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So you’ve all noticed by now that the blog times and lengths and subjects are sliding all over the place. That’s because I’m writing a book, deadline for delivery Feb. 29, 2016. (Leap Year brought me an extra day!)

The subject is adoption and foster care in Appalachia, and it is a strange writing process this time. I love going back to my journalistic roots, but I’ve never had to be self-protective in writing before. The material is darkness and light in unexpected blotches of both, and you never know when you’re going to hit which. You just listen to the people telling their stories, and refuse to bundle things into patterns where they don’t belong. No square pegs forced into round holes to make us feel better about ourselves as humans.

And you keep a sense of humor about you. Which is why, in lieu of a lengthy angst-ridden blog post about writing Fall or Fly (the working title of the book) I am offering the following.

CAPTION THIS – winner gets three hand-crocheted dishcloths. Second place gets a kitten. :]

Let’s say deadline is Dec. 1, since I think that’s Tuesday coming and a lot of people will also visit for the Monday Book. If I can manage to post it on Monday this week. I’ve got a good one. But not as good as this photo. Have fun!

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Luchesi the Loquacious Tenor Discourses on Pancreatitis and other Matters

LuchesiGood morning. My name is Luchesi and I am a foster cat at Tales of the Lonesome Pine, the Little Bookstore of Big Stone Gap. I haven’t been here long, although I did spend quite a long time prior to this location at the spa–called Powell Valley Animal Hospital, I believe. (And between you and me, the nurses who work up there are very, very cute.)

Ahem, but I digress. I was one of several cats living rough out at the old high school. Once I was taken into care, it became evident that something was wrong, ehm, back there. Dr. Beth and her team of nubile young maidens spent a month working to diagnose the problem, for which I am eternally grateful. A stray cat with diarrhea can kiss any chance of a good home goodbye, you know.

They divined that I have exocrine pancreatic insufficiency, which means my internal organ needs a little extra enzyme stimulation to work properly. Every morning I get half a teaspoon of powder in my food, and a leisurely fifteen minutes in which to eat it. That’s the extent of my medical care, and the bottle of powder is about $100 for a year’s supply. No other special needs. My foster parents are concerned that people will find this excessive, but really it just takes planning aforethought. Every four days my mom divides a can into four little bowls, adds the powder, and then lets it sit in the fridge until the morning I should eat it.  Very efficient. And quite tasty, I might add.

winston salem kitty 021Please understand, I refuse to be defined by my illness. I am so much more than my pancreas! Among other things, I am an excellent tenor. I sing because I’m happy, and since this is a nice place, I sing a fair bit. My trill can stop traffic; people come running to hear “who made that adorable sound?” Adorable is not quite the word I would have used–sonorous, deep and meaningful would do nicely, thank you–but since they rub my ears and pick me up then, I play along.

Also, my fur is magnificent, if I do say so myself. Many cats are orange tabbies, but not many have such long and luxurious side tufts, or a tail of such exquisite boa proportions. Which I use to great effect when prancing. I’m not much of a jingle ball chaser, but give me a chance to lead the cat congo line when we’re playing together, and watch me strut my stuff. I could be the Grand Marshal for Macy’s Thanksgiving parade!

winston salem kitty 002And of course I would be most thankful for a home of my own. I like dogs, cats, people, and bunnies. We’re all God’s creatures, after all, and all God’s creatures got a place in the choir. (Mine is featured tenor soloist.) Thank you and I look forward to meeting you soon when you come visit the bookstore.