Dancing with Snoopy

Someone over at Miss Snark used the phrase Snoopy dance as an alternative to the more contemporary Homer Simpsonesque woo-hoo! I suppose Eric Cartman's Sweeeet would be even more hip. Whatever. Point is, Miss Snark liked my snippet. In fact, she used that other L word, the one you want so desperately to hear from your agent/editor/publisher. Here's the link. Aside from giving me a goofy smile for the morning, this also persuades me to rethink my plans. I'd gotten it into my head that I would have to sell my first story to a publisher before an agent would ever take me seriously. Hmm. Maybe not so.

***

I have a meeting tonight. Not one of those 'pull out my wisdom teeth with rusty pliers' hospital meetings, but a board meeting for the North Coast Nature Center. I wonder how Ray is doing with her moon jellyfish exhibit. She's been having a devil of a time keeping them alive. You lurkers who have known Karen and me forever (hi Kira!) are familiar with our creepy crawly love affair*. Our house is, as always, a menagerie. Unfortunately, we have way too many mammals for my liking: three cats, one ferret, and four degus. What? Never heard of a degu?

Think big gerbil, but don't think about it too hard. Our cold-blooded collection, ignoring for the moment Karen's tarantula mania, consists only of a Madagascar hissing cockroach colony, some freshwater fish, and a water dragon. For us, this is a mighty low census. That's enough for the morning. One Snoopy dance and one cute furry rodent. You'd get sugar toxic if I gave you any more than that. D. *Take that however you like.