Category: Life with Coon Cats

Been doing a lot of running in place, and necessary phone work.  Have I mentioned that I hate talking on the telephone?

So, anyway, Steve got his Medicare card, which meant that I had to call the ACA and our health insurance company to remove him from our joint policy — I thought.  What really happened is that the ACA cancelled our policy and opened a new one, just for me.  The resulting health insurance payments are significantly less than our joint policy, a circumstance I regard with suspicion and not a little alarm, considering what happened last year, with the ACA adding another $12,000 on top of our Regular Taxes, because we failed to accurate predict how much money we would take in in 2014, and the timing of said income.  I’m thinking I’ll just be putting aside the difference between the joint payment and what we pay now, so as not to Repeat History in 2015.

I also needed to get on the phone in order to close out an account that is being nickled and dimed to death by “administrative fees.”  Nothing to it, said the rep; you just needed to fill out a form, which he emailed to me.  All twenty pages of it.  Including!

Including, I say, a page that Steve had to fill out in front of a notary, giving his permission for me to close the account with my name on it.

To be fair. . .the instructions did say “Spousal Permission,” so I’m guessing , had our positions been reversed, I’d’ve had to provide my notarized permission for him to receive his own money.  Still — argh.

In and around those kinds of things, I’ve slowly been pulling “The Gift of Music,” and “The night don’t seem so lonely” into an ebook.  This morning, I realized that we have no more ISBNs left, and I’m going to have to buy something at Baker and Taylor’s usurious rates, which prospect pleaseth me not, but will have to be done.

Yesterday afternoon, we had the electrician stop by to inspect The Receptacle That Supports The Internet.  Late Thursday, my UPS, which sustains not only my computer, but our wireless hub, started screaming like a dozen little girls, and clicking frantically on and off.  I climbed under my desk — because of course, the One True Outlet is in the most inconvenient place possible, in keeping with its importance — and heard the wall outlet sizzling.

Followed a short period during which All The Things were unplugged and the electrician called.

He, as above, arrived yesterday afternoon, diagnosed an old receptacle, no other damage apparent, and replaced the old with a new.  We are now back up and running, and I get to put all the stuff that was under my desk — boxes packed, because we were going to be! moving! soon! — back where it was. . .

Later.

I think that’s it, on the news front.  There will be no phone calling tomorrow, because — Sunday.  Which is rather a relief.

Today’s blog title brought to you by Cage the Elephant, “No Rest for the Wicked.”  Here’s your link.

…or something.

Let it be known that today is Princess Jasmine Sprite’s third birthday.  She decreed naps for all and retired to The Royal Rolling Duffle Bag in the cool, dim basement, and so present an Example worthy of a princess.

I arose early, expressed my felicitations to Her Warrior Princessness, and left for a date with the Vampyres, who withdrew their tithe, and freed me to breakfast with Steve at Governor’s.  It’s a hot, sunny day, and we briefly toyed with taking the new car on a run to the ocean, but Responsibility won out, as it so seldom does, and instead we did the grocery shopping and came home to a half-day of work, since we had promised ourselves — Tomorrow!  We will go back onto The Schedule.

Yesterday, I read the first half of Alliance of Equals, today’s plan is to finish the second half.

Yeah, it’s tough, but someone has to do it.

I also hope, today, to return my Asus netbook, aka The Leewit, to Factory Settings and offer it for sale, since I no longer use it.

. . and that’s probably enough for a sultry Monday in July.  Wouldn’t want to work up a sweat, after all.

I hope everyone is experiencing a delightful beginning to their week.

So far today, I’ve balanced the checkbooks, taken care of some outstanding bills, drafted an InfoDump — now in Steve’s hands — and scrubbled Trooper’s belly multiple times, Trooper being of the opinion that he’s low on belly-rubs already this month.  He could be right.

On deck for supper:  hot dogs, potato salad, and, I dunno, how’s baked beans sound to you?  Fine?  Cool.  Baked beans.  And iced tea, of course.

After supper, I’ll be printing a reading copy of Alliance of Equals, sending the InfoDump out into the wild, and writing the commentary for Chapter 11 of Shan and Priscilla Ride Again.  Tonight, maybe we’ll watch a movie.  Or maybe not.  We won’t be going to the fireworks, but will stick close to the cats.  Neither Trooper nor Sprite is a fan of explosions, and we don’t yet know where Belle stands on the subject.

Frequent auditors of this journal will recall that things have been a little. . .busy here at the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory.  The craziness started more-or-less at the beginning of June, when we handed Alliance in, leapt into the book-tour, returned home to some family drama, and the (supposed) re-mortaring of a couple bricks on the chimney, which turned into a Complete Demolish-and-Rebuild over three action-packed days, then the trip down to New Hampshire to bring Belle home, the advent of the drywall guy, and Steve’s painting of that same drywall, only yesterday.  Today, we’ll get the painting hung back where it belongs, on that newly-installed, and painted wall behind which reposes a Brand! New! Chimney!, and take that as a period on a month of turmoil.

Monday, we’ll be back to the Usual Schedule, and what a relief that will be to everyone.

Today’s blog title brought to you by Ray Wiley Hubbard, “After All These Years.”  Here’s your link.

Oh, and here, have a picture of Trooper’s newly-scrubbled belly:

Today, we here at the Cat Farm celebrate the second anniversary of Trooper joining the professional staff, and taking up his duties as Companion to the Old Guy and Lieutenant Director of Coon Cat Services.  For this momentous occasion we of course have planned many Celebratory Events, most of which are on hold as the Guest of Honor naps in the sunshine.

The photographer has been asked to put off portrait-taking until later in the day.

I am, as I type, awaiting the mailman. In a Just and Merciful Universe, today’s snailmail delivery will include the the D&A check for Alliance of Equals, which will catch up all monies due in the first half of the year.  Then, we get to sit down and figure out the updated budget, a task which would be much easier, had we the bill from the mason.  Well, perhaps today’s mail will be doubly fruitful.

After the mailman’s passage, I-or-we will need to venture out to Home Despot in order to pick up primer, and a tarp; possibly a roller pan.  Will look downstairs and be certain what we have.

This just in!  The D&A check has arrived, which is eggselent.  The invoice from the mason has not arrived, which is less eggselent, but!  We have a Plan B in place:  assume that the final bill is twice as much as the estimate, set that aside, and then get with budgeting for the rest of the year.

The game of Cat Chess continues with remarkably little in the way of open hostilities.  Trooper has recovered his usual good nature, and taken the Official Stance that he is Not Inconvenienced in the Slightest, nor will he be.  Sprite, I’m pleased to say, has worked out and adopted a Strategy which may actually be a winner.  She has identified all the various boxes and baskets in the house as Sprite’s Boxes and Baskets, by pointedly sleeping in them when Belle is in the same room, and firmly refusing to be rousted from them.  She has decided on the wide-eyed, “Yes, this is MY place,” look, which is non-confrontational while being completely unassailable.  Belle is, for the moment, at least, not pushing the issue, but is contenting herself with occupying Certified Cat Spots which are NOT presently occupied by cats.

I have suggested to Belle that it’s not necessary that she Win; that she can simply Fit In, but I’m not sure she understands.

And now?  I’m off to inventory painting supplies before I go off to town.

So, rain here at the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory as Cat Chess continues.  Belle appears to be jockeying for position; she is a mom cat of some seniority, and seems determined that she will not be Least Cat.  This is admirable, but sadly leaves Princess Sprite — two years Belle’s junior, and not politically adroit — at something of a disadvantage.  Plus, before Belle’s arrival, Sprite had Strangers in the House changing out her chimney — an experience I will myself place at an 8 on a stress scale where 1 is not at all distressing, and 10 is so distressing I want to run away — and thus began the game in a state of disarray.

So, Sprite is being a bit hang-cat, and somewhat skittish. Also, she seems to have caught a cold, and is taken with sneezing fits.  Could be stress, but we’re keeping a Close Eye.

Speaking of stress, last night Steve and I just hit a wall, threw up our hands, and dug out the DVD of The Music Man.  By which I mean the Robert Preston Music Man.  Yes, I know there’s been a remake, but if it’s not Robert Preston and Shirley Jones, it’s not The Music Man.  And it did the trick, silly movie that it is. The final scene, where the band marches out of Town Hall in all its splendor and sophistication, always tears me up.

This morning at the Confusion Factory, it’s dishes, then back to laundry.  I’ll be spending a good portion of the day on the sofa, reading Dragon in Exile in prep for The Gathering Edge.

Speaking of prep, there was a call for a snippet from Alliance of Equals, which I will be reading directly after Dragon.  We aim to please:

“Here we have a subject. I shall influence him to an action, while you will seek to influence him to a different action. Thus, we shall test your innate ability.”

Today’s blog post title is brought to you by Aerosmith, “Janie’s Got a Gun.”  Here’s your link.

Yesterday, Steve and I took a leisurely drive in really perfect weather, down to New Hampshire, where, in a little town near Center Harbor, we stopped to interview Belle, and to admire the new crop of Kelimcoons kittens, of which there were many, and busy.

Belle, who was presented as “shy” decided rather quickly that we weren’t the least bit scary, consented to enter the cat carrier, and accompanied us on our return trip to Maine.  Aside from a complaint or two at the very beginning, as we were negotiating the remove from the rather tricky driveway, and another, as we made the transition from Route 25 to Route 35, she was completely calm, and napped for most of the three-hour return trip.

Once arrived, she confessed that she was not quite up to meeting new subjects cats. Staff therefore prepared the Retiring Room for her use, and she withdrew behind the washing machine to recruit her strength.

Staff visited her several times on the overnight, once for an extended cuddle session — Belle was also billed as a “big lap cat,” and this seems to be so, and this morning, she once more undertook a journey, this to the office of her new physician, who made certain that she had taken no harm from her exertions, and recorded her weight at 15.1 pounds.

That detail taken care of, she returned to the Cat Farm, where she immediately began a systematic and thorough inventory.  Scrabble hissed — not unexpectedly — when Bell entered Steve’s office.  Belle did not return the favor, but gazed upon her with wide eyes, and an expression that seemed to say, “Why, look; a tiny cat,” before she continued with her inventory.

Trooper, I am sorry to say, hissed at Belle when she came into my office.  Belle didn’t even seem to hear it.  She jumped into the copilot’s chair as if she knew exactly what it was for, and that she had perfect right to use it.  Gave me a couple of head-bumps, showed the belly and went off to count the linens in the bedroom.

Right now, she’s resting under the headboard, a time-honored resting place for those who wish to insure their privacy.  Trooper and Sprite are with me — Trooper on top of the file cabinet, and Sprite in the red basket on the desk.  Scrabble is behind the suitcase under the desk in Steve’s office — another time-honored private place.

And peace reigns over all.

Steve’s gone to the grocery store; I’ve started the laundry, and will be doing some chores around the house.  Possibly reading will happen.  When I finish the current book, it will be time to read Dragon in Exile and Alliance of Equals back-to-back, and so drift back into working mode.

Tomorrow, at the unghodly hour of 8 a.m., we shall have the sheetrock guy, who will contrive a back wall, and put on the first of three coats of paint.  Once he’s done, we will, hopefully, be quit of contractors for the foreseeable future.

Which will be nice.

Today’s blog title brought to you by Kelimcoons Belle of the Ball, and Leroy Anderson.  Here’s your link.

Some photos from earlier, after Belle’s triumphant return from the vet’s:

Trooper and Sprite got me out of bed at 5:30 and demanded that I give them 100 breakfast, after which I did some minor odds and ends that needed to be done, and sorted out the latest batch of doctor’s bills in order to pay them.  Turns out that medical billing offices need a Very Close Eye Kept.  Who could have guessed?

The contractor and his crew arrived about 7:30, Steve and I had breakfast; I spent some time on the phone with medical billing people; went into town to accomplish two errands I had forgotten yesterday, did some bookkeeping, cleaned the cat fountain, and in a few minutes, I’ll call it a day and retire to the couch for an hour to read.  I’ve got the first Charlie Fox book (by Zoe Sharp), who is, by repute, anyway, Corinna’s polar opposite.

The crew got done with the chimney around 10:00 and hauled out, promising an invoice RSN.  Steve then called the drywall guy, who promised to come by around 5-ish today.  I note that it is somewhat past 5-ish and we have seen neither whisker nor tail.

Tomorrow Steve and I will head south, via the leisurely route, stop for a modest picnic along the way, and arrive to interview Belle at the agreed-upon time.  If all goes well — and we expect it will — we’ll bring her with us back to Maine by a slightly less leisurely route.

One of the day’s excitements was the apparent failure of my mp3 player, a Sansa Clip.  I plugged it into the computer to charge, and found that the computer wouldn’t recognize it, no matter which USB port I plugged it into, and even though the computer could see other devices plugged into the USB port with the same wire.  Despite being invisible and seemingly locked in Constant Reboot, eventually the Clip informed me that it had refreshed my media and that it was 100% charged.  I am doubtful, but willing to play.  We shall see.

And! to cap the events of the day, the interview we did a couple weeks ago with Katy England from the Maine Edge, is now live.  Here’s your link.

Today’s blog title is brought to you by Tom Petty, “Free Fallin.”  Here’s your link.