I was taking a shower the other day when I ran out of shampoo. I reached for my wife’s shampoo and read the label. The label had a long list of ingredients that weren’t contained in that product. I never heard of any of them. I’m now convinced that they were made up. As a public service, with apologies to Lewis Carroll, I will now list all the ingredients that aren’t contained in this blog.
​
This blog doesn’t contain any brillig, slithy toves, gyre, gimble, wabe, mimsy, borogoves, momes, raths, outgrabe, jabberwocks, jubjub birds, frumious bandersnatches, vorpals, manxomes,  tumtum trees, uffish, tulgey wood, burbles, snicker-snacks, galumphing backs, calloohs, or callays.
It might contain a small amount of humor, some wit and a drop of sarcasm.  Enjoy.
Stay safe.

My newest novel, The Throuple Private Eye—Hate Crimes, was published as an e-book on Amazon ($2.99) on Feb 7, 2020. My current work in progress is the second in  the Jennifer McDowell series. Here is an exert:

CHAPTER 1
Jennifer “Jen” McDowell was finally settling into her new career as a private investigator. The publicity from her undercover operation that exposed a bomber and a sniper was a boon to her business. She had enough offers that she could be selective. There was more than enough business to keep her busy for months if not for years. She decided not to accept any more cheating spouse cases. She just didn’t to be that kind of PI.

Her partnership with Molly Lovelace, her best friend was working out well. Both women had double prothesis below the knees and both suffered from PTSD; Jen from an ambush while she was still on the Atlanta Police and Molly from an IED in Afghanistan. They met through a PTSD therapy group and became fast friends. When Molly was attacked and nearly killed by a white supremacy hate group, Jen offered her a full partnership in her private eye business.

Jen turned one of the spare bedrooms into an office in the home she shared with her two boyfriends/lovers, Dr. Curtis ‘Doc’ Betts and Jonah Magliozzi. Molly was finally at a point in her rehab where she could come to the office to work. Outside Molly needed to use a walker, but inside the office there was enough furniture for her to lean on if she needed to. Molly also brought her service dog, Prada to work with her. Prada was an older greyhound who had suffered an accident and had both her rear legs amputated. She was fitted with set of wheels that made her mobile. Jen and Molly fell in love with her the moment they set eyes on her at the shelter.

Jen and Molly split up the various office duties to cover all bases. Molly was in charge of the website, answering the telephone and emails, and the schedule. Jen did all the “leg” work, met with clients outside the office and used her connections with the police to gather information as needed.  Leg work was an inside joke since neither of them had legs. Jen was a former police officer. Her old partner and current lover, Johan was a detective with the homicide department of the Atlanta Police.

My newest novel, The Throuple Private Eye—Hate Crimes, was published as an e-book on Amazon ($2.99) on Feb 7, 2020. It will be the first in a series. If you would like to order, the link is https://www.amazon.com/dp/B084LTTHGN.
Here’s a sample:
​
Chapter 3 The Dark Web
 
Jen needed to find a way to get on the dark web and retrieve the information he wanted about the alt-right boot camp. She would have to ask Jonah to help. The best way to get Jonah to help her would be to feed him his favorite meal—pot roast. Jen decide to cook a pot roast even though it wasn’t her turn to cook.

After dinner, Jen asked Jonah if he could help her get on the dark web.

Jonah laughed and pushed back from the table. “So that’s why you made pot roast. Sorry, I don’t know anything about the dark web, but I know who does. Do you remember that guy, Pete, who works in vice?”

“You mean Pervert Pete?”

Jonah laugh again. “I didn’t realize other people called him that. Anyway, he poses as an under-aged teen to trap pedophiles. He uses the dark web sometimes. I could ask him to meet with you.”
“No, no. I don’t want to meet with him in person. All he does is stare at my chest—never makes eye contact. I could meet him on facetime.”

The next day Jonah talked to Pete and he agreed to help Jen. Just before the meeting, Jen checked out her wardrobe. She was wearing blue jeans which wouldn’t show on face time, and she was wearing a professional looking blouse. She decided to unbutton the top button. After a look in the mirror, she unbuttoned another button. To hell with this, she thought. I want this to be professional. She buttoned up her blouse.

The meeting with Pete went well. Jonah told him what Jen needed, and he already had it downloaded and ready for Jen. It included an application to attend the boot camp. The boot camp was in Idaho and was conducted over a two-week period. The first week included basic military training like marksmanship, survival skills, patrolling, marching, physical fitness and hand-to-hand combat. The second week included more classroom instruction like living off the grid, organizing protests, bomb making, creating identities, cyber security and hacking into websites. The afternoons were devoted to marksmanship or shooting practice. The only problem was that it had to be submitted by the commander of the local chapter. Jen decided she would have to go undercover and join the local hate group to get nominated for the alt-right boot camp.

At dinner that night, Jen told Doc and Jonah about her plan to infiltrate a local chapter of anarchists. It went about as she expected. She knew her boys were very protective of her, but sometimes they treat her as a helpless invalid.

Doc spoke up first, “Not only no, but hell no. It’s too dangerous. These groups have little regard for life. If they discover you’re not who you say you are, they’ll kill you.”

Jonah agreed with Doc, “You won’t be able to pull it off. Your face was plastered all over the local news and even the national news when you were ambushed. Someone will recognize you. If the bomber is in the group, he sure as hell will recognize you.”
​
Jonah made a good point. Jen decide she would never be able to get nominated to the alt-right boot camp—ever.

Jeff looked up from his computer to see his wife standing nearby glaring at him. Her arms were crossed, never a good sign. She held a piece of paper in one hand. She wasn’t talking, also a bad sign. Jeff knew he was in trouble, he just didn’t what he had done.

Finally, his wife broke her cold silence. “So, you’re the blogger of this blog?” She held out the paper. Jeff glanced at it. “You’re writing a blog called ‘Take my Wife, Please?”

Sheepishly, Jeff nodded. Jeff’s wife hit him with the printout. “You’re writing personal stuff about me, about us.”

“No, no,” insisted Jeff. “It’s not personal, just funny stuff.”

“Yesterday, you posted that I keep saying I can read minds, but I can’t because I’m telepathetic.”
“See, funny right?”

“Not funny. This morning you quoted me as saying that we that our neighbor always kisses his wife when he leaves for work, and we should do that. Then you posted your reply, ‘How can I? I don't even know her.’ Not funny, Jeff. You make me sound stupid.”

“I’m just trying to be funny,” Jeff said in his defense. “No one thinks you’re stupid. They don’t know you.” Jeff’s wife folder her arms again. “Okay, maybe that didn’t come out right.”

“Yeah,” Jeff’s wife screamed. “Last week you wrote that I asked you to taste some meat to see if it was okay to feed the dog.” Jeff started to chuckle but stopped when his wife glared at him. “Then when I went to the butcher and asked him to cut some steaks for me, he said the meat was good because it tasted it. At the time, I didn’t understand what he meant.”

“Okay, maybe one guy knows who you are. What are the odds that anyone else who follows my blog knows you?”

“A couple of days ago, you wrote that I tried to smother you with a pillow while you were sleeping. Then the next day when I went to the store, the male cashier asked me if I was shopping for new pillows.”

“I’m sorry, honey. I meant no harm.”

“It stops right now. If you post anything else, I will smother you in your sleep.” Jeff’s wife stormed out of the room.
​
Jeff’s next post read, “It is with great sadness that I must inform all my followers that due to circumstances beyond my control, I must stop this post un penalty of death. Take care and be good your wives.”
 END

My newest novel, The Throuple Private Eye—Hate Crimes, was published as an e-book on Amazon ($2.99) on Feb 7, 2020. It will be the first in a series. If you would like to order, the link is https://www.amazon.com/dp/B084LTTHGN.
Here’s a sample:

Chapter 2 A New Day

After a few minutes, Doc’s alarm went off, but he didn’t budge. Jen put her lips next to his ear. “Time to get up, Lover,” she whispered.

“Ten more minutes,” Doc replied.

“No, No,” Jen insisted. “Yesterday you were almost late for surgery. If you want to work out, you must get up now.” Doc just grunted. Jen took his ear lobe in her teeth and whispered, “Get up or I’ll bite. You know I’ll do it.”

Doc sat up. “I’m up. I’m up.” He stood up, still groggy and started to put on gym shorts. “Are you joining me?”

“Yeah.” Jen crawled out of bed and stood up on her stumps. She took out a clean pair of panties. She stopped wearing any underwear to bed since she started living with two men. They either got torn or stretched out of shape. She sat down on the bed, so Doc could help put on her stump liners and then her two carbon blades.

Doc nodded toward Jonah. “Late night?”

“Yeah,” Jen answered. “He didn’t get in until 0300 hours. He was on a stakeout. It’ll be on the news. He doesn’t have to be at work until noon.” Jonah had a lot more stakeouts since making detective and joining the homicide department.

“You were awake when he came in?” Doc asked as he finished helping Jen put on her blades.

“Yeah. Bad night. Migraines and flashbacks.”

“What’s your pain level at the moment?” Doc asked concerned.

“Oh, a five or six, I guess.” Jen answered. “It was a nine a few hours ago. My head is still throbbing.”

“You should have woken me. Okay, I’m going to give you a pain pill.” Doc disappeared into the walk-in closet and returned with a container of pills. Jen had tried to find where he hides them but had no luck. Doc took off the cap and handed Jen one pill. “I’ll give you another one when I get home.”

Jen was disappointed. She wanted two. “Maybe you should give me another pill in case you have to work late.”
​
“If I have to work late, I’ll call Jonah and tell him where the pills are hidden.” Jen made a pouty face.

“Listen honey, we went down this path during your recovery. I’m not going to let you get addicted again.”

“But I feel better when I take those meds,” Jen retorted.

“Yeah, but you turn into a real bitch and lay around the house all day doing nothing. Never again.”

Jen put her arms around Doc. “That’s why I love you and need you. I need your strength. It’s also why I hate you.” She popped the pill into her mouth. Doc handed her a water bottle from the nightstand.

“Okay, then. Just you and me this morning.” Doc helped Jen stand up, and they headed toward the in-house gym. “What are you doing today?”

“Treadmill. I’m up to two miles today. What are you doing?”

“Let’s see. Today’s Tuesday, so I’m going to cycle for thirty minutes and do some upper body weights.”

“Maybe I’ll just watch you,” Jen said with a coy smile. Doc had the build of a body builder.

“No. No. No, you don’t. It’s your turn to make breakfast.”

Jen pouted again. “I made breakfast yesterday.”

“Day-old doughnuts don’t count,” Doc replied and laughed.

“Okay, hard ass,” Jen said. “Would an omelet and bacon satisfy you?”
​
 “Sounds good.”

My newest novella, The Throuple Private Eye—Hate Crimes, was published as an e-book on Amazon ($2.99) on Feb 7, 2020. It will be the first in a series. If you would like to order, the link is https://www.amazon.com/dp/B084LTTHGN. Below is an exert from the book:
 
Chapter 1 Ambush

Jen McDowell and Jonah Magliozzi were partners on the Atlanta police force. They were more than partners. They responded to an anonymous call about homeless persons living in an abandoned house. The caller said it looked like they were starting fires and thought they might be cooking meth. No one responded to their knock on the front door, and the door was nailed shut. She and Jonah decided to split up and circle the house to find another entrance. Halfway round the house, Jen found an outside stairway leading down to a basement door. The door appeared to be ajar. She radioed Jonah and told him she was going to check the door.

Halfway down the steps, an IED on her right side exploded, mangling both her legs below the knees. Her body armor and helmet protected most of her upper torso and head. Shrapnel torn up her right thigh except where her sidearm was holstered. Most of her right arm was spared, because she was talking on the radio with her right hand by her mouth. A piece of shrapnel tore through both cheeks, taking out a few teeth. Another piece of shrapnel struck her in the neck, missing the carotid artery by a fraction of an inch.

Jen screamed loud enough to wake herself up. Her boyfriend, Dr. Curtis ‘Doc’ Betts, rolled over and encased her in his strong arms; so tight Jen could feel his heartbeat against her bare back. “It’s okay,” he said. “You’re safe. You’re home in bed with us. It’s okay. You’re having a nightmare.” Jen felt safer. Her breathing started to return to normal. “Another nightmare?” Doc asked.
​
“No,” Jen answered. The same one. Sorry to wake you.” Jen looked to her left at her other boyfriend, Jonah. He had just rolled over and was facing away from her. Jen lay in Doc’s embrace wide awake but feeling safe. She listened as Doc’s breathing returned to a slower rhythm that told her he was asleep once more.

By now most of the country is on self-quarantine or some sort of travel restrictions. Not to worry. Here are some ideas to keep yourself busy indoors.

Things Not to do During Self-Quarantine.
Do not take your meth and marijuana to the police department to get tested for COVID-19. It’s a scam folks. They don’t have the proper test kits.

Porn—Do not make an amateur porn video and post it to the internet. Leave that to the professionals. Making one for your private use is okay.

DIY Brain Surgery—Unless you have the proper equipment, leave this to the professionals.

Sports—Some sports aren’t suited for indoors. Do not attempt to throw the javelin or shot put. Another sport that cannot be adapted for indoors is sky diving. Baseball can be adapted form indoor play.

Making Explosive Devices—Unless you’re experienced, now is not a good time to take up making pipe bombs or rockets as a hobby.

Cooking Meth—This isn’t recommended because the odor may drive you out of the house.

Things to do During Self-Quarantine
Poker—Poker is great indoors. For a variation, try strip poker. Of course, if you’re playing with your significant other, there aren’t any surprises. Playing with family may result in unwanted surprises.
Instead of chips, try rolls of toilet paper.

Archery and Rifle Shooting—These are great indoor sports. See if you can shoot an apple off your partner’s head.

Indoor Gardening—Use boxes or buckets of soil to bring your garden indoors. Marijuana is an excellent indoor plant. You may need special lamps.

Talk to your Partner—This may seem difficult at first. Take in short sessions like ten minutes, Try to work up to thirty minutes.  

Mechanics--Take you car apart and then put it back together.

Knife Throwing—Start small and work up to using your significant other as you throw knives around them.
​
I hope these ideas will help you stay busy during your self-quarantine and not go stir crazy.

Don’t! Don’t date during the CVC. Wait 21 days or until the quarantine is lifted. Explore your options online. Find out if a potential date has been tested for COVID-19. If you’re already dating someone, use Skype or Facetime to communicate. Email and telephone calls work just as well.

Okay, if you must date because you’re too lonely or horny, then follow these rules:

1. Wear a mask and gloves. Wear full personal protective equipment (PPE) if you have it.
2. Do not touch. It would be idea if one of you are inside behind a picture window or several stories up. Bow or use some hand gesture to say hello. If you need to get closer, stay at least 6 feet away. Use the elbow bump, foot tap, or hip bump. I don’t recommend the head butt.
3. If you ignored all the above advice and actually touched someone, then you may as well move in together and self-quarantine for 14 days. Avoid all sex.

​If all this doesn’t suck all the fun out of dating, nothing will.

My mother is trying to kill me. It won’t do any good to call 911, because she died several years ago. However, she is still trying to kill me. This attempt is centered around how I was raised and the eating habits I learned while she was raising me. Many of the things she taught me have stuck with me well into adulthood and I developed habits which are hard to break; habits that are killing me. My mother was a single mother (off and on) trying to raise three boys. She had to be strict and her rules were always obeyed under threat of physical harm.

As a result, I struggled with my weight all my life. In high school I weighed over 200 pounds my freshman year. I joined the wrestling team and started losing weight to wrestle in a better weight class. By my senior year I was wrestling at the 175-pound weight class. Here’s how my mother tried to kill me:

We always ate under a strict schedule. Breakfast was at 6 am, lunch at noon and supper at 6 pm. It never varied. As I grew older, if I missed a feeding time, there was no food. Skipping meals was forbidden. She never saved any food and my brothers made sure there were no leftovers. This was, of course, pre-microwave. I followed this schedule until my retirement. Very soon after I retired, I ballooned to over 300 pounds. It wasn’t until recently, I discovered that periodic fasting is a good way to lose weight.

Mom always served a desert, and it was usually sweet. I never complained (also forbidden) but now I’m a Type II diabetic. Those deserts were killing me. I do miss them, but they raise my blood sugar to high levels.

Mom always insisted that we clean our plates. She would tell us that kids in China were starving, so we needed to clean our plates. It made no sense to me. I wanted to ship my food to China, but I didn’t know the address. Now I realize I don’t have to clean my plate and the kids in China are much healthier than I.

Mom used to say, “Take all you want, eat all you take.” That was a corollary to cleaning our plates.
​
Don’t get me wrong; I loved my mom, but I struggle with my weight my whole life. Of course, it wasn’t all bad. She did introduce me to coffee at an early age. Rest in peace, mom.

Heaven forbid that it ever happens, but there’s a possibility that at some point you may run out of toilet paper. Forget trying to borrow some from your neighbors. The public bathrooms have long since run out. The store shelves are empty. You probably don’t want to take a chance on buying hot toilet paper on the black market. It could be a sting. Now what?

Do not despair. Here is some help advice and tips:
Shower—There’s always the shower. Do your business, wash it down the drain and take a shower.
Water Hose—Buy an adaptor to connect a garden hose to your sink or tub. Use a nozzle to clean your butt.

Paper substitutes:

1. Napkins--
2. Phonebooks—If you still have old phonebooks laying around, they make a good substitute for toilet paper. Millennials may be out of luck. Do not attempt to use emails.
3. Computer Paper—Not the best substitute but passible. Try using ones that you already printed on.
4. Shredded paper—Most home use a shredder now days to get rid of sensitive documents and to protect personal information. A hand full of the shredded paper make excellent toilet paper.
5. Paper towels—Again, not the best substitute but okay in an emergency. Cut each roll in half for two rolls of paper.
6. Newspapers—An oldie but a goodie. Millennials may have to google it.
7. Books—A last resort. Again, millennials may have to google it.
8. Dryer sheets—They make your butt smell nice, they reduce static cling, and make your butt wrinkle free.

Food substitutes:

1. Tortillas—Tortillas make an excellent substitute for toilet paper. Use the 6 inch size or cut the 10 inch ones in half. Don’t attempt to use the hard taco shells. That could result in injury.
2. Bread—Don’t use the whole wheat type--the seeds hurt. Try toasting the bread.
3. Pancakes—These will not hold up well unless aged for several days.
4. Corn cobs—Use only as a last resort.

Cloth substitutes: (You must cut these down to size ahead of time.)--Old rags, old clothes, sheets, pillowcases, towels. Cut these into useable sizes. Beware of clogged plumbing.
​
Carpets, blankets, comforters, quilts—Only as a last result. These will most definitely clog up your plumbing.

Other substitutes:

Rubber Gloves—A little known secret; you can use rubber gloves instead of toilet paper. Don’t try to flush the glove or it will clog up the works.

Doggy bags—Those little plastic bags that dog owners use to collect dog poop can also be used in the place of toilet paper. You may need to practice a few times to get it right. You can dispose of them anywhere that accepts doggy poop.

Plastic bags—If you’re in a state that allows plastic bags or if you still have a stash of them. They’re better than dogie bags.

Leaves—If you still have leaves that aren’t under snow, they can also be used as toilet paper. If you don’t have access to regular leaves, consider leaves from indoor plants. Rose petals are the best, but any plant leave will work. Don’t use any vines unless you know what poison ivy looks like. Don’t use red rose petals: if you miss one, you’ll think you have hemorrhoids. Also, make sure all the thorns have been removed from rose leaves.
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I hope this helps you out in a tough situation.