ONE HOUR (USED TO BE ONE TV DRAMA OR TWO SITCOMS)

Last night I babysat my granddaughter for just over an hour.  Now there's not a lot you can do in just an hour.  The previous week I babysat for about 2 hours and we managed to squeeze in a trip to Staples, a walk to Barnes & Noble, chocolate milk in the Starbucks Cafe, a bathroom break, playing with the train set in the children's department, and a quick walk back to Staples to meet mommy.

For our hour last night I thought we might have a picnic:  get a bite or a drink at the drive-in, and sit at one of the outside picnic tables and just enjoy the evening.  (Grenah was a bit TIRED.)  Kinsey got out of her mommy's car with a milkshake in one hand (forget the bite or drink!) and her daddy's flashlight in the other.  I buckled her into the Princess seat and as I buckled myself in, she told me, "I saw COW!"

This was exciting news.  Cows are very important to Kinsey and me.  You see, Kinsey has always loved stories and books.  And when she was very small, just toddling-around size, about 12 or 13 months old, she was staying with me one day and learned she could close the door to the laundry room.  My back door was bolted (so she couldn't escape!) and the laundry room was fairly safe, so I didn't immediately open the door and check on her.  I knocked, and she opened the door, and I asked, "May I come in?"  She LOVED that.  For a couple weeks just playing with the door was enough.

Then one afternoon she let me into the laundry room and we were just kind of standing in there and she asked me to tell her a story.  I didn't have any books in there and I really don't know why this story came out of my mouth, but I told her a story about Kinsey playing at Carousel Park and COW drops in for a visit.  And COW wants to swing, Kinsey says NO, COW gets on the swing anyway, CRASH goes the swing.  And the same with the slide.  And the carousel.  Then Kinsey tells COW that it's time for COW to go home.  So Kinsey rides in her car (with mommy and Grenah) and COW follows.  They find a farm and the farmer is very happy they brought COW home, and COW is so very glad to be home.  The End.

Then please tell me more story - so I'm thinking this is easy - and it's Kinsey at the beach.  Here comes COW.  COW tries to do human things like surf, boogie board, build sand castles....disaster results...Kinsey takes COW home.

And so on.   COW in Target. COW at Grenah's house.  I had a million of them.   And for weeks she would take me in the laundry room and ask for a COW story.  I was a hit.  A star!  THE GRENAH OF THE AGES!  She would pass these stories down to her grandchildren and tell them what a loving and wonderful Grenah she had....oh...the immortality...the fame...the love.................

Then one day we were in the laundry room and she clung to me and asked if COW was there?!  She was scared!!!!! of COWS!?  I went from a loving Grenah to a PHOBIA-CAUSING NUTCASE.  The stories never had COW as a villain - more of just wanting to be a little girl!   What was I going to do?  And Kinsey still wanted COW stories, but she would hold my hand and peer around me looking for the maniac cows.  This couldn't go on!  I would be vilified!  The topic of therapy sessions and tell-all autobiographies.  The example of evil in every grandparenting book!

So we entered our PC phase where we talked about how COW was lonely and just wanted to have some fun.  I bought her a couple of little stuffed cows - she wouldn't touch them!  We learned the Old MacDonald Had a Farm song - especially the MooMoo here and MooMoo there.  Still scared.  When we were driving or riding around I would point out COWS everywhere I saw them - kind of desensitization therapy for 2-yr-olds.  Luckily, Chick-fil-A is big on COWS and there were big friendly COWS on their billboard, and inside the Chick-fil-A the welcome mat had a big picture of a COW, and there was a cardboard cutout of a COW near the counter.  Lots of pointing and touching and talking about COWS.  I also watched for any and all books that featured COWS in a positive light.  TIME will tell if I'm truly successful.  She seems more fascinated than scared now.  If Kinsey becomes a large animal vet or studies agriculture or marries a farmer - not so bad.  If she becomes COW-phobic,cannot venture outside any city limits as an adult, and needs years of therapy, I will deny deny deny.


So back to last night, Kinsey tells me she saw a COW and she's very excited.  I realize her milkshake comes from Chick-fil-A (It's called a CLUE, Grenah!) and that must be where she saw the COW.  (Her mommy confirms later in a phone call that Kinsey was very excited and yelled "MOMMY, LOOK!  COW!" while she was ordering.)  So I tell Kinsey we are going on an adventure and looking for cows.  It's only a 10 minute drive west to farm country; it's at least 40 minutes to sunset.  Plenty of time.  So we head west and then my cell phone rings.  Can I bring the car by the mechanic's just for a minute?  They have to SEE the hose they are replacing so they are sure to order the correct part.  Sigh. We do a U-turn and I tell Kinsey we have to run a  5-minute errand.  She doesn't mind.  She says, "We go get Harley and go on adventure."  (You see, she's decided the *FLB is her **"best friend" now.)  I say, "I don't think we'll have time to go get (gritting teeth) Harley."  She just nods her head and says, "We go get Harley.  Harley my best friend.  We take Harley on adventure."

That damn dog.

We wait at the automotive place 30 minutes instead of 5.  Kinsey is fascinated by the constant stream of people in and out, and by the picture of the Daytona Race Track painted around the top of the waiting room.  She alternately chews her straw and sucks her milkshake.  Several people speak to her and get the 3-yr-old mute stare.  I tell John the owner that she will not speak to him and he promises me that she will.  When we leave I say, "Bye, John!" with a smirk, and Kinsey says, "BYE!".  He laughs us out the door.

Now we have about 30 minutes left.  No time for Harley (HA!) and no time for COWS.  So we drive one mile east and around the big curve and park at the beach.  We spend the next 30 minutes walking and racing (well, she raced and I pretended) and picking up shells and climbing on mounds of sand and having a great time.  We get back to the car just as the sun truly sets and darkness surrounds us.  We meet her parents, shake off most of the sand on her shoes and rear end (when you climb you have to slide and fall dramatically, don't you know), hand her daddy his flashlight, and hand her mommy a milkshake cup with shells.

All in one hour.

*FLB=Freakin' Little Bastard

**A couple weeks ago Kinsey arrived at my condo and I took Harley out on his leash to meet her.  It's the first time she hasn't run to me and jumped in my arms.  She screamed, "HARLEY!" and ran to him. FLB.

Cowgirls and Writers

Yesterday I went off on a tangent about horses when I really started off writing about cowgirls.  Even at my age I could still go out and buy a horse and stable it and ride it, but that would not make me a cowgirl.  And IF I had a 2nd go 'round I'd want to come back as a cowgirl.

You know the type - think of the movie Castaway and skip to the end.  Tom Hanks is looking at a map which is spread out on the hood of his jeep (I think it was a jeep).  Coming up the road is a beat-up pick-em-up-truck that slows and turns onto the road where he's stopped,and a friendly face peers out from the open truck window.  She puts the truck in park, opens the door and hops out, and asks him if he's OK.  She gives him directions by pointing in each direction and telling him where he'll "end up" if he stays on that road long enough.  She is a cowgirl - from her hat to her jeans to her boots to the big old friendly-looking dog riding in the back.  She's confident, friendly, and looks great.  Wow.  What a package.  That's the kind of cowgirl I'm talkin' about.


Today I enjoyed myself immensely at the Florida Heritage Book Festival held at Flagler College.  I arrived early and parked my car on Riberia just a couple blocks from the Ringhaver Student Center.  Since I was more than 30 minutes early I stopped in the Hot Shot Bakery and Cafe (  Hot Shot Bakery reviewed on urbanspoon.com ) and got a cup of Barnie's Coffee to go.  Sherry (the owner) told me that Barnie's was a Florida-based company which I did not know.  I do prefer Barnie's to Starbuck's (BLASPHEMY!) and I told her that we served Barnie's at the St. Francis Inn.  We talked a bit and I told her I was attending the FHBF and somehow we got on the topic of "old Florida" and Florida natives.  Turns out she and Bubba (Bubba was handling the cash register) are both natives and Bubba could remember when Hamblen Hardware - a staple on King Street - was on Artillery Lane, and Artillery Lane was a real road!  Artillery Lane is now a cobblestone alley that connects Aviles Street with Charlotte Street.  I told them I'd be back to hear more about old St. Augustine - I love those stories.  Sherry pointed toward the back door and told me I could go in and out through there and I'd be closer to Flagler College and Anastasia Bookstore - one of the sponsors of the Festival.  Cool.  Loving the shortcut.

I hurried out Hot Shot's back door and across the small parking lot and arrived at Ringhaver Student Center with 20 minutes to spare.  Nancy Haddock had told me in her email that she would be there between 9:30am and 10:00 am to sign books and meet fans.  When I walked through the door of the room being used as the Marketplace I was a little overwhelmed.  There was a yellow lab - yes, a real live dog - sitting over to the right next to his owner, a woman in a Victorian outfit with a Volunteer badge, a young woman dressed as a witch...and that is what I saw when I first scanned the room.  Also rows of tables with books galore and posters and people everywhere.  I walked in slowly and right in the middle of the room I saw her - Nancy Haddock.  Chin-length blond hair, a smiling face, and a name badge that said...Nancy Haddock.  I walked up to her and she looked at me and asked, "Karen?"

WHAT?  She remembered my name from one email?!  AWESOME!!!  I was smitten immediately.  She introduced me to the lovely woman sitting next to her, Lucienne Diver.  They were both so open and friendly and funny!  Nancy said that Lucienne was not only a writer (she was promoting her book Vamped), but an AGENT.  (trumpets sound, lions roar, holy smokes a real live agent)  I didn't IMMEDIATELY mention I'm a writer, but I got it out in the next few minutes.  I told them my manuscript was about a road trip with two friends that goes really wacky.  And the worst part were the long days in Tulsa.  Nancy laughed - although not heartily - and asked, "What's wrong with Tulsa?  I'm from Tulsa."  HOLY CRAP.  I explained that the book was based a true road trip and that my observations about Tulsa were based on personal experience.  She asked if I had visited the Gilcrease Museum, but I told her, "No, we were too busy visiting the other sights like the giant Oil Derrick and Oral Roberts University."  I am so glad she has a great sense of humor; she threatened to make me return to Tulsa just to see that museum.  NO WAY!

The best news is that Lucienne asked me to send her a query and 5 pages of my manuscript.  Cool.  I  need some feedback; I'm already thinking that it's too short for a book.  I learned today that most mysteries are 80,000 words and mysteries are relatively short; Bucksnort is only 40,000 words.  So I'm excited about getting to know these two wonderful women.  I purchased Vamped! and Nancy's sequel to La Vida Vampire: Last Vampire Standing.  Check out these cool writers at:  Nancy Haddock  and Lucienne Diver.

There's lots more to share but I am beat and will share more tomorrow.  Hasta la vista, baby!