I’ll be chatting with novelist and host Cynthia Hammer on her show, Hammer Away. Wednesday November 1st in the 4 o’clock hour, Central Time. You can tune in to latalkradio.com from your mobile device, or go to http://www.latalkradio.com/content/hammer-away.
Hope you can join us.
We were walking the dogs the other night, and we saw something ahead of us in the road. The sun was going down, and it was shining in our eyes. “What is that?” my husband asked. “Is it an animal?”
He held the dogs, while I went up to see. It was a tiny black kitten, sitting in the middle of the road. At first, I thought its eyes were not yet open, but as I peered into its face I had the terrifying thought that perhaps it had no eyes at all.
I picked it up reluctantly, and cuddled it against my sweatshirt, while my husband took the dogs and continued on the walk, figuring that their feelings toward the kitten might not be especially altruistic. The kitten and I went home.
I dabbed warm water on his eyes with a paper towel, and wiped away the crust that was keeping them shut. He had been completely blinded, but now his eyes were open.
I found some powdered milk in the pantry, and made some warm milk with brown sugar, and he lapped it up, trying, as Auggie does, to put his feet into it. 
Out in the country at our cottage, the township had no contract with the local humane society, so the Sheriff’s department contacted an emergency number, and somebody from the humane society called me back. They wouldn’t pick up, so we would have to bring him in.
By now he was getting lively, and didn’t want to be held, but I was afraid he would disappear under the porch or a bush and we wouldn’t find him again. When the dogs arrived the kitten stood on my shoulder and hissed and spit. Moses just looked puzzled. Pete and Auggie didn’t even notice him.
We drove him to the humane society, where nice people took him in, assured us that he wasn’t seriously ill, and made us sign a statement that he didn’t belong to us. “What’s his name?” asked the woman.
“Doskar,” I said. “Felix,” said my husband.
We missed the sunset, which had been the whole reason we had gone to the cottage, but we didn’t really mind. That kitten had a lucky, lucky day. I doubt he would have survived a night blind, in the woods, with raccoons and foxes and coyotes, swamps to get stuck in, water to fall into. I can’t help worrying about what happened to his littermates.
Every time we left the house we found ourselves looking for kittens in the road. Hope they are safe somewhere, and warm.
Books 1 and 2 are on sale at Amazon Kindle for $1.99 or buy both for $3.98! Read them now so you can be prepared for the arrival of Book 3 next spring!
After multiple treatments, Moses still smelled like skunk around his eyes and muzzle. I couldn’t put any of the harsher treatments near his eyes, so we went with the old-
fashioned method of tomato paste.
Moses made it quite clear that this was beneath his dignity, but after he had wiped his face on Pete and splattered tomato paste all over Auggie, he contented himself with licking off some of the residue. He got several very big pieces of chicken for his patience. And he actually smells better too.
Meanwhile, I think we have his Halloween costume in the bag.
Sith warrior, anyone?
QUICK NOTE: If you would like to read my first novels in preparation for the release of the third in the series, Robert’s Rules, next spring, they are both on sale for $1.99 each on Kindle this month.
North of the Tension Line is on the Target website. Would you please give it a four or five star review?
And if you haven’t already done so at Amazon and Barnes and Noble, would you be so kind?
Books that receive good reviews get noticed and re-ordered.
I’d be grateful if you’d bring along a friend, too.
Thank you.
Support your local author!
It’s an amazing thing to find out that the words you put on a page have become a book. And here it is, a beautiful new addition to the set.
Ready to find out what happens next?
[New York, NY] Second in the award-winning North of the Tension Line series, The Audacity of Goats (Beaufort Books, April 2016) is the continuing tale of Fiona Campbell, and her reluctant adventures among the pleasures, mysteries, and exasperations of life on a remote island.
J. F. Riordan has been called “a modern day Jane Austen” for her lyrical prose and rich characters. Her books are a tribute to small town life and the beauty of the ordinary. Peopled with sharply drawn characters whose experiences are by turns serious, mystical, and ridiculous, The Audacity of Goats brings into sharp focus the pitfalls and vicious politics that prevail in small towns everywhere.
In an age of celebrity, this series honors the well-lived life of the common man and woman. Its protagonist, city-bred Fiona Campbell, is a strong-willed, independent woman with an intellectual bent, and a sense of irony that comes in handy during her frequent lapses into public humiliation. Although she doesn’t quite fit into her adopted community, her resolute attempts are wryly observed—and endorsed—by her circle of vaguely eccentric friends.
Elisabeth and Roger are not yet back from their honeymoon when a series of unsettling nighttime incidents leave the islanders uncertain whether they are victims of an elaborate teenage prank, or whether there might be a malevolent stranger lurking on the island. Out-of-state owners of a new goat farm seem to consider themselves the self-proclaimed leaders of the island; Pali, the ferry captain, is troubled by his own unique version of writer’s block; and Ben, the captain’s ten year-old son, appears to be hiding something. But it is only when the imperturbable Lars Olafsen announces his retirement, and Stella announces her candidacy for his office that the islanders realize trouble is brewing. Fiona must decide whether it is time to leave the island for good, or to make another reckless gamble.
The Audacity of Goats is literary escapism that will appeal to both adults and young adults, in a return to characters who feel like old friends amidst the picturesque and mystical way of life North of the Tension Line.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR: A transplanted Midwesterner, J. F. Riordan lives in exile from Washington Island with her husband and two and a half dogs. She blogs at http://northofthetensionline.net
The Audacity of Goats By J. F. Riordan $24.95, 5.50” x 8.25” Hardcover 9780825308260 E‐book 9780825307553 Available April 29, 2016 .For more information, a review copy, or to schedule an interview with J. F. Riordan, please contact: Felicia Minerva, (212) 727‐0222, Felicia@midpointtrade.com
My Aunt Ruth, whose sudden stroke a few weeks ago caused us to drop everything and run to her side is home again. I spoke with her on the phone this weekend, and she is filled with joy to be home, speaking normally, and in the company of kind and affectionate people.
That woman is a fighter. And on Friday, God willing, she will be 96 years old. My sister and her husband and son are going to see her next weekend, so she will have a celebration.
Don’t tell her, but on her birthday morning she will receive a bouquet of 96 pink roses.
She has earned every one, and then some.
For some reason, my husband decided yesterday to take Moses to the barber shop with him.
Don’t ask.
Perhaps one factor may have been that the night before Moses had had a rather thorough bath, complete with shampoo and conditioner, as opposed to the daily rinse in the dog shower he usually gets to clean his feet. He smells good now, and he’s all soft and shiny, and this seemed like an opportunity to give him a good brushing. Thought for the day: Never brush a wet dog. Especially not in the house. No, not even if it’s really cold and miserable outside.
German Shepherds are a breed that have a spring molt, which is referred to as “blowing their coats”. An odd expression, I thought, in my innocence. But that was before. Now that he is four, and officially fully mature, Moses is having his first real blowing-of-the-coat, and I have come to think that whoever coined the phrase had a gift for understatement. Moses’s long black hair with its creamy roots is coming out in massive tufts which do, indeed, blow. Everywhere. Piling up in insane quantities in the corner behind the kitchen door. Stuck to the stamp on the Easter card I sent to my aunt. Appearing, unexpectedly—and disturbingly— in my coffee cup at work. But this was nothing compared to the wet dog hair that he and I, together, artfully distributed about the mud room, on the white kitchen cabinets, and on my person. There is no broom, no vacuum, no lint roller sufficient to the task. It’s like glue, and your only hope is to wait for it to dry and then wipe it off with a dry rag.
NASA ought to look into potential applications.
In any case, and for whatever reason, Moses had a trip to the barber shop. He was permitted to wander around and sniff at things, he obligingly lay on his back to have his tummy rubbed by several admirers, and when asked, he lay quietly on the floor nearby while my husband had his hair cut, all amidst the chaos of dryers, and razors, and customers coming and going. He was, in short, a very good dog.
It would have been nice if a trip to the barber shop had resulted in a bit less dog hair, but I suppose I should just be grateful that he was shedding somewhere else for a while.
Image courtesy of GalleyCat
One of my favorite new friends in the world of books is Peter Sloma at Peninsula Bookman in Fish Creek, Wisconsin. He is a serious book person, with a serious store: the kind you can’t get out of without buying half a dozen things you didn’t know you needed. He has been particularly supportive in offering advice and connections to a first time author, and he has included in me in his Wisconsin Writers’ events, which are worth coming to, and not just because I’m there, although that’s certainly a key element.
Peter has been kind enough to host the Door County launch of my new book the weekend of the Door County Half Marathon. So, if you are on the Door on June 4th, 2016, please stop by that evening to celebrate the publication of Book Two in the North of the Tension Line series, The Audacity of Goats. You can come to meet me (in case you want to), and, more important, to support one the world’s increasingly endangered endeavors: a local bookstore.
And I’m sure he’d be happy to accept your order for a pre-sale!
Mark your calendars. More details to follow.
Meanwhile, I’m looking forward to drinking whisky with Peter.
4083 Hwy 42
PO Box 381
Fish Creek, WI 54212
920-868-1467
sales@peninsulabookman.com
J.F. Riordan 