Wyatt goes skating on our pond

By now, you've probably read a post or two about our neighbors' lovable Basset Hound, Wyatt. (The photo to the left was taken last week. Wyatt is in our backyard with Cash's bone.)

Yesterday, I was on the phone with my mother when I glanced out the window. Wyatt was out in the middle of our frozen pond, slipping and sliding. I panicked, nearly shattering my mother's eardrum.

Out the door I ran, both Cash and Molly in tow, eager to share in the unexpected burst of excitement.

Amazing how many images the mind can conjure in the few seconds it took me to run toward the front porch. I saw Wyatt plunking through the ice and futilely reaching for safety -- his short-fat legs useless for this activity. I saw myself shouting to the 9-1-1 operator as I slid down the front porch steps and along the icy path toward the pond. Heard me calling "It's okay, Wyatt, I'm coming!" as I reached the end of the dock. Saw myself screaming toward the tops of the trees for the sound of a siren. Saw myself finally scooting out on the ice toward Wyatt....

Of course, none of this happened. When he heard me call, he trudged toward the house along the slick surface of the pond, stopping to lift his leg on both pylons at the end of the dock while I kept calling, "Wyatt, Wyatt-come, cookies, treats!" By the time he reached the shore, I was in tears. He walked up the path and climbed the steep, icy front porch steps where Cash and Molly greeted him.

Minutes later, after downing several doggie biscuits, Wyatt was asleep on Molly's bed, and snoring.

Countdown to deadline

Just seven more days.

In seven days, I'll pack up the memoir manuscript and all the required CDs of the manuscript and photos for possible inclusion, and ship everything to my editor in Nebraska. After that, I cross my fingers that everything meets her final approval.

Part of this process to publication involves the completion of a 5-page Author Information Form, which when completed, amounts to roughly 15 pages. Working on this has been quite interesting. Besides the usual information -- preferred form of contact, etc. -- are questions related to the design of the book, itself.

Like this one: List 3-4 adjectives that describe the tone of your book....this information will be used to determine the book cover and jacket....

That's pretty weighty stuff, don't you think? Just 3 or 4 words to determine so much? I've spent a great deal of time mulling this over. I've been trying to achieve distance, to see my memoir as a stranger might.

So, the first word that comes to mind? Provocative. Yep, provocative makes the short list.

The next word, reflective. Then again, aren't all memoirs reflective?

Insightful comes to mind. After all, this is a memoir that not only reflects my experiences and shortcomings in the Marines but the contributions made by an entire generation of women Marines during the 1980s.

Funny? I hope so. I'm no stranger to self-deprecation, and this book is certainly full of that.

Intriguing? The memoir opens with an interrogation at MP headquarters....

So, another 7 days to contemplate the 3-4 adjectives that will determine my first book cover and jacket. A daunting task.

It's beginning to look like Christmas

Here we are. Finally. Back in our little cabin in North Carolina where an inch or two of snow is predicted for tomorrow. (The photo is from last year's first snowfall.)

We weren't here two hours when the block of ice around the base of the fountain tripped the power, shutting down the fountain until the next great thaw, which from what I can tell, is somewhere around April. And a pressure valve inside the well house burst, soaking the insulation and turning the elbow of our driveway into a hockey rink.

But we don't care.

We've happily filled the bird feeders, and the Cardinals and Blue Jays are hopping everywhere. We've walked the property, taking note of the tracks from the neighbor's cows that slipped through the old fence.

We arrived yesterday at 2, and Wyatt, our neighbor's Basset Hound, showed up at 2:05 to welcome us back.

We're home.