Nope. Fresh out of ideas, so I decided not to “blog” today. So why am I here? I like beating my head against brick walls.
Long ago, in a galaxy far, far away (known as Syracuse) a buddy of mine and a buddy of hers invented something called the Choppy Thought. Several of us picked up on it and, well, frankly, plagiarized it, so today’s collection of crap is brought to you by Lani and the Choppy Thought.
Kid’s Got Game
Let me clarify right up front that I am not anti-sport. However, I am pro-intellectual, so when one of my kids turned out to be sporty, I said I’d go along with it as long as he devoted ample time to intellectual pursuits. I am SUCH a snob.
I needn’t have worried. Son #3 is not only a smart little cookie with an amazing memory, but it’s turned out he’s darned good at sports. In particular, baseball. He’s been doing T-ball for some time now, but hasn’t needed the tee. In fact, he’s hitting off pitches pretty routinely. Yesterday, though, he really showed his prowess.
He was playing first base, which usually makes me cringe since it is such an important spot. Lo and behold, the kid caught a pop fly and made an out. next play, the ball was hit to the pitcher, who grabbed it off the ground and threw it to first. Son #3 caught it, touched first base, and was whipping it off to second for a double play before anyone else realized what was happening. The crowd went a little crazy, which pleased the boy very much. Me, too, but I was sitting back quietly giving son #2 a geography quiz (because he wanted me to… talk about an intellectual) behaving like I had no idea who the kid at first was.
Come play number three, he ran out to get the ball as it rolled past the catcher, and then tagged the runner. Did I mention this kid is 6? I wouldn’t have thought of these things at 6. Hell, I wouldn’t think of these things now!
This is when he gave me away, running over to me before he went to the bench for the lineup. “Did you see that catch, Mom?” he asked. I assured him I had, gave him a high five and sent him on his way to bat.
“Wow! He’s your son?” a lady asked. I tried not to interpret that as, “How could an enormous cow such as yourself give birth to such an athletic child?” I just nodded and told her yes, he was my youngest, and he was playing very well.
“Well?” she said incredulously. “That kid’s got game!”
I’ll try to hold off for a few years before I call the Yankees. See’s, he’s also ambidextrous.
As some of you who know me may recall, I am terrible with titles. I thank the oh-so-lovely (and tall!) and talented Miss Alesia Holliday for helping me come up with MURDER IN F MINOR as my latest title. It had been THE FLAUTIST’S FINALE. Talk about a terrible title!
But today, I was letting my mind wander during swimming and T-ball practice, and it wandered onto book number 2 of my Symphony Series. Not that I’ve finished book number 1 yet, but you know…
In MURDER IN F MINOR, I introduce Isabelle Ashford, a violinist with a small symphony orchestra. When she finds the flute soloist (flautist, for those of you who did not grow up going to violin lessons twice a week) murdered, she weasels her way in with Detective Rex Isely and plays Miss Marple to help solve the crime.
In the second book, I’m thinking a huge benefactor of the symphony is going to be killed at a fund-raising gala for the symphony. Isabelle will, of course, help investigate and may even find the poor, unfortunate man. Who knows? I haven’t gotten that far. But I do need a title. So far, all I have for ideas are A GRIZZLY GALA, which may bring to mind bears, or A LITTLE NIGHT MURDER, which is a play of words on A Little Night Music, which no one but music geeks like me would get.
Any ideas? Click the contact me link and lemme know.