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I missed my high school reunion this past weekend, much to my chagrin. I just needed more time to let the broken bone in my foot heal, before I taxed it with travel. However, one classmate, Mary Boutin, brought some of my books to the reunion for my classmates. Some of them have appeared as characters in my books. These photos gave me a chuckle! 0 0

You know, as an author, that great reviews just make your world. Here is one that arrived today: Customer Review 5.0 out of 5 stars Action packed, page turner! By Emily Gmitter on June 12, 2018 Format: Kindle Edition | Verified Purchase Rhe Brewster loves to eat….and to sleuth. And she does both well and often in this well written murder mystery. The author is knowledgeable about the location of the story (a coastal town in Maine, where she grew up) and the medical field (impressive bio!) and her writing is infused with her expertise, giving the entire story authenticity. She weaves the mystery in a skilled way and you may find yourself thinking you know who the murderer is, just to change your mind a chapter or two later. Action packed, credible dialogue, real-life problems in Rhe’s relationship with her husband. A lot going on here but it all comes together seamlessly; a page turner! ***** Thank you, Emily! 0 0

Yes, c’est moi, the most handsome cat. Here I am admiring myself in the glass fireplace screen. Today I am rather irritated. Every day around eleven I ask my two legged, “Isn’t it time for my lunch?” She replies, “What did you say?” I repeat, louder, “It’s time for my lunch!” “Yes, yes, I’m getting there. Hold onto your pants.” I don’t have any pants and even it I did, how could I walk and hold onto them? Honestly, it seems I need to have a continuing dialog with her for at least 30 minutes before she breaks down and puts out my tuna. I even have a patented dance I perform for her to tell her how hungry I am, even when I know she can hear me. Anyway, I’ve finally gotten my tuna and am now cleaning my face. Did I tell you I have a new toy? It’s a sort of a crinkly tube that is fun to crawl through. It has a hole in the middle where I can stick my head out, but mostly I like to relax there. It also has these fascinating strings at one end that tempt me to pounce and chew them. I thought I would show you where I sleep while me two legged writes – in the corner of the loft where she sits. Please note how messy my sleeping spot is, with papers all over. She does not keep her space clean. I keep my spaces clean…well, sort of. My box is something I can’t do anything about and it’s true I leave hair everywhere, but other than that I am clean and neat. I’m feeling better now. She’s giving me something I like a lot! 0 0

Most people know I swim every day and there are lots of insects that keep me company. The pesky ones like dive-bombing flies and mosquitoes I gladly swat, but there are also different species of beetles, ants, some spiders (which are not insects), various other flies, most of which I scoop out and deposit on the pool deck to be washed away into the dirt. My favorite buddies, however, are the dragonflies. These magical creatures come in a wide variety of iridescent colors with gossamer wings. They alight for a fraction of a second on the pool surface to get water, then flit off. Occasionally they hover in front of my face, and one day a brilliant turquoise specimen landed on my visor and sat there for a while, to the delight of my daughter. Occasionally they get trapped in the water and end up upside down, fluttering helplessly. It is my honor to pick them up on my palm, flip them over and watch them fly away. Blue Dasher dragonfly Common Green Darner dragonfly Eastern Pond Hawk dragonfly, male Eastern Pond Hawk dragonfly, female Ebony Jewel Wing dragonfly Widow Skimmer dragonfly Here are some dragonfly facts from the Smithsonian: 1. Long before the dinosaurs walked the Earth, dragonflies took to the air. Griffenflies, the gigantic precursor of present day dragonflies, had a wing tip to wing tip span of 28 inches, and took flight in the Carboniferous period, 300 million years ago. Woman holding a life-size model of a Griffenfly, from Don Chure’s Land of the Dead 2. There are 5,000 + species of dragonflies. 3. In their larval stage, which can last up to two years, dragonflies are aquatic and eat just about anything—tadpoles, mosquitoes, fish, other insect larvae and even each other. 4. Dragonflies are expert fliers. They can fly straight up and down, hover like a helicopter and even mate mid-air. If they can’t fly, they’ll starve because they only eat prey they catch while flying. 5. Dragonflies catch their insect prey by grabbing it with their feet. 6. Nearly all of the dragonfly’s head is eye, so they have incredible vision that encompasses almost every angle except right behind them. 6. Dragonflies, which eat insects as adults, are a great control on the mosquito population. A single dragonfly can eat 30 to hundreds of mosquitoes per day. Next time you see a dragonfly, say hi for me! 0 0

As most of my followers know, I am a huge supporter of the military – it comes naturally to a military family! Did you know that 24 of our Presidents served in the Army, or that George Washington chose the colors of the current US Army dress uniforms? A lot of soldiers are in the air! Soldiers who jump from airplanes wear Airborne wings. Those who rappel from helicopters wear Air Assault wings. Those who fly into space wear Astronaut wings. I’ve been mesmerized by a recent recruiting ad from the Army, particularly this photo. It’s of a member of Special Forces on a parachute jump and it took my breath away. 0 0

Today I am over-the-top thrilled to have a guest post by Sally Cronin! As many of you know, she is the most generous blogger anywhere for writers, posting and reviewing our books and cheer leading sales. She is also a terrific writer herself, and when she asked what I might like as a guest post, I had to ask for an animal story. Her book about her dog Sam and her many animal tales have warmed my heart and brought tears and smiles. So here is a story about Charlie, the junkyard dog. Charlie the Junkyard Dog by Sally Cronin Charlie was a junkyard dog and had the scars to prove it. He was head of security of this fenced off mass of scrap metal, dotted with mounds of old tyres he called home, and he took his job very seriously. During the day, he was chained up next to the beat-up old trailer, where his human would shout loudly at other humans; sometimes throwing things at the thin metal walls. In bad weather Charlie would retreat into a rough scrap wood shelter; resting his bony body on a ragged old corn sack on the hard concrete floor as the water dripped in through the roof. His human would unshackle Charlie as night fell; throwing a few handfuls of dried dog food into a bowl, kicking it toward the dog. ‘Gotta keep him lean and mean’, he would laugh as he got into his truck to head down to the bar on Main Street.  The junkyard was now Charlie’s responsibility, and he would prowl in and out of the wrecks through the darkness; barking and growling at any real or imagined intruder. The feral cats kept their distance, building nests for themselves in the precarious metal heaps and hunting for rats and mice at night; keeping one eye open for the mangy dog. Many a lad had climbed the fence, looking for a spare part for their hot-rod, or to find some forgotten treasure in a glove compartment. All had gone back over the wire at speed, with one or two new rips in their jeans and sometimes even missing a sneaker.  Charlie would swagger back to his kennel, taking a drink from a puddle along the way, pleased that he had done his job as demanded of him. Rarely did the dog feel the kindness of a human hand, despite the men who worked in the yard throwing him the odd bit of sandwich, or even a left over piece of hamburger. None were keen to find out if he was as handy with his teeth as some of his victims had claimed after lucky escapes. The boss told them not to coddle the dog, and despite some of them pitying their half-starved workmate, they were too afraid of losing their jobs to push the matter. Then a thin, lanky lad called Jimmy turned up one day looking for a job. The boss thought he was too scrawny for the kind of hard labour that was needed, but he knew the boy would work for a lot less than he had to pay a grown man, and gave him a week to prove himself.  He had to give it to the boy; Jimmy did not mess about, arriving early and leaving long after the others had left for a beer. He pulled his weight and earned the respect of the other men who took him under their wings. Although Jimmy didn’t say much they sensed the boy didn’t have much to go home to. Over a mug of coffee after lunch, he finally shared that he had been living on the streets for some months but was now in a hostel. It sounded a bit grim but it was clean and he had a room, dinner and a change of clothes. With the money he was now earning he planned to save up and find a small place of his own. Like his workmates, Jimmy began keeping some of his lunch for Charlie. They warned him to throw the food and not to get too close in case the dog ripped his arm off. They were amazed when he calmly knelt down, holding out his hand with the piece of sandwich in his cupped palm. After a couple of days, hunger overcame his fear and Charlie edged closer and closer until he snatched the food, racing back to the other end of his chain. They warned Jimmy not to let the boss see him petting the dog, and the lad was careful to only do so when the man was out in his truck, or on the other side of the yard. He didn’t want to lose his job, but he also couldn’t bear to see this neglected dog and the way he was living. It brought home memories of his time on the streets, and he knew only too well how desperate it was. Through the summer months, Jimmy began to climb over the fence after the gates had been locked, rather than return to the stifling room in the hostel, until the evening cooled. Charlie by now accepted the boy and eagerly nuzzled his pockets to see if there were any treats for him. He would snuffle delightedly as he came upon a piece of cheese or sausage, dispensing a slobbery kiss in gratitude. The two of them would wander the yard enjoying the evening sunshine and then sit side by side watching the sun go down, Jimmy’s arm around his buddy’s neck. Both of them had filled out over the recent months of better food and the boy had also been to the vets and stocked up on medicine for parasites and fleas. Charlie’s improved condition was becoming a problem. The boss had noticed that Charlie was calmer and less aggressive and that he could no longer see his ribs. Somebody was feeding him and he decided to keep a closer eye on who was

    Let us not forget the sacrifices of so many on this day, which ensured our freedom and that of generations to come. 0 0

The formidable Sally Cronin, who is such a boundless supporter of all our books, posted her review of Death in a Mudflat this morning. I need to recognize her generosity of heart! https://smorgasbordinvitation.wordpress.com/2018/06/05/sallys-cafe-and-bookstore-new-book-on-the-shelves-death-in-a-mudflat-rhe-brewster-mystery-by-n-a-granger/ THANK YOU, SALLY! 0 0

From a post by Ramona DeFelice Long, author and editor. I just couldn’t pass up spreading this about Sally Ride. “Last week, the United States Postal Service unveiled a Forever stamp honoring astronaut Sally Ride. Sally Ride was a physicist and astronaut. When she was a student at Stanford University, she and 8000 other people responded to a NASA ad in the student newspaper. The ad was an open call seeking  applicants for the US space program. Sally answered the call, and the rest is history.” Read the rest of this wonderful testimonial at Sally Ride Gets a Stamp Thank you, Ramona for this reminder of a wonderful woman. And go buy some of these stamps! 0 0

A blogging buddy, Christoph Fischer, gave me the first comment on my book. Couldn’t be happier! “Death in a Mudflat is a hugely enjoyable, fast-paced mystery with excellent attention to forensic and scientific detail.” –Christoph Fischer, author of The Body in the Snow, Black Eagle Inn, and Time to Let Go 0 0