Category: Life with Coon Cats

Adventures in Cat Herding

So, I’m exhausted.

Up early to warm up the house, because The Guys from Dead River will be bound to turn off the heat at some point. Breakfast — braunschweiger on pumpernickel with Cheap Brown Mustard, tea.

Started gathering the trash to take out, because Tuesday, whereupon The Guys arrive in two work trucks and an attack wagon. Reroute self to start gathering cats into Steve’s Wing. Firefly was taken by surprise. Trooper — ran. Trooper never runs. Sprite took shelter under the middle of the dining room table — which is a really good spot if you’re a cat who doesn’t want to get swooped up and Transported. Belle was in her heated and sunny bookshelf. She tried to run (Belle never runs, either), but I had her. Got her to Steve’s Wing, opened the door a crack and stuffed her into the hallway.

In the meantime, Sprite makes a break for?

The basement!

Oh, no! The basement is where the Guys are and the outside basement door is open. Happily, she’s headed off by Steve, who is supervising Guys. She runs back upstairs and ducks back under the table. I slam the basement door shut, figure that’s good enough for right now, and finish taking out the trash and recycling.

When I come back in, Steve has Trooper cornered in the bedroom. I make the snatch, and we stuff him through the door into Steve’s Wing of Wrongfully Imprisoned Felines.

We go Looking For Sprite, who is in my office, under the comfy chair, which is another excellent place, but — inexplicably, she throws away her advantage and makes a bolt for — the basement! But the door’s closed. She skitters, pulls a 180 and races into the bedroom, where — she disappears.

I, however, see the telltale bump in the covers at the foot of the bed, and have her out. She squeaks! I am Unmoved. Steve cracks open the door to his wing, pushing Firefly back, and I pour Sprite through the opening.
So, anyway. All cats now in Steve’s Wing with Steve. The Guys from Dead River are in the basement, engaging drills. My second cup of tea is brewing.

When it’s done, I may take it over to the office comfy chair where I can soak up some sunshine, and enjoy the view down the snow-covered yard to the trees down back.

News from the Confusion Factory

It’s been an . . . interesting couple of weeks here at the Confusion Factory.

On Thanksgiving Day, our water heater sprang a small but determined leak, which meant that we got to call in the plumber at Holiday Rates.  He arrived quickly, turned off the hot water (but not the hot water baseboard heat, which runs on a different system), and promised a plumber who could actually fix the problem next day.

In the meantime, arrangements were made with the insurance company to send a team to dry out, disinfect, and monitor the basement.  They also arrived on Friday, and set up big, noisy fans (though appreciably less noisy than the big, noisy fans the drying-out service set up at the Former Location of the Confusion Factory, years ago).  The fans were removed on Sunday, the meter showed no extra moisture, and Bob’s your uncle.  We are still awaiting the return of the basement rugs, which have been cleaned, dried, and disinfected, but are awaiting a ride up from Auburn.

In News from I Never Thought This Would Happen, we have hired a housecleaning service.  They came by last week and did a deep clean, and are currently scheduled for every three weeks.  This may change, as we clarify what we need help with.  The thing that impressed me most was the ease with which the young lady in charge of the rugs moved the vacuum cleaner around.  I mean, I can vacuum, but it’s tiring.  She seemed to gain more energy the longer she was at it.

On December 1, I had cataract surgery done, and that was so much fun I did it again, on December 8.

I went for Long Sight for the New Eyes, since the thing that had bothered me most with the Old Eyes was that I no longer safe to drive — street signs were an extended game of blind man’s bluff, and for some reason, people had stopped putting numbers on their houses.

While my sight is still settling, I did go for a drive around the neighborhood on Friday and again on Saturday, and am delighted to report that I can read route signs, directions, speed limits and that the neighbors have all put the numbers back on their houses.

I can see fine to use the desktop, and the tablet, but not the laptop, or, alas, my phone.

My Short Sight — I’ve been nearsighted my entire life, near enough — is gone.  This means that there are reading glasses in my future, if I ever want to read a paper book again, or indulge in embroidery.  I will be seeing my regular optometrist on Thursday, and he will doubtless have more news.

In all, I’m feeling a little topsy-turvy, but I expect I’ll get used to it, eventually.

Steve and I have been watching Wednesday on Netflix, and having a good time with it.  We’ve only got two episodes to go, before we join the rest of the folks Patiently Waiting for Season Two.

What with the surgeries and recovering from surgeries, I’m Behind on the Work in Progress, and need to get with the program realsoonnow.  In my own defense, I did manage to get the Yule cards together and the Annual Winter Letter written, so I wasn’t Completely Indolent.

The cats have been tending me faithfully.  The elders were pleased to see a return to the Command Chair.  Firefly was Very Concerned with the state of my right eye, when I came home from that surgery.  You could see her saying, “Well, I trust that the other guy looks worse.”

And that’s the news from the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory.  Summing up:  we’re basically well and happy.

And hoping you’re the same.

 

Talkin’ Turkey

It’s Thanksgiving Day in the US.

We here at the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory are planning our usual low-key event with an afternoon meal centered around carbs and tryptophan.  P’rhaps a movie will figure in somewhere, or a game of Scrabble — or both.

Last week, Real Life™ intruded far too much into my rich fantasy life, leaving me Very Snarly.  So, yesterday, I opened the WIP, shoved RL into a closet, and wrote.  Felt good.  Much less snarly this morning (and yes, I did sleep in — call me a slave to pleasure).  Planning on writing some more today.

I love it when my job’s not work.

I do have some Physical Therapy homework to do — and that will be work — but after that?  I’m as free as the wind.

In other news — this by way of a PSA, hoping to save someone else a moment of despair.

Tuesday, I dropped my beloved Moonman C1 demonstrator fountain pen.  This by itself is not unusual.  What won the prize was that, this time, I dropped it directly on its nib.  Yep, down into the wood floor like a ill-aimed dagger.  And, yes, the nib was bent, but only a little.  I thought I could still write with it, but, um — no.

So, I went over to Jetpens to order me in another, because by ghod I adore this pen, and I had a Bad Fright.  There were no Moonman pens.  For the search “moonman c1” I was offered “Majohn.”  It was, as I say, a Black Moment.  Then, I noticed that Majohn offered C1 demonstrators, and when I clicked on that image, I was given the information that “Moonman” is now “Majohn.”  Personally, I don’t know why you would abandon “Moonman” as a company name, but it’s not my company.  Suffice that the Majohn C1 demonstrator is what I wanted, and what I ordered in.

Fans of the coon cats will be pleased to know that they go on very well. Firefly has settled in beautifully.  She and Trooper still have the occasional technical meeting.  Sprite and Firefly groom each other and nap together from time to time, while Belle continues her path of Benevolent Disregard.

In other news, From Every Storm:  Adventures in the Liaden Universe® Number 35 by Sharon Lee and Steve Miller, is now available from all the Usual Suspects, including Baen.

We had an especially good run of preorders for this title — thank you all.  Steve and I are very grateful for you, our readers, and your support down a career that was declared dead for the first time more than 30 years ago.

I think that catches us up nicely.  Enjoy your day, whatever it brings.

Here’s a picture of my office, doing the work it was built to do.

 

The Writing Life Saturday Edition

So, today so far I’ve gone through one Banker’s box full of “our papers.”  These particular papers are notes, chapters, and character sketches intended to be a Liaden Universe® novel, working title Fifth of Five.

Alas Fifth of Five died messily, and we had to scrap it.  All, however, was not lost, because from the ashes of Fifth of Five arose both Accepting the Lance and Trader’s Leap.

Oh, hey, I think I see what our problem was.

Anyhow, once I get it into a proper traveling box, those papers will be traveling to the Lee-and-Miller Archive at Northern Illinois University.

I have other boxes to go through, and some file drawers.  In fact, the impetus for this project was the fact that all the drawers are full and no, I am not, at this time in my life, buying more file cabinets.

Going through old manuscripts is . . . unexpectedly soothing.  So, a soothing Saturday on my end of things, with a side of laundry, and printing some things.

Steve has been cooking up a storm — poaching chicken and browning ground beef — we’ll have plenty of “leftovers” to provide the basis of supper next week.

The cats have been variously supervising my progress through the Banker’s box, and Steve’s cooking endeavors.  Right now, Sprite is in my co-pilot’s chair, Trooper, my most enthusiastic overseer, is back in his box on my desk, Belle is in Steve’s office, and Firefly — could be anywhere, honestly.

Fans of Firefly will like to know that she’s starting to make real progress on this come-to-the-lap thing.  She even visited me this morning at breakfast.  Steve quick-wittedly snapped a shot, so I even have photographic evidence, to wit!

Mid-September Ketchup

Since our last chat, Steve and I attended WorldCon virtually; went on vacation; saw Richard Thompson at the Waterville Opera House; and did readings at Albacon, virtually.

We vacationed at Old Orchard Beach, our go-to getaway location, and had a pleasant four days in what were probably the last Warm days of the season.  Old Orchard Beach closes down hard following Labor Day, so we more or less had the place to ourselves, which was fine.  The change of scene did us both good, I think, and now we’re back home and back to work.

As far as work goes, we’re awaiting the edits on “The Last Train to Clarkesville,” a Liaden Universe® Western, which has been accepted by editor David Boop for the anthology Last Train Outta Kepler-283-C, coming from Baen late next year.

We have just reviewed the proofs for “Gadreel’s Folly,” the lead story in Chicks in Tank Tops, edited by Jason Cordova, coming from Baen in January 2023.

And we have a story to write for Solar Flare, from Zombies Need Brains, edited by Patricia Bray and Joshua Palmatier.

In addition, we are each working on Liaden Universe® novels — Steve on Trade Lanes, due in November; myself on an as-yet-untitled novel set in the Redlands, due in June 2023.

Coming up in the near future is CapClave, which sponsors the WSFA Small Press and Short Story Award.  This year, there’s a Liaden story on the short list — “Standing Orders,” which appeared in Derelict, edited by David B. Coe and Joshua Palmatier, from Zombies Need Brains.  Steve and I aren’t able to get to CapClave this year, but we await results with interest.  A complete listing of the finalists can be found here.

Fans of the coon cats will be pleased to know that Firefly is integrating beautifully into the pride.  She is very busy with herding the toys, and thus far has had limited success in getting any of the elder cats to play tag with her, but she’s pretty sure they’ll come over to the Play Side real soon.

And I think that’s — oh, no, wait.  How about a snippet from the Redlands novel?

It was never wise to try to conceal things from Priscilla who, aside the familiarity granted lifemates, was perfectly able to See his presently rather tumultuous emotions.
“What’s happened?” she asked, sharply.
Across the room, Padi’s door snapped open and she strode out, her pattern fairly crackling with energy, and an expression of wide delight on her face.
“It worked!” she said exuberantly. “Oh, this is excellent!”

 

 

In which the authors are working

Much like being a Liaden Scout, being a writer is 98% mucking around in the mud, and 2% excitement.

And, after a brief period of excitement, we’re back to Business as Usual, which is exciting enough for those doing the work, but makes for poor telling.

SPOILERS FOR TRADER’S LEAP BELOW.  IF YOU HAVE NOT READ THE BOOK AND DON’T WANT TO READ SPOILERS, STOP READING NOW.

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For instance, we are at the moment Reading.  I’m reading Trader’s Leap because the book I’m lead on next has to be the follow to that story.  There’s a minor problem developing because I’m more interested in the Matter of the Redlands than I am in getting Padi onto a trade ship heading into the Dust.  It’s early days, and my brain is still recovering from Salvage Right, so I don’t despair, merely note.

Steve is rereading all the Jethri books to date.  Again.  I think that I take from this that Trade Lanes is intended to be the wrap-up for the Jethri arc.  I could of course be wrong, or Jethri could intend otherwise.

I’m also pulling together a database of all our works, original publication and all reprints.  It’s not that we haven’t been keeping track of these things, but we started keeping track on cards, and just kept with it, since neither one of us is a database person, particularly, and there were Books to Write.  So, an hour or two of database work a day, to ensure that our Literary Executor will have something to work from, eventually.

In and around are the cats, of course.  Firefly is settling in nicely.  She hangs out with Sprite a lot, has a cordial relationship with Belle, and remains quite fond of Trooper.  She’s also Getting the Hang of Steve and me — no mean task.  She had early established the back of the couch as an Accepted Petting Zone, and has been expanding those territories.  She has become accustomed to me picking her up and holding her over my shoulder for a bit, or picking her up and carrying her to a chair for some chin skritches before Press of Business requires her elsewhere.  Most evenings, she joins me when I embroider — me in the rocker, and her in the jetpac under the table next to the rocker.

So, that’s the news.  Writers at work, and content to be so.

Here’s a picture of Firefly and Sprite:

 

 

 

Communique from the Collected Denizens of the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory

Let it be known that yesterday’s Writers’ Day Off” trip to New Hampshire was not only occasion for a leisurely drive to the Plymouth, NH environs but also a well-researched opportunity to meet with and adopt to our household one 21 month old Maine Coon cat from Kelimcoons, the same home that brought us Trooper, Sprite, and Belle. Currently going by the call-name Firefly, she is slated to assume the vacant fourth cat position.

Our new young friend was remarkably calm during her one hundred and fifty mile drive across state lines to the Cat Farm, only complaining once or twice – as who would not? – during several unexpected turn-and-bump situations.

On arrival at the Cat Farm, Firefly took up overnight residency in the second bathroom in order to recoup her energy. She took short meetings with the other cats in the household last evening and all agreed it would be good if she in fact were allowed to relax alone in her suite.

Consideration of a nom-de-Cat Farm will take place over time, as she sorts her place and her responsibilities.

As of this morning Firefly has been given unrestricted access to the house. Most recent sighting showed her exploring the comfort of The Place Behind the Freezer in the basement, as well as the Place Beside the Ice Chests, having tested Belle’s once favorite spot of The Place Behind the Washer and Dryer and found it interesting but not that all it could be.

Glamour pic:

That was the week that was

When last we heard from Yr Hmbl Narrator, she was looking forward to eight glorious, empty days, with nothing to do but play on Tinsori Light.

And that’s sorta what happened.  To a point.

I knew going into the week that I needed to complete my application to take part on panels at ChiCon 8, which is ohsomuch more complicated than you’re envisioning, and with a deadline involved, but I figured to pursue that project during my writing breaks.

It started out well.

Steve had a dental appointment on Monday, but my services as a chauffeur were not needed, so I stayed home and — wrote.  Tuesday was also pretty good, right up to the point where we heard from the narrator for Liaden Universe® Constellation, Volume Two (coming soon from Tantor!  link), who was requesting a Weird Word List and a recording of same.

This was great news!  Only — Weeding through more than a dozen stories for the Weird Words consumes Serious Time, and — book isn’t going to write itself.  Happily, I hit on the notion of asking for volunteers, and giving each of them one story to read.  And — long story short — many hands quickly returned separate lists of Weird Words, which I was able to compile into a list over the next few days.

Meanwhile, in Wednesday, we took Belle to the vet for her annual wellness check, and, later that same day, Steve and I got long overdue hair cuts.  The day was further livened by the arrival of 12 cases (240 books) hardcover edition of Fair Trade, for us to sign, repack and get ready to be picked up by UPS on Monday and given a ride to Uncle Hugo’s in Minneapolis.

While 240 isn’t a lot of books (back in the Meisha Merlin days, we signed thousands (yes, it’s true) and mailed them, too), but it’s a goodly number, plus I’m not a young thing of 50 anymore.  So, we took some time to sign books, and box them back up — all done by Saturday evening, when I bore down and finished the ChiCon survey.

While Steve was signing the last two boxes of books, I recorded half of the Weird Word list for the narrator.  While I was signing the last &c, Steve recorded the other half of the Weird Word list for the narrator.

Then, he boxed up the signed books, sealed the cases, attached the UPS forms, and in short got everything ready for Monday’s pickup, while I?

Finally got back to work on the WIP.

And discovered that my laptop has died.

Today, I’ve been writing.  Sixteen hundred words on the day, so far, and Salvage Right has just broken 93,000 words.  Support at System 76 has gotten back to me with a suggested course of action for the laptop, which I’ll pursue this evening, and tomorrow! Between 12 and 5, UPS will swing by and pick up 12 cases of Fair Trade and take them to the Uncle.

So, next week’s looking pretty good for writing — there’s some phone calls and Real Life stuff to deal with, and a Zoom interview with Baen host Griffin Barber on Thursday night, but pretty clear.

*fingers crossed*

I want to say that the cats have been very supportive during these unscheduled rushes and boxings.  Trooper was particularly involved in the signing part of things.

Here’s a picture of Trooper, supervising Steve:

 

 

 

 

And here’s a picture of Trooper being removed from the signing table by Yrs Trly.  For scale, I am six foot tall, and weigh 165 lbs.  Trooper weighs just a thought over 17 lbs.

 

 

 

 

So!  Now we’re all caught up.  If you preordered a signed copy of Fair Trade from Uncle Hugo’s, you may commence waiting for delivery on May 2.

 

 

Monday touch-base

Oh, dear. I seem to have eaten all of the strawberries.
Well. I’m certainly not going out to get more today. We are currently laboring under an Active Heat Advisory (nothing so dire as Seattle’s Excessive Heat Warning, but enough to get *my* attention), and have gone into Station mode. Curtains and windows closed, high-energy lights out, heat pumps on.
I believe I heard that there will be BLTs for supper, which sounds an excellent plan.
Belle has joined me at the desk, and Trooper is napping in the jetpac. Sprite is supervising Steve in Another Part of the House.
Today’s To-Dos include writing This Scene Here and doing another compile of BAD ACTORS, now that the Tyop Hunters’ work is done. I believe I will hold off on doing the laundry, given the weather situation. We’re not prone to brownouts hereabouts, but, then, we’re not prone to what counts for us as Crazy Hot Weather. No need to put extra strain on an aged power grid.
Else? Oh. I came across an old review of Balance of Trade the other day, and there was an assumption made by the reviewer which I will address here, in case it matters, or someone here labors under a similar misapprehension.
The name of Our Hero in Balance of Trade is Jethri Gobelyn, sometimes shortened to Jeth. The reviewer’s assumption was that this was an…homage?…to Jethro Bodine in The Beverly Hillbillies (who even *remembers* The Beverly Hillbillies?) — which — no.
As you all know, the authors like to play to with words and names, and language drift. In the particular case, we rather thought that Jeffrey might drift to Jethri.
Also, yes, his surname is pronounced “goblin” because I had at that point for years wanted a reason to name a spaceship Goblin’s Market.
So, that.

Anything can happen day

We had a small but boisterous thunderstorm on the overnight, which knocked out the power just long enough to be irritating.

Today is, indeed, Anything Can Happen Day, and all I’m saying is — it better.  Or, wait.  Maybe I mean EVERYTHING Can Happen.  I think that’s closer.

The To-Do List includes:

*Reading Trader’s Leap mass market proofs (which landed yesterday; correx due end of June)
*Renewing the Hummer Bars (three Hummer Bars. I think I’d better stop, now.)
*Do the laundry
*Continue work on contracted short story, working title “Gadreel’s Folly” (mid-July target date)
*Continue work on novel (due end of June)
*The mandatory walk and exercise regime

I’d briefly considered going over to Winslow and stopping at the Spiro’s Gyros food truck for lunch, but that might need to wait until, oh, tomorrow, when I have to visit the vampyres, anyway.

Yesterday, was Echocardiogram and EKG Day.  Now waiting for those results.  We also stopped at the grocery store and I had a haircut in the afternoon.  That was Interesting, though possibly not for the reason you may imagine.  In the space of those three events, I moved from an environment where everyone was masked, to an environment where employees were masked, and customers who had not been vaccinated were asked to be masked (and where one maskless guy tried to pick a fight with Steve about masks, but missed), to the the place where I get my hair cut which was packed and I was the only one wearing a mask*.

It’s been Wicked Hot here in Central Maine over the last few days — I think we cracked 100F/38C on Monday; yesterday was merely 88F/31; and today the weatherbeans are calling for a balmy 85F/29C.  I, myself, am living for Friday, when the high temp is predicted to be 66F/19C.

Presently, I have two coon cat supervisors, while Steve makes do with one.

And that’s how the day’s getting underway, here at the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory.

Y’all stay safe.

Today’s blog title brought to you by the Mickey Mouse Club which was on network television around 1958/1959.  Here’s your link.

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*Yes, yes, I’m still wearing a mask, even though I’m vaccinated and all.  Doctor’s orders are to pretend I haven’t been vaccinated and the masking orders have never been dropped. This is because I’m a cancer patient (aka a person whose immune system has been purposefully repressed) and there’s some concern that the vaccine is not 100%, or even, yanno, 87% effective in that population.