Writers Police Academy – Real life crime things

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This past weekend I was at the Writers Police Academy–a conference where we mystery writers get to learn what real cops do. I have never spent so much time thinking about decomposing bodies. Here are a few shots (No real bodies, I promise).

A big gang of us on our way to hunt for the “shallow grave.”

We found it! Check out the dummy’s hand.

Lee Child and Marcia Clark were pretty intrigued, too.

Here’s a shoot out with the bad guys. No, we weren’t allowed to pet the dog, but he sure was cute!

And as if that weren’t enough for one week, I’m heading to the Writer’s Police Academy tomorrow for a fun-filled weekend learning about what real cops do. It’s a hands-on workshop, which means I will most definitely make a fool of myself. I’ll post some pics as soon as I’ve blundered my first pretend investigation.

Not for the Faint of Heart

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A poem about the weekend chores
I’m warning you ahead
This little ditty details
Cleaning out the shed

Why did we save this thing?
What use can it possibly serve?
I’m going to throw it out now
I’m getting up the nerve

Hubby holds up a trowel
Encrusted in who-knows-what
For fear of finding out
I keep my eyes most tightly shut

Two sets of old golf clubs
But honey, I’m confused
Why have we saved those for decades
When they’re never even been used?

And that thinga-ma-jig over there?
Someone gave us at our wedding
I don’t mean to alarm you
But I do believe it’s shedding

Why did I buy this junk?
A full gallon of purple paint
I’m trying to recall the project
But sorry, I really cain’t

That table with a broken leg
The repair was supposed to be easy
But since we’ve misplaced our hammer
The thought of fixing it makes me queasy

Several rolled up rugs
The cat long ago destroyed
Why didn’t we dump these sooner?
Okay, so I’m getting annoyed

But look! We’ve reached our bicycles
Which means we’re almost done
And now with a clear path to the doorway
They might actually see the sun.

Ode to Andy

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Over fifty and of big changes I’m thinkin’
It’s enough to drive this old gal to drinkin’

Selling the house and blowing this town
But really, it shouldn’t be getting me down

Hubby and I have a whole new vision
We thought about it lots and reached a decision

The urban life with its downtown delights
No longer seems exactly just right

We talked to the cat, and she agrees too
We’re all ready to try something brand spankin’ new

A move to the country and out to the sticks
We’re already fuddy-duddies, and soon we’ll be hicks

This poem’s title might have you confused
But if Andy were reading, he’d be rather amused.

Have Cat Carrier, Will Travel

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The world is Betty’s oyster
She wants to see it all
Mention of a road trip
And she knows she’ll have a ball

Betty is a cat who
Likes to be on the go
Her whiskers get all twitchy
And her tail swishes to and fro

She hops into her cat carrier
And we put her in the car
But she meows to be set free
Before we’ve gotten very far

After poking around the back seat
She’s ready for a nap
The sun shining through the windshield
She settles on passenger’s lap

When the car stops for gas
Betty knows her place
With no prompting from her people
She re-enters her carrier space

At the hotel eventually we arrive
And Betty approves the room
After a brief stop at her litter box
Around and around she zooms

She finds a cozy window sill
Where she presides during the day
She enjoys her new surroundings
While her people go out to play

The road trip over and done with
Her cat carrier tucked away
Betty rests up on her home turf
Ready to travel some other day

Julia Child I Ain’t

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Years of trying but it never took
The fact remains I hate to cook

Given my druthers on what I prefer
To others my stove, I would gladly defer

Not that I can’t cook and bake
I make a to-die-for chocolate cake

Hubby likes that cooking stuff
Elaborate prep? He can’t get enough

Peaches for cobbler he is blanching today
and he’s roasting some garlic in a dish made of clay

Some sort of pasta sauce he is apt to prepare
With graters and blenders he has quite a flare

So to his heart’s delight my hubby cooks
Meanwhile me? I’ll be writing my books

Aplomb-less

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I handle life’s challenges with zero aplomb
To every little issue I quickly succumb
And start screaming bad words at the top of my lungs

The coffee’s too weak, and the cereal is soggy
I need gas in the car and the weather’s turned foggy
And I haven’t thought of a poem for my stupid weekly bloggy

The battery’s gone dead on the kitchen clock
And I can’t find the match to my most favorite sock
And my brilliant idea the boss just summarily blocked

These types of traumas put me over the top
And make my blood pressure do the opposite of drop
Even when I take a deep breath and tell myself to stop

I do yoga and long walks for some zen-ish insight
To which my foul moods say “Get serious. Yeah, right!
Now you’re all sweaty and your hair looks a fright.”

Yes, other people seem way more well-adjusted
In patience and sanity they seem to be encrusted
I wonder, can these people really be trusted?

Why I Love Summer

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The sights I see off of my dock,
Let me just sit here and take accurate stock.
Sailboards, and canoes, and kayaks galore
And every other kind of boat, you name it, for sure.

No yachts, but who needs something so big
When one can ski behind a much smaller rig?
Pontoon boats and power boats pull kids all ages and sizes.
Everyone has fun, but no one wins prizes.

The waterfowl need no help staying afloat.
They probably laugh at all of us fools in a boat.
Loons, and merganzers, a gull, and ducks mallard.
It’s the birds that inspired this ridiculous ballard.

The water itself is a fabulous sight
The lake gets all sparkly under brilliant sunlight
And the waterlillies bounce upon the waves so mild
Is it any wonder I’ve loved this place since I was a child?

News From Barcelona

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In Barcelona for a week
So new experiences I do seek

Liking Spain and learning a lot
So far, this is what I’ve got:

Gaudi is the hero
Of straight lines, he likes zero

His Park Guell
Is downright swell

And the Sagrada Familia?
Ma Ma Mamilia!

Eating lots of Tapas
At several charming placas

Placas are the city squares
And Tapas is the city’s fare

Sardines first thing in the morning
Might become habit-forming

Today I saw Port Vell
Then on to El Ravel

But the Barri Gotic
Is for me the most chic