Opening the windows

In an attempt to restart this blog, I have formed A Plan.

Every morning on Facebook, I write a small good morning post, sometimes newsy, sometimes not, mixing the mundane, with the ridiculous, because, really, that’s my life.  The Plan is to bring that post over here, for folks who don’t Facebook, and for those who pass by from time to time, to see if there’s anything new going on.

Today is the first such re-printing.

Saturday. Rainy and cool.

Coon cats woke me up at 6, then conspired to put me back to sleep until 8:15. This follows last night, when Firefly curled in against me on the sofa and put me to sleep. I’m sure there’s A Plan. Or, yanno, they just like being comfy.

Breakfast was oatmeal with walnuts and peach jam. Lunch will be soup.

The flannel sheets arrived yesterday, and I washed them last night, put them on the bed this morning. They feel so nice that I was tempted to give them a test drive. But — later.

I thought today was “change out the cat litter” day, but it turns out not; I did a complete change-out before I left for Vermont, which seems like it was months ago, which is my screwy time-sense coming in to play. Ah, well. This is why we have time maps.

It is change-out-the-cat-fountain day, which I’ll be getting to as soon as I finish my second mug of tea, here. Then laundry, and other business of the day.

In Finch news, Perry Wink and I have begun our 101st day together. He’s an adult, because birbs age fast, and has at last achieved a cat companion. I’m trying, but remain slightly creeped out by the bloblike companions. This is, admittedly, Just Me.

Speaking of Just Me, I decided that I would watch “Astrid” last night (people who love the show, my comments are about the show not about you or your preferences in pleasure viewing). I will not be continuing. Not only does the first segment start with a man dousing himself with gasoline and lighting himself on fire on-screen, Astrid herself was a little too close to home. I remember mapping out phone calls before I made them, so I’d be sure to transmit the correct information in a socially normal way, and the feeling of panic when there was a vary. (I once called somebody to ask them a question before I had Breathed In, and when they answered the phone said, “MynameisSharonLeecallingforXandIwouldliketoknowthisnthat.” The person I was calling paused for a moment, then said, very gently, “Wow. Are you from New York?”) I’ve gotten much better, with lots of practice, and lots of years, about making eye contact when talking to people, but it was sorta painful to watch. This is, in case it’s not clear, a tribute to the actor who plays Astrid. She clearly Gets It.

And! Speaking of Getting It! I heard from Alex Picard, who is voicing Sea Wrack and Changewind.  She was asking after some pronunciations, and mentioned that she had that morning read “Will-o’-the-wisp” and been moved to tears. Always a good feeling for an author, to hear that something they’ve done really connected with somebody.

I think that’s All the News.

Below, two pictures of Rook.  The first taken in July 2024.  The second taken November 22 2024.

The week that was

When last we saw our Hmbl Narrator, she was about to interview a person to clean her house every other week, the previous occupant of that post having quit due to Pressures of Life.

The first bid was well beyond what I could afford, but the second was on the money, so to speak.  She came by and did her first clean on Thursday, and all went well.  She’ll come back Thursday after next.

No sooner had I solved the cleaning problem when the lawn/snowplow guy let me know that he’s getting out of the lawn/snowplowing biz.  He’ll finish mowing this year, but he won’t be doing Fall Cleanup or snowplowing.  Eek.  I made calls; two people answered, both came out to look.  One gave me a quote on the spot, the other promised a quote after thinking about it, but never called back, so — the first guy gets the job, starting with Fall Cleanup.

In-between all that, I finally tracked down and canceled the last account that needed to call Steve’s cellphone for two-factor identification.  This meant that I could take Steve’s phone off the account, which I tried to do online, but Verizon insisted that I had to cancel my phone, too, and — no.

On Wednesday I went to the Verizon store where Josh very efficiently and kindly made all the virtual paperwork disappear, including calling Corporate to tell them why we were doing what we were doing (“The account manager has passed on.”).

Josh also found that I was “eligible” for a new Pixel 9 (XL Pro, it says here), so I came home with a new phone, which is a mixed blessing.  On the one hand, my beautiful red Edge was living on borrowed time, and has run through its updates; and you can’t beat “free” for a new phone with 7 years of updates guaranteed.  On the other hand, the new phone is a little heavier and broader than the old one, and despite being an Android phone, Google does some things differently than Motorola, which is a little disorienting, but I expect I’ll get used to it.  I did order a sparkly case, so all the important details have been taken care of.

My next trick is selling Steve’s guitars.  There are only two of them, and I expect I’m stressing about it more than I should. Despite Josh’s help, cancelling Steve’s cell account was … kind of exhausting.  Maybe the guitars can wait until next week.

In Coon Cat News, Fans of Trooper will be pleased to learn that the lack of appetite and lethargy that had me taking him to the vet on Thursday morning is diagnosed (after an exam and a “perfect” blood test) as Kitten Exhaustion and allergies.  Fans of Rook will be happy to learn that he has been scheduled for The Operation on September 24.  And! Fans of Firefly will be pleased to know that she seems to have worked through her depression and is wrasslin’ the kitten, and playing tag.

In Writing News, Diviner’s Bow currently weighs in at 96,600 words, and I am frantically writing the scenes that I know so I can reach An End, and put out a call for beta readers while I take a breather.  I am at the point of being Very Tired of this book — which is a good sign; it means we’re on schedule.

And that’s the week that was at the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory.

Looking forward to next week, I see a Stoopid Number of medical appointments, and, at the end of the week! I’ll be (virtually) at AlbaCon, doing a reading and two panels.

Everybody stay safe.

 

The Call of the Running Tide

So, suddenly, it’s been a busy week.

On Tuesday, I drove to Old Orchard Beach, then across to eat lunch on the causeway at Naples.  Total mileage was 282; about 8 hours away (not all on the road, but most).  Weather conditions were varied — rain, clouds, bright sun.  Really, I couldn’t have asked for a better day to practice driving.

It looks like my Practice Driving Day is going to be Tuesday, for the foreseeable.  I am going to have to remember to bring along a sandwich with my drinks; catching lunch on the road is more expensive than I can justify.

Driving/being away from the computer had an unexpected benefit:  I figured out the solution to something that had really been bothering me about the WIP.

Yesterday, I had to go to Augusta to renew my license.  I was able to make an appointment online, so the actual renewing license portion of the day was fairly stress-free.  What was stressful was that my phone stopped working.  By which I mean that the screen was unresponsive.  It really is too bad how much I depend on that device, not to mention that I really like this particular phone, for reasons both technical and sentimental.

Two Verizon stores later, the problem was fixed, and now I know how to turn off my phone when I don’t have access to the touchscreen, so — yay.  At the second store, where I found the person who could actually solve the problem, I was informed that I have “an old phone” — purchased in May 2020 — and that I can expect things to start failing.  She did try to sell me a new phone, which she was liege-bound to do, which I understand.  But I’m going with Fingers Crossed for now.

Steve’s day lilies finished blooming a couple weeks ago, which meant that it was time for me to get the severely overgrown gardens at the front, sides, and back of the house Dealt With, and the shrubbery that had grown up in front of the basement door knocked down.  I called a landscaper, who came by yesterday to look things over.  He made suggestions, provided an estimate that was, err, steep, but less than I had expected.  He arrived this morning with a crew of about twelve young people, wielding every gardening tool imaginable from shovel to backhoe, and they set to.

As of this writing, the old garden/overgrowth/weeds are gone.  I can get to the basement door again.  All of the opportunistic maple trees are gone.  A new garden of perennials will go in the front — I see a flat of orange coneflowers out resting under the maple trees planted on purpose.

I didn’t have time to take a picture of the situation, so you’ll have to take my word for it that it was not only overgrown, but becoming dangerous.  I’m unhappy that the rose bush Steve gave me when we moved in is gone, along with his beloved lilies.  Actually, the rose bush may have been strangled by vines; I didn’t see any news of it this summer at all.

The cats are pretty sure they didn’t sign off on all this excitement, and they have been watching it all Very Carefully from various windows around the house.

Just to round out the week, I called to make an appointment with a new cleaning person; my previous person having quit somewhat suddenly.  Hopefully, we can come to an agreement.

Absent the continuing work of the landscape crew, I’m in for the weekend, and looking forward to writing the scenes I’ve mapped out, and fitting them into the WIP.

Here are some pictures from Tuesday’s  adventure.

 

 

Boring writer is boring

Been a while since I checked in.  My excuse is that writing is a very boring occupation, spectator-wise.

In the Before Time, Steve and I would have been doing some traveling around the state, possibly gone to the NASFiC (though not to Glasgow; we were never globe-trotters).  In These Times, I have a new kitten, and a book that I’m learning to write, not to mention the early summer health scare and an on-going bad back.

So, not only is writing boring, so, in this case, is the writer.

Diviner’s Bow, the book I’m learning to write, the sequel to Ribbon Dance, is, oh, let’s say 85,000ish words along, and earlier in the week I reached the point where, in those same Before Times, I would have said to Steve, “Would you please read this and tell me if it makes sense.”  And he would do that, and then we would talk, and eventually I would sit down at the keyboard, energized by both the couple days off and the creative high of brainstorming, and start in writing the last third of the book.

What with one thing and another, Steve wasn’t available to read the book-as-it-currently exists, so I’m doing that — about half-way through and hoping to finish the read-through tomorrow night.  So far, I’m encouraged — by which I mean that the story doesn’t suck.  I’m hoping that trend continues.

Fans of the coon cats will wish to know that Rook has adopted Trooper as his grandpa, and Trooper has risen to the role.  Firefly took Sprite’s passing very hard, but she’s beginning to show interest in household matters ago.  She and Rook have been seen playing together, and I even caught her cleaning his ears.

Rook has also been studying the work of the house, and has achieved the title of Editorial Assistant IT (ln Training).  Here —

Sorry.  Interrupted by Firefly coming into my office, voicing her “I caught something” — and I went to look.

In fact, she had caught something — a pad of yellow sticky notes — and those things are hard to catch.

As I was saying, here’s a picture of Rook, hard at work (and a Very Tired Writer):

 

Sad news

I let Sprite go this morning.

Before Steve died, he noticed that she had a lump on her back, right next to her spine. The vet excised it, and it came out clean as a discrete lump.  Lab tests were inconclusive.

Shortly after Steve died, Sprite was sitting on my lap, and I noticed that the lump  was back, only larger.  In the three days it took me to get her to the vet it had grown appreciably.  It was so close to the spine that more surgery was not an option, so we opted to keep her comfortable.  Yesterday, she let me know that it was time.

She was such a good cat — she took care of all of us; was Steve’s copilot, and mine, and she leaves a very large hole in this household which is already in tatters.

Sprite was attended by her vet and tech of many years, who eased her way with care and grace.

Princess Jasmine Sprite of Kelimcoons, July 6, 2012-July 17, 2024

The Cat Farm and Confusion Factory Welcomes Rook Thunderpaws

Rook has arrived at the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory and is for the moment cozily ensconced in Club Rook, aka the second bathroom.

He’s very affectionate, absolutely fearless, and has a very large purr for such a small creature.  Understanding that I’m accustomed to full-grown Maine coon Cats.  Rook looks very small to me.  He’s four months old.

He met Trooper, very briefly, because I hadn’t pushed the door all the way to behind me.  Trooper said something to him, in that deep voice of his, and Rook scrunched against the floor, but he gave no ground, which seems to me to be proper respect to an elder.

Some time later, Firefly demanded to know what was behind the closed door, so I let her in.  That meeting went very well.  Sprite has not yet met the kitten, because Sprite is sleeping in a sun puddle.

The plan is to keep the kitten in Club Rook until I come back from my doctor’s appointment tomorrow morning.  We’ll consult then, and see if he thinks he might like to come into my office, take up occupancy of The Rookery, and start learning the business of the house.

I did mention to him that he will be having to manage an online fandom.  He didn’t seem to think that would be any problem.

Pictures below:

Weekend catch up

We here at the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory have been keeping our heads down and trying to get Useful Things Done. The jury’s still out on the question of whether we’ve succeeded, but one does what one can.

A kind friend gave me a lift to the hair salon on Monday, and was able to extend the trip to include the post office and the grocery.

I finished a read-through of the first half of Diviner’s Bow, and am now in the process of figuring out the second half.  Around that, I invoked Google Takeout on behalf of Steve’s accounts and transferred them to that portable hard drive I was never going to use.  Every time I think I’m going to cancel Steve’s phone, the two-step verification system produces another reason why I should wait a little longer.

Yesterday, we (quietly) celebrated Princess Jasmine Sprite’s 12th birthday.  There was napping in the sun, napping under tables, and napping on the couch, and a pouch of Delectables Bisque for happy hour, after which we all gathered into the living room to view the first episode of Renegade Nell.

Today, I have some chores to finish up.  This afternoon, a friend will be coming by to help me put together and position the puppy crate our neighbor donated to the Kitten Project, and I’ll be converting the second bathroom to Club Rook.

Tomorrow, another kind friend will be taking me to Book Club, then to pick up Rook — and I figure that’s all I’ll be accomplishing tomorrow.

Tuesday, I (finally) get to see my PCP — a kind friend is giving me a ride — and hopefully I’ll be given permission to drive myself to, oh, Rook’s meet ‘n greet with his vet on Wednesday.  That would be nice.

Otherwise, I’m looking at the list of home upkeep things that need to be done and trying to strategize.  I thought I’d been cleaning the rain gutters, but yanno?  Maybe not.  And I really need help with the front garden and the backyard, which I feel is probably too little for a full-blown landscaping enterprise, but too much for a woman with a hoe.

And, that, I think, catches us up.

I hope to update with Rook photos tomorrow, depending on how he feels about having his picture taken.

 

Life going on

Warning:  the following may be upsetting to some folks.  It’s always a judgement call, what to tell people, and when.  Steve and I have always been as open as possible with our readers, which means that you get the good, the bad, and the sad.

That said . . .

I was scheduled to spend some time with family this week — and in fact did spend some time with family this week, just not as much and not in the way we all would have preferred to see the thing done.

It started out pretty well on Monday.  The bunch of us met up at a glass studio in Belfast, spent a couple hours doing glass art, grabbed lunch at the Nautilus, and headed out to Bar Harbor, where family was staying.  I followed them in my car.  The plan was that I would stay until Friday, and they would stay until the Friday after that.

Once we made base, vacation things — TV, games, talk — commenced.  It was while we were all standing around the kitchen, shooting bulls, as one does, when, in the middle of Making a Point, I — folded up.  The next few minutes were exciting for everybody but me. From my perspective, one second I was talking, the next, I was looking at the floor tiles and asking, “What happened?”

That was when things got exciting for me.  My prize for beeping out in the middle of a sentence was a ride in the ambulance to the island hospital, an overnight in ER, many tests, including CAT scan, MRI, blood tests, cognitive and physical/balance tests.  When I was admitted to ER, the Operating Theory was that I had suffered a posterior stroke.  By the time I was returned to the wild, on Tuesday afternoon, the thinking was divided between soft “stroke” and hard “stress.”

I also won both the coveted “no driving” and “no alcohol” awards which are mine at least until I can see my regular doctor, on July 9.

Local friends have stepped up to offer rides to my various appointments, including the Great Rook Recovery Run, and the appointment with the PCP.

So, that happened, and things — THINGS — are more or less in-hand.  I have been motivated to update my power of attorney and my will, both of which still listed Steve as the Instrument of my Intent, should I be unable to accomplish my Fell Purposes personally.

Now we come to the sad part of this narrative.  Fans of Princess Jasmine Sprite, Mousebane, Overseer of the Daffodils, will wish to know that . . . Sprite has cancer.  It’s been very aggressive, and she has just started to take pain medication, which is sorta the beginning of the end.  For the moment, she still seeks out open windows, sunspots, and laps; is generous in sharing purrs and naps, and is Doing the Rounds.  When she lets me know it’s time, I’ll be with her.

. . . and I think that’s probably enough news for one post.

Here’s a picture of Sprite.

We interrupt this writing blog for a Very Important Announcement

We here at the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory have taken a very serious step, and decided to fill the fourth slot left empty by Belle’s crossing of the Bridge, last August.

Steve and I had been discussing this step before he passed on, and I shelved it in favor of getting through the next five minutes.

Recently, the matter came up again at a board meeting, and the reasons identified in February still held.  Trooper and Sprite are Elders; Firefly needs somebody to share her energy with.

We have therefore contracted to receive a Maine Coon kitten, photo below.  He will be coming aboard in July, and we’re all very excited.  Or at least I’m very excited.  The other cats are of the opinion that this “kitten” I keep talking to them about is a Plot Point in the WIPnovel.

The kitten’s name is Rook, and already there’s a Story about him.

As I was considering the issue of a name, I thought how unfair it is that black cats are so often named for their color.  I decided that I didn’t want to do that; I wanted a good, strong name that reflected sophistication and style.  I mulled names for quite some time until (Steve) suggested Rook.  For those who don’t know, a rook is a powerful and flexible chess piece, and of course Steve had been a chess player all his life.

Rook.

I liked it.

More, I liked that it came with the nickname “Rookie,” which he certainly will be.

So, there I was, armed with a name of something that could be either black or white, chosen for its inherent virtue.  Very proud of myself, was I.

I remained proud of myself right up until my talk with the breeder this afternoon, where I shared with her my choice of name.

She immediately said, “Oh!  I like that!  I know what a rook is — it’s an English crow!” — and I realized that I had been foiled.

Regardless, Rook he shall remain, and I hope to add many Stories to this, his first.

First Sunday Check-In

In the US, this is Memorial Day Weekend.  For those of us who are freelancers and still hold to the Old Ways of keeping track of days by mail delivery, this is the first Sunday (no mail day) of the week, the second being tomorrow, aka Memorial Day (celebrated).

It has been a week of Parts, some of which I am not yet at liberty to share.

I can, however, talk about yesterday, which was a perfect Maine edge-of-summer day, when I went to Snow Pond Arts Center in Sidney to the Art/Makers Fair.  By myself.  It was a nice show, with a good cross-section of Maine artists — stained glass, handmade jewelry, pottery, photographs, art prints, designer clothes, cat toys (yes, I bought toys for the cats; that’s in the contract), tie-dye, live music . . . spread across three or four lodges on really beautiful camp grounds.

As I was walking from one lodge to another, having recently departed a conversation with a silversmith, it came to me, as a bolt from the blue (or indeed, as something Steve might suggest), that the silversmith might be able to resize Steve’s wedding ring, so that I could wear it.

Now, I have to pause here and explain that my relationship with Steve is rooted in magic; our first letters to each other talk about how Instant Recognition such as we experienced never happens; that as grown-ups we knew this, and so it was with eyes open that we were going forward — trusting magic.

So, I turned around and went back to the silversmith and asked her if she could resize a ring for me.  She allowed as how she could, so I went home, got the ring and went back.  The silversmith thinks she’ll have it ready for me next week.

I had a few errands to dispatch, afterward, in Augusta.  I thought I might actually eat out, but courage failed, so I came home and made myself a hot tuna and cheese sandwich in celebration (no really; hot tuna and cheese is a treat), noodled around the house some, putting things away and talking with the coon cats, and went to bed early, worn out by all the excitement.

Speaking of excitement — see what I did there?

Yes, excitement.

On June 1 — that’s Saturday! — Double Vision drops.  It is an ebook-only edition, for Reasons.  On June 1, it will be available from All of the Usual Suspects (including Baen). If you’re so minded, you may right now preorder from Most of the Usual Suspects (not including Baen).

As if that wasn’t enough excitement — The Uncle is, even as I type, shipping signed copies of Ribbon Dance to those who ordered.  If you want a signed copy, there are still some left, and you can order from the Uncle here.

The Official Release Day for Ribbon Dance is Tuesday, June 4, when hardcover and ebook will be available from All of the Usual Suspects.  You may preorder now from Most of Them.

A word regarding the Ribbon Dance audiobook.  Audible has chosen not to acquire the audio rights (no, I don’t know why; I expect because previous books haven’t made them enough money; that’s usually the reason for these things).  Baen is trying to place it with another audiobook publisher, but as of Right Now, there is NO Ribbon Dance audiobook on your horizon.  I know some people will be disappointed by this.  Trust me, I join you in your disappointment with a nice side helping of terror.

. . . and I think that catches us all up on the Important Things in Life.

Oh, no, I’m wrong.  Have a picture of Trooper, who has helping me write.