Date Night

It began typically,

Mrs. Snark: "Hey, it's been eleven years since we saw a movie in the theater together. And The Boy is a teenager now, so he can theoretically be trusted alone with Miss Bear for two hours.  Let's go out this Saturday night!"

Mr. Snark: (delay) "Oooo-kay. What do you want to see?"

Mrs. Snark: (snaps out) "Maleficent!"

Mr. Snark: "Do we know what's playing?"

Mrs. Snark: "Maleficent!"

Mr. Snark:  "Is that something Miss Bear would like to see?"

Mrs. Snark: (hands man a shovel to help him dig) "No but it's something I'd really like to see and that won't happen if Miss Bear is along."

 Mr. Snark: "I guess we're going to see Maleficent."

Mrs. Snark: (mutters)  "Smart man."

Now, I don't know about the typical "married older couple", but in the Snark household Date Night is witnessed about as often as a unicorn sighting, usually on the night pigs fly beneath a blue moon.

In preparation, we tucked Miss Bear into bed precisely at 8PM. I was inordinately pleased when Mr. Snark appeared downstairs at 8:05PM. Leaving on time is about as uncommon as Date Night itself.

Mrs. Snark: "Teeth brushed?"

Mr. Snark: "Yep!"

Mrs. Snark: "Story read?"

Mr. Snark: "The middle boy is reading three stories."

Mrs. Snark: (impressed) "How did you manage that?"

Mr. Snark: "I promised him $20."

Mrs. Snark: (squawk) "They'd better be long ones!"

We're old so we don't look at our cell phones while we're out together. Instead, I regale Mr. Snark with tales of my latest writing endeavors while Mr. Snark stares across the bar at the sports game on the plasma screen that he can see but not hear. I'm happy because I get a captive audience.  He's happy because he gets nachos and margaritas.

Just for the record: the movie was AMAZING. <-- If I knew how to make this glitter, I would.

However, after the movie, I was disgusted with the state of the women's restroom in the theater. No toilet paper. No towels. Trash everywhere. So I emerged scowling.

Oddly enough, Mr. Snark noticed.  "What's wrong?"

Mrs. Snark: (recites list of grievances)  "I'm going to tell the customer service desk on the way out."

Mr. Snark: "Okay."

Ten feet later, Mr. Snark shouts: "You're going the wrong way! The exit is over there!"

Honestly, it's one of those moments when you stop and look back at your spouse and wonder... Was he dropped on his head as a child?  Does he ever listen to a word I say to him?  I knew he must be assuming that I'd gotten lost on my way out of the lobby. What other logical explanation could there be for my path to the customer service desk? Hmm...I wonder.

Outside the theater, I asked, "How did you think I was going to complain to the front desk without walking by it. Do you listen to me at all?"

Mr. Snark: "I heard you. I  thought you just wanted to complain to me."

Mrs. Snark: "Well, what good would complaining to you do? You can't do anything about it."

Mr. Snark: "Well, that didn't stop you."

The Mystery of the Missing Fish

Miss Bear has a Siamese Fish. It is blue and lives in a bowl in the kitchen. She got it for her birthday last year. She likes it a lot but I take care of it.

On Friday night, Mr. Snark returned to bed following a downstairs excursion. I was sound asleep, so obviously, he thought it was an appropriate time to drop a bomb.

Mr. Snark: "Do you know that the fish isn't in his bowl?"

Instantly, my eyeballs popped wide open. Mind going a million miles an hour, I shook his arm.  "If he's not in his bowl, then where the hell did he go? It's not like he went out for cigarettes and never came back! Are you sure you just didn't miss him?"

Mr. Snark:  Snore

I remained in bed for a couple minutes, having one of those He's-Got-To-Be-Kidding moments. He had to be screwing with me. It sounds like just the sort of thing Mr. Snark would think is funny at 1A.M.  The other possibilities were that he had simply suffered from a bout of MPB or I'd dreamed it.

After failing to return to sleep, I sprang out of bed and dashed downstairs to the kitchen. Upon throwing the overhead lights on, I discovered the following at the scene of the crime:

• an empty fishbowl
• a splash of water
• a torn aquatic plant leaf beside the bowl
• a glass bead from the bowl on the tile.

The house was locked and the Snark boys were away for a sleepover. Miss Clio had refused to come inside, leaving the following residents inside the premises: Mr. Snark, Miss Bear, myself, Jake the Snake, and Bolt (the new kitten).

I'm going to assume that no human ingested Miss Bear's fish as a quick midnight snack.  And the new kitten is too small to jump up onto the counter where the bowl was placed.  Either a cat ate him or an unknown fishnapper broke into our home without any sign of forced entry and abducted him.

My primary suspect at this time:

The empty bowl is still sitting on the counter. I still haven't told Miss Bear. My options seem to be going down to the pet store and buying a new fish or continuing to pretend to feed an invisible fish. What do you think I should do?

Be sure to leave a comment and enter my May Giveaway for A CAT'S TALE!

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(1)          Jewels of the Moon Pendant for Clairvoyance and Psychic Ability by Nordic Lights Collection by Maelstrom Odssonn

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"With a starting phrase 'somewhere between Virginia and California'; you know you are in for a treat with A Cat's Tale. Jared is so much fun, a true Alpha male who knows when to keep his Alpha tendencies down and hidden." 

~ Just Erotic Romance Reviews

Alpha werewolf, Jared Kohl, wakes up in a vampire’s dungeon, swearing revenge upon the wily Siamese werecat who lured him there with her sultry lips and the sweetest tail. To escape his undead captor, all he has to do is seduce the skittish puss and show her that trust is often a hot and hard lesson to learn.

Enslaved feline shifter, Josephine Young, has learned the hard way not to believe in anything or anyone—not men, not love, and certainly not the blood-sucking mistress who tossed her into the cage with the hungry beast she’d betrayed. But Josephine does what she must to survive, including tempting the dominant werewolf to give her more than promises.

Imprisoned for their blood, Jared and Josephine fight for survival and discover a passion that neither can walk away from. Can these two predators survive long enough to prove that cats and dogs can be more than enemies?

It's a Mystery: The 4th Snark Child

Miss Bear to Mr. Snark: "There's a mess in the family room."

Mr. Snark: "Really? A mess? Who made it?"
Miss Bear: "Hmmm..."

She actually draws this sound out for a really long time...

Miss Bear: "...mmmmmmmm... It's a mystery!"

Miss Bear turned 4 today and I came to a startling realization--there is actually an invisible child living with us who leaves wet towels on the bathroom floor, shoes scattered throughout the entryway, and doors wide open. He hits his brother when I'm not looking and steals candy without permission.

I'd been aware of something being amiss for some time. I've made inquiries without success.


Mrs. Snark to the boys: "Who left the milk on the kitchen counter?"
The Boy: "Not me!"
Middle Child: "Not me!"
Miss Bear: "Hmm...it's a mystery."

Mrs. Snark growls in aggravation. "Was it 'Not Me' or "It's a Mystery'? We really need to settle on a name for your unseen sibling!"

And...

Egads...

It just occurred to me--what if there's not just one invisible child, but two????????????????


Note from the author:
My friend tells me Family Circus has already done the "Not Me" joke so I wanted to apologize to the creator of the strip. I wasn't intentionally trying to rip off her joke. I simply wasn't aware of it.

State of the Snarkology: Cover Reveal THE MATING GAME, Exchange of Hearts, BATTLE CRY Revisions & a Bathroom Reno

I'm going to start by explaining that I've nibbled my fingernails down to the third knuckle waiting for my release date for THE MATING GAME from Wild Rose Press. My final galley revisions were turned in a week ago.  Since I'm feeling antsy, I'm going to go ahead and reveal my gorgeous new cover by artist Rae Monet.

***Drum roll please***

Book Description:

Two males…two friends…a competition for the right to claim The Heart of the Iron Stone Pack.

An alpha female at her core, Theresa Sanchez struggles to protect her young daughter, but rivalries and politics create volatility in the pack. As Theresa comes into heat, lust and need rule her body. Her pack demands only the most virile male have her. How can she choose only one mate when her body craves two—the virile beta and the man she loves?

Zachary Hunter will do anything to take Theresa as his mate, even if it means killing his best friend. However, Robert Blane is just as determined to ascend to Alpha. Both their beasts howl to mark her flesh, but only one can survive to claim her.

But with enemies circling, they must fight…for the pack, for Theresa, and for a future together.

Add to Your Goodreads Shelf

* * * * *

Banner designed by Nicole Morgan

In unrelated news, I've started a new blog called Exchange of Hearts.  It is a listings site for book bloggers willing to host romance authors in guest promo spots. Blogs interested in being added to the host directory can leave a comment on the front page post. 

Author Nicole Morgan designed the beautiful banner. I'd like to thank her so much for her kindness in donating her time and talent!

* * * * *

Renovations:

In last week's SoS, I mentioned that the Snarklets were on Spring Break and Mr. & Mrs. Snark had undertaken master bathroom renovations.

Well, the kids have returned to school and the tile installation is finished. As of today, a new countertop has been ordered, and we have new mirrors, new medicine cabinets, and a new closet door ready to install.  

The hubby and I visited Kelly Moore yesterday and manged to choose paint colors. (Miraculously, without the D-word being mentioned! :-D)  Painting happening now.

* * * * *

Revisions:

My revisions to my first draft of BATTLE CRY are progressing smoothly. I'm currently in the middle of Chapter 5, attempting to merge to important scenes into one.

Snicker worthy editing moment:

"A collective moo went up..."
My beta reader underlined the "collective moo" and wrote: NO!

* * * * *

Post by The Cat House On The Kings.com.

The Woman Language Translator

I'll be purchasing one of these for Mr. Snark for V-Day.

Scraping Bottom by Melissa Snark

Mr. Snark is an armchair provocateur. 

 I have a theory that every relationship that's lasted for any length of time endures keystone events that test the true grit of both parties. If you survive, then the crisis becomes something fondly remembered, trotted out at family reunions, retold to friends, and reminisced upon in the car on the way to Home Despot.

I first observed phenomenon with my own parents. Grandpa Snark likes to be right and he usually is, but every now and then, he screws up.  When he does, Grandma Snark never lets him forget it.

Grandma Snark:  "In 1973, you said that Big Wheels were the dumbest thing you'd ever seen and no one was ever going to ride them."

Grandpa Snark: "Fine, I admit I may have been wrong that one time."

Grandma Snark: "And don't you forget it, buddy!"

Grandpa Snark: "Like you'd allow that, honey."

Fortunately, Mr. Snark isn't right all that often. I usually don't have to go back more than 30 minutes. He's correct so seldom that he's usually astonished when he is right.

In the early days of the Snark's courtship, I made a batch of chili at Mr. Snark's bachelor cave, a rental house with a gas stove that had no simmer setting. In a very short time, the bottom of that pot scorched solid black. 

I knew I could salvage the remainder of the chili by transferring it to a new stockpot so I lowered the heat, stirred with care and left it to finish reducing.

In those days, Mr. Snark was fresh from the Old Goat Rescue, and remained more than 50% feral bachelor. The man not only entered entered my territory without due caution, but he messed with my cooking with impunity.  

Finding the unprotected pot of chili, Mr. Snark let loose with a gleeful cackle and proceeded to scrape the bottom with all of the strength in his arms. It took a hammer and chisel, but he freed every last bit of charred crust.

Imagine my horror upon returning to the stove, only to discover pieces of black crap floating throughout the entire batch. Not just huge chunks but itty bitty black dots, infusing every teaspoon with carbonized bitterness.

The shriek heard that day lives on in the neighborhood's collective memory. Amazingly, our relationship survived. (I assure you, the man has never been allowed to forget it.)

We laugh about it now and the term "scraping bottom" has a unique connotation to us.

Mrs. Snark:  "She's scraping bottom. After dating two losers, you'd think she'd know better than to go with a third."

Mr. Snark: "Yes, dear."

Mrs. Snark: "You know what I'm saying, right? You understand that scraping bottom is bad?"

Mr. Snark:  "I wouldn't do it unless I knew you were watching, dear."

Mrs. Snark: "What?"

Mr. Snark:  "There'd be no payoff."

Paths to Publishing: Melissa Snark || A CAT'S TALE

A Funny Thing Happened on my Path to Publishing by Melissa Snark

My path to publishing began with REJECTION.

Thereafter, I began inserting a warning label and a disclaimer on the title page to limit liability and protect myself from negligence lawsuits.

The stack of "Thanks but no thanks" letters was a mile high, cluttering every surface and making my home uninhabitable. Being an ecologically conscious person, I struggled to find new and inventive ways to reuse/recycle the letters. For a while, our TP bill plummeted but the Snark men complained about roughness and rashes. However, it was the epic toilet flood that truly dealt the killing blow to that particular experiment.

As a writer, the most common (and maybe most valuable) advice received is: develop a tough skin and learn to take rejection well.

Through the years, my rejection letter collection expanded until it rivaled the government for paper waste. I endeavored to maintain a positive attitude. I learned to take rejection well. I welcomed it.

I wrote letters thanking agents and publishers for having rejected me:

Not to boast, but my brown-nosing grew so eloquent that Hallmark offered me a gig in their cards department. Unfortunately, I had to refuse. I am simply incapable of confining my effusive prose to just one line.

Years passed. Publishers continued to reject me but I kept right on writing. Some personal stuff happened and I stopped chasing the pot of gold for a few years. Then Miss Bear's arrival in 2010 left me with some time on my hands. (The tyke slept a lot back then.) 

I began writing and submitting again. Research into the evolving ebook market brought small presses to my attention. In March 2011, I submitted a query to The Wild Rose Press.

In April, I received an email from the publisher marked "IMMEDIATE RESPONSE REQUIRED" in the subject line. This, naturally, created some confusion on my part. No publisher had ever required an urgent reply to their rejection. (Talk about demanding!)

Dubious, I opened the email and discovered that one of the senior editors had been trying to reach me for a while regarding a full manuscript request. Further investigation revealed that Gmail's dutiful spam filter had swallowed the original request. A little panicked, I shot the story off and returned to thumb twiddling.

A while later, I received a request for revisions, which I made, and then in August 2011, the impossible happened.Through some huge mishap in the publisher's office, I received an offer for a contract for A Cat's Tale. Stunned, I attempted to draft an appropriate reply.

Following the discovery that the offer was, indeed, legitimate AND intentional, much shrill shrieking followed. Mr. Snark lost all hearing in one ear. A cat filed a restraining order.  And the Snark family got subjected to my exuberant performance of the Dance of Joy in full view of the neighbors.

So a funny thing happened on my path to publishing--I got accepted.

* * * * *

Alpha werewolf, Jared Kohl, wakes up in a vampire’s dungeon, swearing revenge upon the wily Siamese werecat who lured him there with her sultry lips and the sweetest tail. To escape his undead captor, all he has to do is seduce the skittish puss and show her that trust is often a hot and hard lesson to learn.

Enslaved feline shifter, Josephine Young, has learned the hard way not to believe in anything or anyone—not men, not love, and certainly not the blood-sucking mistress who tossed her into the cage with the hungry beast she’d betrayed. But Josephine does what she must to survive, including tempting the dominant werewolf to give her more than promises.

Imprisoned for their blood, Jared and Josephine fight for survival and discover a passion that neither can walk away from. Can these two predators survive long enough to prove that cats and dogs can be more than enemies?

Available for purchase:
Amazon
The Wild Rose Press
ARe
iTunes
B&N

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