I confess to ...

I've already confessed to handbags. I think I have that addiction under control. I also have my Gadget addiction under control. Kind of. I have my eye on a new netbook, but I'm resisting and really, 3 ebook readers is enough, isn't it?

But there's one thing that gets me every time:



Yep, pigs. The smaller the better. I have a little collection lining my windowsill, which all go crashing when Houdini the Wonder Cat tries to get up on the sill (he just really doesn't fit). I have clay pigs, plastic pigs, round pigs, ceramic pigs, tiny pigs and big pigs. I have a pig mask, a pig hand puppet, a piggy bank, a piggy plush. I have a pig vase and a pig pin.

Yep. Pigs. I buy a few and others give them to me. Some leave, some remain, but the ones hwere are smiling at me now. Giggling Pigs (as in my upcoming book where much of the action takes place at the Giggling Pig Cafe).

I've met quite a few of the real ones in my day (and I don't mean the boarish men we've all met in bars). Real pigs are, well, pigs -- kinda mean, very smart, and very sly. My pigs aren't like that. They're cute and cuddly and fun.

Hey -- fiction, remember?