Susan McCormick's Blog
October 4, 2021
Enid Carmichael, In Her Own Words
My name is Enid Carmichael, and I will get you up to date on what’s going on in the life of the Fog Ladies. Many of you know me from the Fog Ladies’ previous adventures in The Fog Ladies and The Fog Ladies: Family Matters, but you can read our latest caper without knowing anything about those. I’m eighty-one years old now, if you can believe it. But that’s just between you and me. My red hair and high heels add to my youthful appearance, so my age is not widely known.
We Fog Ladies are spunky senior sleuths, plus one unspunky, overworked, and, frankly, undersuspicious young doctor, solving murders from our elegant apartment building in San Francisco. Harriet Flynn has us volunteering in a soup kitchen, and have we got a doozy of a murder! A celebrity chef boiled up in a gigantic, bigger than me, cauldron that was ready to go for the California Big Pot Soup Competition. We didn’t even get to taste the soup. Hmph.
No one liked the guy, so there is no shortage of suspects. The police arrested the soup kitchen director, and I bet he’s the one. But, of course, the others think differently. So we are on the hunt, spending time at the soup kitchen where all the action is, chopping so many vegetables even Frances Noonan’s ergonomic knife doesn’t help. There’s the jilted wife. I know a little about that, so I understand her motives completely. There’s an unhappy lover, a businessman with a long-ago grudge, and an unpredictable soup kitchen guest with a violent past. Could be any one of them.
I’m keeping my ears open, and you know what sharp hearing I have. I overhear a lot, which is how I know about the connection to the dead man’s past. And the blackmailer. Some call it snooping. I call it keeping us safe. Because two of us were almost blown to smithereens in a gas explosion. So there.
We are the Fog Ladies, and you can count on us like you can count on early morning San Francisco fog burning off by midday. You can count on us to figure it out.
We Fog Ladies are spunky senior sleuths, plus one unspunky, overworked, and, frankly, undersuspicious young doctor, solving murders from our elegant apartment building in San Francisco. Harriet Flynn has us volunteering in a soup kitchen, and have we got a doozy of a murder! A celebrity chef boiled up in a gigantic, bigger than me, cauldron that was ready to go for the California Big Pot Soup Competition. We didn’t even get to taste the soup. Hmph.
No one liked the guy, so there is no shortage of suspects. The police arrested the soup kitchen director, and I bet he’s the one. But, of course, the others think differently. So we are on the hunt, spending time at the soup kitchen where all the action is, chopping so many vegetables even Frances Noonan’s ergonomic knife doesn’t help. There’s the jilted wife. I know a little about that, so I understand her motives completely. There’s an unhappy lover, a businessman with a long-ago grudge, and an unpredictable soup kitchen guest with a violent past. Could be any one of them.
I’m keeping my ears open, and you know what sharp hearing I have. I overhear a lot, which is how I know about the connection to the dead man’s past. And the blackmailer. Some call it snooping. I call it keeping us safe. Because two of us were almost blown to smithereens in a gas explosion. So there.
We are the Fog Ladies, and you can count on us like you can count on early morning San Francisco fog burning off by midday. You can count on us to figure it out.
May 10, 2021
Curriculum Guide
For teachers and home schoolers, or for the curious, find out more about the diseases in The Antidote and see a full three week curriculum guide on my website, https://susanmccormickbooks.com/the-a...
April 6, 2021
Love Dogs?
Meet my giant dogs, Earl, Edward, and Albert, the dogs who inspired the special dog in my upcoming new release, The Antidote. A twelve-year-old boy can see disease, and with the help of talented dog and a mysterious girl, must battle an ancient evil, the creator of illness.
My own dogs had no special talents, except the ability to shake drool onto the ceiling.
Meet my dogs here:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yRdZ2...
My own dogs had no special talents, except the ability to shake drool onto the ceiling.
Meet my dogs here:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yRdZ2...
October 6, 2019
Tip #2 for joyful conversations with Alzheimer’s disease and dementia. Enjoy, no matter what the current space or reality
We never questioned anything my mom said. Correcting someone with Alzheimer’s disease or dementia, for instance about where they are, what year it is, whether you visited yesterday or not, causes them to feel confused, scared, irritated, worried, annoyed. If you go with them whatever they say or wherever their current reality takes you, everyone can enjoy the ride.
My mom was wheelchair bound for some time, but once she told me she and my boys blew bubbles at the beach that morning, something they had done ten years earlier in another state. All I said was what fun they all must have had, and she smiled and said they had.
When my teenager was learning to drive, I mentioned how hard it was these days to learn with a stick shift, because so few cars have them. My mom brightened and said, “My car is a stick shift. He’s welcome to borrow it.” Instead of telling her she hadn’t driven in years and that car was long gone, I said, “Thank you, I’ll let him know.” She beamed, knowing she was helping.
This fooled us once with my father-in-law. He told my husband and me that there were chickens out in back of his assisted living home. We went along with the story, and he told us about how they pecked the ground and each other and we enjoyed the tale, knowing full well there were no chickens. Eventually he asked us if we wanted to see them. We said sure and we all trooped out back, and low and behold, there were actually chickens!
So enjoy the journey of your loved one’s current space. You might be surprised at what fun it is for all.
My mom was wheelchair bound for some time, but once she told me she and my boys blew bubbles at the beach that morning, something they had done ten years earlier in another state. All I said was what fun they all must have had, and she smiled and said they had.
When my teenager was learning to drive, I mentioned how hard it was these days to learn with a stick shift, because so few cars have them. My mom brightened and said, “My car is a stick shift. He’s welcome to borrow it.” Instead of telling her she hadn’t driven in years and that car was long gone, I said, “Thank you, I’ll let him know.” She beamed, knowing she was helping.
This fooled us once with my father-in-law. He told my husband and me that there were chickens out in back of his assisted living home. We went along with the story, and he told us about how they pecked the ground and each other and we enjoyed the tale, knowing full well there were no chickens. Eventually he asked us if we wanted to see them. We said sure and we all trooped out back, and low and behold, there were actually chickens!
So enjoy the journey of your loved one’s current space. You might be surprised at what fun it is for all.
September 11, 2019
Tip #1 for joyful conversations with Alzheimer’s disease and dementia. Don’t ask questions.
Questions make most people with Alzheimer’s disease and dementia anxious and worried. Before my mother's Alzheimer’s progressed, she would try to figure out why she didn’t know the answer to a question, and she would often try to fake an answer or turn the conversation away from the question. This upset her. We learned to just state the facts and start a conversation. “Peter made a three layer chocolate cake and we ate it with ice cream.” Then my mom could join in with, “I don’t care for ice cream, but I love chocolate cake. Did you bring me a piece?” A topic my mom never tired of was Albert, our huge, slobbery Newfoundland dog. She loved anything about him. He ate her expensive cashmere sweater, he ate her favorite pair of red shoes. She still loved him. My boys could say, “Albert got into the pantry today and ate a bag of flour.” Then my mom would say, “Oh, Albert, what a dog! What a mess!” The boys knew to say anything to keep the conversation going, just no questions.
My sons always had a story they knew Granny enjoyed, like Albert the dog jumping up to put his head in a pot on the stove to see what was cooking. They could tell the same story over and over, my mom always loved it and couldn’t remember that she’d heard it before, and they always had an interesting and enjoyable conversation topic.
My sons always had a story they knew Granny enjoyed, like Albert the dog jumping up to put his head in a pot on the stove to see what was cooking. They could tell the same story over and over, my mom always loved it and couldn’t remember that she’d heard it before, and they always had an interesting and enjoyable conversation topic.
