Category: Blog

In which the wine is damned good

What went before: That was a quick 1000-ish words. I must be on the right track. The WIP entire now tips the word meter at! +/-55,075.

I’m done for the day. Tomorrow’s treats include the arrival of Ideal Electric, to subject the generator to its annual inspection, and, in the evening, needleworking at the library. We will also be looking for temperatures in excess of 90F/32C, which is never fun.

And on that note — everybody stay safe. I’ll see you tomorrow.

SNIPPET:
“The wine is well-chosen,” she murmured in Liaden, then slanted a look up into speculative silver eyes, and added, “Damn, that’s good.”

“That the refreshment pleases you must gratify me,” Shan answered politely. He sipped, sighed, and murmured, “Ain’t it, though?”

Tuesday. Sunny, already warm, and aimed for hot, the first of three. Curtains are closed, station air is on; trash and recycling are at the curb.

Breakfast was roast beef and Swiss on whole grain bread with a side of cherries. Lunch will be, err, something.

Trooper is currently in the bathroom, eating his second snack on the day; my second cup of tea is to hand.

I woke up just before 7, but did not start the day with jets hot. There was, for instance, Tali to be stroked and murmured to, as she’s decided that a little morning spoil before arising is good for her complexion, then Rookie got shut in the bedroom closet — I swear to GHU I’m puttin’ a bell on that cat — Firefly made a Formal Solicitation to be brushed, Trooper had to have his first snack, and so on.

Looking at the to-do list, I may not get any writing done today, though if things go faster than expected, I may be able to grab an hour.

I called a critter removal service yesterday, but haven’t heard back yet. I’ll give them today, then move on to Number Two on the list.

And that’s it — another day in the exciting, drama-filled life of a working writer.

What’s your day looking like?

Flashback to yesterday afternoon:  All paws wanted to inspect my new haircut:

The aim of waking is to dream

SNIPPET:

“We ain’t so full up at Jelaza Kazone right at present,” she said.

“No.” He turned on his heel to gaze at her. “The clan is much reduced, I know. In my day, you could buy cousins in lots of a dozen. Come into the kitchen at any hour, and you would be certain to meet a hand or more of them, eating, drinking, playing, as I said, at cards; reading – and quarreling, naturally. We are a quarrelsome lot. Or were. Perhaps our manners are by necessity better, without numbers to back us.”

What went before: Well. It has been an unexpectedly productive day. I haven’t quite finished the laundry, though there’s still time for that to happen. I fed myself lunch, cleaned up the kitchen, put the clean towels away, did my duty the cats, took a walk, and!

Wrote. I really REALLY like this scene, at +/-780 new words, which leaves the WIP entire a breath short of +/-54,000. Perhaps tomorrow, since I know what the scene after this scene is — though not exactly after this one, but — oh, never mind. I’m declaring a victory for the write-what-you-like school of drafting today.

I also need to check in with the smoke detector, which failed to start screaming when I opened the oven to retrieve lunch and a billowing cloud of olive-oil scented smoke emerged. Possibly, it was unset during dusting and needs its button pushed. If it needs a new battery, I will be very cross, since it’s supposed to have a 10-year battery onboard.

I discovered when I was folding socks last night that I was missing one, and, as mandated in The Manual, went back to make sure it wasn’t still in the dryer, or in the hamper, or on the floor, but could discover no sign of it. Well. I hadn’t paid the Portal Tax for a while, so I was … unhappy, but not distraught. This morning, when I moved the towel hamper to start loading the washer, I found the missing sock behind it. I call Feline Shenanigans. Which is, I admit, better than the Portal Tax.

Anywise. I have to do some desk prep for tomorrow — new to-do list and whatnot. And eventually, it will be Coon Cat Happy Hour. But, really, I’m done for the day, and well-satisfied with my accomplishments.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Well. Monday, I believe. Cloudy and said to be on and off rainy. I’m up but not at ’em and am drinking a motivational cup of tea while I address the internets.

The rosebush has survived its second night in the garden.

Trooper has had his first snack of the day, the one with the probiotic stirred into it, and is now resting comfortably on the copilot’s chair. Firefly is staring at me from the observation table next to the window, possibly attempting to indicate on the Cat Telepathy Channel that she, too, would like a bowl of Delectable gravy. Tali (Wrasslin’ Name TaliBOOM) and Rook (Wrasslin’ Name Rookie the Cookie) are alternatively wrasslin’ and zooming.

The writer, Yr Hmbl Correspondent, is really struggling to keep her eyes open, here.

sips tea

On today’s menu — a haircut! The timing of this blessed event suggests that I’ll be stopping at Holy Cannoli to pick up something to take home for lunch, or perhaps I’ll opt to eat there, and sit in the window, brooding over Main Street in the Grand Romantical Style. We shall see.

Also on today’s task list: one’s duty to the cats, playing with the smoke detector (I failed to finish that yesterday, having found the instruction booklet), and trying to figure out why the electric broom (essential to my plan to keep the basement stairs free of dust and fur) doesn’t, err, suck. Also, I want to write.

That seems like a full day, right there. Of course, I deliberately maintain a low bar.

I do think that’s all the news from this location. I really need to finish my tea and go find pants. And a shirt, too, I suppose. And then I hope to be awake enough to hunt the wily Everything Bagel.

And how are you this morning?

Today’s blog post title brought to you by e e cummings, “in time of daffodils“

Every day you get more more yard

What went before ONE: The rose in its new home. I have done many foolish things today and it’s not even 10 am.

What went before TWO: So, while I was outside anyway, putting a rosebush into the ground, I weeded, and cleaned up the mess on the deck, discovering in the process that the pot the rose had been in was broken in the fracas.

When I came back in, after having expended some frustration, I swallowed some muscle relaxants, and iced my back while listening to These Old Shades. After lunch, I took a smol nap, with Firefly’s expert oversight. I sat with the WIP for a bit and actually recorded an idea I had through an app on my phone, and sent! the! transcript! to myself at Gmail. It’s really quite a good transcription. I’m impressed.

We are now nigh on to Coon Cat Happy Hour. Once that’s served up, I’ll have something to eat in order to buffer another dose of muscle relaxants and retire to mine bed with a cup of tea and These Old Shades and hopefully get a good night’s sleep.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Sunday. Cloudy and damp.

I am pleased to report that the rosebush has survived its first night in the front garden. I managed to have some solid sleep on that same overnight, and! have an idea for a scene that should be fun to write. Yes, yes, I know: a novel is not just a string of amusing scenes, but at this point, I’ll take what I’ve got, reminding myself that Salvage Right was a string of amusing scenes, which I then had to patch together with a series of bridges. So, it can be done.

The first load of towels is in the washer.

Breakfast is just about finished with the cooking part — sausage and cheese on a biscuit. Tea is brewed.

. . . and there’s the bell. BRB.

. . .and back. Breakfast was good. Not healthy according to the cancer ladies, but I ate breakfast and that’s a win. I have at least one yam, so lunch is covered; arguably, even a healthy lunch.

I wish to mention here that Rookie the Cookie’s Best Trick Ever is coming when he’s called, and if he cannot come when he’s called, by reason, perhaps, of having gotten himself locked in a closet again, he will call out in answer multiple times, if necessary, until he’s let out, whereupon, he will stand up on his hind legs and demand a cuddle.

This brought to you by Rook got locked into the linen closet while I was changing out the towels, and had no idea he was even in the hall.

My back aches the tiniest bit and I have, out of an Abundance of Caution, taken one more dose of muscle relaxants, and That — fingers crossed — ought to be the end of THAT.

So, I got When the Moon Hits Your Eye out of the library last Tuesday, and I’ve been reading a chapter or two at lunch to distract myself. So far, so good, though I did not expect a retelling of recent current events couched in metaphor. Notice me heroically avoid “whey.”

My quandary is that I’m also reading These Old Shades in audio; I’ve read the first chapter of A Gentleman of Questionable Judgement; and! the first few pages of Stone and Sky, and that’s too many books open, especially for someone who used to be a One Book At A Time reader. Given that I’m also writing a book, that’s a little too much to keep in my head at once, so I’m cutting back, and will finish …Shades and …Moon, then flip a coin — actually, no, I won’t flip a coin, I’ll go back to Stone and Sky, because the arrival of Peter’s entire family, plus representatives of The Folly, with a fox, was too funny to put on hold for long.

All that said! How’s everybody doing? And — bonus question — what are you reading?

Today’s blog post title brought to you by Mr. Tom Petty, assisted by Mr. Eddie Vedder, “The Waiting”

Photo from yesterday afternoon:  Disheveled and Marvelous

In which today is looking to be a bad week

What went before: Eight hundred-ish new words today, bringing the total WIP to +/-53,200.

I have some bills to pay tonight and some accounting to bring up to day, but more or less I’m done for the day. Tomorrow, I’m free to write, so that’s nice, though I could always throw in a load of laundry and pretend to be keeping house.

It looks about ready to rain here, so I’m clearly in for the night.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Oh, hey — have a snippet:

“Did the master trader receive any more letters?”

“He did not. However, I have had a letter from my brother Ren Zel, who shares news of kin.”

Priscilla settled her head more comfortably. “Is Anthora well?”

Shan raised a finger. “Who is telling this?”

“You are,” Priscilla said, not at all contrite. “Please do bore on.”

“Thank you. Where was I?”

Saturday.

So, I’ve been more awake than asleep since 2:30ish, and finally gave up on the whole idea of getting any more sleep at 4:15ish. I refilled the dry cat food, which, yes, you could see the bottom of the bowls, fed Trooper some of the gravy he favors with the probiotic mixed in, made myself a cup of what I suspect will be MANY cups of tea for the day, opened the curtain in my office to survey the carnage wrought on my rose bush, drank my tea, wrote in my journal, and now I guess I’ll throw in a load of laundry and survey the front garden for a good place to dig a hole to try to save the rose bush’s life.

One of my other tasks on the day will be calling a critter removal service. Because, yes, I am feeling a tiny bit vindictive.

In service of not spreading my black mood around, I will be shutting down social media for the day.

Everybody stay safe.

Adventures in jewelry

What went before ONE: So that’s scary. I got up to walk around the corner and get something out of the printer, and — one of my earrings fell out.

But that’s not the scary part. I found the earring, but I can’t find the back — yanno, just one of those tiny little silvery lock things? Looked everywhere with my friend Mr. Flashlight, looked inside my shirt, looked, yeah, everywhere, because who knows when it went AWOL and I just hadn’t moved my head sharply enough to dislodge the ring?

Finally wound up vacuuming the whole house, and still no certainty that I found it. It’s not the loss of the backing I’m worried about; it the loose piece of metal on (possibly) the floor with four floor inspectors on-paw.

Argh. Now I get to breathe deeply and try to get back to work.

And I say again — argh.

What went before TWO: Six hundred sixty-one new words today.

Didn’t finish my scene, and also didn’t find the back to my earring. The WIP is now +/-52,400 words and the little piece of silver is on the knees of Bast; I’ve done everything I can.

I hear there’s supposed to be a splendid full moon tonight. Of course, it will be cloudy here in Central Maine. Honestly, you could make a calendar.

Speaking of calendars — one of our needlework members is newly arrived in Central Maine from Arizona and she was remarking on how late it stayed light here. Which — official sunset is 8:30, but it’s not really DARK until 10/10:30. Turns out in Tucson, sunset is at 7:30? In JULY? How is that even a thing? And then I remembered back in 1999, when I had to travel to the San Antonio Worldcon, and I’d gotten up at Maine Rising Time, and — it was still dark out. On account the sun don’t be rising in San Antonio until 6:45, Texas Time, and at home, where we do these things normally, the sun rises at 5 am, but it’s light enough to drive at 4.

So, that’s the news and babbling from hereabouts.

Tomorrow morning, I have errands and an appointment with the chiropractor, where, this being the end of my second two-week adjustment plan, I’m hoping to receive good news. Tomorrow afternoon, I hope to complete today’s scene and maybe start another.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

So. Friday. Cloudy and damp. Once again the call is for rain. We Shall See.

I have been to the grocery, the post office, Reny’s, Day’s, and the chiropractor. I tried to stop at the latte truck, but they weren’t open when I went by at 8:30ish. Probably just as well.

Consultation with the chiropractor has produced a schedule of weekly visits, stretching out to every three weeks. First session of the new schedule being next Friday (unless something goes bad before that). And we’ll see how that goes. Fingers crossed.

Took on a crazy flowered shirt at Reny’s, as well as sox, butter chicken sauce, jasmine rice, and hangers, since I apparently have a hanger-eating gremlin infestation in the laundry room.

At Day’s, I acquired new backs for the earrings that I lost one back to, yesterday. The new ones made a very satisfying CLICK when I shoved them onto the post, so I have some confidence that these will stay where they’re put.

The butter chicken sauce and the jasmine rice will join the last pork chop in the joyous celebration of lunch. Honestly, I don’t know how people can be enthused about eating three times a day, every day, 365 days a year. Hoping that the slight weirdness of today’s lunch will renew a flagging interest in food. I’m trying to stave off the part where I’ll take anything — ice cream! a doughnut! — as long as I’ve eaten something.

Once I finish this dispatch, I will throw a load of shirts in the washer, make (and eat) lunch, then get with writing.

How’s everybody doing today?

. . . I found it all on my own

What went before: Today’s writing was tweaking what I wrote yesterday. Maybe, a net gain of 200 words, when all’s said and done. Tomorrow! A new scene.

Everybody have a good evening; stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Thursday. Cool and damp and said to be fixin’ to rain. Windows open, because? Anybody? Yes? Yes, you there in the orange sleeveless tshirt. Correct! Because cats.

Tuesday night, I got about four hours sleep, mostly due to Trooper needing All The Cuddles, and None of the Cuddles on about a 20 minute rotation. Last night, I collapsed early and was let to sleep for damn near nine hours, and honestly, I could do it again, right now. This not being feasible, I’m taking on caffeine.

Breakfast was tomato and cheese on anadama bread with a side of grapes. Lunch will be fish, because I have once again fallen off the fish wagon. It’s been a real eye-opener, how close Steve watched the menu and made sure of the rotation of various foods.

Among yesterday’s few accomplishments, I ironed my finished project and put it in the embroidery book, and! I chose my new project, which is pictured below.

Today, aside from the making and eating of lunch, and the various duties that attend a cat parent, I do intend to write. That’s is — one good intention at a time.

Who else has good intentions today?

Today’s blog post title brought to you by Stitch

The new project:

Embroidering the tale

Wednesday. Cloudy, and cool, but high humidity. The windows are open, because — cats.

Breakfast was naan and hummus with a side of grapes. Salad for lunch with my pork chop.

Been to the chiropractor, now home; made myself a mug of iced peppermint tea (which is becoming a go-to), ate a pineapple ring (want another one, but so far holding out against tooth decay), and am fixing to place my completed embroidery project into my book, after which I will need to explore my project box to see if I have any more kits.

Stripped the bed, and the sheets are washing.

Made an appointment for a Monday haircut, which is none too soon. Flipping the coin on leaving it “long” or whacking it all off.

To-Do includes washing the bathroom rugs, so I guess while that’s happening I’ll steam mop the floor and the kitchen floor, too, why not?

This afternoon, I need to read what I wrote yesterday, and maybe write another few new words.

No, the excitement never stops. You can see why so very many people want to embrace the writing life.

How’s Wednesday treating everybody?

I finished my project last night at the needlework meeting:

Last Blog of a Tuesday

There is a photoblog of Rookie’s Gotcha Day Celebrations here.

Not to overshadow Rookie’s Celebrations (which — everybody wore themselves out and they’re napping now. I have been informed by His Gotchaness that there will NOT be fireworks this evening, so — OK, then)

As I was saying before I got caught in my own parenthetical — not to overshadow The Celebrations, but! I have finished writing my scene at +/-2,080 words, which brings the WIP entire to!

+/-51,490 words.

And there was MUCH rejoicing.  Also ice cream.  Because, by damn, I earned ice cream.

Here, have a celebratory snippet:

“Jen Sin!” Catie’s voice was sharp from directly overhead. “He has a knife!”

“Well of course he has a knife,” Jen Sin said, astonishment sharpening his own voice. “He’s not an idiot.”

Rookie’s Gotcha Day Morning Report

Tuesday, July 8. Rainy and cool.

On this date in 2024, Ellen Richmond kindly gave me a ride to the Tradewinds Market in Clinton, to a meet in the parking lot, where the deal went down, and a black kitten, with wide eyes and a great deal of surprised good humor came home to the Cat Farm. He weighed about 4 pounds on arrival. His name was Rook Thunderpaws.

Today, on the first anniversary of his Gotcha Day, Rookie (as he’s called more often than not) weighs a whopping 12.25 pounds, making him the largest cat in the household. The windows have been opened so that he may do a proper inspection, he and Tali have already competed for possession of the spring, and he supervised my taking the trash to the curb from the viewport overlooking the driveway.

I will be updating on festivities a little later, but I woke up knowing where a scene I’ve had in my head for at least two years goes, and having to do research on: the Tactical Defense Pods; Jen Sin’s age; and formal language re Scout issued weapons. I also need to eat breakfast.

Therefore, I’m jumping off the internets for a few hours, to eat breakfast, write my scene, correct my other scene, and do my duty to the cats.

Here’s a picture to get you in a celebratory mood: