Elizabeth Loupas

And the living room goes quiet as Boudin Loupas attempts—holy cow, ladies and gentlemen, this is a first—it’s the full Sphinx-Frog position—and he’s doing it while he’s half asleep! And he sticks the landing! <Audience goes wild.>

…we don’t get a walk today, Mama? I mean, it’s just a little snow. We like snow! Really! There are lots of good smells to smell under the snow. We won’t be cold. We have fur coats! Please, Mama? Please, just one little short walk? Pleeeeeeeaaseeeee….?

…is Animal Planet’s Puppy Bowl!

It’s Duncan the Beagle for MVP (Most Valuable Puppy, of course) in Puppy Bowl VI, beginning at 3:00pm eastern time on Sunday. What Saints? What Colts?

Cressie: “Uh-oh, I don’t think we were supposed to start taking down the decorations quite yet. Boo, quick, help me hide the evidence!”

Boo: “We are so busted.”

Cressie, Boo, The Broadcasting Legend™ and I will be back in 2010. We wish everyone a very safe and happy New Year!

Yesterday morning as I was working I heard the sound of paper rustling and crinkling from somewhere else in the house. I ignored it at first—probably just The Broadcasting Legend™ at work. But the sound continued. And continued. Finally I got up and went to see just who was doing what to what papers.

What I found was Boudin, happily ensconced on our black couch, having made himself a comfy nest of the morning’s newspaper. Now that is a newshound.

Need inspiration? Need motivation? Exercise is one of the best ways to kickstart one’s energy and creativity. (So are showers, but that’s another post.) Walking has been my exercise of choice ever since I adopted my first beagle Raffles, my much-loved companion and personal trainer for eleven years. Today I walk with Cressie and Boudin, and very inspiring and energizing it is, too.

However, sometimes my fingers hover over the keys with the next words tantalizingly close, and a long walk would actually be too much. That’s when I employ my new technique of the micro-walk—getting up from my desk and walking through the house for a minute or two, or going out into the back yard and smelling the roses (literally—our roses are blooming like crazy now that we’re having cooler weather). The trick is making the micro-walk just long enough to refresh my mind and shake my thoughts loose without being long enough to completely break my focus.

Sometimes less really is more.

I haven’t posted a beagle picture for a while, so here’s one from this morning: Boudin, sleeping peacefully in front of the back door, striped by the morning sun. He’s lying in one of his favorite spots, the space created by the three legs of my telescope tripod. Boo, the stargazing beagle! What next?

…having nothing to do with history. Well, maybe only a little.

• Top Chef. Jennifer Carroll for the win! That chocolate bread pudding with peanut butter sauce sounded delectable, but people—what’s the point of posting a recipe calling for 120 egg yolks and 5 1/2 gallons of heavy cream, which ends up serving 100 people? Cut it down a little. Top Chef website fail.
• Homemade Apple Crostata. The Broadcasting Legend™ brought home a bag of Granny Smith apples by mistake, and so I’ve been baking up a storm. Delicious as a dessert with a scoop of vanilla ice cream, or as a breakfast pastry with a wedge of cheddar cheese. I don’t really follow a recipe—I make piecrust the old-fashioned way (rubbing the butter into the flour by hand) and just mix up the filling as the spirit moves me—sliced apples (skin left on, please), a little lemon juice, a little white sugar and brown sugar, a pinch of salt, a sprinkling of flour to thicken, and of course lots of cinnamon.
• Attention Deficit Theatre. I love Mad Men and these are the best recaps ever. J. Kristin Ament is a hoot and a half.
• And speaking of recaps, History Spork, from Two Historians. This comes with a hat tip to the best agent ever, Diana Fox. Needless to say I love historical movies but I sometimes follow along with commentary much like this. Although I’m nowhere near as funny.
• The Daily Digital. The adventures of my friend Laurie, her husband Philip, and their wonderful beagles. I’m nowhere near as funny as Laurie is, either.

A beautiful dawn this morning. I was up unusually early because Cressie decided to bark and bark and bark—she was bored and wanted someone to play with. So we went out into the back yard together. The sky was just lightening, slate blue shading to gray, with feathery brushstrokes of pink-gold clouds. High over the treetops swam the waning, almost-new moon, the thinnest of silver-gold crescents, with bright Venus glimmering beside it.

Cressie quartered the yard, inspected the fence and garden, sniffed all the delicious early-morning smells and stopped by every few minutes to touch her little muzzle to my leg—“Just checking in, Mama.” I watched the sun come up, and the moon and Venus fade into the light. There is an unsettling combination of delight and sorrow in my life right now, and looking out into the sky helps me keep it all in balance.

That delicate touch of a beagle girl’s muzzle against my leg doesn’t hurt, either.

When one is under stress, what are the two best remedies in the whole wide world?

Beagle ears and chocolate!

I have to give the Broadcasting Legend™ credit. He’s the one who, when asked to “pick up a box of brownie mix,” selected the industrial-size triple-chocolate Ghirardelli bake-for-the-whole-town carton pictured. (It actually contains six normal-sized brownie mixes.)

I hasten to assure everyone that no beagle was actually given anything chocolate to eat in the course of this picture-taking session. A few perfectly healthy Innova kibbles sufficed to get their attention. And the outtakes are hilarious. I do have to share one:

While I was taking pictures of Cressie, poor Boo was on the sidelines, begging his little heart out. Awwwww! (He got some kibbles too.)

I’ve been doing lots of waiting lately. In the meantime, I’ve been:

Writing: The first chapter of my new book. Actually I’ve been doing so much research and planning that I’m only doodling with actual narrative, a line here, a snatch of dialogue there. I’m definitely an outliner and I need a detailed plan with a lot of associated research and background before my stories form themselves into write-down-able words. The upside of this is that once the characters and setting and shape of the story are firmly fixed in what passes for my mind, the words themselves pour out.

Reading: actually re-reading. The World is Not Enough by Zoë Oldenbourg. Originally published in French as Argile et Cendres, translated into English by Willard R. Trask. One of my favorite historical novels of all time.

Also reading: Mary of Guise in Scotland, 1548-1560: A Political Career, by Pamela E. Ritchie. One of those satisfying combinations of reading for research and reading for pleasure.

Cooking: sautéed chicken breasts to be sliced over salads. I think I’ve discovered the secret to perfect tender sautéed chicken breasts: marinate or season to taste, then sauté the presentation side on high heat for three to four minutes, depending on the thickness of the breast. Creates beautiful color. Then reduce heat to low, turn the breast over, cover, and cook the second side twice as long as you did on the first side. Remove from pan and let rest for five minutes or so before slicing.

Eating: well, drinking, actually. A delicious wine sent to me by my friend, mystery writer Dana Fredsti. It’s Chariot’s Gypsy 2007, a blend of Cabernet Sauvignon, Petite Sirah, Zinfandel and Sangiovese from California vineyards. Unfortunately we don’t have Trader Joe’s in Texas, or this would become my co-favorite red wine with Roditis.

Walking: early mornings and late evenings because of the 100° heat. There’s nothing like walking with a beagle or two to take one’s mind off… well… waiting.

Who can resist beagle eyes? This is Boudin, looking up at me with all his beagle power as I look down at him with the camera. Did he get a treat afterward? What do you think? Heh.

I do love beagles of every shape, size and color. But this distresses me:

Ruppy the Transgenic Fluorescent Beagle and his littermates

They’re darling, of course, because all beagle puppies are darling. But will they end up snoozing happily on couches and barking at baby rabbits through front windows? I rather doubt it. Poor little babies.

This morning the Broadcasting Legend™ happened to look out our front window, and this is what he saw among the plantings:

He called the doggies. (Who could resist?) Chaos ensued. It turned out there were actually two bunnies under the bushes. They calmly went on eating our tender new calla lily leaves as the dogs howled their heads off inside and I tried to fight my way to the window to take pictures. We have three or four generations a year of rabbits in our neighborhood, and by now I suspect the “Pay no attention to the man beagle behind the curtain window” gene is bred into them.

A fine start to a gray, stormy Sunday.

The ever-fabulous Diana Fox pointed me to this blog. It has since become one of my daily pleasures. Who wouldn’t love two beagle boys marking their way across the country? With restaurant reviews! Scenery! Music lists! And more bonus beagle pictures!

Fred and Hank Mark America

I only wish they hadn’t had to skip Dallas due to time constraints. Maybe on the next trip Fred and Hank can meet Cressie and Boo!

Cressie has been sulking since I posted the picture of Boo. “Me me me!” she’s been whimpering. “Me too!” So here she is.

There’s a story behind this picture. (Isn’t there always?) As you can see Cressie had collected a tennis ball from somewhere, and to make sure it was safe from predators (those Schnauzers, you know) she took it to her pillow with her when it was time for her afternoon nap.

I thought she was so cute curled up around her tennis ball that I got down on the floor to take a picture. Just then the Broadcasting Legend™ opened the refrigerator door. Both dogs can hear that refrigerator door from anywhere in the house. (Actually, they could probably hear it from down the street.) Her head came up and she put out one paw preparatory to leaping up and running into the kitchen just in case Master dropped a pot roast. Then she froze. I could see her little mental wheels going around. Tennis ball? Pot roast? Tennis ball? Pot roast? I snapped the shot at the last possible moment, because in the next second she was up and gone.

Poor tennis ball. It just didn’t measure up.

Boo sits at our front windows and waits for intruders. This means little girls on bicycles, teenage boys on scooters, frisking squirrels and rabbits in the front yard, and other dogs being walked along the front sidewalk. In our neighborhood that includes Golden Retrievers, Chocolate Labs, a Min-Pin, a magnificent and playful Weimaraner, a Dachshund-Poodle mix named Max (I suggested “Yankee” because as a Dachshund-Poodle he was clearly a Doodle, but for some reason that didn’t fly), and most dangerous of all, the Schnauzer.

Boo barks at all of them. Mostly he’s just chatting. But we always know when the poor woman with the Schnauzer walks by, because Boo goes ballistic. We have no idea why the Schnauzer in particular is The Enemy, but when Boo sees him he flings himself at the window and howls his beagle howl. The Broadcasting Legend™ and I look at each other and say wisely, “Must be the Schnauzer.”

Good thing we have Boo, or we’d be overrun with Schnauzers.

Worm Moon? Who would name a full moon the Worm Moon? And in my birthday month, too.

The reason it’s called the Worm Moon, or so the tale goes, is that in March the ground at last become warm enough to bring earthworms back to the surface, which means robins will return (why didn’t they call it the Robin Moon? Much nicer-sounding) and the earth itself will soon be ready for tilling and planting.

Other names for March’s full moon are Crow Moon, Crust Moon (because the snow would thaw during the day and re-freeze at night, forming an icy crust over the surface, Sap Moon, and Lenten Moon. It’s the last full moon of Winter.

In other news, my revisions are proceeding apace. Both doggies seem to have recovered from their gastroenteritis. It’s (once again) gloomy, rainy, thundery and lightning-y today, but all is not lost—the Broadcasting Legend™ is making bean soup from scratch, with a ham bone and everything. Mmmmmm. Perfect rainy-day food. Tomorrow I’ll post his recipe.

Cressie is long-legged and lanky and when she stands on her hind legs scoping out the kitchen counters she seems about six feet tall. But she can curl up into the tiniest of balls. Where does she put those long bony legs and enormous (sorry, Cress) paws? One of the mysteries of nature.

Here we see her channeling Veronica Lake as she recovers from the gastroenteritis bug her brother Boo so generously shared with her.

She’s better today. I am now ready for everyone in this house to be NOT-SICK. Thank you.

A terribly sick doggie over the weekend. This morning at last he seems to be better. Not sure if it was some kind of bacterial or viral thing, or just some contraband delicacy he came across in the back yard—the vet seemed to be leaning toward a dietary indiscretion because sick as he was, Mr. Boo had no fever. In any case, about six-thirty last night he suddenly got up, stretched, ate food, drank water, and looked around as if to say “What’s all the fuss?” He slept normally through the night with no emergencies. Life chez Loupas can now carry on as usual, I hope.

I watched the Puppy Bowl on Animal Planet. Congratulations to darling beagle girl Matilda, the MVP (Most Valuable Puppy).

Tagged again! This time, it’s Bryn Greenwood’s doing. I really have to learn to run faster. Heh.

All right. Six things that make me happy.

1. My first cup of coffee in the morning. Strong strong coffee with milk. It’s not really lattè because the milk isn’t steamed or foamed, but I call it lattè anyway. So report me to the lattè police.
2. Taking a siesta after lunch. Piling into bed with both doggies and the Broadcasting Legend™ if he’s not on the road and drowsing deliciously through Everyday Italian and Barefoot Contessa on the Food Network.
3. Hugs from little children.
4. Going to church. Singing For All the Saints or one of the other great processionals as the scrubbed acolytes (more little children) and the choir stream into the sanctuary, and almost crying as the sopranos launch into the high, soaring descant on the last verse of the hymn.
5. Flower scents. Real flowers, not perfumes or oils. Lilies of the valley, lilacs, old-fashioned clove pinks. Our English roses—Jude the Obscure, Eglantyne, Winchester Cathedral.
6. Standing in the back yard and looking up at the sky. Picking out the constellations I learned when I was a little girl at the lake. Trying to work my mind around the inconceivable distances.
7. Opening a thick, tantalizing new book to the first page.
8. Reading Algernon Charles Swinburne.

Oh wait. That’s eight. And I haven’t even gotten to chocolate.

Here are seven things that keep me going, day by day, hour by hour. It’s a tough world out there in Hopeful Publishing Land and we all need a little help sometimes.

1. Writing about what I wish I were writing. I just start tip-tapping, stream-of-consciousness style, about what I wish I could write and all of a sudden I realize—surprise!—I can write it. I want to write it. I probably am writing it.
2. Taking a shower. I always have great ideas in the shower. As a bonus, I get extra-clean. Sometimes I get wrinkly.
3. Walking while talking to myself. Or maybe it’s talking to myself while walking. In either case I take one of the dogs so I can pretend I’m talking to the dog.
4. Cleaning. The grittier, dirtier, and more mindless, the better. I think, “I could be writing instead of doing this.” Pretty soon I am.
5. My writing talisman. It’s a chunk of llanite from the Llano Uplift. Yours could be a lucky hat, a statuette, special pen, a piece of jewelry, an artifact from a historical era. The more you associate it with your writing, the more it will encourage your writing. Really.
6. Plants. Fill your writing space with as many plants as you can fit in. They clean the air, and cleaner air means a clearer head. You can talk to them, too, if you don’t have a dog. Even if you do have a dog.
7. Laughter. Find something that will always make you laugh. I like Cute Overload. Laugh good and hard, until your belly hurts. It truly loosens up all those impacted words you’ve been wanting to write but haven’t been able to.

What are your writing tricks? Enquiring minds want to know!

I’ll write about my dogs from time to time, I’m sure, so I’ll introduce them now:

On the left, Boudin, so named because he is a Cajun doggie adopted through a Houston rescue organization. And of course food products always make good names for beagles. On the right, Cressie, also a rescue, a native of Canada.

My book features two “pocket beagles” (a gift to the new Duchess Barbara from Elizabeth Queen of England) named Tristo and Isa, who are based on my own beagles.