. . .and the weather is Wicked Cold.
Here, have a box o’cute:
Two cats, one box; too cute.
In which Rolanni is still under the weather
Two cats, one box; too cute.
Category: Life with Coon Cats
Two cats, one box; too cute.
In which Monday behaves that way
So, this morning, we got up early so I could make an appointment to get Mozart in to see the vet. He’d started sneezing, explosively, in addition to becoming increasingly unsteady on his feet. We got an appointment for 2:30.
Then, I called my doctor, and nailed an 11:30 appointment, from which I emerged with a second order for antibiotics, since the first run did not completely drive a stake through the heart of the sinus infection.
In between my appointment and Mozart’s, Steve and I got the prescription (partially) filled, did some lightning grocery shopping, and had leftover meat loaf and mashed potatoes for lunch.
Mozart. . .has lost three pounds since the last time the vet saw him. The good news is that the sneezing isn’t a respiratory infection, but seems more related to the dry winter air that makes everybody sneeze. He was given a tablet to increase his appetite, and we were given a talk about old cats who are on the downward slope of their lives. We are to observe his appetite and his mobility and give the vet a call on Thursday.
I should mention that these multiple trips to town were made in a really nasty little snowstorm that the weatherbeans wouldn’t even admit was happening, and that Steve is a Hero of the Revolution, for doing all the driving.
That being all the news that’s fit to print — except that Mozart has come into my office to yell at me because the pill made him hungry — I’m going to — feed Mozart, obviously, and do the dishes.
Hope everybody’s well and happy.
In which work goes forth, but not very quickly
I wrote new! words! yesterday. Under 700 new words, but they were in the right direction, and represent more words of fiction than have been written at this keyboard for quite a number of days.
So, that.
This morning, I vacuumed the house, which was entirely covered in cat fur, and Steve put the living room back together, for values of “back together” that include putting the sleeping bag away and returning the Mencken Table to its proper configuration.
Also, we hung my new curtains, so Steve can have my former curtains for his office. There was a reason we did it this way. Oh. My former curtains were one set/two panels, split between two windows. My new curtains are two sets/four panels, split between two windows, just like they do in classy houses. Steve has but one large window in his office, which the grey curtains as a set will cover perfectly.
Man, is life complicated, or what?
My new curtains come with — tie backs! I don’t know when I last saw curtain tie backs, but I suppose that, since I have them, I ought to use them. Later today, I will deploy some push pins where they will do the most good.
The day here at the Cat Farm began with rain, and has segued into blue sky, sunshine, and fluffy white clouds. The driveway, which, yesterday, had been a ice rink, is today a mere quagmire. This is actually a Good Thing: We cannot walk out to get the mail (which was impossible, yesterday), but, should the hundred or so pre-ordered Carousel Seas destined after signing for Uncle Hugo’s actually arrive today, the UPS guy will be able to get the cases to the porch. Yesterday, he would have had to slide them down to us from the road, and I fear it would not have been pretty.
There will be tuna sandwiches and tomato soup for lunch.
This afternoon, I guess I ought to get really physical and strip the bed. Or not. Today’s writing goal is to break 40K!
And! Those who are jonesing for an eArc of Dragon in Exile for Yule — Ms. Weisskopf has suggested that there may be some time more for you to wait, and that you might wish to enter the current Baen contest, here. First prize is $250 credit toward Baen ebooks/eArcs. Contest closes December 20, 2014.
. . .and that? Is all I’ve got. Here, have a rare picture of Mozart, charging up on his UPS:
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Progress on Alliance of Equals
39,028/100,000 OR 39.3% COMPLETE
“Have you ever seen anyone hang?”
At dozens and daggers, with coon cat emergency
So, it snowed last night, only a couple inches of lightish stuff, easy to move off of stairs and vehicles. It’s raining now, just a little, the outside temperature at 35F/2C. While Steve was making breakfast, I went out, shifted snow, and dusted the stairs with sno-melt in prep for the plowman’s eventual arrival.
The operative word in the previous paragraph is “eventual,” and I have several things on the to-do list which are in direct opposition to Waiting for the Plowman, involving, as they do, the basement. I would also, frankly, like to go back to sleep, but that’s clearly not in the cards until after the plowman.
Last night’s hot toddy did the trick for me, in terms of a goodish night’s sleep. I was disturbed once or twice by Feline Check-Ins, and once in the aftermath of a Feline Emergency (detailed below). After the six-thirty wake-up-and-take-your-meds alarm, though, Trooper jumped into the bed, curled against my chest and purred us back to sleep. Apparently, Day Shift had come on and he was now willing for both of us to nap until dusk.
Which, all things considered, was probably Not a Bad Plan.
The eventuality of the plowman, however, was in play even then. I woke up for real at eight, to find Steve before me, got dressed and performed the required rituals to the Goddess of Meager Snows.
However, that Feline Emergency in the night? Steve had this to say about that:
The night, given my my state of coughs, sneezes, and general restlessness I decided to camp out on the nice couch in the living room. Well, at least I slept for about 3 hours before first cat incident wherein a cat stepped on my nose, around 2. After that I woke on the order of once every hour and odd moments. I ache, feel like I’ve been beat up, and after yesterday morning’s startle I’ve even got a couple bruises to go with that.
Oh yeah, was sleeping good again, finally, about the time the cats decided to work on the crystal bell effect at 4:30 AM … Sharon heard the crystal bell down the hall in the bedroom. I heard the crystal bell quite clearly in the living room. I also heard what she didn’t — the sound of desperate jumps., stuff flying off the table, things hitting the floor….
Accident Reconstruction says that — an unnamed cat (likely Sprite) was pulling food out of her new Corelle dish — when she leaned too hard on the bowl, launching it and the dry food in it into the frame of what we call the cat-couch (actually, a garden bench) — thus giving off the well known crystal-bell effect. The startle of the sound and flying crunchies engaged the patented OMG Get Away Now Drive and Sprite — after bouncing off and knocking over one of the gallon vinegar jugs stored at floor level so they can’t be knocked down — lofted onto the kitchen table, landing on Sharon’s address book and her place mat. This was not a gentle landing, and her force carried all before it, including sun glasses, an MP3 player, a watch, a set of car keys, the place mat, Sibley’s Backyard Birds of the Northeast, a check book … and my sleep. While things slid, bounced off the fridge, and dropped to the floor young Sprite’s trajectory continued and she briefly came to rest within a few inches of Trooper, who was/had been sleeping on his box but who cat-instantly woke. Sprite bounced off Trooper, he ran down the hall (exit stage right, pursued by demons) , and Sprite bounced off the basement door, off the door to my room, and wide-eyed, stopped only to return big-eyed to what in the world I’d done, anyway.
So, anyway, it being 11-ish here at the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory, and the plowman nowhere in sight, I shall descend to the basement to accomplish my several tasks there, and then return abovestairs to the rest of the to-do list. If the plowman cometh not by 1:00, I will nap.
It’s a plan, anyway.
Monday morning cat spam
So, we got about a foot of snow yesterday. Wet, goopy snow that was not a pleasure to shovel off the deck and the stairs and the cars, but it got done, and now the sun is doing its bit by warming the snow enough that it’s dripping off of the branches and the roof. So, yay, solar energy.
Steve took one of the cleaned-off cars and went off to his follow-up-from-surgery-doctor-appointment, and thence to the grocery store. The mailman hasn’t been by yet, but I’m expecting that today is not a real treat for rural delivery, either.
I’ve started the laundry, and made phone calls to the people I called last week, who didn’t return my call. Possibly, this week will be my lucky week.
And! Tomorrow is election day here in Maine. I cannot begin to tell you how much I want this election to be over and done with. So, everybody vote, right? So we can put the election away knowing that we did our best, even if none of the candidates quite managed it.
This week also encloses the 34th anniversary of our actual, legal wedding. We plan to celebrate a day late, and do maybe a dinner out, and view Hero Number 6.
The view from the bedroom window is eerie. I can see right across the road, and the neighbor’s picket fence. When I was out this morning, I checked on the downed cedar tree. It broke off right ground level, and fell across a corner of the Cat Garden, nudging the stake bearing the cat weathervane out of its way, by a couple inches.
In celebration of It Having Snowed , the cats are doing. . .cat things. Photographic evidence below:
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Progress on Alliance of Equals
15,661 out of 100,000 OR 15.66% complete
“Val Con is yos’Phelium and a scout. He’s obliged to find the — former homeworld tiresome.”
Sunday cat spam
So, today is chores and starting in to clean up the chapters-in-hand. Leftover avgolemeno is on-deck for the midday meal.
In the meantime, we have cat spam.
Lest anyone think that I labor alone, please be assured that I have help on-paw for the chores. Here’s Trooper, helping me strip the bed:
In the meantime, Scrabble was observing Steve’s progress in the kitchen:
. . .while Sprite counted her treasures:
. . .and Mozart did his imitation of a Shmoo*:
EDITED TO ADD:
Scrabble dancing encouragement for Steve:
_____________
*For those young’uns among us, here is the history of ShmooKind, or, more correctly, Shmoon.
In which the author has technology. . .and cats
So, we here at the Confusion Factory have been plotting.
Plotting books, that is, since we have four left to write on the current contract.
We are, of course, most closely plotting the next book in line, Book The Second, and in the spirit of that plotting, I devoted my morning to reading the 26,000-ish words removed from Dragon in Exile because they didn’t belong there. It’s now Steve’s turn to read those words, while I commence in to reading a large-ish chunk of Crystal Dragon.
In order to read in comfort, I of course repaired to the couch, where I very soon gathered Able Assistants. I took my smartphone with me, and made some notes on it, via Evernote, which were conveniently awaiting me on the desktop when I came back to my office after lunch.
Yay! technology.
On the weather front, we seem to have survived the season’s first nor’easter: three days of wind and rain, and rain and wind, and, for a change, rain and wind. The sky is appreciably brighter, by which I mean, it’s a sort of semi-luminous slate-grey. Possibly tomorrow we will see the fabled sun described in tales of yore.
And now, I’m headed back for the couch and the day’s second bout of reading.
The glamor, yeah. Non-stop.
Here, before I go. Have some pictures of my assistants, hard at work:
I was born, six-gun in my hand
Well.
It’s quite warm here in Central Maine, which I suppose I should appreciate, if only for the savings in oil.
All of my mail programs are now talking nicely to the new email protocol. I’d hate to tell you how long it took me to finish my bit, after Steve did the hard part. Let’s just say it took a Warren Zevon concert on youtube to get me to the other side.
This morning, we went out early to Skowhegan, to admire the repaired Indian, He Who Watches, and for Steve to see the eye doctor. The morning was damp, and, as mentioned, warm; and the leaves stood out nicely. (Here’s a link for those who are interested in more detail regarding the Skowhegan Indian.)
Tomorrow, Steve has long-scheduled outpatient procedure. Don’t know exactly when tomorrow — the hospital doesn’t want to disclose too early — but tomorrow, for sure; they promise.
In the meanwhile, I have galleys to read. The galleys will of course be going with me to the hospital tomorrow, and I’m hoping to make my Monday deadline by emailing pdfs of the corrected pages to the publisher.
So, that.
In other news, and as reported yesterday for them what indulges, the eARC for Carousel Seas is now available for purchase and download from Baen. Here’s the link.
For those waiting for the paper book, and who also would like to have their book signed and/or personalized, there is a deadline approaching for personalizations, pre-ordered from Uncle Hugo’s. Here’s your link.
And, with Mozart’s Enthusiastic Support™ from the top of the file cabinet, I’m going back to work.
Today’s blog title brought to you by Bad Company, singing “Bad Company.” Here’s your link.
Mail call
So today’s mail brings three catalogs, HearthSong, Woolwich, and American Girl, by which the scariest, by far is American Girl, the most interesting is HearthSong, and the most useful is Woolwich.
Interestingly enough, the American Girl catalog (which horrifies me) and the HearthSong catalog (which pleases me greatly) have an item in common: A ceiling tent made of sparkly semi-see-through material. They differ in detail — the American Girl tent included pillows and was blue-and-silver; the HearthSong tent was a seasonal orange with green trim, and came with a cluster of led lights, also in orange and green, to hang at the apex of the tent; pillows not included.
Now, I just might have to get me one of these. JoAnn’s, after all, sells sparkly material of all kinds, and I can get a knock-off HulaHoop at the Dollar Store — led lights, too. Pillows are easy; in fact, I probably have enough pillows on-hand, just need some bright covers. Mmmmm, pillow corner.
Of course, after I made it, it would be preempted by the cats, but still. . . pillow corner.
Today’s mail also brings the signing checks for the Atlantis Verlag German edition of Carpe Diem, by Sharon Lee and Steve Miller, which is not only pleasing, but well-timed.
On the Actually Writing front, I’m about half-way through the Archers Beach short story commissioned for the Baen website. Not at all the story I thought I was going to write last year, when I signed the contract, but a good story; I’m pleased with voice, character, and direction. With luck and a tailwind, I’ll finish it today, then let it sit a couple days before rereading and revising. And coming up with a title, of course.
First, though, I need to go into town and take care of some errands.
Here, have some cat pictures to keep you company while I’m gone:
I have mentioned before Scrabble’s considerable choreographic skills. I’m pleased to report that she has a new dance under construction.
Yesterday was, of course, Royal Justice Day. Here we have Princess Jasmine Sprite ready to hear the commoners:
In which Noah’s Ark burned down on July 19, 1969
. . .this may become relevant later.
So, I have a funny problem, which is that I can’t wear wristwatches — can’t really abide anything close around my wrists, anymore, including button-down sleeves and tight jerseys. The wristwatch thing, though, that’s been a problem for years, which I had long ago solved by purchasing clipwatches, which I would then clip to the right-hand-front-hip belt loop of my jeans/slacks.
This has, as I said, worked for many years. Except not anymore. I’ve managed to smash the face crystal on my last two watches in record time — and I don’t even know how I’m doing it. I’ll clip the watch on, go about my business, look down, the watch is fine, look down again, maybe a couple hours later, and the glass is cracked.
The first watch I did in by this magic process had been with me for some while, and was a cheap watch when I bought it. I was sad, because I liked the watch, but it’s not like it owed me anything.
The watch I just defaced, though, was barely a year old — an expensive Dakota clip with a light, that I bought on clearance, so instead of $60, it was — what? $40? I figured it would last me a good long time, being rugged and all, and, to be fair, its crystal isn’t smashed anywhere near as comprehensively as the glass over the first watch. But, still, hardly the sort of thing you want to wear out in company — and it happens that I’m going to be out in company at the end of next month, so. . .
Does anyone have a line on a clipwatch with a blast-glass crystal, or, I dunno, a cover? Any tips on how to generally protect a watch on a clip from getting smashed while in the line of duty?
In other news, Trooper has apparently decided to make a push to be Boss Cat. Let’s just say that Scrabble is not on-board with this game plan.
Thunderstorms rolled over the Cat Farm on the overnight, which meant No Eclipse for Us, but we have a consolation prize — my favorite kind of day: cloudy, blowy, damp, and oceany. Windows are open all over the house.
And, now, it’s time to get back to work.