Guest Interview of Gale Laure

        Guest Interview of Gale Laure

Screenwriter and international bestselling Author of Evolution of a Sad Woman  (978-1-4251-2730-5), an international selling trade paperback, kindle and ebook and the soon to be released, The Bunkhouse (2013). 

Q) If you were to do it all over again, would you change anything in your latest book?

A) Not a thing.  However, I am thinking of releasing a revised copy of Evolution of a Sad Woman which would contain another clue.

 Q) Who is your favorite author, and what really stikes you about their work?

A) Agatha Christi.  I love the way she takes clues, puts them in plain sight and yet the reader does not always see them.

Q) Do your fictional characters develop on their own, or do you have ther lives planned out in advance?

    

A)   My books are put into my head by God.  I pray, go to sleep and wake up with an entire story and all its' characters in my head. 

Q)Tell us about your all-time favorite character (of your creating.) Is he/she modeled after a real person?

A) My favorite character is Kizzy from Evolution of a Sad Woman.  I love her because she is simple and yet so complicated---as readers will see in the sequels.  Her passion is her strength and her weakness.  I have been asked repeatedly in interviews if she is real.  (winks) I will never tell.

Q) What's the biggest challenge you've faced in writing?

A) The marketing.  You have to do book signings, appearances, interviews, social media.  Whew!  It wears me out.  I would be completely happy if I could just write.

Q) Do you have a "must see" destination on your bucket list?

A) Yes. Europe.  I want to visit the U.K., France, Italy, all over Europe.  Of course, I want my wonderful husband to be with me to enjoy every historical and romantic spot. We love history, art galleries and scenic locations.

Q) What's your next project and when will we likely see the end results?

    

A) Currently I am writing the screenplay for my novel, Evolution of a Sad Woman.  It has been a very difficult task for me.  It is more like "fill in the blank" than novel writing.  I have a movie Director waiting for the screenplay to take to his producers.  I am not sure how long the movie process takes.

     I have also finished writing my next book, The Bunkhouse.  It may be out in 2013.  I still need to edit it. It is a historical, mystery, suspense, thriller, romance with a sci-fi twist.  Several characters fromEvolution of a Sad Woman make a cameo appearance in it.  They are involved in a little it of mystery.  I enjoy carrying my characters over from book to book.  I think fans of Evolution of a Sad Womanwill love it.  I think sci-fi fans will find it interesting. I am not big into sci-fi, but my husband is a big fan.  I wrote it for him.

Thank you so much, Robert Landry, for having me as a guest on you webpage and doing this interview with me.  I enjoyed it.   Gale Laure, Author of Evolution of a Sad Woman (978-1-4251-2730-5) availabe on Amazon, Barnes and Noble and fine bookstore worldwide as a trade paperback, ebook, Kindle and Nook.

From Robert: Thank you Gale for taking the time out to do this interview. And for all my readers who love a good murder mystery, please check this one out. It has an awesome ending that will really get to you. For more info see the links below. I for one, am anxiously awaiting Gale's next book to hit the stands.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V0vUsn6zerw

http://www.amazon.com/Evolution-Sad-Woman-Story-ebook/dp/B001L5T21G

http://www.galelaure.com/

The Juggler

The Juggler

  When I was a kid, I watched my brother juggle three balls in the air with relative ease. I tried it, but never could master the technique. I’m just not coordinated that way, I guess. But as an adult, I often had to juggle many things at the same time. Sometimes the situation seemed hopeless. You would give your attention to one thing only for a moment and something else would show up. So you tossed that first one up in the air to focus on the current one. And then along comes something else. And so it goes. Such is life in modern times. It seems like, sometimes, that you’re trying to juggle fifty things at the same time. Some of us are better at this  than others. Some people get flustered if they have more than one thing at a time demanding their attention, and they end up not taking care of business as they should. Instead they whine and try to get someone else to take care of it for them. I’ve never been one of those kinds of people. I’d rather handle it myself than to ask for help.

  Lately, I’ve been trying to juggle way too many things at one time. There have been so many different things and people demanding my attention that I’ve had to constantly juggle things around. The end result is that no one thing is getting very much of my undivided attention. As most of you know, I’ve been the main one responsible for taking my mother to doctor’s appointments, the grocery store, out to eat occasionally, to the post office, etc. Then my father had a stroke and I’ve been the main one taking care of him. At the same time, I started writing in earnest, which is something I’ve always wanted to try my hand at. Writing is time consuming in and of itself. To get a body of work done it takes concentration, calm surroundings, and focus so those creative juices can flow. Then, once you get something published, you have to expend a lot of time and effort to promote your work if you want to get it noticed by anyone. So you twitter, blog, get on social media and yell to the rooftops that you have a book out there that people might want to read. All of that takes lots and lots of time. Then there are family and spousal obligations that won't be denied no matter what you have going on. Holiday get-togethers, birthdays, parties, projects, etc. demand a certain amount of your time and simply can't be avoided.

  So here I am for the past three years trying to juggle all this stuff. But when a juggler drops one of those balls he has in the air, he tries to ignore it and keep going. But the whole time, in the back of his mind, is the fact that one of those balls is laying on the ground over there when it should be up in the air with the rest of them. Sooner or later another one hits the ground because he’s taken his attention, just for a second, off the ones in the air to look over there at the one laying on the ground. Finally, in frustration, the juggler gives up and all the balls hit the ground. He could go back over there immediately and pick them up and get them all back in the air again. But he’s been juggling them for so long it feels pretty good to just let them lay where they are for a while. 

  For the last three or four weeks, that’s exactly what has happened to me. Well really, the first ball that dropped happened a while back. I quit taking care of Mom and had to leave that for my sister to handle. But it was the one thing that was distracting me from the rest of my responsibilities, and it didn’t help that from time to time she would call me and remind me about how long it’s been since she has seen me. Or complain because she would rather go to the grocery store with me rather than anyone else. Lately, everything has hit the ground. I quit writing. I quit going to twitter. I quit trying to write articles to keep my blog current. I quit trying to promote my books. I haven’t even responded to emails that friends have sent me. I have to take care of dad. And on the weekends when I do get to go home to my wife, I have to work like a dog to catch up on all the things I need to do around there. But that’s been it for the last three or four weeks. And it has felt good not to have so many things going on at once. But it also comes with a price. For every day you don’t go over there and pick up those balls lying in the corner, a sense of guilt starts to build up. And then it eats at you. You try to fight it or shrug it off by reminding yourself about how good it feels not to have so many things you need to do at once. But it doesn’t go away. And it gets worse. You finally have to admit that no one else is going to pick up those blasted balls and juggle them for you. So you pick up one of them and toss it in the air. This is me, picking up that first ball.

Let's Go Visit The Doctor

Let’s Go Visit the Doctor

  I hate going to the doctor. I hate hospitals even worse, but that’s another story. I’m getting old, or am old depending on your point of view. So visits to the doctor are becoming more and more frequent as time goes on. But most of my visits to the doctor aren’t for me. I have had to take my mother to the doctor often and my father even more so on a regular basis. Both my parents are in their mid-eighties. And judging from their quality of life, it’s not a place I really want to be. Anyway, I’m old enough to remember times when the family doctor would still make “house calls”. When I had my tonsils out, I had a hemorrhaging problem and the Doc came to the house to check me out. I ended up in the hospital the very next morning. I remember that the doctor was the same one who delivered most of us, and he genuinely seemed to care about our health. Granted, medical science was still a long way from what it is today, and what he could do was limited. But he did his best to fix or cure what ailed us.

  Nowadays, we all know the routine when it comes to doctor visits. They don’t come see you. You have to go see them. My doctor charges $75 for me to just walk into one of his little rooms whether he actually does anything for me or not. Then when you get there at your appointed time, you discover that fifty other people have the same appointment time as you. So you all get to wait in a crowded waiting area with quite a few folks that are obviously sick and spreading germs all over the place. While you’re waiting, you notice a parade of handsomely dressed women in high heels coming in to the waiting room and being let in to the office area by the receptionist. They all are dragging one of those little suitcases on wheels behind them. Yep, drug company reps with the latest samples they want your doctor to push on to you. And did you know that your doctor gets “perks” like free vacations to Hawaii and such if he writes X number of prescriptions for the latest wonder drug for the newly made up “disease”? So now your appointment was for 9:00 o’clock a.m. and you’ve been sitting there for over an hour and a half past that when your name is finally called. You feel like you just won the lottery and jump up eager to put down a year old issue of People magazine, that you weren’t really reading anyway, and get this over with.

  But it ain’t over yet. You get to go sit in a little isolation chamber while a nurse weighs, pokes, and prods you like you were some prized Herford that was coming up for auction, and then proceeds to ask you a bunch of questions that you just had to answer on a form while you were sitting out in the waiting area. You’re sitting there wondering why couldn’t you have just brought the form in here and handed it to her. After all, she seems to be the one who really needed to know all this stuff in the first place. But you don’t say anything because you don’t want to risk slowing the process down any further. The nurse leaves out of the room and you’re left alone. No old magazines in here, so you stare at the skeletal chart on the wall and wonder if your insides really look anything like that. As you sit there listening to torture sounds coming from some of the adjoining rooms, you start to think that when the President said it was okay for waterboarding that maybe your doctor decided to get into the act right along with the CIA. After all he’s been in the torture business a lot longer than they have. You start to wonder if maybe you’re next and begin to strain your ears to figure out just what really is going on over there. You would think that they would pipe in some elevator music or something in here to calm your nerves and mask those screams and pitiful crying of poor little children who are obviously being abused not twenty feet away from where you’re sitting. By the time your doctor finally does pop into the room, you’re bored, need to pee really bad, and more than just a little spooked.

  Your doctor has to look at your chart to see what your name is because he doesn’t remember you from the last time you were here, and he needs to get an idea of why you’re here taking up his valuable time. He then proceeds to ask you some of the same questions that the nurse asked you earlier and that you had to answer on that stupid form. Once the interrogation is over, he gets around to asking why you’re here today. You cautiously explain to him what’s going on with you, and he half-heartedly listens nodding his head at seemingly appropriate times while scribbling something down on your chart that only a team of highly trained cryptographers could interpret. You can usually tell that his mind is really a million miles away or perhaps thinking about that Hawaii vacation while you chatter on about how much it hurts and wonder what could possibly have caused this in the first place. The doctor, as you may not realize, doesn’t really care about the cause and, heaven forbid, a cure. It may even be that a previous medication he had prescribed for you is the cause of your current ailment. He is just doing what the NSA does when they monitor your phone calls. He listens for key words and, when he hears them, he nods his head and writes you a prescription again using that encryption that no ordinary human being could read. This prescription is for the latest wonder drug that is not going to cure anything but just may mask the symptoms you’re having temporarily until your body becomes immune to it. Meanwhile it too will come with certain side effects that will guarantee you a return visit to the doctor’s office where you get to repeat the whole torture process all over again. After writing the prescription, he’s gone in a flash on to the next victim…I mean patient…and you are completely forgotten until the next time you can spare $75 for a visit and waste half your day sitting around in a germ filled waiting room, and then get to pay even more for some new wonder drug that at least might earn someone a trip to Hawaii.

  If you’re like my parents and my wife that passed away, after you’ve repeated this process several times you find yourself taking two handfuls of meds every day and still wonder why your digestive system is all messed up and you don’t feel any better than you did before all this craziness started. Such is the state of modern medicine. Doctors have become drug pushers for big pharmaceutical companies and you have become guinea pigs in their gigantic chemistry experiment that is making them richer than King Midas. A side benefit to all this is that five years after these new wonder drugs come out, cheesy lawyers get to start a feeding frenzy over suing big pharmaceutical companies for the consequences their drugs have caused. The big drug companies aren’t bothered by this. They’ve gotten so rich off of their poison already that the fines are just chump change to them. They pay it and move on to the next drug they can push on to doctors and you. It’s a vicious cycle that has nothing to do with your health or wellbeing. Knowing this, needless to say, I avoid going to the doctor as much as possible. And I have flat told him I’m not taking certain drugs no matter what. Fear of dying is not one of my ailments. Fear of getting old and unable to enjoy life is. So, I for one, think it is way better to just eat as healthy as you can and live life to the fullest while you can and let nature take its course.

On a Spring Day

                                         On a Spring Day

  On a spring day, just like today, I once drove my convertible with the top down winding through beautiful hills breathing in the freedom and promise of a new year. I happily waved at passerby’s that were doing the same as I. We were a happy band of refugees who had long since tired of winter’s siege and rejoiced like the trees putting out fresh buds their sap quickening through stiff branches. On a spring day, just like today, I once strolled down a long beach delighting in the flight and cry of gulls feeling the icy water try to run up my bared feet and legs as I carried my shoes in my hand and marveled at the warmth of the sun on my cheek. 

On a spring day, just like today, I once walked the steep path up the side of a mountain breathing in deep the rare clean air, and then lay upon a huge flat rock overlooking a majestic valley and made love to a beautiful woman. On a spring day, just like today, I laid out in my yard amid the fresh green clover chewing on a long stem of grass and watched my baby girl picking flowers and delighted in her constant chatter that didn’t sound much different than the birds and squirrels going about their business. On a spring day, just like today, I saw my son playing in the yard with his friends and, as they walked off towards one of the other boy’s house, he looked over his shoulder and smiled at me and, in that moment, I saw the man he would become. 

On a spring day, just like today, I tilled the ground and made rows in the dirt feeling the soft earth beneath my bare feet and planted seeds of promise already tasting their goodness in my mouth as I dropped each one in its place. 

On a spring day, just like today, I sat out on my front porch drinking coffee watching the birds playing amid the new leaves, and as I listened to my wife talking about mundane things I felt so much joy stirring within me just for the privilege of being there by her side. On a spring day, today, I came home from grocery shopping delighting in the bright sunshine on a cloudless day and pulled in to the driveway as a not so timid dear walked out of the woods and meandered for a while on the front lawn. I sat quietly in the car until the dear disappeared back into the woods. A strange feeling came over me, and I realized that there wouldn’t be too many more spring days like today. On a spring day, just like today, I often remember thinking that the world would go on forever and so would my legacy through the friendship and love I have set in motion sending it forward through the ages. Six generations from now no one will remember my name, but it is my prayer that they too will experience spring days, just like today, and marvel at the wonder of it all.

Long Way Home

Taking the Long Way Home

  I must confess that somehow, somewhere in my ancestry, which is mostly French, there must have been some Gypsy blood mixed in there. Who knows how far back it may have been. But I have a sneaking suspicion it comes from both sides of my family. My mother was born and raised in Eudora, Arkansas and my father in Breaux Bridge, Louisiana. They both ended up in Port Arthur, Texas in a time when most people never traveled very far from the places where they were born. Not all the members of my family inherited this trait. Some of them hate to travel and remain within a few miles of the place where they were born. But the rest of us have been here and there all over the country. I ran from Southeast Texas as soon as I got the chance. But family keeps pulling me back here even though I would be much happier living somewhere else – at least for a while.  I love to travel to new places and just explore. If I’m in one place too long, I get restless. Itchy feet. I start feeling like a lion in a small cage. I start pacing and staring out the door wishing for the freedom to just go where I want to go. Sometimes when I’m going down the highway, I get this almost uncontrollable urge to just keep on going. I don’t have a destination in mind. Just an urge to point my car towards the horizon and go where it takes me. I even find myself enjoying hurricane evacuations because it gives me an excuse to go somewhere different. And I don’t get in any hurry to come back when the storm has passed. The last evacuation we had, I and most of my family ended up in Pensacola, Florida. The storm was headed directly into the Texas Gulf coast between Houston and Port Arthur, so we decided east was the better direction to head while everyone else was headed west.

  The first morning in Pensacola, I woke early before everyone else who were all exhausted from the late night trip. I couldn’t sleep and was up at 5 o’clock in the morning. I sneaked out of the motel room and went exploring. I drove all over Pensacola just exploring and getting my bearings. I had looked at the map on my laptop before I left, so I was sure I could find my way around without getting lost. I have a good sense of direction which comes in handy at times. Anyway, about three hours later I returned to the motel just when everyone else was starting to stir. My granddaughter said she needed to go to a Wal-Mart and the others wanted to see the sights and go to the beach. They also suggested we find a good restaurant for lunch. I told them no problem, just follow me. I already knew where the Wal-Mart was located as well as Target and a shopping mall. I also had discovered a nice looking seafood restaurant that we should try. And I knew the way to the beach. Everyone looked at me like I was psychic or something. And they wanted to know how I had found all this without getting lost. I just shrugged and said it’s what I do. It’s what I’ve always done when I get to a new place. When I was younger I used to go to Houston and just ride around. Sometimes I would get a little turned around or not know exactly where I needed to go to get to a certain place. But Houston is easy. You just pick a direction and keep going until you hit one of the loops that go all the way around it then it’s easy to find your way from there. Being lost doesn’t frighten me at all. In fact I kind of enjoy the feeling and it becomes a challenge for me to find my way again.

  Often when I’m going somewhere in my car, I’m in a hurry to get where I’m going. So I take the shortest path to get there. But coming home, I often go the long way around, just to be seeing something different than what I had to look at on the way there. In life, too many of us are in such a hurry to get somewhere that we always travel the shortest path possible. We’re always in a hurry for Friday to get here or our next birthday, or graduation day, or wedding day, or etc. etc. etc. We are busy wishing our lives away. I know some that are anxiously waiting for doomsday because they are in a hurry to “go home”. Not me. I prefer to take the long way home and fully intend to enjoy every minute of the trip.

Alternate Universes

Alternate Universes

  I’ve been watching all the old episodes of Fringe lately and it has me thinking about alternate universes. For one thing, I think I want to go live in the Fringe alternate universe because gas there is only $0.99 per gallon. Wouldn’t that be awesome? And instead of jet planes, they fly around in great big dirigibles like the Hindenburg. A leisurely flight in one of those may take longer to get from point A to point B, but it sure would be more relaxing. And you could get a better look at the scenery below you as you floated majestically overhead.  I know Fringe is just some very interesting science fiction. And for the most part, speculation about alternate universes is not much more than that. Scientists admit the possibility of alternate universes, but they don’t go much further than that. It’s only a mathematical possibility, a curiosity, but hardly more than a blip on the radar. After all, they are still trying to figure out what makes this universe tick. That’s plenty enough to keep them busy without having to throw other universes into the mix.

  But if there are an infinite number of universes out there and there are an infinite number of Earth’s just like ours but only slightly different – kind of like in the old sci-fi series called “Sliders”, then I wonder how many of Me’s there are out there sitting at a computer right this very moment pecking away at a keyboard wondering about the other Me’s out there. How many of them actually ran away from home when they were kids like I always wanted to do. And how many of them didn’t because they felt responsible for the safety of their brothers and sister. How many chose to go to college and because of it watched in horror as their first marriage came apart? How many didn’t and stayed happily married to the same person all those years?

  If you could bounce from one universe to the other, would you? Wouldn’t it be a lifetime of interest just to go from world to world and check in on Yourself over there and see what You were up to? To see how “You” turned out. Would you be jealous of the You that somehow took a different path and turned out to be rich and famous? Or of the You that did save his first marriage and lived happily ever after with his wife and kids? Would you feel sorry for the You who ended up homeless and alone with a bottle of booze his only friend? Or would you just be disappointed in him that he didn’t make better choices in his life?

   After years of studying all the various You’s on all the various Earths do you think it would give you a better perspective on the consequences of free will and every single little choice you make all throughout your life? How could it not? Do you need to make such a voyage before you start to see the magnitude of your dilemma? Or can you already begin to see that from the moment you wake up each day every little seeming insignificant choice you make has specific consequences not only for your life but for every other life that you ever come into contact with? And people are always asking what the meaning of life is. Shouldn’t it be apparent that life is all about making choices? And can you not see that if alternate universes do exist and there are an infinite number of each of us, then the whole thing is one gigantic experiment to not only see what the consequences would be of each and every one of your choices that you did make but also each and every choice it was possible for you to make at every moment in your life. In each of those worlds you could see the results of every choice you could have made differently from the ones you made here. Then multiply that by each one of us making choices as we interact with one another and it becomes completely mind boggling.

  Now imagine that you were above it all outside of space and time sitting in your recliner observing all of it – all the different choices in all the infinite number of cases. Do you imagine that there would be any need for you to stick your hand down there and interfere with someone’s choice – just to change the outcome? Why would you? After all, somewhere among the infinite number of You’s one of You at least is making the desired choice already.  If the goal was to tweak the system and get a single desired result, then what would be the point of multiple universes in the first place? Wouldn’t it be easier just to micromanage one? And if you had to micromanage it, what would be the point of creating the one in the first place allowing us to have free will and to make choices? Wouldn’t you just create the end result you so desired and be done with it?

  I know what some of you are thinking. There is no outside observer and all of this is a result of random chance. And that our choices have no ultimate consequences. That may be true, but somehow I doubt it. That would make everything – you, me, the universe, and perhaps the multiverse a very wasteful and futile proposition. And I know for a fact that every single little choice I’ve made throughout my entire life has had consequences. Some of which have echoed not only through my life but through everyone I’ve had dealings with. And those consequences will continue to reverberate down through the generations of my children, grandchildren and on and on from now until the end of time. Now am I saying that an outside observer will sit and judge the choices I made in this life? No I’m not. After all, out of all the possible choices I could have made if there was only one correct choice, then 99 percent of all the infinite number of Me’s would be condemned for making the “wrong” choice. Again a very wasteful system indeed if your goal all along was to achieve perfection. So perhaps the goal is not to achieve perfection. Perhaps the goal is simply to experience making choices. And not in some cold, logical, scientific manner. Giving us emotions so that we might feel the results of our choices may have more to do with what this grand experiment is all about. So when you get up tomorrow morning, just maybe you should be a little bit more mindful of each and every choice you make. And not only that, but set aside a little time once in a while to just contemplate and examine what you were feeling at the time when you made them and how you feel now knowing what the consequences have been of your past choices. After all, like Walter Bishop always says on Fringe, "When you open your mind to the impossible, sometimes you find the truth."

Good Morning Lizard

Good Morning Lizard

  My dad leaves the light on in the kitchen above the sink day and night. He doesn’t like to get up in the middle of the night to get a drink of water or a snack and have to look for the light switch. So the light stays on. There is also a window right above the sink looking out into the back yard. It’s the only window in the house where the blinds stay open all the time. When I get up in the morning, the first thing I do is go run some water to make my coffee. Every morning I look up and there he is. My good morning lizard is always there on the screen looking at me serenely. I guess he’s discovered that this is a good hunting ground for all the insects at night that are attracted to the light. He looks fat and happy. I always tell him good morning and wonder if he can see me or hear me from out there. Or am I just some shadowy blur to him like a passing cloud in the sky? Does he know I’m there and regarding him just as curiously as he seems to be regarding me? Or is he just thinking that he sure wishes he could get in there and wrap his quick tongue around that big fat tasty looking bug? Does he even think at all? Or does he simply react to outside stimuli? Lizards don’t have big brains. It is said that their only reaction to everything, if it has one at all, is limited to the following…eat, attack, run away, or mate. 

  Did you know that the part of our brain right above our spinal column is often referred to as the “Lizard Brain”? It is thought to be responsible for those same reactions in us. It tells us when we need to eat, attack, run away, or mate. If so, my lizard brain doesn’t always seem to function as it should. I often eat when I’m not really hungry. Sometimes I’m just bored or I start craving something even though I just ate an hour ago. The part that’s supposed to tell my when to attack or run away is a little confused these days too. It knows I can’t run anymore, but also knows that attacking is not a very good option either. And as far as mating…well let’s just say that part never did have good timing and leave it at that. So I guess it’s a good thing that my brain comes equipped with pieces that have “higher functions”. Or put another way, the part of my brain sitting on top of the lizard brain had to take over a long time ago. It was a bloodless coup, but I’m sure it came just in time and was completely necessary. Otherwise, I probably wouldn’t be here right now. If it hadn’t, I would probably have been stomped into paste and been lizard food long ago. Or worse, some other bigger stronger lizard might have mated with me out of season and lord knows I wouldn’t want that to happen.

  But somehow, I think my good morning lizard does have more thoughts running through its tiny brain than just those few things. I tend to think he’s smarter than your average lizard. I mean after all, he’s the only one that thought about climbing up there on our window and eating all those juicy bugs. And he seems to hang around just long enough each day to hear me say good morning, and then he’s off doing whatever lizards do during the day. Since he seems to be working the night shift, I assume he’s got a nice comfy bed somewhere and a sweet lizard wife to tuck him in each morning. When you think about it, it’s not such a bad life being a lizard. Eat bugs all night, say good morning to the strange human thing in the window then go home for a little mating and get tucked into bed all cozy to drift off and perhaps dream about big fat juicy good morning bugs. You could make a strong case for the human race being a lot better off if we had just stuck with our lizard brains. Developing the other parts of our brains may just have made us too smart for our own good. After all, I doubt my good morning lizard worries much about death and taxes, God or no God, or does Ms. Lizard really love him, or is she just faking it to put a roof over her head? I wonder what would happen if I turned the light off in the kitchen and left it off all night. Would he be mad at me? Would he go hungry? Would he finally build up enough courage to find a way in and attack me? Well, I guess we will never know for sure. Because I kind of like seeing him there every morning. It’s one of the few relationships I have that I truly seem to be able to count on. Purposely messing that up would no doubt prove once and for all who the superior creature is in this particular situation. So I highly recommend that if you have a relationship that you can truly count on in your life, don’t mess with it. Nurture it and appreciate it for what it is and be satisfied that you are blessed enough to have such a relationship at all. And always say good morning, whether you think it’s going to turn out that way or not.