Tag: blog

Time seen as a necklace of precious stones

What went before:  Yesterday, I read all the Commander Vepal sections of The Gathering Edge (how is it possible that The Gathering Edge was published in 2017?) — this because of a Notion sent up from the guys in the basement.  I also did a lot of Real Life This and That, because Real Life does have to be tended to, sometimes.

Shameless Self-Promotion:  The audio edition of Sea Wrack and Changewind, by Sharon Lee, being all of the Archers Beach stories in one volume, is now on sale at Tantor Media. Narrated by Alex Picard.  Here’s your link.

Tuesday. Cloudy; it was snowing a little when I took the trash and recycling to the curb. Seems to not be snowing at the moment.

Breakfast was blueberry skyr and tea. Lunch will be beanloaf in mushroom sauce, and a fancy frozen veggie to be named later.

Today’s to-do is reading “Shout of Honor,” performing one’s duty to the cats, and taking a smol walk. Depending on how lively the guys in the basement are feeling, I may spend some time staring at nothing. (Note to Self: restart beer deliveries to the guys in the basement.)

Sartorially speaking, I’m wearing the usual Wrangler carpenter jeans with the pointy-thing pocket repurposed to hold my phone; Steve’s flannel-lined denim shirt (which is magical, I’m sad because (1) mine all wore out long ago, and (2) this style has gone the way of the so-called “shirt jac,” which is still warm, but not as nice), and one of Steve’s necklaces (another Phil Jurus rune: Edram, the rune of the artist).

I was thinking yesterday (when my necklace was the astronomically correct silver moon that Steve gave me for my 60th birthday), that I have a lot of necklaces in my care — some of course more Important than others — and I got to wondering if I could have them made into a memory necklace — like a charm bracelet, but a necklace.

I also have a lot of earrings, because my ears used to be pierced. And I’m wondering if it’s worth my time to have my ears pierced again, or what on earth I’m going to do with All Those Earrings, some of which, again, are more precious than others.

Moving on to the Big Cat Hunt — we await word from the escort service as to date and time. Join me in Watching the Skies.

And that’s all the news from the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory.

What’s your news?

Today’s blog title is brought to you by Samuel R. Delaney, “Time Considered as a Helix of Semi-Precious Stones”

Scenes from a late-waking morning:

Cat Dancing

What went before:  Though the poolish survived, the bread . . . was not perfect.  The dough stayed sticky, rather than firming up, and trying to slash it before putting it in the oven was an exercise in comedy.  The loaves came out of the oven looking like two very large potatoes.  The bread does taste good, though the crust is too chewy, and I say this as someone who likes bread that fights back.  So!  A learning experience.  I’ll be trying again.

Onward!

Monday. Cloudy and 20F/-6C, heading for the tropical high temp of 36F/2C. <fe>I may have to open the windows.</fe>

Ate the second banana — which was soft and sweet. First cup of tea brewing. Need to seek out the rest of breakfast, which was!  A blueberry muffin and cottage cheese.  I have no idea what’s for lunch.

Today is straightening up the house, which I never got round to the other day, getting some vacuuming done, taking care of computer domains — which I also let slide — and sitting in a chair with a pad of paper and a pen, staring at nothing.

Full day, right there.

How’s Monday treating everybody so far?

Below, an action shot from last night’s Cat Dancer tournament.

 

In Which the Poolish Survives the Night

What went before:  I did finish “Core Values” last night — go, me!

I have a bunch of these little so-called Spot thermometers from ThermoWorks, and I put them in various places, trying to find the warmest place to overnight the poolish.  It turns out that the dining room microwave is by far the warmest spot.

Onward.

Sunday. Still dim, but I can see an orange crack in the sky behind the trees.

Got up early to check the poolish, which — Against All Odds — not only survived the night, but was bubbly and stinky, and Just What the Baker Wanted.

Dough is in for the first rise. I’m drinking my first cup of tea and should probably turn my thoughts toward breakfast.

For those following along at home, it turns out that the Heritage Microwave in the dining room is the warmest spot in the kitchen-and-kitchen-adjacent rooms, by a good 2 degrees, so that’s where the poolish overnighted, to what success we have seen.

Aside the baking of bread, today is Tax Paperwork Review, and filing, because I let it stack up again, banking, and other mundane details — and I’ve got to finally deal with the whole stevemillerwrites thing, which I’m still inclined to let go.

I see that we’re starting to play Twenty Questions regarding the new director. I’m not just being playful; I don’t want to jinx anything. Believe me, I’m just as excited as you are. We can all practice Being Patient together.

So, that’s what’s exciting at the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory, this early Sunday morning.

Who else is having an exciting morning?

In which there will be the baking of bread

What went before: Still not finished the story, but! I feel much better about the story as a whole. It’s a rare wonder what the Active Voice will accomplish. I know I keep saying this, but! Maybe I’ll finish it tomorrow.

Also, I could really feel my brain clicking along, rather than struggling for each paragraph, so, yanno, I may be able to write a book sometime realsoonnow.
Onward!

Saturday. Sunny and the ‘beans are calling for a high of 24F/-4C.

Breakfast was eggs scrambled with ham, cheese, onions, and toast. Kettle’s on for my second cup of tea. Lunch will be chili.

Today I’m working on the story, but, also! I intend to bake French bread this weekend. I was going to get into making bread every week, but the Lightning Turnaround on Diviner’s Bow, followed by getting sick, twice, kind of threw those rosy plans into the bin.

This recipe is a little tricky because you have to make the poolish the night before and let it rest overnight at “room temperature.” Overnight “room temperature” here at the Confusion Factory is 60F/16C, which is a little cool for dough, and of course the silly electric stove doesn’t have a pilot light (yes, yes, still bitter about having to give up my lovely propane stove). I guess I’ll just cover it and set it in the microwave to rise.

Assuming all goes well, and the poolish rises as should, this will be the inaugural use of the baking stone. I really hope I can pull this off; the batards I made at King Arthur Flour school were amazing, and I’ve been wanting more ever since I ate the last slice.

I also have a recipe for oatmeal blueberry lemon breakfast muffins that I’m wanting to try, but not today. I need to seek clarity of the differences between the “quick-cooking rolled oats” called for in the recipe and the Red Mill Old Fashioned Rolled Oats which is the household go-to.

Yeah, looks like I’m pretty much back online.

Those who follow the writing schedule should be aware that the deadline for the book after Diviner’s Bow (deadline=when I am to turn the book in) is April 15, 2026. This means there will probably not be a new Liaden book in 2026 (unless Baen opts to do the Lightning Thing again). I’m sorry about that, but I really need to protect my brain, which, aside the coon cats, is the Number One resource of the House.

Regarding The Big Cat Hunt — there is a cat show this weekend, so planning is on hold until next week. Watch the skies.

I think that’s all I’ve got.

What’s on the books for you this weekend?

Oh, hey, let’s do the Time Warp, again.  Sharon Lee at Boskone 45. Photo by Steve Miller.

Cats, Technology, Writing

What went before:  I did not finish the story yesterday.  There were several reasons for this.

Reason One was details necessary to The Great Cat Hunt. I went from no one answering their email to four people answering with varying degrees of “we might be able to make this work.” This required some Examination of My Wants and Preferences, because, no, I could not take them all. We’re still working out travel arrangements for the winning candidate.

Reason Two was that I had realized that I was being Too Damned Timid, and not wishing to get up close and personal with a Bad Thing that certainly had bearing on the character. Also, I needed to clarify the stakes. So, I have to rewrite a couple of scenes, and then write the last scene.

Reason Two-Point-Five is that my keyboard was — lagging. Honest, I was getting two sentences ahead of the words appearing on the screen, which — I can’t tell you how crazy that makes me.

So, I unplugged the keyboard I had been using, and tried to set up the wireless keyboard. Only bluetooth on the computer will not play nice with the wireless keyboard (Message one: Connected! Two Seconds Later, Message two: Disconnected!). I’m very disappointed in this keyboard, and I had such high hopes. For one thing, it’s supposed to light up — which it did at first, but then it stopped and the folks I bought it from want me to do things that I fail to understand in order to MAYbe? get it to work again. And now this thing which essentially means I have a wireless keyboard that has to stay plugged in.

Onward!

Friday. Sunny and already as “warm” as it got yesterday.

Breakfast was a two-parter. I grabbed a banana (I thought it was ripe; it was still — crunchy. Hate me a crunchy banana, but I was committed by that time.), answered a letter, then got dressed. Sit down breakfast was oatmeal with raisins and walnuts. Lunch will be fish.

Today, aside from emptying (and refilling — honestly, who threw a party when I wasn’t looking, and left all the dishes in the sink?) the dishwasher, one’s duty to the cats, on-demand scrubbles, and playtime, will be All About the Story.

I have been pointed to the large, sulky river, where there is an Incoherent Review of Fair Trade that also includes a large swath of a scene from the book, (which I’m willing to guess is exactly 1,000 words) but! that aside? I can’t do anything about it. Despite its delusions to the contrary, I don’t work for the waterway, and they long ago stopped allowing mere writers to ask that troll reviews be removed. Thank you for your understanding.

Pro Tip: If I’m shopping a book and come across an incoherent review, or a review that’s clearly a hatchet job? I skip along to the next review. Works a treat.

Is anybody else having Crazy Times with their FitBit? My watch was charged to 100% before I went to bed last night. This morning, I woke up to a frantic email, demanding that I charge my watch Right Now! I looked — and, yeah, it was down to 6%. When FitBit actually ran the show, the watch perked for a week, and if a power-devouring update was coming down the pipe, they sent a heads-up, so you could plug the watch in. Since Google’s been running the show, it’s like they randomly drain the battery for giggles.

In regard to The Big Cat Hunt, transportation details are under discussion. I am cleared to say that the new director is a Maine Coon.

I finished reading Ties that Bond in Gretna Green, and am still reading Shakespeare: The Man Who Pays The Rent in one-or-two chapter bites.

And that? Is all I’ve got to report.

How’s the end of the week shaping up for you?

Low Goal Thursday

Shameless Self-Promotion:  Remember! In Just! Five! Days! the audio edition of Sea Wrack and Changewind (ALL of the Archers Beach stories), by Sharon Lee, narrated by Alex Picard, will be available from Tantor Media. Here’s the link.

Thursday. Dim and warmer. By which I mean it was 5F/-15C when I woke up. Supposed to hit the dizzying high temp of 24F/-4C before quittin’ time.

Breakfast was ham and mustard on an English muffin, with grapes. Second cup of tea helped me write a letter. Lunch will be…damn, I knew the answer to that question — oh! Yam stirfry. Good day for it, looks like.

As reported elsewhere, I have an appointment to get my hairs cut this morning. Since I’m letting the tax packet rest, I intend to get with “Core Values” and finish the last scene. After that, maybe some straightening up of the living room, which still has laptops and notebooks scattered ’round. So, not a big day, goal-wise.

What are your goals, today?

She thought of heat; she thought of time

What went before:  I worked on taxes yesterday, which was more challenging than I had expected.  It’s not like Steve did the taxes, after all. But, in a normal year, this is the place where I would have started nagging him to get me those items and expenses that I did not have through doing the general house and business accounting. This would have gone on for . . . a while — there was some math involved in how long he would put me off before he believed that I was serious — and then the info would appear.

It just feels really wrong that I — have all that information in hand. Right now, and can proceed with adding/subtracting and filling in the blanks.

Onward!

Wednesday. Sunlight an orange glow behind the trees -9F/-23C. Weatherbeans calling for a high of 18F/-8C.

I’m evaluating my need to go out today. I don’t need anything from the grocery store that can’t wait until tomorrow, and while I really *do* need a haircut, I’ll not be receiving today. I haven’t been to the post office in almost two weeks, but I’m not expecting anything urgent, and the post office lobby, where the mailboxes are, is toasty warm, comparatively. On the other hand, tomorrow’s high of 25F/-4 isn’t going to be *that* much warmer. And on the gripping hand! I do *have* a Big Coat. Heck, I have TWO Big Coats — Steve’s parka, and my knee-length puffer coat.

It may come down to a coin flip at 10 am.

But, first! Breakfast. Which was! Cottage cheese with a side of muffin. And tea. Lunch will be leftover split pea, lentil, and ham soup. Kettle on for second cup of tea.

Cat search update: Three inquiries written; 1 answer in the negative received.

I feel — well, and am theoretically TNC (Theoretically Not Contagious). Hoping to stay that way.  Though I will be masking when I go out.

If I don’t go out and do errands, then I’ll finish what I can of the taxes with the information in-house, after which it will be the long game of waiting for other people to get their acts together and send me paperwork.

If I do venture out into The Elements to accomplish my errands, then I’ll possibly take the rest of the day off, or maybe see if I can discover that last scene for the story that’s been in progress far too long so I can put it up on Splinter Universe.

. . . one of the things that’s been coming around on the guitar, as the vernacular has it, is the realization that I have wanted to be a writer since I was aware of “wanting to be” something. This predates Steve and cats, and I got to wondering how common that is, that people have known for their whole lives what they “wanted to be.”

So, I’m throwing it out to y’all — when did you (if you did) realize what you “wanted to be”?

Today’s blog post brought to you by Bill Morrissey, “Birches”

Rook joined me for breakfast. Not that he had any of my breakfast; he likes to sit on my lap while I finish my tea, and take a bath, because, yanno, bellies don’t clean themselves.

Herding Cats

What went before:  Under Old Business:  There have been ongoing discussions between the stakeholders here at the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory regarding whether or not to bring on a fourth cat. This continues a topic under discussion last February before we jumped from the Timeline That Made Sense to our present position on the Timeline That Doesn’t Make Sense.

Yesterday, the question was called, and all present voted ‘Aye’ with the provision that said new hire would be an older cat, which is to say, not a baby kitten, but a retiree or so-called “older” kitten.  We also confirmed that said new hire should be a “kind” of cat — that is to say, a breed.  This is nothing against shelter cats; Nicky, Hypatia, Kodi, Max!, and Scrabble were all shelter cats.  However, it was felt that, with current crew in-house all being Maine Coons, it would be best to stick with a Clan that’s known to be mellow.

The Secretary of the Board has been directed to seek out possible new hires of the breeds Birman, Maine Coon, Ragdoll, Siberian.  One such letter was written yesterday, and has received a reply in the negative.

And that brings us to!

Tuesday. Sunny and cold. Trash and recycling — isn’t that much, I’m lazy,  it’s cold — so — next week.

Sun is pouring into my office, but it’s still chilly enough to warrant wearing The Big Fleece Sweater.

Breakfast was an English Muffin with seedless raspberry jelly, an orange, and tea. Kettle on for second cup of tea. Lunch will either be leftover soup, or something else.

I feel — fine. I still do have one day’s worth of meds to finish out, and knock wood that will be the end of that.

I’ve written to a cattery that we had spoken with before Steve died, and have a couple more, non-cat-related, letters to write, but today is mostly going to be dedicated to hitting the Tax Paperwork and seeing how much — and what — Stuff I still need before I can send it on to Gary the Accountant.

Firefly and Rook enjoyed an early game of tag, which Trooper opted out of. Trooper is presently on my copilot’s chair, snoring; Firefly went back to Steve’s office, and I believe I saw Rook heading down the hall to join her.

Summing up — a quiet day planned here at the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory.

What are your plans for the day?

Pay no attention to the cat behind the curtain

What went before:  Yesterday was reading, and noting, and diarying, and playing with cats.  I transcribed some handwritten documents from the Revolutionary War for the National Archives — which was interesting, as well as relaxing in its way, and also feels like I’m doing something useful.

Moving on. . .

Monday. Cold and said to be getting colder. Snowed on the overnight, but not the 4-8 inches the ‘beans had called for; there’s maybe 2 inches on the front step.

Breakfast was eggs scrambled with potato, tomato, and onion, toast-and-jelly, and tea. Lunch will be ham and pea soup, starting with a can of split pea soup, and some of one of the little canned hams that Steve laid in — yes, I do have Plans to build on that, and will likely wind up with soup for the freezer. The kettle’s on for second cup of tea.

I’m feeling OK — like I’m just getting over a cold. Looking for the plowguy to come by eventually, because I don’t want to have to shovel snow. I do have to do some laundry today, and I want to look at my notes, and also the short story I was trying to write, to see how far I actually got. I have some phone calls to make, but, as it’s a holiday, maybe tomorrow for the phone calls.

I should also review the accountant’s letter, to remind myself of his deadlines, since I have obviously not been working on the taxes this while.

And that’s it for me.

Over to you.

Gamesmanship

Sunday. Bright, damp, and warm. As mentioned elsewhere, the Long Back Yard is mostly showing grass, with a little snow, no thicker than a heavy frost, where the house casts its shadow.

We here in Central Maine currently rejoice in a Winter Storm Watch, in which we will start watching the snow fall at around 4pm. Expected accumulations of “heavy, wet snow” are between 4 and 8 inches.

Breakfast was oatmeal, because I Couldn’t Decide and I had gotten up latish and needed to eat SOMEthing. Lunch will be leftover potatoes.

So some of you know that I “play” a game called Finch. I’m not particularly good at it, as the game rewards you for changing stuff up, and I like to get everything the way I like it and then leave it there. It also rewards you for nurturing pets, which I find alternately stressful and irritating. Some of the pets are blobs of jelly, or clouds, or drops of — something? — and I have a hard time relating to them. I’m supposed to be hatching more pets, but I’ve stopped because I don’t feel that I can properly take care of the ones I already have.

Now, I did score a cat a little while ago, and my character, young Perry Wink, has been keeping company with her, and saw her safely from kitten to full grown. Honestly, I’d’ve been perfectly happy to just stick with the cat. But — I also had a baby fox in my menagerie, and a couple days ago I linked him up with Perry to have some adventures.

The pets make sounds — the cat purrs, the blob says, “BLOORP,” the llama says, “llamaLLAMA,” and the fox — howls.

I didn’t know that the fox howled, until this morning, when I rubbed his ears and he did just that.

Rook immediately leapt out of the dining room to the Big Intersection, and froze, ears up, tail straight and stiff behind him, head turning slowly from side to side. Firefly came rushing down to join him and the two of them did a sweep of the dining room, the living room, and the hall.

Oops. Won’t be petting the fox any more, I guess.

In health news, I have now reached the Challenge Stage. Which is to say, I feel — OK. My head isn’t stuffed with cotton, the niggling nasty little headache is gone, my teeth don’t hurt, and I feel like I actually have some energy, and could maybe Think some Thoughts.

However! Having had one relapse, I really don’t want another, and I still have meds to finish out. I will therefore attempt to be Smart this time, and continue with the whole rest thing. I will add the Next Novel Planning Notebook to my cache of couch amusements. Just in case, yanno, I do manage to Think something Useful.

So, that’s my news.

What’s yours?