It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World... And I really mean it!

There once was a woman named Mad

Whose home was looking rather sad

It sagged where it shouldn't

Lift spirits? It wouldn't!

It was making her feel really, well, kind of bad...

Color and life it was most certainly lacking

So she set out to do a bit of spackling

"A bit" turned into "A Freaking LOT!"

Months passed by, nerves were shot

She had zero free time for internet yakking...

Spackle and dust became her life

Each new project filled with strife

Old houses, well, they take a lot of care

{Weary remodelers, beware!}

Project stresses can run especially rife!

Plaster walls come crumbling down

and leave owners with big frowns

Hardwood floors look lovely, so true

but bring on refinishing blues

Spackling, sanding, painting, more sanding... Yikes! Zounds!

But words are Madly's great love

Storytelling fits her like a glove

She's ready to put down her tools

To get back to ghosts and ghouls

And other mysteries, as below and above...

HOME FOR A SPELL comes out at New Year

Yes, there are more Bewitching books, never fear!

I have some doozies planned for you

Stay tuned, my lovelies! If you only knew!

Oh, the things that will be coming out, my dears!

Home For A Spell, Hardcover release 1/4/11

ISBN# 0425238679

Available for pre-order now!

Meanwhile...

If you know of anyone looking for a castle...

A charmer in the heart of the great Midwest...

In an Indiana town that is as Mayberry as, well, Mayberry...

A town with tree-lined streets...

And ice cream socials and pancake breakfasts at the local fire station...

And a drive-in restaurant that still puts on sock hops some Saturday nights...

And where Friday night varsity games draw numbers that give most local churches attendance envy...

Let me know...

Because Castle Alt is going up for sale! Woot!

Another View From Castle Alt

Three months ago, I was fairly certain we had all the pets we could handle. With two high-and-mighty Meezer girls and Daisy, a lovable, goofy, anxiety-driven Lab Shepherd mix who acts up when left alone for more than fifteen minutes, but is so contrite afterwards that you cannot stay mad for long . . . well, it's enough to keep any household busy. I think we should own stock in the Dyson company . . . the company that manufactures Swiffers . . . the companies that whip up pet enzyme cleaners . . . the company that bottles Febreze . . . the companies that make Pedi Paws and Scat Mats and those wonderful lint rollers. {Note, I didn't look up said companies. No time. I'm too busy cleaning up all the messes.}

Well, one day in August, one of the neighborhood boys dropped by with a puppy he'd found several blocks away, but which he was certain was homeless and on the brink of extinction. He was a cute little guy. A rat terrier, feisty as all get-out, rather like the Energizer Bunny on a caffeine buzz. But somehow the puppy became our responsibility, since the little boy's father didn't want it at their house, and one look into my nine-year-old's eyes told me there was no way we could take it to the shelter. Not that I could, either. Our local shelter doesn't have the funds to be a No Kill shelter, and his little puppy face would have haunted me forever, not knowing whether he'd been adopted out or not. So we kept him. You know. Just until we were able to find his owners. Just to be sure he was safe and sound.

No owners could be located. Overjoyed, my nine-year-old immediately named him Leo. Which is short for Leonidas , but honestly, I had NO INPUT. Honest.

My Meezer girls couldn't appreciate him. He bounced around too much for their peace of mind. I tried to tell them that he only wanted them to like him, but when he nibbled on their ears and tails and barked at them to come and play, I'm not sure they believed me.

Note the sneer?

Daisy eyed him with curiosity, but also a little confusion. She had gotten used to a very sedate and sleepy existence, livened up by daily walks and an occasional chase up and down the stairs with the cats. Leo ran circles around her, climbed on her, chewed on her ears and her jowls and her belly. He decided that, since he was the only male pet in the household, he should be the Alpha. The girls, naturally, disagreed with that assessment. Every last one of them decided to put the little guy in his place.

All-out war ensued.

While eventually acceding defeat {three against one, such unfair odds!}, Leo has proven incredibly resourceful. The Meezers he likes to keep on their toes . . . on the shelves . . . on the tables . . . on the nearest available human shoulder . . . Or maybe it's just that they prefer looking down at him in sneering disgust to being down on his excitable, playful, rascally level. They know they are the true queens of the household, and never let a chance go by to remind him of that. Daisy has adopted him as her own and lets him have his puppy way with her, serving dutifully in many roles: Chief Chew Toy, Chief Rodeo Clown, Chief Playground Supervisor, keeping him in line with the smackdown of her paw or by sitting on him, and then in quieter moments, Chief Ear Washer and Chief Snuggle Pillow.

Daisy is really good at snuggling. She also makes a good nose warmer.

Leo's not always Mr. Energizer Bunny, though. He does have quieter moments, especially when he doesn't have the girls to distract him. I even managed to capture one.

See?

So, somehow we managed to acquire a fourth furry friend, one who is disrespectful to my furniture, my floors, my shoes, and likes to raid the laundry basket and strew his booty all over the floor. And yet . . . I still kind of melt when he insists on cuddling.

I don't think he's going anywhere anytime soon. Do you?

Love to all on this snowy November afternoon,


Mad {madly!}

The View From Here . . .

I've been asked more than once, and since I've been out and about recently, taking photos of the surrounding countryside, I thought I would share a little bit of what it's like in Maggie's part of the world. And since Maggie shares my world, it shouldn't be too hard.

My home is not grand. It's a 140-year-old Victorian farmhouse that rests on a quiet street in a small town in NE Indiana, complete with wraparound porch and matching bay windows that would make lovely window seats if heating registers didn't negate that possibility. :) It was built at a time when things were made solid and made right {for the most part, heh}. Over the years, things have settled here and there--few rooms are square, floors creak and aren't what anyone would call level--but it has seen a lot in its time, and there is a sense of that. It's a work-in-process, never completed--something is always needing fixed, or fixed-up, or torn out and completely done-over--but it's stately in an everyday-familiar sort of way, and it has a grace and serenity that speaks of having seen many days, many families, many lifelines, and much love, and that appeals to me.

Indiana in the summer is lush and green and beautiful in a way that makes me feel alive and very much a part of the inner workings of the world. I mirror this, as many do on a subconscious level, with my love of hearth and home, with my love of neat and orderly vegetable gardens and wildly chaotic flower beds, clipped lawns, and overgrown trees. I love the Midwest. I love the way that the world progresses all around us, and while it does reach us here, we retain a bit of the old ways, kept sacred by a few of us who remember. I love the circular path of the seasons, and the way that no matter how many years and seasons pass, there is always an air of newness to each one, as though it was the first we've ever witnessed. I love the sound of the wind in the trees, the way the sun looks mid-morning as it glints through tree leaves, and the golden glow of it as it begins its descent in quiet evening hours. I love the rain--wild, at times, and at others, as gentle as a mother's kiss. I love the smell of freshly clipped grass, and the first lilacs of spring. I love the way the wind makes ocean waves out of a field of wheat, and I love the way it whispers through the drying cornstalks in autumn. This is Indiana--all of the Midwest, really--and it is not just "flyover territory," as I've heard it so uncharitably referred to by people on both coasts whose lives move a little faster than ours. You may view our ways of life as being old-fashioned, but that doesn't make us relics. We just blend the old with the new and go on about our business the way people of the heath always have. :)

So, what do we do here?

We hang out {though not often in trees . . .}

We get together for backyard barbecues on indecently hot and muggy summer days, when it would probably be smarter to stay indoors in the air-conditioning . . . and I will not mention the mosquitoes. Or the ants. Or even the earwigs.

We go fishing

and sometimes find unexpected treasures.

We talk to frogs,

make funny faces,

and do goofy things.

Some of us grow out our hair and don't really like being caught in the garden,

but we can always find peace in our own backyard.

Sometimes we venture out elsewhere,














where the antics of the natives never fail to amuse and delight,

and where sometimes we unearth more unexpected treasures along the highways and byways.
We might go for a bike ride through the twilight down a long, deserted road
and discover that beauty lies around every bend.
It can be found in simple things, like a freshly tilled field,
in an old bridge that leads to nowhere,

in the sadness of abandoned homes and farms,

in nature,

even in the angular structure of a feed mill

or a water tower silhouetted by the evening sun.

We weather many storms

but stay strong through it all, because we have each other.

Sometimes we even stay up past the witching hour

and gaze in wonder at the moon.

And when it all gets to be a bit much,

we rest.

I hope you all enjoy this glimpse. This place, these people, are special to me. :)

Wishing you all faery kisses and midsummer blessings,


Mad {madly!}

Mad's List of Universal Truths, Halloween/Samhain-Style

I've always enjoyed all those fun Top 10 lists, and as I was sitting here today, nursing a headache caused by too much makeup, not enough sleep, and way too much sugar, I thought, Hey! Perfect Blogging Opportunity!

Here's what I came up with. Universal Truths for those lovers of Halloween/Samhain. By the way, sorry for the blurry pics. My photographer was a 14 year old who doesn't have the patience to hold still. :)

Ready?

#10) At times like these, a girl can never use too much glitter

#9) Never let a 14-year-old boy loose with a pint of fake blood.

Or faery wings. Yes, that's my son demonstrating his best Owen Wilson pucker below. And yes, he probably got his goofy sense of humor from his mom. I claim no responsibility for the blood above, though. Ick. The wings look totally wrong from behind, by the way.

#8) Always buy more candy than you bought last year {10 big bags, and we ran out in an hour and 10 minutes this year!}

#7) Glitter is something that goes with everything, and as such, should maybe even be used every day

#6) False eyelashes and the right makeup can make any woman look H-O-T, which is definitely cool. No wonder the stars like ‘em so much!

#5) Chocolate will always get a rave vote from Trick or Treaters

#4) Chocolate always gets a rave vote from those persons passing out the Treats, too. ;>

#3) Kitties pick up glitter like crazy

#2) Glitter in the hair one day means looking like Dreamy McSparkle on days two and three, no matter how much you shampoo and brush. Then again, guys seem to like that. ;>

#1) What goes up, must come down... but that can wait until the weekend. :)

There's a whole lotta cobweb on our old wraparound porch, trust me. :)

A few more pics from Castle Alt:

That's about it, so until next year, remember:

Always Practice Safe Hex! And watch out for the zombies!

Love to all,

Mad {madly!}

My Maaaad, Mad Little World

In addition to writing, I also work full-time. Things can get a little crazy in my corner of the world. I'm sure you've all been there. We also just took in a dog in the last month, and while he is the most adorable pup in the world, he has, shall we say, a stubborn streak. Anyway, I thought I might share a little about what goes on from day to day:

6:09 a.m. Wake up. Take dog out.
6:12 a.m. Jiggle doggie at the end of the leash, trying to make him hurry. Shiver uncontrollably.
6:18 a.m. Doggie still has not gone. Sh*t!
6:20 a.m. Give up. Drag doggie inside, as he's now discovered what fun romping in the snow can be.
6:21 a.m. Clean up dog mess. Silly dog will romp in snow, but not GO in snow. Sigh.

6:30 a.m. The morning rush to get ready for work and get everyone else out of the house to get wherever they need to get to on time. Because of all of this, you:

8:05 a.m. Enter building, late. Again.
8:07 a.m. Check email. Grumble to self over CERTAIN STUPID people who shall remain nameless, but it shall not reduce the impact of their INCREDIBLE STUPIDITY.
8:09 a.m. Distract self with thoughts of Scottish Hunks. In Kilts.
9:09 a.m. Force self to get to work.
9:15 a.m. Work is simply too much... work. Drift into daydreams. Again.
12:00 p.m. What was I supposed to be doing? Force self to go into panic mode.
2:22 p.m. Check email. Oh, look, some kind soul has sent me a picture.
2:23 p.m. Drool incessantly into keyboard.
3:33 p.m. Wasn't I supposed to be doing something? Oh, yeah. Work. Hard. Very, very hard.
4:33 p.m. Allow self a moment of respite in a new daydream involving Shirtless Scottish Hunks. In Kilts. On Breezy Days.

4:45 p.m. Wow, my workday is done. So soon!

***Mindless driving, errand-running, more driving, and home again...***

6 p.m. How can one little animal make this much of a mess? I think he may be related to beavers--there is not a single piece of wooden furniture that has not been gnawed. And did I mention his toilet paper fetish? Big Sigh. Start sweeping, making dinner, helping with homework, chasing the boys away from the video games. More doggie messes, more kid messes, more video games, good grief!

Muuuuuuuch later...Go into bathroom. Stare into mirror and groan over new wrinkles caused by the aforementioned CERTAIN STUPID NAMELESS PEOPLE WHO SHALL REMAIN NAMELESS, DESPITE THE FACT THAT THEY ARE MORE STUPID THAN ANYONE ELSE IN THE ENTIRE HISTORY OF THE EARTH AND REALLY SHOULD BE POINTED OUT AS SUCH IN ORDER TO SAVE POSTERITY FROM THEIR VAST AND LIMITLESS STUPIDITY. Not to mention the neverending stream of doggie messes.

Decide a bubble bath would be a very good thing.

Drift down into a mountain of bubbles {I'm sure I need not mention the kilted Scotsmen}, steadfastly ignoring the dog, who is now standing on his hind legs trying to drink the bath water.

Love to all,

Mad {madly!}

P.S. Anyone from work who is reading this post -- I'm not talking about you. Honest. And I really do work a lot harder than this probably suggests, as the pile of papers daily being marked 'DONE' and transferred to my filing cabinet will attest.

P.P.S. For my editor -- I really do insert writing into the schedule, whenever and wherever possible. Heh.