I'm not good with rodents.

The other night I heard the bathroom door creak open while I brushed my teeth and in crept a tiny mouse.

I did several brave things:

1- screamed like my hair was on fire

2- tried to climb on top of the counter and into the sink so it wouldn't climb up my pajama bottoms then into my hair thus into my ear and eat my brain

3- drooled toothpaste while screaming

4- thought what the R#R# is a mouse doing opening doors that are a bazillion times heavier than itself? I clearly have a herculean beast scurrying about

My naked, long suffering, husband groggily got out of bed minutes later to make sure I wasn't having a seizure but the mouse had already gone, flipping me off as he scampered away because I was making such a racket.

I'm a bit of a worrywart

Photo credit: piddix.blogspot.com

I was an active yet clumsy child so spent a majority of my time in arm casts, recovering from knee surgery or in full leg braces. Thus, my spidey-sense is on high alert whenever my children attempt anything remotely dangerous, say... opening an olive jar without proper eye protection.

"Careful! The olive juice is highly caustic and can cause blindness!" I would yell out.

"Mom, it's olives floating in water. Relax, would you?" My four-year-old is a mouthy little thing.

"Yes but one drop and... I got nothing. Give Mama an olive and stop smirking."

I've read the warning insert in boxes of tampons about Toxic Shock Syndrome every month since I was sixteen, positive that one day I'd be the topic of an after school special on the dangers of absorbency. I'd picture my mother looking distraught while I gasped out my last breath in the hospital room.

"Mom, I know you told me not to use the Super Plus..." I'd start.

"Shhh, darling. That's not important now, but since you mentioned it, didn't you read the inserts?"

I see where my daughter gets it.

We live atop a mountain in the wilds of northern Virginia, fraught with danger as the girls bring home various forms of flora and fauna. Poisonous fungi fill bags in the kitchen next to benign white-capped mushrooms. The eight-year-old studies them intensely but I'm not sure for what purpose. I quietly deposit them into the large kitchen garbage can while she sleeps and tells her the woodland creatures carried them off at night the next morning. She bought that for a while but now I get the "Mom is insane" look and she wanders off for more specimens. The others climb trees, scale woodpiles where I'm sure snakes hide, they're always on the lookout for the fox kits that live on the lane (though they are quite aware of the risks of rabies and stay far away) and sneak toads into the house in small baskets. The little voice that tells them to be cautious? The one ever-present in my head but not theirs? It's at Disney World without protective headgear.

I'm sure they get this from their father.

Previously featured at An Army of Ermas

Past lives

Granted, not the most flattering photo of myself but after
three months in the Scottish weather, I'm happy not to have gills.

I didn't start out to be a writer. I messed around with stories in school, teased my friends with snippets of humor bits like I was trying out new material for open mic night at Fat City teen nightclub in Medford, Oregon and then got all serious about college. Broadcasting and eventually archaeology and history won out over any fleeting thoughts of novels and I was lost to rolling around in the soil and meeting fascinating people who thought like I did -- 1,000 years in the past. Fast forward twenty-three years and I'm out of the dirt writing full-time about zombies and ghosts, apparently I can't get away from the dead things.  ;)

What did you do before writing or were you always in the groove? If not a writer, what did the 20-year-old you set out to do?

Zombie Zodiac

Stuck in the bowels of The Zombie Dating Guide was a sassy little number called the Zombie Zodiac. I've liberated it as a companion piece to ZDG to help the Undead find their perfect mate - or at least until the crows pick her apart.


Excerpt:

Sagittarius-

The freewheeling half-dead Sag will definitely keep you guessing.  They can never stay in one place for long and have the tendency to wander off so get your passport ready to travel in search of this elusive lover.  You can bet if a Zombie Sag has heard about a human community ripe for the picking, they will lumber over as fast as their stumpy little legs can carry them to be a part of the party. 

One word sums up a Sag, and that one word is single minded determination.  Yes, I know that’s three words, shut up.  When they set their near-sighted sights on something or someone, not much can escape its path without a high-powered rifle.  Some call it devotion while others may label it stalking.  Depends on the attitude.  You can count on a Sag to see a project due to fruition, making them an excellent choice to go in first if you suspect Zombie hunters on the other side of a doorway.  Sags are not that bright and usually will not question your request for them to check out a poorly lit room in the back of the Guns-R-Us store, making them the perfect companion for late night Brain runs.

 So what's your sign, baby?