My youngest daughter that is. She moved out two years ago almost to the day with her cockatiel, Tequila, her clothes, and her bedroom furniture. She was kind enough to leave her boxes of collectable dolls and a sundry of other things she could not live without but not at her new house.

She’s back now, but this time, she not only brings home the cockatiel with a ‘tude the size of California, but a dog, Chopper, a hyper Rhodesian Ridgeback who wants to play. All of the time. Her clothes, her plants, luckily no furniture (it’s in storage). But my kid brought something else home with her. Her fiancé. That is, after my husband built a sturdy two foot high wooden bed separator, then designated which side of the bed the fiancé was allowed to sleep on, with the warning; if he so much as looked over the separator at our daughter, the alarm would go off, which would really piss hubby off. And so we were all settled in.

Or so I thought. The first morning I woke up to verbose barking at 6 a.m. because Chopper decided he wanted to play with Brit, my Rotty, who is pushing ten years old and is in no mood for a whipper snapper like Chopper. Now the reason Chopper is outside is because my two little girls, Coco and Zoe, (shih-tzus) can’t stand the bugger. He’s too friendly. They don’t like that. His abundance of exuberance scares them. My cat? He is so not amused. So at the crack of dawn, Chopper starts barking. He wants to play chase with Brit. She doesn’t and barks back. Loudly. Then I hear the shrill rattle of a bell from downstairs. Ah, the kid forgot to cover Tequila who likes to announce to the world when the sun is about to rise. So, I, who did not come to bed until 4 a.m. because I have a thing called a deadline, get up, put Chopper in the garage with a big chewy, cover Tequila, then trudge back up to bed. It’s 6:30 now, and I know future son-in-law has to get up soon. So I lie awake in bed to make sure he gets up in time to go to work. The time he is supposed to get up comes and goes. Sigh, out of bed I get, and nearly run into him in the hallway. He greets me, then goes into the bathroom.

Ok, kid is awake and going to make it to work on time. I snuggle back into my warm soft flannel sheets and just as I’m drifting off to sleep, I hear what sounds like a flock of honking geese fly by my room. It’s future son-in-law blowing his nose. Once. Twice. Three times. I am not amused. Coco and Zoe are traumatized and start barking. Hubby is grumbling beside me, and by now I know there is no way I’m going back to sleep. So I get up, let the little girls out, make the coffee and hit the computer. I do have a book to write after all.

That was Sunday night into Monday morning. We have rinsed and repeated every night since. I’m wondering if maybe they can close on that house a wee bit sooner…

Sigh, on one hand I’d love for them to hurry up and close. But more than that, I’m enjoying my daughter being home again, getting to know my future son-in-law better, and even liking the luvable lug, Chopper. I’m glad the kids feel comfortable enough to come home, and I’m glad I’m not one of those parents who make their kids feel like a burden.

Life is good, chaotic, and well, there are days, like today when I wish I could just go to a hotel and write and have room service. Oh, and sleep past 6:30 a.m..

How about you? Have your kids ever come home again? Or have you ever gone home as an adult? And how did that work out?

Last night hubby and I went out to dinner to celebrate 4 weeks on the NYT list (the last three on the extended list, but hey! I’ll take it!) So we didn’t get home until late, and now it’s time to get the kids off to school. Usually on days like this where I don’t write my post the night before, I come back home and write something up, then go to Starbucks to write. But today . . .

. . . I’m going to the gym. At 9 am there is a “Quickfit” class and my trainer (yes, I now also have a trainer) said it’s the best class for losing weight and suggests I go three days a week. So I’m doing it. I’ve already lost 10 pounds and my goal is to lose a total of 40. So no time to blog!

However, this brings up something about me that I noticed. When I started seriously writing, I told people I was writing a book–not everyone in the world, but my husband, my mom and my best friend Trish. As I finished manuscripts, I started telling other friends: “I wrote a book. Now I’m trying to find an agent.” Why? Because once I started telling people, I felt I HAD to stay committed and not get scared of the rejections, keep learning, keep improving. Sometimes, when our dreams and goals stay secret, we have a hard time staying focused. It’s easier to lie to ourselves. (I don’t have the time, I’m no good, I’ll do it later, yada yada.)

So now I’m serious about losing weight. As serious (okay, ALMOST as serious) as when I started writing. I got my doc to prescribe appetite suppressants, I’m going to the gym twice a week so far (with the goal of 4 times a week) and I’ve lost ten pounds–an average or two pounds a week. Slowly but surely, I’m getting there. So I’m telling you all . . . because by publicly announcing “I’m going to do this,” it’s harder for me to lie to myself that I’m too tired, have too much to do, or any other excuse to not go to the gym. I mean, if I fail . . . you’ll all know.

My trainer said I have dense muscles so might not lose the poundage I expect, but she thinks I can trim up and tone. So that’s my focus . . .

What about you? What do you do to help keep you focused on your goals?

Sorry for the post delay, folks. I’ve been up to my armpits in alligators and they’re still chomping BIG TIME. That said, and my brain in total mush mode, the only thing that came to mind for today’s post was a bit of news I heard today….

It seems Oprah’s done it again. First a talk show that hits the super charts, then her own magazine, radio network, schools, huge charitable foundations, and now…her first brick-n-mortar store in Chicago, Il. Love her or hate her, there’s no denying that Oprah Winfrey appears to be unstoppable, and she continues to grow larger than life.

According to different news reports her store, called “O,” will sell everything from $5 underwear decorated with pastel O’s to $300 Ferré ankle boots and a good share of the profits from that store will go to Oprah’s Angel Network. I applaud the woman’s success, and I’m sure her giving nature is one of the biggest reasons why she continues to grow and prosper.

After hearing about Oprah’s store opening and thinking about all her successes, I couldn’t help but wonder how a writer might create a character like that for a story. Everyone’s read rags to riches stories, but Oprah’s is so over the top that creating a plausibility link between her rags and this mega-riches level dang near seems impossible for a mainstream novel. If anything, it would probably fall more in line with fairytales and fantasy, right there beside knights on white horses and genies in magic lamps.

Something else comes to mind as well….what next? When you already have it all, what do you aim for next? You know, come to think of it, the only thing I think Oprah hasn’t tackled is marriage. This, of course, makes me wonder—money aside, how would any man handle being married to a woman that powerful and public? He’d immediately become Mr. Oprah Winfrey, then get swallowed up in her shadow, don’t you think?

Sometimes, late at night when I’m supposed to be sleeping, and instead my mind is running a hundred miles a minute, I think about some pretty weird things. And one of those things tonight, when I SHOULD be sleeping and instead am blogging, is “Could you kill?” What would it take to make you take the life of another human being?

This, of course, is not me plotting some random murder (FBI people take note: I am A WRITER. I write about this stuff. I promise, I do not ever DO IT.). But rather, I am in dark suspense mode right now, as I work on THE TIES THAT BIND for St. Martin’s, and it leads me into some places–dark, slightly frightening spots in my brain that others would be alarmed to know exist–where I might otherwise choose not to go….

Tonight’s question is, COULD YOU KILL? I know for me, I could kill in defense of my children. Don’t try to harm one of my offspring, and you will find yourself minus a body part or possibly your life, because that is what a mother does.

Evolutionary psychologist Dr. David Buss, author of the book, The Murderer Next Door: Why the Mind is Designed to Kill, believes that killing is fundamentally in our nature.

Dr. David Buss, an evolutionary psychologist at The University of Texas at Austin and author of the just-published “The Murderer Next Door: Why the Mind is Designed to Kill” has conducted an unprecedented set of studies investigating the underlying motives and circumstances of murders, from those of serial killers to the perfectly friendly next-door neighbor who one day commits murder. He examined FBI files of more than 400,000 murders, conducted a highly detailed study of nearly 400 murders, and led, with his collaborator Joshua Duntley, the largest homicidal fantasy study ever conducted.

“Killing is fundamentally in our nature because over the eons of human evolution murder was so surprisingly beneficial in the intense game of reproductive competition,” Buss said. “Our minds have developed adaptations to kill, which is contrary to previous theories that murder is something outside of human nature—a pathology imposed from the distorting influences of culture, media images, poverty or child abuse.

I found this article, and Buss’s theories, fascinating because he touches on something that we, as suspense, mystery, and horror fiction writers cover extensively: WHY do people kill? How do they kill and get away with it, often for years, such as in the case of serial murderers.

This statement really stood out to me:

“Though we may like to think that murderers are either pathological misfits or hardened criminals,” he added, “the vast majority of murders are committed by people who, until the day they kill, seem perfectly normal.”

We all want to think there are clues, little quirks, red herrings… SOMETHING that lets us know when someone is a killer, just waiting to be triggered. But what if there ARE no clues? I mean, I’ve met some pretty weird people, and more than one who I thought had it in them to be a killer. Years ago, I worked with a guy I fully expected to walk into the newsroom one day and just shoot it up. He had those weird eyes and creepy habits like peeping through keyholes at women using the restroom, and he would stand in the middle of rooms at parties and loudly proclaim how he was going to kill himself because no one would talk to him. He never shot anybody up, and he’s still alive and well, too. I heard he was working with a shelter that rescues border collies, and he’s married with two kids. I didn’t see that one coming. I have no idea if he is still peeping. But he isn’t a homicidal maniac… Yet. I think.

Do I really know? No. But if Buss’s theories are true, a whole lot more people than we realize could be ticking time bombs. Because Buss believes we are pre-wired to kill.

Buss led the largest homicidal fantasy study ever conducted, using 5,000 people, 375 who were actual murderers. The study looked into why people have homicidal fantasies and the specific circumstances in which they contemplate killing. The research team discovered how homicidal fantasies are used to build and work through scenarios of killing, how they help channel murderous intentions into other means of seeking redress, how they can also be used to simulate and rehearse carrying out murder and how particular passions come into play in evaluating whether or not to turn fantasy into reality.

Buss’s homicidal fantasy research revealed that 91 percent of men and 84 percent of women have had at least one vivid fantasy—often intense and astonishingly detailed—of committing murder.

“As with most instances of homicidal fantasies, few thoughts are translated into deeds,” Buss said. “Most people work through cost-benefit calculations, figure out alternative means of solving the problem and decide that the costs of killing are too high.”

Did you catch that? AN ASTONISHING 91 PERCENT of men, and 84 PERCENT of women have had at least ONE vivid fantasy of committing murder.

Is that why we write suspense, mystery and horror fiction? Is that why people READ it? Are we living vicariously? I mean, who HASN’T cheered in an intense movie where the hero kills the bad guy?

Are we wired to kill? Have any of you had a fantasy of killing someone, at least that you are willing to own up to?

Because I am a woman who believes in miracles, I dragged myself to the gym a couple mornings this week.

I keep hoping to chisel off fifteen pounds and fifteen years. I KNOW that isn’t going to happen, but I can’t seem to kill off the hope.

Frankly, the best I can hope for these days is damage control.

But anyway, I went to the gym and walked an endless loop on the treadmill. I spent much of that time praying that I wouldn’t catch the disease that had the guy next to me trying to hack up a lung and not fall off the treadmill at the same time.

To block out the coughing and wheezing, I watched the morning show on TV. They were discussing an “experiment” on the 20/20 Show:

ABC News recruited six couples and asked them to pretend to cheat on their mate in front of an unsuspecting best friend.

They thought it would be fascinating to find out what people would do as an experiment. Would they tell?

So I started thinking, what would I do?

Well, for starters, if I was “set up” to be on that kind of a TV show by a friend, I’d have one less friend in my life. Friends don’t do that. Friends might play jokes, and I’ve done my share, but they don’t put them in difficult situations as an “experiment” for a stupid TV Show.

If I saw the spouse of someone I cared about obviously cheating, I’d be upset. I would agonize about the right thing to do because I care about my friend.

What would I do about it? I don’t know. That would be a tough call. I would think long and hard before I told my friend. Just knowing would kill me though. Those things tend to be a no win situation.

So tell me what you think. Is it okay to set a friend up like this for a TV show’s social experiment?

And have you ever seen someone obviously cheating in a restaurant? What did you do?

P.S. I can totally see some great story ideas in this scenario!