Tag: anniversary

St. Gertrude’s Day 2026

What went before: Still raining, but not pouring. We are this evening expecting, say the weatherbeans, the following: WIND, FOG, FLOODING. Tomorrow, it will be partly sunny, starting out at around 53F/12C and loosing heat throughout the day, until nosediving into the teens tomorrow night, reaching a high of 33F/.5C on Wednesday.

Ah, March. You tease.

The book club has chosen the April book: Theo of Golden, which ought to be interesting, given that the synopsis annoys the ever-livin’ life outta me. It will be interesting to see if the author can win me over.

The Cook Unity mushroom pot pie was so good I ferreted out a recipe so I can make my own once I’m off deadline. Speaking of which — I am now confident of making my deadline, so, yanno, yay.

Also — I beg pardon to those folks who thought I’d written the poem that is my next embroidery project. Indeed, I Did Not, and it’s something that I know so well that it never occurred to me that other people would not have heard of it. The poem dates back to the 800s, and is written in the margins of a book of reflections and/or prayers. Wikipedia can tell you all about it, and give you the other four stanzas, too. Here’s your link.

And that? Is all I got. Except doing the dishes. That I still need to do.

Everybody have a good evening. Stay safe. And dry.
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Tuesday. Cloudy, damp, and breezy. We have hit the day’s high of 53F/12C as I type, and are headed for 15F/-9C.

Today is St. Gertrude’s Day. Hug your cats.

Today, right about now (7-ish am, Maine time), in fact, is also the sixth anniversary of my arrival at Inland Hospital in Bangor in order to undergo a mascetomy. I was one of the last people admitted to the hospital before it closed in the early days of COVID, and it was a tense couple minutes there at intake before it was decided that Steve could accompany me.

Last night was filled with bad dreams, despite all the cats could bring. I believe this morning may call for coffee.

What’s happening at your place?
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Well. The cats have made a Chewy order. I’m glad Firefly has a trust fund. I’m drinking that cup of coffee and wondering if the concept of ‘breakfast’ is anything I want to entertain at the moment, or if I’ll just make another cup of coffee and go to work.

Life is uncertain…

Sapphire Days, Peridot Knights

Weather first:  It snowed this afternoon.

Earlier That Same Day: Taking a break to bring the windchimes in for the winter.

Today is the 45th celebration of the day Steve Miller and I married. Against both of our better judgments, and yet, it was the only way to make certain we would each have someone to speak for us, if we couldn’t speak for ourselves.

I am once again thankful that we were often in the situation of having to put off Official Celebrations until whatever project happened to be on-deck was caught up. This means that working on the WIP is nothing out of the ordinary for an anniversary.

In honor of the day, I am wearing one sapphire earring and one peridot earring — my birthstone and Steve’s adopted birthstone (he didn’t like rubies). The air cleaners are on in the living room and the bedroom, and all of the cats joined me in Steve’s office to work.

I have a pizza, which I may or may not partake of this evening — pizza was the Official Standby Celebration Food — and now the sun has come out.

Back to work I go.

I hope everyone’s having a good morning.
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So! I rearranged the WIP, sorted what happens on which day, which was really needed. I pulled some scenes, and adjusted others. The whole manuscript in its new configuration is now printing out so I can do a read-through tomorrow.

For the moment, I’m finishing up my tea and cookies (note to self: find recipe for soft-baked lemon-sugar cookies; those things are yummy). After, I’ll go downstairs and do the cat box change out that I missed doing, what with the back and then the rush to catch up my stained glass. Then a shower, and then?

Maybe tonight is Kpop Demon Hunters. Why not?

I have decided that I will be making my own Thanksgiving dinner this year. There are certain things that I want to eat, and it’s not that hard to bake a couple of turkey fillets, pop a tube of biscuits, mix up a bowl of mashed, and another of dressing, if I wanna be Really Crazy, and throw some asparagus in a pan. Pie is readily available in Hannaford and Shaw’s and whipped cream is an easy buy.

So, this year, I’ll have what I want, as much or as little, while feeling neither forlorn nor bereft, and! I’ll have leftovers. And nor I won’t have to drive to Lisa’s or put up with Front and Main or The Senator. (All of these are very nice restaurants; I just don’t want to have to cope with any of them on Thanksgiving.)

That’s a Decision, then, and it even feels reasonable, which trying to convince myself to go to the buffet at Lisa’s just … wasn’t.

What else?

. . . not much actually. Days get weird when you prioritize writing.

I can report that it has stopped snowing — some hours ago, actually. Just a squall. Or a threat. Whatever.

So! Signing off for the night.

Everybody have a good evening. Stay safe out there.

And so it began

Saturday. Sky half grey and half blue. Going to be warmer than lately, but by no means hot.

Slept long and late. Breakfast will be sausage and cheese on an English muffin, and lunch will be the lonely pork chop waiting in the fridge.

Thirty-seven years ago today, an orange-and-white UHaul truck with a governor on the accelerator, closely followed by a black Chevrolet Beretta, entered Maine via Routes 2 and 4 in Farmington and made their way to Skowhegan.

In the UHaul was Steve Miller, PIC, copilot Arwen deGrey, and what was left of the Miller and Lee Household — records and books; a stereo system; an old wooden Philco cabinet radio that didn’t work, but served as our mantle; kitchen supplies, and an almost-new microwave oven; two Kaypro computers; a 9-pin printer;, and two so-called computer desks, brand-new and still in the box.

Piloting the Beretta was Sharon Lee, copilot Archie McGee, and passenger Brandee Whitchin. In the trunk was a copy of the manuscript titled Carpe Diem, the Important Life Records of both pilots and cats, a dictionary, a Scrabble set, suitcases, and cat supplies. In the back seat were a few small boxes of this ‘n that, and the cat carrier occupied by our passenger.

We arrived in Skowhegan and went to the address that had been given us, to pick up the key to the rental house. Instead, we came away with our deposit, in cash, because the daughter of the gentleman who had rented us the house had left her husband during the time the happy caravan was climbing slowly north from Maryland, and needed a place to live.

We then went downtown, to let the editor at the Skowhegan Reporter know that Mr. Miller, whom he had hired after two extensive phone interviews, was in town and ready for work. Unfortunately, in a game of Editorial Spin the Bottle indulged in by the owner of the syndicate the Skowhegan editor had been reassigned, and the new editor had neither news of, nor desire for, a spanking new reporter who didn’t know the beat.

Considerably let down, the Plan in shambles, but still determined to proceed, the pilots drove out to the edge of town, where they found a campground motel that was in the process of being shut down for the winter. The combination of Steve’s golden tongue and the kindness of the campkeepers saw us in the possession of both a very tiny cabin, and a promise that they would tell the crew to winterize that cabin last, so we could have time to find a more permanent solution.

That done, we drove to the other edge of town, rented a storage unit, stashed our stuff, went to the local Hannaford, got salads from the salad bar, and the big bottle of Gallo, returned to our cabin, and the cats. We ate, played a couple games of Scrabble, and went to bed.

The next morning, there was snow on the ground, and, after dining well at Burger King, the pilots drove to Augusta to return the UHaul truck, then came went back to the cabin in Skowhegan, and sat down to make a New Plan.

What’s everybody doing today?