After-snow

What went before: So, there’s six inches of snow on the front step, and it’s still snowing. It did stop for a couple hours, and I thought the Big Storm was a bust, but it started to snow again just as the mailman came past and I trekked out to the curb to get my package, which was, indeed, delivered.

I spoke to Martin’s Point, which allowed me to know that neither 0 nor 45 was the correct number of dollars owed the clinic. That number is 35, which I didn’t even know was a choice. The check has been written, and we’ll hope the clinic is better informed than I am.

I made a few inroads into the next ASL lesson. Tomorrow, I fear I will have to go back and review the previous lesson. Though I did today, for two minutes, watch a conversation between two ASL speakers, and understood what they were saying — by which I mean, I wasn’t translating what they were saying into spoken words — so that gives me some hope for eventual adequacy.

I note that the Other — as in the remaining — Hospital serving this area (in Augusta) is laying off staff, citing financial problems.

The WIP — remember the WIP? — currently weighs in at +/-16,580 words, and at this point we’re not arguing if they’re good words, as long as we’re all heading in the same direction.

I have exchanged emails with the Techs of BaltiCon, and also with Mark Van Name, the toastmaster, and my issues in re the microphone have been revealed and are being addressed, which is a huge relief.

I have one more letter to write, then it’s time to relax. They say.

The Garmin watch and I continue to have very different ideas of what constitutes stress. Again, I would have told you that I had a fairly peaceful day. The watch is urging me to take some downtime after a Very Stressful Day. OTOH, its understanding of how well and how much I’m sleeping is much closer to my understanding of these things, so that’s good. And at some point, I’ll figure out how to tell it that I’m taking a walk. Or perhaps I’m simply not energetic enough for it. At least it counts the steps.

Slightly off-topic — how many folks who read here know who Paul Novak was?

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Tuesday. Trash and recycling are at the curb.

I woke up slightly early, knowing that there was shoveling before me so I could get the trash to the curb. I was just pulling on my sweatshirt when the door camera jingled and I looked outside to see that the plowguy had arrived. Six inches of wet snow swept away like it was nothing. All hail the plowguy.

After that, it was easy enough to give the trash bags a ride in the toboggan to the top of the drive. Wheeling the recycling bin was a little tricky, but it got there.

Breakfast was oatmeal with cranberries and walnuts and a cup of Republic of Tea English Breakfast that came as a sample with my order. It’s … better than other English Breakfast teas I’ve sampled, but I’m still preferring the Irish. I think it’s the malt.

I thought I might forage today, but — maybe not. It’s supposed to get warm(ish) later, but I’m not really eager to go out in the slop and the mud.

Mostly, then, I’ll be ASLing and writing. I stripped the bed yesterday, so I can throw the bedclothes in the washer and get (slightly) ahead of the game, so that may be a plan.

A reader query has been received, which I paraphrase: Do I know that the world is falling apart, as I sit here and natter about nothing?

Answer: Yes. Yes, I do.

The cats at the moment are dispersed throughout the house: Rook among the toys in my office; Firefly on top of the bureau in the bedroom; Trooper on the rug between my office and the kitchen; Tali under the dining room table, taking up, I may say, most of available space. They make a compelling case for snuggling under a blanket, but maybe I’ll get the washer loaded, first.

What’s everybody got going today?

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I Am Remiss.

I posed a Question last night and have failed to give the answer.

Paul Novak was the man who was, in his own words, “put on this earth to take care of Mae West.”

Mr. Novak was born Chester Ribowsky in Baltimore, Maryland. In WWII, he was a navy gunner. After the war, he took to the stage as “Mr. Baltimore,” a wrestler. Previous to joining Mae West’s nightclub act in the 1950s as part of the chorus line, he became Chester Krauser. Mr. Novak was 32; Ms West was 62.

They remained together until her death in 1980 at the age of 87. Mr. Novak died in 1999, at 76.