Bruce Campbell's Book

I was just looking around to find addresses for talk shows. I found this on the Larry King site -- it's from his "Book Corner":

"3.) If Chins Could Kill
By Bruce Campbell,
Publisher: St. Martin's Press, July 2002

Campbell is the ultimate self-described "B" actor with loyal fans who follow him through his struggles in the acting world. His sarcastic sense of humor makes you beg for more!"

Pretty cool. Good for him! It can't be bad for Larry King to favorably review your book and recommend it. Eric is reading the book right now -- I'm still working on the Stephen King On Writing book.

Koosh

Koosh's toe is fine. Well, aside from the nail being gone. He's hopping around as usual. The toe doesn't seem to bother him at all -- even when I touch it.

The New York Post

Julia Szabo, pet columnist for The New York Post, is running a piece on ferrets this Sunday. She talked to Tama Janowitz and asked us to send a picture of the cover (since the issue is not yet in print). So that's exciting. Julia Szabo has her own book coming out in September called Animal House Style. There's a picture of Knuks and a picture of Trixie in the book. We're running a blurb about the book in the next issue.

The Escape

Eric lets out the ferrets after putting up the gate by the front door. I sit down to do payroll taxes (heh -- you actually need payroll to pay payroll taxes, so I'm just filling out lots of plain old zeros). Suddenly I realize that the gate by the kitchen is not in place. The plumber had been here and we took down all the gates so he could walk through the house easily.

Panic.

Shouting.

I put up the gate by the kitchen and continue shouting. Eric comes downstairs and I (somehow) manage to tell him what happened. I grab a squeaky toy. Three of the four ferrets who were out are AWOL (Balthazar was either too dopey or too smart to leave). Eric catches Gabby trying to go under a cabinet in the kitchen. This is a rental house and it's put together like shit. Gaps and holes all over the place. One down.

I look in the bathroom -- nothing. The mail order room (God help us if there's a ferret in there -- there're tons of boxes) -- nothing. The bedroom -- aha! Trixie sniffing by the closet. I hand her off to Eric in the kitchen. Two down.

Shouting, "Koosh! Koosh-Koosh!" Squeaking. Nothing. They hadn't been out long, so they couldn't have gone far. (Famous last words.) I try the bedroom again, squeaking, shouting. Then I get smart. I fall silent so I can hear the inevitable ferret rustling. I hear it. There's a very fluffy tail over by Eric's boots. Three down.

Now, of course, all the escapees are obsessed with the doorway into the kitchen. Koosh won't give up. Which brings us to ...

The Second Horror Story

I pick up Koosh to cuddle him and kiss him and tell him that I'm so glad he's okay. That's when I notice something missing. He tore off (completely) a toenail. Not today. The toe has already scabbed. Maybe yesterday. We were taking pictures of him on Wednesday evening, so he had the nail then. We had clipped nails on Tuesday, so he definitely had the nail then. It's very obviously missing, so I know one of us would have noticed the toenail missing when we were taking pictures.

Now I feel doubly horrible. Poor little Koosh. He's acting fine, but it must smart something terrible. We're going to take him to the vet tomorrow just to make sure he's okay.

This is all just to say: DO NOT follow my example. Apparently, I preach better than I practice.

I sure hope bad ferret stuff doesn't come in threes.

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“Brown-Eyed Girl”

For some reason they decided that “makin’ love in the green grass behind the stadium” is too risqué for radio. What? I know, this happened a few years ago. They released a version of the Van Morrison song with “laughin’ and a-runnin’, hey, hey, behind the stadium” instead of the “makin’ love” line. I don’t know why. They’d been playing the song on radio the original way for years (and years) and no one complained. I don’t know what spurred the change.

Today I was listening to a radio station in the car. It’s not my favorite, but it’s a rock station and it’s on one of the presets, so I happened upon it while going to or from the bank -- I forget which -- and “Brown-Eyed Girl” started. I figured it would be the original version (the correct version), seeing as it was this rock station and all. I was totally disappointed (and lost some respect for the station) when the time for the line came up and ... wrong line. This was the radio station I listened to in high school. It was a cool station. I guess it is now, too. Except for the dweeby DJ who cued the wrong version of the song.

Later on a New York City oldies station (which is also preset on the car radio -- wanna make something of it?), I happened upon the same song -- with the right lyrics.

I’ll stop right there.

Big Fish

We got a fish the other night at Wal-Mart. A big fish. It's a body pillow, really. And it's not actually a fish, it's a dolphin (dolphins are mammals, if I remember correctly). For $5 we couldn't leave it at the store. The ferrets love it! They climb on it and push it off the couch. They also hide behind it (Trixie uses it to conceal her chewing on the stupid little decorative buttons on the couch). I'm going to try to post a picture of it here. We'll see how it works ...

I did it! That's Koosh (angora) and Cauliflower (albino) playing with the big fish.

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Tama Janowitz

As I mentioned in my July 1 post, Tama Janowitz wrote an article for our next issue. Today we went to her apartment to do some final photography.
This is Tama with her ferret Scamper ...

Mole and Rat (her two other ferrets -- named by her young daughter) were not very cooperative photo subjects. Rat refused to be found (he was sleeping) and Mole refused to sit still. Though we did get some great shots of Mole giving Tama kisses. That book there is Tama's first foray into children's book writing. She said it was harder than writing for adults because the editor fretted over every word. I guess you have to make sure the kids can actually read it. Anyone who has read my Ferretted Fairy-Tails knows that I have a tendency to write over kids' heads. I don't mean to, but since I don't have kids I lose track.

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Hello...

Today I became an aunt again. My sister Kristin had another boy -- Andrew Russell. She's going to have her hands full with two boys.

... & Good-Bye

The other day we heard news that my Great Uncle Karel in Czechoslovakia died. He was 86. I'll have to write about him a bit. I wish I could do it now, but I'd rather wait until I have the time to do him justice. He was a carpenter -- an artist. I feel fortunate that he built a bookcase and an armoire for me on one of his visits here to the States.

I've added a link to my previous journal on the left.

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The credit card processing terminal finally showed up. I'd be thrilled, but it seems like a stupid thing to be thrilled about.

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Trixie is better. Eric's sneakers are safe ... for now.

Remember how I said that our credit card processing company was sending us a new terminal and printer? The printer arrived today -- but no terminal. They didn’t even have an answer. They’re “researching” it. I’m supposed to call again tomorrow to sit on hold and wait a l-o-n-g time again to be lied to again. I don’t understand why they couldn’t have just told us it would take forever to get the equipment from them. Oh, yeah... that’d be like admitting that they’re incompetent.

People suck.

No, not you. Other people.

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On a more positive note, I’m zooming along with the litter training book. At least something is going well enough.

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Possession is nine-tenths ...

Trixie is possessed. This happens from time to time. We’re not sure if it’s hormones, demonic possession, or the alignment of the planets. She decides that Eric’s sneakers must die. She will not be persuaded otherwise. Not by Bitter Apple. Not by scolding. Not by bribery. Not treats nor time-outs nor diversions. She has her mission. She will not waver.

Eventually she returns to her usually cuddly Trixie self. The demon tires of smelling like a ferret or being dragged around by Koosh. The planets move to a different position. Eric’s sneaker returns to being just a sneaker.

Friday night and I'm here watching ferrets go 'round. This used to be about the time that I would go out to clubs. Weird. Getting older.

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We haven't gotten much accomplished over the last couple of days. We got to fight with our credit card processing company until they actually sent us a new terminal. Well, we have the tracking number and Airborne says the package will arrive Monday. I won't hold my breath. What does "no va" mean in Spanish?

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I'm scanning through the ferret items on eBay. I do that from time to time. Just to see if there's anything interesting. We were supposed to put up some prints tonight. Oh well. We found some great frames that work better than the previous ones we were using.

Wow -- there's a VW on eBay. It's a German military vehicle designed in the 1970s. A replacement for the Thing. (Tangent: I remember the TV ads for the VW Thing. They'd have it painted all sorts of odd colors and patterns. I remember the polka-dots.) It's called an iltis, which apparently means "ferret" in German. (Another Tangent: Sometimes I come across people who I expect will make negative comments about ferrets. One such person is my Aunt Helen's friend's husband, Werner. Werner is an interesting character in many ways. Werner is German. I was pleasantly surprised that he not only knew what ferrets are, but also said he remembered people hunting with them when he was in Germany. He remembered them as being smart and friendly.) So this VW Iltis is at $7,199.99 right now. I think I'll pass on the bidding.

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What was the point of coming here and writing tonight?

The other morning we went to a sort of antiques flea market with Eric's Mom and Stepdad. Seeing all the little trinkets and cartoon images made partial memories surface. I didn't even get around to watching all the people -- I just stared at table after table of ... well ... junk, for the most part. But colors (especially) and the smell of moth balls threw me back into the 1960s. The older stuff didn't move me so. I was helpless to stop it. Even when I did look up from the tables, the people looked like throw-backs, too. But I think that was just my mood -- the place where I was that morning. It was early and I hadn't slept much the night before. Lack of sleep makes everything surreal. Or "super-real," like unfiltered video (watch a soap opera).

Today everything's mostly back to normal.

I’ve started reading On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft by Stephen King. Yeah, Stephen King. I can’t read his novels -- they’re too scary. I read Misery and it was several years before the image of the guy’s foot being chopped off faded from my mind enough that I didn’t involuntarily shudder every time I happened to think of it. Mr. King is nothing if not effective. I admire him. I just can’t read his writing. That’s one of the reasons I figured it might be nice to read On Writing. I figured, How bad could it be if it’s about writing? Now I have the image of a young Stevie King having his ear canal drained with the help of a long needle. I can even smell the rubbing alcohol. No safe harbors with Mr. King. But this is why I don’t normally read his writing: He’s too good at what he does.

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We keep getting huge moths in the house. I don’t know where they’re coming from. We don’t open the doors all that much, which makes me think they must be living somewhere in the house. A very troubling thought. I am disturbed by fluttering, flapping things. When I was a young-ish teenager we had some moth problems in our house. I used to kill the moths with a yardstick, so I never had to be closer than three feet. My aim became very good. Now Eric and I take turns killing the errant moths with empty envelope boxes.

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Koosh ate a bug the other night. I saw him eating something and wasn’t sure what it was. Ferrets eat inappropriate things; it’s evolution. So I lifted him up and gently pushed my fingers between his jaws. He readily opened his mouth to reveal one of those little long black beetle things. I almost touched it as it lay there on his tongue. I thought a moment and then realized what it was. Horrified, I put Koosh down and let him finish the job. As long as it wasn’t some inanimate object that might make him sick. It was an animate object that his eating made me sick. That is all right. I wonder how many bugs I don’t see the ferrets eating. Perhaps I’d rather not know.

Hey, we've updated our Ferret Trading Post Website. We've added Path Valley Ferret Formula. I've also had to remove the "What's Your Color?" Print because it is sold out.

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We're working on our next issue (#31). Very exciting stuff. We've got this great story from best-selling author Tama Janowitz, who loves her ferrets (and their aroma!). It's very cool (& a little surreal) to be able to talk to a writer you remember reading about when you were just out of college.

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It's summer in New York. Hazy, hot, humid ... horrible. How did people live before air conditioning? Though I suppose back then the air was a bit cleaner so pollution didn't keep the hot air closer to the earth. There weren't poor air quality days caused by pollution. The ozone layer was less depleted. I guess that's how people lived before air conditioning. Ironic how things like air conditioning contribute to the need for things like air conditioning.

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Back to that Bruce Campbell book signing last week. It was great! It was his birthday. We gave him a signed copy of The Wit & Wisdom of the Modern Ferrets. Maybe he'll read it. Maybe not. But at least we brought a gift (we didn't even know it was his birthday). Bruce is very quick with a good story in response to audience questions. Very amusing. Very likable. I suppose it helps to be a fan, though. I hope his book does well.