DG sighting

I have a tendency not to wear shoes in the house. I like the smooth, cool feel of the tiles on my feet. The other night, I went out for something on the patio. I'm not a huge fan of stepping on 'things' unexpected. I turned on the light and went out.

Our patio doors are double doors, both opening from the center of the doorway. The twin doors are about 9 foot in height. (Honest, I have to get out the ladder to wash the windows in the doors.) The windows run from the top to the floor, surrounded by about 6 inches of thick wooden frame. The whole idea is to provide a good view of the pool from inside the house.

As I was coming back to the door, I saw a lizard upside down - above my head by at least a foot - on the wooden frame part of the door. We both froze in place. He had a tail about a third of the length it should be for the size of his body. It was broad at the base and quickly tapered to a point, more like a horney toad or desert tortoise's tail than a lizard tail.

I knew it was DG (Desert Ghost) the little lizard who was in my jeans the other day. The way he motionlessly stared at me, I think he recognized me too. It wasn't a fond glare in his red eyes.

When I spoke, he moved a step. Then stopped. Locked eyes again. I almost felt intimidated by him, but I think it wasn't as much fear as still feeling guilty about his tail falling off when I flipped him out of my jeans.

I told him to stay put when I opened the door. Like a child, of course, he didn't listen to me. I turned to look before shutting the door, and sure enough, he had moved so that two of his feet were on the edge where the door would shut on him. His tail, such as it was, turned toward me, as if to make sure I saw what I had done to him on our last encounter.

No one in the house was awake to call for help. I went for the fly swatter with the plan of schooching him away from the hinge area -- possibly flicking him off the door completely. Lizards run very quickly, in case you didn't know. I intended to be careful not to flick him far enough to land on the pool deck. I didn't want him to run into the pool and cause yet another rescue with the net.

It was a stand-off. He wouldn't budge with a gentle nudge of the edge of the fly swatter. I tried to explain his position of danger, if I shut the door - which I did intend to do. He whirled around and stared at me again, then dropped to the floor. With the door open, that meant he was on the inside of the threshold.

I was earnest in my desire not to have him inside the house, whether he was a good spirit (good luck) or not. My memory of the pant leg encounter is still too fresh to be inviting. With a quick scoop of the fly swatter I helped him over the threshold and quickly shut the door, locking both locks.

He ran under a chair and twisted around to look back at me looking at him through the glass pane. His stump of a tail, his searing eyes, my rapidly beating heart - we both froze.

I'm relieved to know he is still alive and his tail is growing back. Yet I am all the more concerned about my friend Inez and I going off to the mountains to camp near her Pueblo in New Mexico - neither of us like creepy-crawly things.

I'll keep you posted on how that turns out, if I don't chicken out going.

I can't get into it that much...

It is funny (odd) that I was thinking for several days about writing this post, then wondering if I should. But a very influential book reviewer sent a note that pushed me over to the "Go ahead and do it" side.

True, my writing isn't the industry standard third person voice - keep your distance - formula writing. I get lots of comments about my different style. Some people love it because it gets them out of their reading rut. Others comment about how it takes some getting used to (and I know some people just can't make the switch to it).

Someone once said my writing is an acquired taste. So is marmite. I'm not sure that is a compliment, but it is probably true because there just aren't that many novels written in first person present tense. Its tricky stuff, that's one reason it isn't done very much.

I know some people don't get past the letter reading scene in KB. Sure THEY KNEW what the letter meant. The point is all those best-of-the-best in the story missed it. OMG! My characters are human and even beat themselves up about it - just like us sometimes.

Those who do continue reading seem to get hooked. Ya know, like getting caught up reading and forgetting to put on their make-up, only to notice it when they get to work.

While EVERYONE gets the letter, no one (NO ONE) expected what happened Thanksgiving weekend, right? I dare you to tell me you expected THAT person to die. Actually, I double dare you.

Why do I write like that? One thing is, it got me "A" marks in school. My creative writing professors liked that I was, um...how do I say it, oh yeah, "creative."

I know storytelling is usually third person. But you have to admit that the post about the lizard up my pant leg would not have made you laugh, if I had told it in third person. (Oh! Remind me, when I write Raven's Song, set in a New Mexico Pueblo, I'm going to throw that lizard story in there some place.)

I'll tell you tomorrow how I write in first person.

Lizard stories:
http://nadinelaman.blogspot.com/2009/05/desert-ghost.html

http://nadinelaman.blogspot.com/2009/05/more-lizard-stuff_27.html

More lizard stuff

My friend, Inez, called for our usual girly chat. Inez is a Pueblo Indian in New Mexico. Once again she invited me to come and we would go up into the mountains and have some girl time without all our guys.

After we finished with all the important stuff (kids, husbands, making pickles, books, visiting each other), I told her about DG. Inez told me a similar story about a lizard and her sister, so I guess the lizard-up-your-pant-leg isn't all that unusual.

In her story, her sister was dancing around a lot more than I was and the lizard was hanging onto her leg (hanging on for dear life?). Being a loving sister, Inez removed the lizard and they killed him. That led to her story about how she doesn't care for bugs, insects, and small cold-blooded desert creatures that like to venture inside our Southwestern homes.

Now try to picture this. I'm girly, nail polish and all that stuff, from the second largest city in the United States - Los Angeles. She is an Indian who doesn't like creepy-crawly things in her house...and we are going to go into the mountains alone and camp for a couple of days. Yeah right.

I'm thinking, "day trip." Maybe we'll go on horseback, that much farther removed from the ground where creepy-crawly things live.

Desert Ghost

One of my English friends tells me, quite seriously, about the ghost that lives in her house with her family. When something can't be found, like her webcam, I blame Maurice, her ghost.

While I joke about it, I have apparently unwittingly begun to believe in ghosts. The other morning I was sitting at my computer, and I felt a hand on my thigh. I kid you not. I nearly jumped out of my chair. It was so real. And for a moment, I thought it was a ghost. Seriously.

I caught my breath and got back to work, when there it was again only a lighter touch this time. I put my hand on the ghost's hand and didn't feel anything. I decided it wasn't a ghost, but didn't really come up with a reasonable explanation of what it was, if not a ghost.

Then I felt it move. I KNOW I felt it. I grabbed at my jeans' pocket and pinched lightly. OMGosh! There WAS something there. Something real. I was out of my chair. I don't remember undoing the button and zipper to my jeans. I hastily rolled my waist band outward and kept going until something flipped out and to the floor.

My first thought with seeing the tan creature was it was a scorpion and I was lucky he hadn't stung me. I moved back quickly, just to stay safe. The thing was three and a half inches long...not counting the tail, which was laying nearby twitching to beat all get-out.

His tail was wagging more than a waggy dog. My heart was racing. I cannot believe I hadn't screamed like bloody murder. It wasn't moving, so I moved a bit closer to get a look. It just laid there, lifeless. His eyes were open - kind of bugged-out. He was tan with a couple of small spots on him, maybe bruises I had caused. I just kept saying, "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry."

Poor thing, it was a desert lizard. They are very good in the yard; no need to kill him. One of my Indian friends says they are a 'good spirit.' This is Indian Country, they ought to know, right?

I called my youngest to remove the creature, which I usually do and he doesn't. But my heart was beating hard and I was still pulling up my jeans, so I was in no state to deal with a dead thing on the floor of my office. (We have a swimming pool, it isn't like he hasn't seen my legs before.) I have no idea why I put those jeans back on. Sheesh.

Anyway, being a pacifist, I suggested that I would get the patio door and my kid would scoop up the poor thing in the dust pan. We would put him on the ground under a nice plant rather than throw him in the trash.

I'm by the patio door. From my office, I hear, "Mom, he is STILL ALIVE." So we find something better to capture him. When we returned, you guessed it, only the wiggly tail was out in the open. To make a long story short, he lead us on a chase through the books on the bookshelf but we caught this tailless guy and let him lose under a plant near the wall, in the shade. He took off like a rocket.

I named him, DG (Desert Ghost) and until his tail grows back, we'll know if we spot him again.

If you are interested in what started this ghost business, you need to buy my friend's audio book, "Ghost Sniffer." These aren't scary stories. They are believable stories. They left me wondering, is this real? She ought to know, she has a ghost in her house. Right? Even their cat sees Maurice.

Email me [NadineLaman@aol(dot)com] and I'll forward it to her. The book is Ghost Sniffer.
OR try this: http://www.completetrainer.co.uk/Miscellany/Ghost_Sniffer_Audio_Book