Life with Coon Cats – Page 10 – Sharon Lee, Writer

December’s most important Cat Farm holiday…

…is, of course, Trooper’s Birthday.

Which is — today!

Kelimcoons Super Trooper, the 17th Best Allbreed Cat in the Northeast Region, said TICA, in 2011, and the 2nd Best Maine Coon Cat in the Northeast Region, retired from show biz and relocated to Maine, in June 2013. Today, he is six years old.

Trooper is a thoughtful, kind gentleman — a scholar and an athlete — who takes a constant interest in our lives and our work, and does his best to encourage us to play flying mouse more often, because exercise is good for us. We hope to celebrate many more birthdays on his behalf.

On this auspicious, if rainy day, Trooper plans on napping, herding various springs and floofy balls up and down the hallway, collaborating in the writing process from the copilot’s chair, and possibly the red basket, and assisting in the preparation of the celebratory ice cream.

Here’s a picture of the birthday boy:

Small town life, pre-Thanksgiving Day, US 2015

Today! Back to town to pick up our pre-cooked turkey breast and fixins for tomorrow’s feast, from the Deli Section. One of the things I do like about having lived in the same small town for more than 20 years, is this: The deli manager saw me shopping early last week, and made a point to come over and ask if Steve and I would be wanting Thanksgiving dinner this year, “like always.”

We also recently had an incident where we had just come into the Bank Two in order to do Normal Business. The Head Teller waved us over to her station.

Turns out Bank Two had received a notice from Bank One that Check A had bounced. “Well!” said the Head Teller, “I know you guys never bounce checks, so I called them up and got that straightened out. It was an error on their end; your account is perfectly fine.”

Yesterday, we got news of more dental work in Steve’s future, details to be received after the upcoming holiday. Hard to believe that the Initial Journey there was more than ten years ago. Time flies when you’re having fun.

Or something.

What else?

Oh, The Gathering Edge will probably break 55,000 words today. At some point, we’re going to have to braid all of this together, but the time is not yet. The backbone needs to be longer; right now it’s only as long as the sum of the other five threads (of which one may be sacrificed to the Gods of Plot and be used in The Next Book (aka Fourth of Five) — we shall see).

I think that’s all I’ve got.

I hope everyone who celebrates has a fine Thanksgiving, full of friends, food, and fun.

Here, have a picture of Princess Sprite’s victory sleep over her string:

In which Rolanni extols the genius of her cats

Slept in this morning, and when I got up to pour coffee, Steve still lingered abed. When I came into the kitchen, I noticed that Trooper and Sprite were crouching on the straw doormat by the front door, both of them intently focused on the door to the coat closet.

Sprite stood up when she saw me, made firm eye contact, and stepped over to the closet door, placing her nose against it. She then made eye contact again, to see if I’d Gotten It.

I had.

“There’s a mouse in the coat closet.” I called the happy news up the hall.

“How do you know?” Steve asked, reasonably enough.

“Sprite just said so, and Trooper confirms.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

I poured coffee, and Steve girded himself for a mouse-hunt. He was first-in, with a plastic butter tub in hand, a cardboard box and a piece of stiff paper close at hand. I was backup, armed with a broom. Trooper and Sprite flanked Steve as he opened the closet, carefully…

No mouse bounded out.

Steve removed bird seed tub number one, checked inside — no mouse.

. . .birdseed tub number two — no mouse.

Both of the extra cat scratchers.

No mouse.

The canvas bag with my gardening hand tools and gloves.

Bingo.

Crouching against the wall was the mouse, doing the frozen thing that they do.

Whap! The butter dish came down over him.

The piece of stiff paper was inserted beneath the butter dish, and the lid to the butter dish beneath that.

Steve withdrew the entire mousetrap, I opened doors, and the mouse was escorted out of the house to the edge of the home woods, where he was released to run free.

“That was really quick,” I said when Steve got back into the house.

“I think he’d gotten in the bird seed and was too gorged to move,” he said, and went to wash his hands, while I swept out the closet, and Sprite knocked over my gardening bag and pulled out all the stuff. Just In Case.

After I’d swept, Trooper and Sprite did a formal inspection of the premises, then withdrew to perform Comprehensive Baths in their favorite morning napping spots.

Case closed.

Why, yes, my cats are brilliant. Sprite’s such a communicator, I’m tempted to send her to college.

The drillin’ in the wall kept up but no one seemed to pay it any mind

This was not the day I had planned.

I had planned to do some business emails, then get with the manuscript, and finish the squaring up of the Big Narrative Lump, and indeed, the day went agreeably in that direction for about two hours. Then, I noticed that Belle’s back foot was bleeding. Steve and I did an examination, and determined that, yes, this was a matter for the vet, so we called, and achieved an appointment for 2:30 today.

After that, it was my turn to call The Guy From Dead River (for those coming in late, the whole house generator was installed yesterday, so yay! However, the generator needs propane to operate, and, as reported earlier, siting the propane tanks was apparently going to be A Big Problem). This would have been, you understand, on the order of the sixth phone call we’d made to the office since the site visit.

I actually reached someone who could help me. She informed me that this project was going to be Very, Very Difficult, involving two guys for six hours and a ditch witch, it was going to cost A Bundle of Money, and! — insult to injury — the work can’t be done until November 16. At 8 a.m., naturally enough.

This is the point where you’d walk away and call the next vendor on the list. Sadly, there is no next vendor, so I agreed to Terms, and ask you please to all join me in hoping that the damned ground doesn’t freeze before November 16.

Grr.

I did a little more work, Steve made us a lemon and chicken soup for lunch, and at precisely 2:30, we were at the vet’s, who was saying, “Good grief, what happened?”

As near as we can figure, Belle tried to get into the drop ceiling in the basement — a favorite hangout for Cat Farm Coon Cats, though they really are Far Too Big to get into the drop ceiling in the basement — missed her jump — or insisted that she had so made the jump — and in the process ripped a claw out of her back right foot.

The vet cleaned the wound, prescribed antibiotics (because Belle weighs very nearly 17 pounds, Belle gets to take Dog Drugs, which is to say 1/4 of a dog-sized antibiotic), and sent us on our way with instructions to watch the foot, and Belle’s behavior, and call if anything changed for the worst.

I will note that Belle was a perfect lady on the ride to and from, and at the vet’s. Though her foot must have hurt a lot, she didn’t utter a single curse, nor tried to discipline the doctor or her assistant. I expect Maine coons to be mellow, but this was really above and beyond.

Home again, I did the dishes, and got back to work for another hour. My concentration, however, is not what it ought to be going into this section, which needs a bunch of description, and is also somewhat scrambled on the Who Said What To Whom front. Which is to say, the kind of stuff you need to bear down and micro-concentrate on.

So! That will be Saturday’s job, since tomorrow, day-time, is filled with appointments, and that evening with the Rocky Horror Show.

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In other news, I have been remiss in reporting the anniversary of our 27th year in Maine. We crossed the border on, I believe, October 3, 1988, and commenced an exciting day, indeed, in which we found in short order that we had no place to live (because the daughter of the owner of the house in Skowhegan we had rented long-distance, had left her husband in the time it had taken us to drive from Maryland to Maine, and moved into “our” house); Steve’s job, also arranged long-distance, had evaporated; that the Skowhegan library had on its bookshelves in 1988, SFBC editions of books that hadn’t gone out since 1977, and the librarian of same advised me, earnestly, that, if I was a reader, I should go to the high school library to borrow books.

Yes, it was epic, that day; one of the Great Ones that you look back upon in calmer times and wonder how you had held your hand from murder and mayhem.

Still on topic — in another three weeks, Steve and I will be celebrating the 35th anniversary of our marriage. We moved to Maine together, where we knew no one, save Tom Easton and Barry Longyear, through SFWA, when we had been married less than eight years. In retrospect, I’m not sure if that was heroic or stupid.

Whichever, it turned out all right in the end.

* * *

Yesterday, I did go elsewhere to work, and got a bunch of redlining done on the threads which are not the Big Narrative Piece. In the morning, since it was sunny, and windless, I went out to Oakland, and worked at a picnic bench at the Messalonskee Lake Public Boat Landing. I was wearing good Maine layers — long-sleeve tshirt, long-sleeve denim shirt, long-sleeve fleece hoodie, jeans, and wool socks — and it was actually quite pleasant for a couple hours, until the wind picked up. Later in the afternoon, I moved my base of operations to China Lake, where I lunched, and worked in the car.

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Today’s blog post is brought to you by Bob Dylan by way of Tom Russell, “Lily, Rosemary, and the Jack of Hearts.” Here’s your link.

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Here’s a shot of yesterday’s temp office at Messalonskee Lake:

Gang agley

So, yesterday was a wash. Woke up with a headache, and decided that I’d take two aspirin and soldier on. Turns out that the headache was tougher than that, and! tougher than everything else in hand, so — long story short — I didn’t dare go in to the manuscript, because my brain actually hurt. I took a nap, did some lightweight research, and sorted out some stuff I’d been meaning to get out of the recipe file. Then I went to bed early, weighted down with coon cats. Not my most productive day ever.

While I was napping the Guy from Dead River — which is not the title of a novel by Edna Ferber, though it ought to be — came by to scope out the placement of the propane tanks while will provide juice to our generator when it is installed.

Now. . .we call this the House of Negative Feng Shui for a reason. The people who built the place had a Positive Genius for Wrong Placement. The living room and kitchen are placed so that they will catch the full fury (insomuch as Maine has such fury) of the summer sunshine, and! most of the snow winds. This means that the front of the house (pre-roofed-deck, thank you, Todd) was a broiler in the summer, with the added bonus of not being to get out the kitchen (main) door in the winter, because the wind dumps All The Snow exactly in front of the door.

On top of this, the house is sited too close to the road, and too close to the eastern boundary, which is the only rational place for a garage, since all the doors are on that side of the house.

Anyhow, yesterday, and the Guy From Dead River — who discovers that the the Only Possible Place (by Code) to site the propane tanks is where the propane tank for our stove is now — on the farthest side of the property from the generator. And? Yep, you got it; there’s only one place where the generator may (by Code) be sited.

“Gonna have to do a lot of trenching,” said The Guy.

On the other hand, he didn’t say that it couldn’t be done.

Though he did say that he needed to talk to his boss.

*sigh*

In other news, frequent auditors of this journal will recall that Belle had been limping off her right leg, and we took her into the vets a few weeks ago to be sure she hadn’t sprained or broken a paw/leg. At that point, the vet found no indication of a break, but suspected soft tissue trauma. She prescribed three days of pain killers, and warned us that soft tissue injuries take a Very Long Time to heal.

The limp hasn’t slowed Belle down; and, if it’s gotten no better; it hasn’t seemed to get any worse. So, we decided to Be Aware, but not panic.

Fast forward to Monday, when I was grooming the cats. I took hold of Belle’s right leg, stretched it out along my arm, and pressed her foot pad to shoot her claws. I cut the first claw on the right foot — and when I moved on to the second claw, Belle let out a scream, and jerked forward, as if she was going to bite me — and then dropped back, looking Very Embarrassed, indeed, while being Not At All Interested in having me touch her paw again.

“I think I found the problem,” I told Steve, after we’d all gotten settled down.

“Right,” he said, and phoned the vet for an appointment.

Which was for today, at 8:30 am. A thorough exam was made, including x-rays of both feet, and — diagnosis still inconclusive. There does seem to be tenderness in the right foot, but no evidence of infection, or of a break. We have glucosamine to put in her food, to see if that helps with the situation.

Belle rode to and from the vet on my lap, wearing the Royal Ruff, which is Standard Traveling Livery for all the coon cats here at the Cat Farm. None of them cares to travel in the palanquin, so they’ve learned to tolerate a small dog harness with a clip-on leash, and the ruff. Both Trooper and Sprite drool in the car — less on my lap than in the carrier — and the ruff helps them preserve their dignity, not to mention keeping most of the cat spit off my hands. Belle is a neater traveler, but this was her first time on my lap, and we wanted to be sure.

She did fine on the ride to and from, and at the vet’s, and is now sleeping the sleep of the Justly Exhausted on the copilot’s chair in my room.

Now, it’s time to get to work.

Here’s a picture of Sprite, wearing the Royal Ruff:

Friday Morning Newszine

A*. As many of you know, Larry Smith, known variously as Larry!; Larry Smith, Bookseller; and “the guy in the corner of the dealers room with allllllll the books” — Larry Smith was in an auto accident on his way home from DragonCon; the van rolled, and needs Major Repairs, or perhaps a replacement. Larry, and Joni Dashoff, who was also in the van, were very lucky, due to a combination of seatbelts and canny packing of books and display shelves. Larry did have to spend some time in the hospital, but he was eventually released, and went home to inventory, and take, stock.

The news now is that, while — again, due to canny packing — the loss of stock was minimal, Larry — is back in the hospital. Con-going fans are aware that this is Archon weekend, and Sally — Larry’s wife, and businessmate — was, last heard, seriously wondering if she should even try to get to the con.

So, what we have here is: A van to repair or replace; unexpected hospital bills; loss of expected income. Not a good roll, on anybody’s dice.

Immediately after the accident, Marcia Kelly Illingsworth set up a GoFundMe page for Larry and Sally and the poor, abused van. Here’s your link. If you can donate, that’s super. If you can spread the word, that will help immensely.

Thanks for listening.

B. We are approaching the end of the seventh and last! week of the Do It Like A Delm Challenge. Entries must be received by midnight, Eastern Daylight Time (aka New York Time), on Saturday (tomorrow!) October 3. The last winner will be chosen and posted on korval.com Monday morning, October 5. The winning challenger will also receive a coupon for a free Baen ebook of their choice. Full rules here.

If you’ve been thinking about entering your challenge pic, you are right down to the wire. Summon your inner delm — or always wonder if you could have.

C. Submissions are now open for The Year’s Best Military and Adventure Science Fiction series from Baen Books. Full guidelines here.

D. I was going to write something about Writers Fugue, and Process and All. Maybe later. Right now, I have to balance the checkbook.

E. Y’all have a nice weekend. If you’re in the storm path, stay safe. Even if you’re not in the storm path, stay safe.

F. Here’s a picture of Sprite, resting after her labors**:

Sprite, recuperating from her latest nap.

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*WordPress has decided to be helpful, and format every numbered list into a squinched-up, impossible to read, “standard” format. Lists-by-letter don’t seem to be on its radar. And, so. . .

**I often post pictures at the bottom of my blog posts to make the announcement of the post prettier for Facebook, which, left to its own devices, usually posts a GINORMOUS (and ugly) G+ graphic. For those who dislike, or are tired of, photos of cats, spare a little empathy for the Facebook peeps, and avert your eyes. Thank you.

Cons, Coon Cats, and Boring Health Stuff

This is in the nature of a catch-up post.

For those who have been following along with the numbers game at home, the latest information garnered from the latest blood test is that the 1 mg dose of thyroid medicine is a winner. The poor pituitary has stopped with overtime manufacturing of kick-me hormones for the thyroid, and the thyroid is producing numbers in the normal range without being kicked, and — this being the important part — I am fully awake and at optimum crankiness and sarcasm levels for the first time in. . .years.

Come to think of it, that should serve as a Public Service Announcement.

Also — this repeats news shared on Facebook yesterday evening — I have successfully concluded a project years in the making — a ceiling fan in my office. I’m so happy — I can’t tell you. Here’s a picture:

. . .isn’t it BEAUtiful?

I have been reminded to remind y’all that! Registration for BaltiCon 50, held over Memorial Day Weekend, May 27-30, 2016, at the Renaissance Baltimore Harborplace Hotel, is now open. Here’s the direct link.

In addition to Guests of Honor George RR Martin, John Picacio, Bill and Gretchen Roper, and Martin Deutsch and Shirley Avery, BaltiCon 50 aims to welcome back as many of the con’s previous Guests of Honors as are interested and able to come. So far, 21 Alumni GoHs have agreed to return for BaltiCon’s 50th anniversary, including Steve and me (Writer GoHs, BaltiCon 37, 2003).

This is a big, big project, and BaltiCon is asking for your help in funding the travel for the returning GoHs. There’s a donation page here, where you may donate to your favorite GoHs. (Yes, I know that Steve and I are listed separately; I don’t know what’s up with that, but at the bottom line, I don’t think it actually matters.)

BaltiCon 50 is also selling a limited edition promotional tshirt in order to raise funds. You can view and/or purchase a tshirt here.

Finally, for all the latest news about BaltiCon 50, you can sign up for the Twitter feed: @balticon50

This is a Hard Writing Weekend, which means I’ll be somewhat scarce on the web. The beginning of next week includes an interview, and a visit from the generator guy, as well as Yet Another Phone Call to the health insurance company, which seems stuck in an Endless Loop of sending me a form I’ve now filled out and returned three times, while at the same time being unable to generate a monthly invoice. Sigh. Also, the Colby Art Museum is hosting an Open House on Thursday evening. I always like to go to the Art Open House. So, not an insanely busy week, but busy enough with mundane things — and writing, too.

Extra credit paragraph: From the Department of Anthropomorphism, Cats Are Not Social Committee, we have the following Observer Report.

This morning, I was sitting at the kitchen table finishing the wonderful tuna melt Steve had made for breakfast. I have a direct line of sight into the living room from my place at the kitchen table, and was able to see Trooper in the cat hammock, Belle stretched out on the rug close to the kitchen, near, but not on, the cat scratchers. Sprite walked into the living room, fell on Belle, cleaned her up, cleaned herself, up, cleaned Belle up and in due time, as frequently happens, the grooming morphed into a wrasslin’ match.

This morning’s match was. . .vigorous. Sprite broke twice, but came back, and Belle, seeming slightly put-upon, finally threw her Whole Being into the thing, grabbing Sprite around the waist and kicking her in the stomach. There were no growls, but Belle, at least, was clearly intent on teaching Sprite a lesson, rather than savoring the Joy of the Wrassle.

Sprite tried to break a third time — Belle wouldn’t let her. Sprite renewed her efforts to get free, Belle held her closer. I was on the edge of producing a loud, “Ahem!” when. . .

Trooper jumped down from the hammock and approached the melee.

Belle let go of Sprite and twisted to her feet to face him; Sprite escaped to the hall, where she sat down and began to groom her shoulder. Trooper walked directly up to Belle, tail slightly higher than straight behind, but not a full upward sweep, and put his nose against hers. She allowed this — then swatted him in the head.

Trooper went back a couple steps and walked carefully around her, as if he was going to go check on Sprite. In fact, he paused by the television stand, where he could see her in the hall, cleaning up, stroked his cheek against the wood a couple times, turned, and went back to the cat hammock.

Belle began to bathe.

I stood up and got myself another cup of coffee.

Everybody have a nice weekend.

Moonlight, you’re just a heartache in disguise

So, I have a cold. I’m not happy about this. I also have work to do, so best to get at it.

But! Before I quite get there, I’d like to share some articles about “strong female protagonists,” and the notion of “likable (female) characters.”

A Plague of Strong Female Characters

Not Here to Make Friends

These articles are interesting to me, as a writer — and as a writer of characters often described as “likable.” Which is somewhat baffling, considering the histories of many of our characters, at least on the Liaden side of things. Among my/our other characters. . .Well. . .

Poor Becca Beauvelley gets all kinds of abuse for allowing herself to fall into the hands of an ancient and powerful magic-wielding villain from whom she has no hope of freeing herself. She should, one gathers, have Done Something.

Jenn Pierce, a middle-class woman of the last century, who doesn’t know judo, or sword-fighting, or anything at all about guns — as most of us, I will argue, do not — has her lack of martial skill scorned, and is advised to get some basic training in weapons. Her lack of skill in these matters is called “unbelievable.”

Kate Archer is described by one reader as “repulsive” and by another as “uncaring.”

And Val Con yos’Phelium, who really will kill you, if necessary. . .is seen as kind of a nice guy, a little shy. . .While the Uncle, whose probable sins I suggest that we dwell not long upon, is “fascinating.”

Anyhow, these are things that concern me nearly, as matters of craft and art, and it’s interesting to see how other people have thought about them.

Speaking of likable characters and reality. . .There’s an article in this week’s New Yorker about the defense lawyer who specializes in defending our most notorious criminals, most lately, she has been the lead defense attorney for Dzbokhar Tsarnaev. Her idea, as far as I understand it, which may not be very far at all, is that — while Society has an obligation to rid itself of Monsters; it has the corresponding duty not to dispose of those who are. . .less than. . .Monsters merely because it would be convenient to do so. To this end, she undertakes to show juries the humanity of her clients. Here’s the link to that article.

* * *

Week Five of the Do It Like a Delm Challenge is well underway. You view this week’s challengers here.

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In other news, I received a package today from Amazon, and Sprite has found a use for the box.

Let no box be discarded. Sprite asserting her royal dominion. Photo by Sharon Lee

Today’s blog title is brought to you by Juice Newton, “Queen of Hearts.” Here’s your link.

There’s nothing you and I won’t do

So, this morning, Belle* visited the vet so we could see what’s up with her newly acquired limp. Best guess is that, in the course of pursuing her Justly Appointed Feline Duties and Honors, she strained, or possibly sprained her left front leg. She weighs in at 16 pounds (which the vet pronounced “lean”), and insists on levitating to the top of six foot bookcases — and then, naturally enough, jumping down again. Apparently, it is the “jumping down again” segment, coupled with the 16 pounds at 32 feet per second per second, which is the problem.

She is, foremost, a cat, and telling her not to jump is Completely Out of the Questions — see “Justly Appointed. . .Honors,” above, so, after a thorough evaluation, the vet prescribed a non-steroid muscle relaxant for the next three days. Hopefully, this will give the soft tissues some relief, but we are cautioned that soft tissue injuries do take Forever to heal, especially when the patient adamantly refuses RICE.

Belle thanks everyone who expressed concern for her, and wishes to assure them that she is not at risk, and that Sharon and Steve are Old Worry Warts.

So, that.

After we brought Belle home, I. . .went to town, to get my hair cut (“You’re purple!” said my hairdresser. “Yes,” I said. “Yes; I’m purple.”, pick up our tickets to Rocky Horror at the Opera House, and our mail at the post office box, then got gas, and a tuna sandwich at Subway, which we are, I believe — yes — about to cut in half and eat.

And so the day goes forward.

Hope everyone is having a lovely Tuesday.

Today’s blog post brought to you by Modern English, “I Melt With You.” Here’s your link.

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*Pop Quiz! How do you — yes, you! — pronounce “Belle”? We here at the Cat Farm say “Bell,” as in “Ring that bell, mama!”, or, perhaps “Belle of the Ball,” which is Belle’s formal name. However, several people we’ve subsequently met pronounce “Belle” as “Bella.”

The view of the future from a small rise in the present

So, here we are at the start of a new week! Let’s see what’s on the roster.

This is Week Five of the Do It Like A Delm Challenge. We have two challengers already, both taking the theme of knitting. You may view them here. Think you can do better? Enter the list of challengers! Rules are here. Don’t want to enter, but really want some Cool Liaden Gear? Here’s your link, and remember! Liaden Universe® shirts make wonderful presents!
Belle has developed a limp off of her right front leg. We haven’t been able to find anything obvious — she just lies still and purrs when I probe; nothing seems to hurt. So, anyway, a trip to the vet tomorrow, Just to Be Sure.
The guy who replaced the chimney was just here, and confirmed that, yep, that spot up there on the roof does need caulking. Which he couldn’t do today, because it had rained overnight, so! More contractors in our future.
Speaking of contractors: We hope to hear back from the various folks who need to be involved in Generator Installation today, and!
Mike the Electrician will be by late in the week to install my new ceiling fan, a circumstance that fills me with a really embarrassing amount of anticipatory delight.
The Rocky Horror Show (the play; the movie is The Rocky Horror Picture Show) will be playing at the Waterville Opera House in late October. I tried to buy tickets online this morning, forgetting that the Opera House’s website never does work properly in re the online purchase of tickets, and I will therefore need to make a phone call. Boo. On the other hand, I’ve never seen Rocky Horror, and really ought to close this gap in my fannish resume.
We have a Skype interview scheduled for next Monday, which means that this week? I need to get a haircut.
Besides all that, of course, we have work to do, stories and novels to write! So, yanno — onward, upward, and sideways, as appropriate.

And that? Is all I got.

Here, have a picture of Belle and Sprite to start your week off right:

Belle and Sprite. Apparently, Sprite has just been Interesting.