Oh, I’m in love with the janitor’s boy; and the janitor’s boy loves me

So, it’s been an exciting couple of days here at the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory.

Yesterday, of course, was Sprite’s visit to the vet; always an energizing time.  Sprite had previously been able to call in enough bad weather to twice call for a cancellation of this annual event, but yesterday, her luck ran out.  She was outfitted in her harness and glittery leash, and her ladybug-print bib and off we went.  After a first, obligatory shout-out to the neighborhood that she was being kidnapped, and a few energetic curses as we started up, she settled down on my lap, and seemed to resign herself to her fate.  Steve had turned on the classic rock station — Sprite being partial to classic rock — and that seemed to soothe her somewhat.

The vet pronounced her in good health, and good fur, delivered the required shots and home we came, where Sprite retired to the so-called “medium dog bed” under Steve’s desk for a long and restorative nap.

This morning, she’s still a little subdued, and, after a mouthful of breakfast, has again retired under Steve’s desk for another nap.

I did get together the paperwork, and mailed my check and registration form to the National Carousel Association’s annual convention.  I also tried to call the convention hotel to reserve a room, the information in the packet being that rooms are limited and go fast — well, there was no try about it — I did call, as instructed.  Predictably, all operators were busy, and I spent about eight minutes on hold, listening to the robot telling me that I really could do all necessary business on the website or through the Marriott app.  I held on, though, and finally got a click, and the tail end of an answering machine message which stated that it could not accept any more messages — whereupon, the call was disconnected.

Um, yeah.

So, I’ll try to call again today, though the Main Adventure on today’s schedule is for me to go down to Charlie’s Subaru and have them install a remote starter in the Forester.  This operation will take approximately 2 hours, so I guess I’ll have the courtesy van take me over to Barnes and Noble, which is far more entertaining than Charlie’s waiting room.

What else?  I’m sure there was — Oh.  There are two additional events in motion at the moment, which created much excitement for Steve and me. But!

I can’t talk about them yet.

Oh, but I can tell you that the Dyson — remember the Dyson? that had to be sent away via UPS for repair last Friday? — the Dyson, it says here, has been repaired and will be home today!

And if that isn’t exciting, I don’t know what is.

Everybody have a good day.

Today’s blog post title brought to you by Nathalia Crane, “The Janitor’s Boy.”  Here’s a link.  Oh, and here’s another — from Natalie Merchant.

Today’s the big day

Today, December 15, is the eighth birthday of Kelimcoons Sooper Trooper. We usually call him Trooper, but for his birthday, he gets the Whole Formal, at least once.  Festivities are planned throughout the day.  The sun has obligingly come out, and is puddling nicely in the napping spots.  We also have a Flying Mouse Competition planned for later in the day, and a grooming session.  We will also have Jazz on Pandora.  Trooper is partial to Jazz.

Today, December 15, is also the day that “Block Party” (collaborative effort number 82 by Sharon Lee and Steve Miller) will be published to Baen.com, around noonish US Eastern Time.

We’ll obviously be very busy here with the Natal Day Festivities, so feel free to sing out when you see the story come up.

Here’s a picture of the Birthday Cat, wondering what all the fuss is about.

Oh, baby you’re the only thing in this whole world that’s pure and good and right

So, last night, just as we were going to bed, we had a bat invasion.  Followed a fun-filled 45 minutes while we convinced the coon cats that it was not their bat, but our bat; got Scrabble back from the Big Dark Outside, when she strolled while we were holding the door open for the bat to exit; and last but not least, I executed a net-throw that would have won applause in any gladiatorial display, and brought the bat down mid-flight, into the shopping bag that Steve was holding ready.

Yes, sometimes we really are that good.  The “net” by the way, was a mosquito net meant to be worn over a hat.  Here’s a picture.

The bat was taken outside and released, whereupon we went to bed, but the coon cats did not, choosing instead to prowl the house, looking for their bat.

Well.

As of this morning, Sleeping with the Enemy: Adventures in the Liaden Universe® Number 22, by Sharon Lee and Steve Miller is available in paper from Amazon only.  Here’s your link.

I will be converting the rest of the chapbooks as I have time and energy.  Nothing like a firm schedule, am I right?

As of this writing, in addition to Sleeping. . .  Change Management: Adventures in the Liaden Universe® Number 23and Due Diligence: Adventures in the Liaden Universe® Number 24 are also available in digital and paper editions.

And, now, having goofed off much of the morning; it’s time to go to work.

See you on the flip-side.

Today’s blog post title brought to you by — of course! — Meatloaf, “Bat out of Hell.”  Here’s your link.

The Power of Purr

Today, with the exception of needing to go to the doctor for a follow-up exam this afternoon, is a Work Day, and I will be shutting down the internets very soon.
 
I do want to mention, for the people who are here for the cats…the marvelous healing power of purrs.
 
At the ER Monday night, I was given a shot of high-test ibuprofen, and given a muscle-relaxant in pill form to take before I went to bed. In theory, this was to help me sleep through the night.
 
In fact, it helped me sleep for about four hours, when the pain woke me again and I lay in bed counting the hours until CVS opened and I — well, actually, Steve — could go into town and get the prescriptions filled. I twisted and turned and couldn’t find any position that provided relief — for an hour or so by the clock on the ceiling.
 
About 4 am, I decided that, if I started walking, I could be in Waterville when CVS opened, Belle jumped up to the foot of the bed, STOMPED up until she was next to me, sat down and HUFFED. It really was very clearly, “What on earth is the matter with you, stupid kitten?” — and she started to purr.
 
“It won’t work,” I told her. Whereupon she blinked at me, threw herself against my chest (I was laying on my side) and brought up the Big, Deep, Rough purrs from ‘way down at the bottom of the Purr Box. I closed my eyes, still convinced that it wasn’t going to work. . .
 
And woke up at 9 am with my back hurting, but somewhat less.
 
The rest of Tuesday was spent with heating pad on/heating pad off, listening to Pandora and dozing. Trooper took day-shift, with Sprite filling in for necessary breaks. Yesterday, all was very nearly back to normal, though Trooper and Belle still hung close, and today, as previously suggested is a work day.
 
As I type, Belle is in the wooden basket on my desk, and Trooper is sitting next to the keyboard, purring and aiming head-butts at my chin.
 
Everybody have a good day.

Moving right along

OK!  Due Diligence: Adventures in the Liaden Universe® Number 24 by Sharon Lee and Steve Miller is available from most on-line retailers, and is publishing to the rest.  It was, for a couple days, a Number One Amazon Bestseller, and has fallen today to Number Three.  It has also garnered a surprising number of reviews —  thanks to everyone who has taken the time!

Those who are just arriving at the party — there’s room for your review, too; if you are so moved.

Because there were So Very Many requests, Due Diligence will also, soon now, be available in paper, from Amazon.  The reason it will not be available REALsoonnow, is that I made an error and have to fix it, as soon as Amazon stops doing something else that Amazon is doing with the file.  O! Brave New World, that hath such golems in it!

In other news, there’s a small army of ducks between me and the work I really need to be doing, here, and the coon cats are not really much into duck hunting.  Their advice is to curl up on the couch with a book and let the coon cats camouflage me as a Big Pile of Coon Cats.  This is, I note, often their advice.

And that?  Is all the news that’s fit to print.

. . .I do believe that I need more coffee. . .

 

It was Gatlinburg, in mid-July…

Well, no.  Not quite mid-July, but we’ll get there.  We’ll get there.

Yesterday, was ant-murdering day.  Maybe every third summer one of the ant colonies will get the bright idea to expand supply lines and send a foraging force into the kitchen, whereupon we enter battle, and prevail, eventually.  It would be tempting to believe that, this year, we really did vanquish the foragers in our first, decisive, victory, but that’s not really the way these things have worked in the past.  What will happen is that they’ll withdraw, regroup and try again.  So, we await the dropping of the other shoe.

In the meantime, and in-between it all, we’ve been making plans for our pilgrimage West at the end of July.  As I may have mentioned once or twice, Steve and I will be Writer Guests of Honor at Confluence, in Pittsburgh during the first weekend in August. This will be our last convention appearance of 2017, so if you live near Pittsburgh, this is your call to seize the day.  Hope to see you there!

After the con, we are committed to coming home the long way, so that I might, at my advanced age, for the first time see Niagara Falls, and also so we might seek out and be pleased by the various carousels which can — and will! — be found along our route.

Among other things, of course this means buying clothes.  I have therefore purchased, on sale, one! more! pair! of Dry-on-the-fly cargo pants perfect for summer wear and travel.  I have also purchased the Russian sailor’s shirt from Peterman’s, which I have looked at with longing for years.  I’m calling it an early birthday present from me to me.

For those who were looking for an update to our Patreon page this weekend — I do apologize.  Life, and words that must be written, derailed my good intentions.  Soon, I promise. . .

Today, I’m doing laundry.  The temperature is warm enough to melt coon cats, though with enough of a breeze that we have opted for fans rather than bring the A/C online.

And, that’s all I’ve got, except that I’d better get back to work if I want to finish writing this section today.

Why, look!  Here are two melted coon cats, right here!

Melted Belle

Melted Sprite

Almost forgot:  Today’s blog post title brought to you by Johnnie Cash, “A Boy Named Sue.”  Here’s your link.

Mental Health Day

People have been behaving badly on the internet.  What a surprise.

I’m reminded of a story I read once, true or not, who knows, which was to the effect that, when switchboards first became a Thing, the newly-organized phone company had initially hired boys as operators, because — cheap labor.  Unfortunately, it quickly became apparent that something about having all that access acted on boys like catnip on cats; they began pranking callers, and just in general behaving badly.  Couldn’t seem to help themselves, really, poor things.  So the phone companies fired the boy operators and hired women, because — cheap labor.  And that worked out much better for all concerned.

Personally, I think there’s a genetic disposition, a kind of allergy to electrons, so that when people with this allergy are exposed to this allergen, they behave as badly as possible.  Remove the electrons, and they revert to being perfectly innocuous and civilized members of society.

Well.

In other news, I’ve taken up meditation, as part of my project to avoid a Major Depressive Incident, such as I experienced last year.  As we all know, depression makes us stupid, and I’m still finding errors that I made during the last (really bad, by my standards; maybe one of the Biggest since records started to be kept, some 40 years ago) — some serious, but none, thank ghod, fatal, though one was particularly scary.  So, anyway, despite a lifetime of crash-burn-rise-up-eventually-slighty-sooty, I’m now trying to alter the pattern, and to be proactive.  Which means, yes, meditation, and also ruthlessly slashing toxic — and even perennially irritating — people out of my life.

If you follow me on Twitter or Facebook, expect to see me less.  I’ll try to pick back up posting more regularly here (this blog is mirrored at Eagles Over the Kennebec).  I love you all, but — survival is important to the appearance of more stories.

So, that.

Yesterday, Steve and I took a mental health day.  We went down to Old Orchard Beach, where it was foggy and windy(!) and too chilly to sit on the beach and read, which had been my Plan A.  We did a short beach walk, then went down to Wells, where it was also foggy and windy(!), and stood around on the public landing, watching the kites, and Steve took pictures with his new camera.

After, we crossed over to Sanford, and stopped for lunch at the Cockpit Cafe at the airport.  And there we saw George W. Bush arrive, and board the (Embraer Legacy twin-jet) plane that had been waiting for him.

On the way home from Sanford, we made one more ocean stop — at Pine Point — and then came home, where I continued the electron-free theme (not totally true, since I’m reading an ebook), until it was time for the evening meal, a glass of wine and a chapter read outloud from The Cat Who Saw Red (yeah, it’s a re-read; we decided to do the Cat Who’s in order to follow Qwilleran’s arc).

This morning, I baked peasant olive bread while Steve went to cardio-gym, and also figured out the penultimate scene in the cheater story.

I may not have reported here that I bought myself a chair side table (a so-called C-table) for the reading corner.

Here are some pictures:

This first was taken when the table came home. At the time the photo was snapped, it had been in the house for less than five minutes:

This is what the table looks like, unadorned:

And here is Sprite, reasserting her claim:

Monday morning round-up

We’ve had something of a busy few days here at the Confusion Factory.

Last week, Steve graduated from cardio-gym and is now on the Third Phase, which is going to the cardio-gym early on Monday and Wednesdays and doing what he’s been doing, with the same personnel on-staff, but without the various measurements at the beginning, middle, and end of the session.  This means a change of schedule, including rising Much Earlier in the Day than I, personally, care to do, but that’s life.  I’ll be going to gym around Steve’s schedule — Tuesdays and Thursdays in the early hours, with refinement of the afternoon and evening hours as we go forward.  Since I have for all of my life been an evening/night writer, this may entail afternoon naps, which ought to please the cats.

In writing news, the page proofs for the Alliance of Equals mass market edition landed late last week, and have been added to the mix of Tasks to Be Done.  Also!  The first in a series of Lee-and-Miller Read Lee-and-Miller podcasts has been moved from Patreon to Splinter Universe LIVE.  You can listen to Steve read “A Night at the Opera” at this link.

We’ll be posting more of these to SULIVE, as they age off of our Patreon page, so remember to check back.

We are also, in light of the. . .substantial number of emails we’ve gotten from people who either want paper chapbooks, or the Excitement of the Annual Yule Chapbook, or want a return to Olden Times. . .

We cannot any of us return to Olden Times, so that’s right out.

But we can, perhaps, accommodate the wish for paper chapbooks, and even, maybe, for the Annual Yule Chapbook.

So, we’re running an experiment.  Amazon has a. . .program where those who have published ebooks with them may convert those ebooks into paper books.  This is an expensive process, as Amazon takes 40% off the top of cover price, and then charges printing costs from the author/publisher’s 60% royalty.  It’s also somewhat time-consuming, as is working with any template program that is based on Assumptions.  However!  With determination and enough wine, it can be done, as I proved this weekend by converting both Barnburner and Gunshy to paper books and putting them on sale.  The reason we chose these titles to experiment on first is that they convert into 5X8 paperbacks, which is an easy convert (part of the test was to see how “easy” easy was).  Based on my time and effort expended this weekend, we anticipate that converting to chapbook will be somewhat more time-consuming, though still doable.

We will, eventually, convert an actual Liaden chapbook, but that experiment has to wait in line behind work with a deadline attached.

For those interested, here’s the link to Barnburner.  (Which Amazon has decided to discount, so it will be interesting to see how that affects our royalty rates from them.)

Here’s the link to Gunshy.

The downside to this, besides the expense, is that these books would only be available through Amazon, which is whimsical at the best of times and downright malicious at the worst.

So, there’s that.

For those who have been asking anxiously about progress on Fifth of Five. . .progress progresses, more slowly than I had anticipated, but picking steam up as the new meds kick in.

. . .and I think that catches us all up.

Everybody do your best to enjoy Monday, OK?

Let the coon cats lead the way.

Ghost in the machine

So, the adding machine woke me up at 5 a.m. by running crazily — kaCHUNGkaCHUNGkaCHUNG, lather, rinse, repeat, just like a cat was laying on the keyboard (or just playing with the sound.  Belle, in particular, likes to smack the + key just to set of a series of kaCHUNGS.  You can see her giggle when she does it, too.).

I got up — not easy, because Trooper was pushed against my stomach, and had allowed his personal gravity to bond with the earth’s core — went into my office (conveniently located right across the hall from the bedroom), and did, in fact, find Belle — asleep in Her Special Corner of my office (formerly Mozart’s Special Corner of my office).  In the meantime, the adding machine was going off like a shotgun, even though it was turned off.

I pulled the plug, not at all sure that would fix the problem, but it seems to have done, and now I’m trying to decide:  short circuit? (it’s quite an old adding machine, circa 1997); solar flare?  ghost trying to work out the monthly budget for ectoplasm*?

Got back to bed to find Trooper had vacated, and managed to go more or less back to sleep, so all’s well.  More or less.

Now to go find breakfast.  I’m thinking a toasted English muffin with cream cheese and a side of fresh fruit.  With coffee.  Perhaps even a lot of coffee.

And so to work.

Everybody have a good Saturday.

___
*the WordPress on-board dictionary does not recognize ectoplasm as a word.  For shame, WordPress dictionary.

Up before the school bus

Asyouknowbob, we live in the country, surrounded by woods and fields and occasionally the Mice of the Field will send a Covert Operative into the basement to see if we’ve let our Security Contract lapse.  In fact, we haven’t, and while the fate of the Covert Operative isn’t necessarily foregone, it does appear that the Mice of the Field are usually in receipt of the message that, whatever is in that basement, It Got Charlie, too!

Last night there was apparently An Infiltration about the time we were winding down to go to bed.  Sprite heard the perimeter alarm go off, and rushed down to the basement, followed by Belle, with Trooper bringing up the rear.  When I looked down before lights-out, Trooper was sitting in back-up position at the foot of the stairs; his job to make sure that the Covert Operative did not make it upstairs.  Neither Belle nor Sprite was in evidence, and the basement was Vewy, Vewy Quiet.

I went to bed.

Now, usually in the course of these Operations, a cat will make a point of stopping by the bed at some point in the evening, just to check in and make sure we’re dreaming right.  Last night there was no check-in.  Not one.  Which, when you’re used to being walked on by cats when you sleep can be a little disorienting.

I woke up around five, took my Necessary Medications, noted the lack of cats on the upper levels, put on my robe, and opened the basement door.

Trooper immediately charged up the steps, and gave me multiple hugs around the legs, possibly encouraging me to stay abovestairs, but I was adamant, and down I went.

I was met by Sprite, who, prancing, led me to the sad remains of the Covert Operative.  Belle was nowhere in sight.

I went upstairs to procure a coffin, so that we might show proper honor to a worthy opponent.  Belle appeared as I came back downstairs; she and Sprite and Trooper stood by solemnly while the late Operative was transferred to his empty butter cup.  Trooper and Sprite came upstairs with me, as an honor guard, while Belle stayed behind to continue her survey of the perimeter.

The Covert Operative was consigned to the gentle grasses, and I went back inside, now thoroughly awake, to find Steve up and about, also, having heard the kitchen door close.

So, we praised the cats, who came upstairs in shifts, drank coffee; and were just finishing breakfast when the school bus went by.

I see a nap in my very near future, but, for now, since I’m up and caffeinated and all, I should probably do some work.