 to 3. My canine intellect rebels. Christmas in July? What???

Missy, my feline housemate, laid down next to me. She wiggled her whiskers like she does when she tries to say something profound. Missy opined, “Can you believe humans? Why in the world would you leave this cool house to sweat in that 95-degree heat?”

I answered, “You have to do, what you have to do.” That’s one of the Geezer’s favorite answers.

“At one in the afternoon? Daaaaaa.” Missy looked disgusted. “They could have waited until later.”

“It might rain later,” I defended.

“Aaaaaa, Brandi, it won’t rain from 5 to midnight.”

“It could,” I knew what she’d say next.

“Humans, most of them, are cranially challenged,” purred Missy.

“Prove it! “I challenged.

“They elected Biden, didn’t they?”

Sometimes there just isn’t an answer.

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Sometimes ads appear at the bottom of my blogs. I have NO input into what goes there. If you see political ads from any side at this time of national division know that I consider them TRASH!

 

I love people!

I Love to meet people! Particularly nice ones!

I get to go! At least, I hope so. The Geezer is officially introducing his new mystery The Grave with Greener Grass, this Saturday. If it isn’t too hot, I’ll be there to meet his friends and fans. We’ll be at the Matlacha Menagerie from 10 in the morning until 3 in the afternoon. That’s at 4604 Pine Island Rd, Matlacha, FL. Come see us!

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What’s new under the sun? It’s still HOT!

Trying to keep cool isn’t easy in Florida summers. Here I try a little belly up.

Summer has arrived. With the longest day of the year comes the official beginning of ‘hotter than hell,’ time. Problem is, Florida summers start as early as the last of March. Ninety-degree temperatures begin then, and they don’t go away until November. Well, the Geezer reminds me that’s true for the part of Florida where we live. Near the Everglades. We’re on the edge of the tropics.

Our Neighbors have different ways of keeping cool when they venture outside. Running through sprinklers. Putting handkerchiefs loaded with ice tied around their necks. Drinking beer and salty dogs under the palm trees. One lady cools off by pouring cold water over her tee shirt and speeding up and down the street on her golf cart. Unfortunately, it heats up some of the local lads.

My canine friends have a few tricks. A dip in the canal cools us. (We’re on salt water in an area with no gators) Sharing the sprinklers works. My friend Winston waits for his humans to empty their cooler.

Winston’s refrain — “Ice! Ice! My country for some ice!

The summer heat also keeps me from going on as many of the adventures the Geezer and Mrs. G make. The outdoors ones. They say it is too hot for me to bake in the sun. I can’t help but wonder if it’s too hot for me, what about them? I hope to go on some that are held inside. I will be able to make the trip to the mountains later in the summer!

The Geezer is very, very busy. He is introducing his latest novel, “The Grave with Greener Grass.” He has several local events in southwest Florida beginning with a signing at Matlacha Menagerie on July the second. That’s his “home bookstore” on Pine Island where he introduces his new books. Monday he’ll be on the radio with talk show host Bob Alexander in Port Charlotte. He’ll be at SharkCon, at the Florida Fair Grounds in Tampa the weekend of the July 16th. He has five additional presentations at country

clubs, fairs, etc. in July. Oh, well…You relax…find a shady spot…Keep cool!

 

THE GRAVE WITH GREENER GRASS and CHRISTMAS COOKIES MYSTERIES ARE HOT IN JULY!

The High Cost of Bones….

Hey!  I’m not on the Biden diet!

Inflation! It even affects we canines! I happened to meet with a few of the neighborhood members of the dogs only Hambone Chowder & Marching Society. We compared notes. It seems many of our households are so impacted by the stupidity coming out of Washington that some of my canine friends are on reduced rations or…none at all. You can be a fly on the wall and listen to part of what my brothers and sisters had to say:

“It is simply so embarrassing I don’t want to bark about it,” Fifi, our debutante poodle oozed indignation.

I asked, “What’s got your panties in a wad?”

“Would you believe my humans are adding dried food to my Freshpet? My taste buds are delicate — I am not sure they will survive.”

“Stop complaining,” Rex the Rottweiler growled, “They put me on dry food two months ago. At first, they poured some broth over it, so it didn’t hurt my gums. Now they stopped doing that.”

Everybody looked around at everyone else. Believe me, there were no wagging tails.

“I guess it’s affecting all of us. I don’t like to complain, but my humans haven’t bought my Milk Bone treats for the last three weeks. I feel deprived.” Lucy, a Cocker Spaniel, told the truth about the high cost of bones. She lied about not wanting to complain. She loves to do that.

Whiskey Girl is a Visla and always thinks of solutions. “I’ve tried sitting with my back to the bowl when my humans tried feeding me the bargain brand. My hunger strike only lasted a day. Has anybody figured out a protest that works?”

Our resident Jack Russell woofed, “No! My sure-fire method to get my way is to sit and stare at them. It always works…until now.”

“You guys shouldn’t complain,” Manny our Chihuahua whimpered, “My humans always said I could live on a peanut a week. I think, they think, that’s real.”

“That’s horrible!” I yelped.

“You Goldens do have a heart,” Spot our streetwise Mongrel said.

I asked, “What are you eating now?” Spot just looked away.

“Our humans have to do something about this!” I growled. “My humans, the Geezer and Mrs. G, are writing to Congress.”

Rex volunteered, “My humans say they think they’ll burn Washington…Just as soon as they can afford the gas to do it.”

On a serious note, don’t forget the least powerful

members of our families. Be sure they’re cared for during

these tough times!

Visit    http://www.dlhavlin.wordpress.com   for the latest news about the Geezer.

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Hi everybody! I’ll be back posting next week…

 

Hi. I’ll be back in posting action starting next week!                                         The Geezer has been hogging the computer the last four months! He’s finished his mad rush writing and I’ll be at the keyboard again? Look for me here — next week!

There is one possible reason I won’t! I have figure out the horrible changes the WordPress people have made. It’s as if they wish to discourage people from using it. WordPress? WordMess! 

Their no categories or tags because I can’t access the work I’ve done for 15 years.

Staying at home this week…

I’ll do a lot of this — this weekend.

Rats! The Geezer and Mrs. G are going off to a place that doesn’t permit dogs. Rats! The picture below tells it all. They’ll both gain fifteen pounds over the weekend!

 

Eat, eat, eat, eat…….that’s what they will be doing.

 

If you go to the Everglades Seafood Festival in Everglades City Florida… That’s Friday, Saturday, or Sunday… Tell them they should have taken their dog with them. Make them feel bad.

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A Christmas Thought…

Merry Christmas!

 

With very few exceptions, Christmas has been a season when people put aside differences both petty … and not so petty.

We’ve welcomed each other in thought and in presence … we’ve done so without reservations. No identity relationship has mattered, no visible difference, no qualification as to where we live, no reservation based on ideology.

It’s been a time when we all can look at our fellow humans with understanding, kindness, charity, and dare I say it … love?

Isn’t it sad?

There is pressure to put an end to this season of goodwill.

It comes from all around us and inundates us like a tsunami destroying that feeling of happiness and peace that accompanies the magic I associate with a simple phrase … “Merry Christmas.”

What I see on TV, what I read, what I hear … and worse, how I see us treat each other during this season of what I see as a period of truce, convinces me that some wish to steal from us the most valuable thing we have.

Our collective humanity.

Listening to pontificating TV commentators and politicians this morning occasioned a thought.

I refuse to allow others to rob my sense of humanity. I will NOT reject people who differ from me, in any way, based on narrowness of vision and selfish views of life.

Humanity’s laws do not require that we think the same.

Because someone does not agree with my political outlook, social values, or other personal beliefs, does not give me the right to value them any less as a human.

Certainly, the reverse is true.

My personal set of values does not devalue me.

With this thought in mind, I’ve decided not to allow the rhetoric of division and derision to destroy my enjoyment of fellow human beings this Christmas. I hope I have the wisdom to maintain this state of mind far past this season of goodwill.

I will not assign a negative value to a person with whom I disagree most vehemently. I will proudly retain my thoughts, understanding that people will differ. Disagreement with another simply means I have to be tolerant of them. I’ll strive to remember those who see only one point of view … those who resort to labels and vitriol in response to opposing ideas, lack the intelligence to reason and refute. I’ll react to them with the pity and understanding those with such narrow intellectuality require.

I will put the atmosphere of recrimination aside, hope they will, and if not, ignore the “slings and arrows.”

Can I persuade some of you who read this to adopt this thought? Let’s make this a “Merry Christmas!”

 

“On the avenue, Christmas Avenue…

 

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Bringing Joy to little hearts…

Will he ever come? Listen for the bells!

 

One of the nicer traditions I’ve heard that people have concocted for Christmas is one I’d like to relate now. Several years ago, the Geezer and Mrs. G lived in a neighborhood that never saw snow at Christmas. In fact, it never saw snow at all. Oh, maybe in some very unusual condition…never isn’t a good word to use. South central Florida may see a few flakes every so many years, but… It was at a friendly family neighborhood get-together this tradition was born.

Most of its residents gathered for a party at the house of one of its season’s celebrators. Dishes of all kinds of food and treats lined tables. Toddlers and children filled the swimming pool under the watchful eye of three high school girls who volunteered for that purpose. High schoolers played basketball in the driveway. The adults laughed at each other’s jokes as they consumed as much Christmas spirit as they shared. It was midway through the gaiety that one of the seven-year-olds, accompanied by two Santa believers, demanded the answer to a question. To the clink of cocktail glasses he demanded. “Daddy, you always said we couldn’t see Santa, but we would know he came because we could see his reindeer’s tracks in the snow. There isn’t any snow here. How will we know he really came to our house?”

The adults stared at each other. A family concoction to explain Santa’s supply line had developed a flat tire. There were several “ummms” and “ahhhs” until one man said, “That’s simple. Just listen for the bells. Santa has bells on his sleigh and on the deer. Just listen and you’ll hear them when he comes.” A sigh of relief burst from the collection of moms and dads as one prevarication obscured another. The young believers would be sleeping soundly. Every adult would swear he’d heard Santa’s bells during the night. After the placated children returned to splashing in the pool, a concerned mom asked, “That was good Bob, but what if one stays awake to see if you were lying?”

“Oh, I wasn’t. Santa’s sleigh has bells. You just have to believe and listen for them.” All were satisfied.

Mrs. G heard them first. Jing, jing, jing. jing. At first, it was barely audible. The Grandfather clock in our house’s hall intertwined its twelve midnight ‘bongs’ with the jing-a-lings from what were clearly bells. The Geezer and Mrs. G sprang from the bed to see what made the clatter. As the peered out the window, lights went on in other windows as people woke to see what was the matter. The Geezer smiled and pronounced, “Merry Christmas, it’s jogger bells.” As long as we lived in the neighborhood we enjoyed and treasured the tradition. It made children believe. It made adults warm their hearts several degrees.

Even today, 50 years after, Mrs. G listens for the bells and hopes. Let’s all begin to enjoy the season.

 

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