chop wood carry water – Page 14

I could hide ‘neath the wing of the bluebird as she sings

What went before: Done, compiled, and gone.

All that’s left is to write the Author’s Afterword.

I believe I may do something irresponsible and have an early glass of wine and watch Wandavision.

Monday. Slightly cloudy, and cool at the moment, and the windows in my office are open for the cats, and fully occupied. They’ll be closed later, when it gets hot. That’s the windows, not the cats.

Trooper has had his first envelope of gravy and is asleep in his box on my desk.

Waiting for my tea to brew. First breakfast will be Skyr.

Today is Chores and writing an afterword. I Dare of course was the Seventh Book — the last in the orignally-planned series. I’m now working on Book 28.

I watched . . . three? episodes* of WandaVision last night and I’ll be continuing. I finished Dr. Who last week, I guess, and I have come to the conclusion that I Do Not Get Dr. Who, which is fine. I believe it consistent with other conclusions in re Dr. Who that I made in the past.

My intention had been to cancel Disney after I finished Dr. Who, but it renewed for the month before I finished, thus WandaVision, which makes much more storytelling sense to me than the Doctor, for all he’s cute as a bug.

It’s been my policy of late to avoid Marvel movies, because My Ghod and Little Green Apples (apologies in advance to all who think they’re the bee’s knees) they’re irritating. I think the last Marvel movie I saw with Steve was Captain Marvel, in an empty theatre — and it was fine. And we did watch Black Panther here at home, somehow. But a little of Tony Stark/Cap/The Hulk/Thor/etc goes a long way, and the flipflopping characterization — never mind. Just went off Marvel movies, is what I’m saying. (I also went off Star Wars movies. Three was more than enough.)

All of the above is to make the point that I have no idea who Wanda — or Vision — are in the universe outside of the sitcoms they’re hiding in. I DON’T WANT to be told who are they, or their backstory, because, so far at least, the story is interesting on its own merits.

So! While Disney has my money — are there — how do I say this? — any other Marvel movies that are Interesting, Not Irritating, and Don’t Hinge Everything on an intimate knowledge of 400 interwoven films? You may include Marvel projects, as long as they meet the criteria Thank you for your recommendations. I realize this may be a touchy topic, so I also thank you for your continued civility in any discussion that follows.

(I realize the above may sound snooty from someone working on the 28th book in a long and involved universe, but visual storytelling frustrates me at the best of times; I depend on text to remind me of important events/people, and I use text to remind readers of same. Film is all forward motion. Also, why are the damned things so dark? Ahem.)

My Disney Watchlist, which may or may not give a range: (Encanto and Free Guy: I already watched these, but I may want to watch especially Free Guy again.) Shang-Chi, Mulan live action, Ms. Marvel, The Light Shop, and two Fantastic 4 movies (no, I don’t know why).

I think that’s all that’s going on at the Cat Farm today — chores and more chores.

What’s happening at your house?

Today’s blog post title comes to you via WandaVision and the Monkees “Daydream Believer”
________
SPOILER:
.
.
.
.
The twins have just been born and Vision is starting to smell a rat.

Still workin’

SNIPPET from I DARE:
“Tell me, if you would,” he said, “who is this puissant enemy with which Captain Robertson has beguiled my poor Yxtrang?”

Val Con lifted a brow. “I thought they were yos’Phelium’s Yxtrang?”

“One feels a lingering tenderness,” Daav told him earnestly. “They are such good children.”

What went before: I really need to get over the feeling of personal failure because I can’t do what two strong young people could do, or even two elder people who had been Doing Together so long, it all got done, and looked effortless, too.

I’m not going to finish this today. I’m probably not going to finish it this weekend. Which means I won’t be able to write on Monday, and I’m really cranky about that. I am so damned tired of the stop-and-start on this book. It seems like I just get going, when I have to stop to do something “more important.”

Not to mention that all the other things — the bed made, the cat fountains swapped out, the dishes washed — aren’t done, too, and it’s not because I’m a slacker, despite what I learned at my mother’s knee.

Argh, damn, and blast.

OK, I need a Plan.

I’ll work on the correx for another hour, then I’ll call it a day, make the bed, load the dishwasher, find something to eat and a glass of wine. Tomorrow. I’ll get up early tomorrow, and hit the correx again. I’ll use my breaks to swap out the cat fountains. Maybe I can get this done tomorrow. (Yes, yes, it’s not due til the 12th, but if I finish it now, then I can get back to writing without having to interrupt myself, ref stop-and-start, above.)

And the house still looks like a bomb hit it, which shouldn’t be a surprise, because it looked that way, too, when there were two of us working. It’s what happens when you work and live in the same space.

deep breath

Another hour, then done for the day.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

And then there’s the bit where Pat Rin goes in to the portmaster’s office, thinking like a punk kid, “So what’s she gonna do, pull my license?” Only to find out that flying without a license is A Thing.

Sunday. Taking a break.

I was up early and hitting the pages. Still miles to go.

Breakfast was oatmeal. I got salad makin’s for lunch, including tuna, so that’s good.

Nothing much else to report. If anybody wants me, I’ll be in my office.

What’s everybody else doing today?

Cat census:

First Friday and Saturday, too

What went before: So, it turns out there’s a Method to First Friday. It’s advertised as “from” 5 (or 5:30; advertising is a little squishy on this point) to 7:30. What that means is that, some bands will be starting to set up around 5:00 and the restaurants will be open, so you should go have something to eat, nice glass of wine, and then, eh, 6/6:30ish, you perambulate around downtown, and then, around 7, you wander down to Head of Falls, where the music will be happening. Music starts at 7:30 and goes to 9/9:30.

Obviously, I did not make it that far, which is too bad because the band was the Atlanta Rhythm Section, which wouldn’t have been terrible to listen to. There’s a beer garden set up at Head of Falls for the concert and a food truck from The Proper Pig. And I kinda didn’t want to be one old woman in a crowd of folks some of whom had had too much beer.

I did revisit the Langlais exhibit and took in the Dark Was the Night and Bright Were the Stars exhibit. I stopped by the reception — yes, there were cookies and also fruits and cheese and crackers.

I meandered around downtown, and I found out that there’s a rock store. Yes, a rock store; it’s been there about three months, I’m told. I of course bought a rock (yeah, I know, but, hey! It’s flourite, which is an amusing rock, in that it flouresces). I also stopped in Old Soul Supply, Oliver and Friends Bookstore, and Holy Cannoli, where I listened to a folk group for a couple of songs before I moved on, hoping for music in the Green Block, but — not yet. So, I came home, educated and more or less relaxed for having done something different with my afternoon and early evening.

I have about 15 more pages of I Dare to finish proofing — which I’ll do tomorrow.

For now, the cats have had Happy Hour and I’m going to go pour myself a glass out of the Nice Bottle I opened last night to share with Steve.

And that’s the First Friday Report.

Intermission: Oooh, nice echo of the prologue: “I won’t hurt him.”

And my favorite bit in the whole book, though there are so many good bits:

“My lifemate and my oathsworn are blameless. I claim all.”

“Ever more terrifying,” Val Con returned, lightly, deliberately, in the Low Tongue. “Pray reveal at once the horrific crimes of which they are innocent.”

Saturday. Sunny and predicted to a nice-ish day.

Breakfast was toast and cottage cheese and grapes. Lunch will be something easy. I have choices, including a Door Dash account, if it comes down to desperation.

I did not sleep well last night; doubtless the late few days of High Living are catching up with me.

Today’s to-do list includes one’s duty to the cats, finishing the proofing of I Dare, swapping out cat fountains, and straightening up the house, which has become slightly shell-shocked, doubtless from the High Living referenced above. It’s possible that I’ll throw it all over and go back to bed, but not really likely.

My Solid Goal is to get back to the WIP — remember the WIP? — on Monday, so those things that must occur in service of that goal, including turning in the correx for I Dare, have to happen this weekend.

Arrived in yesterday’s mail is news that the Subaru is included in a class action suit referencing failures in the EyeSight Driver Assistance subroutine. The suit appears to focus on the braking protocols, of which I have no complaint. I had hoped that it would be something to address the Concerning Issue of Eyesight turning itself off in downpours where human eyes are basically useless, and the pilot could really use some help staying on the road and not running into the back of a semi. OTOH, I haven’t been to the website yet. That’s actually pretty far down on the list.

Also, just at a tangent — and I’ve made this argument before, so nothing new here — if you (universal you) break the law, you must pay the penalty for breaking the law. It does not matter who you are, who your dad is, what political affiliation you hold, if you have fifteen houses or live in a cardboard box in an alley. Break the law, pay the price. That’s, like, one of the foundations of our society: that money and influence do not alter the functioning of Law. This is why Justice is blind.

So, my second up of tea is gone, and I guess I’d better get to work.

Who’s doing something exciting today?

My beacon’s been moved under moon and star

What went before ONE: All righty, then! Duty to the cats accomplished; walk walked; vacuuming and mopping done; grapes and cheese had for second breakfast; realized that every word I wrote yesterday is unnecessary, sigh, though the exercise did demonstrate what was necessary. Next up is my lunch, which will be a frozen box, because that’s exactly how ambitious I’m feeling.

I did not put my latest embroidery into my book — won’t fit for one thing. Instead, I sewed it to the hoop and hung it in the bedroom, where I’ll be able to see the Ribbons every day.

People want to know where I got the pattern, answering being “From a friend who was reducing her stash by increasing mine.” But! If you search of “Tales from the Hoop” you will find the Etsy shop from which it was purchased.

Trooper nagged me for food throughout all of the above, and I did serve him, but he’s not actually eating food today, just ordering it.

The weatherbeans that it’s 82F outside and the AQI is 154. We are, yes, on Station Air.

This has been your mid-day check-in.

What went before TWO: I have no idea how many new words I wrote today. Somewhere north of 1,390, but since I had to frog a scene — like I said: no idea.

The WIP entire now weighs in at +/-64,540.

In Other News, the page proofs for the anniversary edition of I Dare (first published by Meisha Merlin in February 2002) have landed and need to be back to the publisher by August 12. It’s printing out even as I type this.

Word production on the WIP may slow somewhat. Also? Reading I Dare at this juncture is going to be Interesting in several ways.

I Dare of course was the seventh book of the seven book series Steve and I had initially intended to write, and is also the book that introduces Theo Waitley.

Good thing I bought ahead on Irish Breakfast Tea.

We have entered the Time-Space Continuum known as Coon Cat Happy Hour, so I’ll be getting up to serve in a minute.

Trooper has begged for food constantly today, and rejects all but bisque. He has eaten three envelopes of bisque, so that’s at least something. I am . . . not quite very worried. Not quite.

And on that note — everybody stay safe.

I’ll see you tomorrow.

What went before THREE: Oh, Skydance’s conditions-of-sale guarantees actually helps me make sense of the farewell monologue from the host of After Midnight, in which she says she had honestly expected that the network would replace the host, not shut down the show. But the show’s executive producer was Stephen Colbert, and the host was a female stand-up comic about whom I know nothing, but that is, honestly, Just Me. She seemed very genuine in her opening remarks, including the thanks to her team and her guests and educating the audience in exactly how much work goes into putting on a show every. single. day. She remarked several times that people had said she was the only person who could have pulled this show off, and that, no, there were many many talented people who could have done it, some of whom she had been certain would be tapped for her replacement. (To be clear: she had decided, after two years, to leave TV and go back to her True Calling, doing live Stand Up, so she tendered her resignation, believing she would be replaced as host.)

It’s an interesting commentary. You can find it on Youtube.

But, Skydance! Skydance, as part of the conditions of sale has sworn to root out those in the former Paramount/CBS organization who are female, disabled, mean or sarcastic to little men with no souls, and abolish wokeness in all its flavors.

And, yanno, that’s not scary at all.

Is it?

Sunday. Sunny, breezy, and not warm yet. My office windows are open for the cats, but I expect I’ll have to go to Station Air mid-morning. We still stand, or, yanno, sit, beneath an Active Air Quality Alert. Apparently a Dark Plume of Particulates is extending itself over the region. Huzzah.

I slept for 7 hours and 44 minutes, it says here. Trooper did not smack me in the face, once. I attribute this miracle to sleeping with the covers pulled over my head, which was made possible by the cpap machine. Finally I find a good side to the damned device.

I’ve been kinda mooching around since I got up, doing the Sunday Slow Rise. It’s been . . . different. Different is good, I’m told.

Breakfast was homemade whole wheat toast, cottage cheese, and grapes. Lunch will be I Have No Idea. I will say that my experiment of meatballs and red sauce over bread the other day proved that this concept, um, needs work. Sadly, I have meatballs and red sauce left over — and absolutely no motivation to eat it.

As mentioned last night, the page proofs for the “anniversary” edition of I DARE (tradepaper, it says here, and I’ve written for confirmation that this is so), have landed. That’s 433 pages and 16 days, which means I need to Absolutely Read 27 pages a day. I’ll try for 50, because that will give me wiggle room, in case the sky falls and I can’t read one day.

Because my office is in Middle of Book Chaos, I’ll be setting the proofreading project up in Steve’s office, which ought to confuse the cats, so that’s worth doing.

So, recapping — Today’s to-do includes one’s duty to the cats, finding something to eat for lunch, proofing 50 pages of I Dare, and, should there be time and brain power, writing new words.

How’s your Sunday treating you?

Today’s blog post title courtesy of Golden Earring, “Twilight Zone.”

For rosebush fans, proof of life:

Tired writer is tired

What went before ONE: So many kindred Rock Spirits! That’s So Cool.

Trooper has had another half can of “in gravy” — seafood mix, I think — licked up all the gravy and ate about half the food. Yesterday, I would have sworn he was on Death’s door step.

What do I know?

I did clip his claws, so hopefully no more face scratches, though honestly I would prefer not to get smacked by an importunate cat at 6 am at all.

I have placed stickers on the back window of my car, which display my Affiliations. On the left, the Hubble Space Telescope sticker given me by Lauretta Nagel. And on the right, a cat fish sticker — which is to say a cat that has really lovely koi-like fins and tail.

Funny story about that. I had a tshirt from Balticon 37, where Steve and I were Writer GOHs and Sheila and Omar Rayyan were Artist GOHs. The tshirt was of a catfish — aka, a cat with a fish tail, and I loved it so much I wore it out. But before that day came, I was wearing it when we went down to Old Orchard Beach one day, and in the course of our Adventuring stopped at the rest area sort-of across from Eartha. And a Small Child saw my shirt and planted himself in front of me and demanded, “What kind of animal is that?” to which I answered, truthfully, “It’s a catfish,” and passed on. Behind me I could hear his mom — or at least, the adult woman he was with — saying to him, “Never mind. She was telling you a joke.” I didn’t hear if she clued him in to what the joke was, but I kinda hope she did…

What went before TWO: Getting pounded awake at 6 am is not working out for me long-term. Just got up from a nap. I’m guessing there will be no writing done today.

OTOH, Trooper has eaten two Fancy Feast cans of Whatever in Gravy, and made a start on a third.

Wednesday? I think so. I’m starting to get a little off-footed on what day it is, which is … annoying. Outside the office windows, it’s sunny and cool. Going to be warmer later, but not, yanno, hot.

Breakfast was leftover dhal. Second cup of tea to hand. I have chicken for lunch, and a veggie to be named later.

Yep, up at 6 again. This morning, I got up when Trooper yelled in my ear, figuring he was going to win, anyway, and not wanting us to start the day at odds. He yelled me all the way down the hall to the kitchen, yelled while I mixed his meds into the gravy, and yelled me back to the bathroom, where he was served.

He’s now conked out on the copilot’s chair and my nerves are starting to settle. Trooper has a very effective yell.

Since I was up, I threw a load of laundry in, to sort of prove that I was relevant, and now I’m waiting for my brain to catch up with being awake, because I have a bunch of /t/h/i/n/k/i/n/g creative labor I need to do today.

break for Rook to throw himself into my lap, snorgle my cheek and pat my hair. “There you go, Mom, NOW you’re ready to face the day. An’ if that creative labor gives you any cat sand, you send ’em to ME.” Thanks, Rookie.

ANYhow, I’ll have a shower after I finish my tea, and try to shock the system into wakefulness. And, yanno, there’s always more tea.

I have two phone calls that I really need to make, but I haven’t been able to scrape together the OOMph to get them done. I’m hoping to make at least one of them today.

I need a secretary, or maybe I mean a keeper.

On that topic, sort of, when I was down in Bath a few weeks ago, I passed one of those, um, retirement communities, and I briefly thought that it might be … interesting to live in Bath, so I made a note of the place’s name and when I got home, I filled out internet form for more information, and, I mean —

snort

I don’t want to mock people who are more substantial than I will ever be, but … let’s just say that if I did have an extra five hundred grand laying around to buy a “cottage”? The monthly fees are more than the mortgage payments on this house (which are, yes, low, because Steve insisted we refinance in that bygone day when money was for some reason cheap), but even at the original less cheap rates. And then you have to do the things you do, anyway, like eat, and put gas in the car, and (I think this is not included) pay to keep the lights and the heat turned on.

And, let’s face it, I’m not moving out of this house. For one thing, I don’t want to move, period. For another, the house is put together to remind us — and now me — on any daily walk-through what it is we chose to do with our lives, and how that worked out for us, and there are some days when I really really need that reminder.

Well. My tea is gone, and the laundry needs to be shifted from the washer to the dryer, so I guess it’s time to get shakin’.

What’s going on with y’all?

Cat census:

“Just try to make it sound like you wrote it that way on purpose.”

What went before: So, a slow start, ending with +/-1,287 new words, for a Full WIP wordcount of!

+/-58,890.

. . . I am going to have to go back and fill in so many holes, and I am going to have to eventually figure out That Thing, but “eventually” is the operative word, and Future Me is going to be Quite Put Out with me.

OTOH, we have motion in a forwarder direction.

The cats are demanding Happy Hour, I have pots ‘n pans to wash, and, oh, I should try to find The French Connection somewhere.

Everybody have a good evening. Stay safe. I’ll see you tomorrow.

Sunday. Damp and dim and cool(ish). “Violent” thunderstorms are apparently on the menu.

The rose survived another night.

Breakfast was onion, potato salad, and leftover broccoli scrambled with an egg. Whole wheat toast with strawberry jam on the side. Lunch — if nothing else, I have salmon cakes left over from yesterday.

I need to sneak out to the grocery for cat food, and some fruit while I’m at it. I also want to stop at Reny’s, which opens at 9, so that’s my window for getting out of here.

Today, I need to change out the cat fountains and I probably ought to do other housekeeping-like things, but the chances are I’ll be in the comfy chair, making Notes for the WIP, since yesterday’s scene Revealed where that other scene needs to go, and what its job is. I love how writing is such an orderly process.

No, wait a minute — no. I don’t. It’s one of life’s ironies that I was trained as a secretary, to make and keep order inside of Chaos. I was also the order-keeper in the partnership, which is a Testament to Steve’s capacity for Chaos.

Ah. The thunderstorms are projected to arrive about 11 am. I therefore Make Plans — out at nine, back before 11. I can do this.

Oh. I should say, in re the film I was looking for: NOT The French Connection, which I have heard of but never seen, and actually have no desire to see (apologies to all of those who sang out with great love for the experience). The movie I was looking for is The French Dispatch (Wes Anderson), and the search goes on. Possibly, I can stream it from Amazon, if Amazon will stop fetching me 404s instead of film pages.

I also need to finish reading John’s book so I can take it back to the library on Tuesday, and give somebody else a chance. I mention this because the library sent me a note, telling me that my book is due back soon.

So! What’re you doing today?

Today’s blog post title is from The French Dispatch. And now you know why I want to watch it.

This is one of the day lilies I rescued from last year’s landscaping project. Turns out to be one of Steve’s Special Sort, and I can’t tell you how glad I am to see it.

It’s a lonely ol’ night, but ain’t they all

What went before ONE: I am going to have to prevail upon the goodwill and kindness of the firemen to help with the smoke alarm. It is perhaps that an inner shield was not removed when the device was installed, and my hands are too week to turn the damned thing and open it.

I fear that’s also going to be the case with the electric broom, though I’m pretty sure the firemen won’t fix that.

Onward. I have made a cup of mocha, because I can, and have been through what I wrote yesterday, which remains good.

What went before TWO:

How Many Cats Are In This Picture?

What went before THREE: So, the generator guy pronounces the generator in good shape. He of course had to switch the power, so I’ll now have fun resetting all the clocks.

But that’s not why I called you here this afternoon. I am horrified by my new embroidery project.

#1: The thread is not embroidery thread; it seems to be Just Thread wound around a thread keeper, one strand and it’s all kinked up because it’s been wound on the card for … some time. I figured to iron it, to make it straighter and thus easier to work with, and? It melted. MELTED.

#2: One strand of this weird thread, doubled to make the two strands called for in the pattern, means a smaller needle than I usually use, and I am not certain at all that I’m going to be able to keep the dern thing in hand.

So! Definitely something I’ll be working on away from home. Or, I can possibly do a refrib, replace the stoopid thread with Actual Embroidery Thread from the Stash, and tally-ho.

That may be my best option.

But first?

The clocks!

What went before Three-point-one: Summing up. The weird thread is said to glow in the dark. As I got the kit from a friend who was thinning her stash, and have no investment in the finished piece glowing in the dark, I have found appropriate colors in my Big Bag of cotton floss, and will be continuing with them.

What went before FOUR: Back from needlework. I got really involved in my project and the time flew. Good company helps.

Coon cat happy hour has been served up and I’ve poured myself a glass of wine.

I did a little bit of tinkering with the WIP today, but my real problem is how the scam is going to work, so I’m letting the boys in the basement work on their Powerpoint for awhile. I’m really like where this is going.

The only thing on tomorrow’s schedule, aside, yanno, one’s duty to the cats, and eating, and like that, is Rookie’s Annual with his vet in the afternoon. I hope to write in the morning hours, but if the guys are still working, it’s no big deal.

I think I may finish the green bit while I listen to These Old Shades — this will be New Territory; I’ve never listened to a book while I was doing something else. I wonder how that will work.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Wednesday. Sunny and going for warm/hot-ish.

Once again, I am Up but not At ‘Em. I hope to find Motivation in a mug of Republic of Tea’s strong Irish Breakfast, as soon as it’s even remotely cool enough to drink.

Trooper has had his first snack of the day, with medical inclusions.

My breakfast, once I get to that part of today’s agenda, will be half an everything bagel and, oh, a slice of Swiss cheese; cherries on the side.

Slept hard, but with many disturbing and complex dreams, none of which I can remember of course, except that one had something to do with Alma Alexander and a car.

Notes on the day just behind us:

1 How Many Cats Are In This Picture of course comes from Highlights for Children, where it was a recurring puzzle. I don’t remember much else from Highlights for Children, but I do remember that. Obvs.

2 Listening to an audiobook while sewing is a Dangerous Game. I sat over my needle much later than I had intended, listening and stitching in an Altered State. If I’m going to make a Habit, I’m going to have to set a timer.

2a Last night’s experiment, ref #2, convinces me that listening to a book while driving is not going to A Thing for me. Good deal that I like to listen to music when I drive.

I didn’t have much of a plan for the day, but whatever it was, I have now taken the Command Decision to reduce it to: Breakfast, Cat Box Duty, Write until it’s time to swoop up Rook and take him for his annual check-up.

. . .and my tea is gone. Best find some day-clothes.

Who’s Up and At ‘Em this morning?

Today’s blog post title comes to you from Mr. John Mellencamp, “Lonely Ol’ Night“

The aim of waking is to dream

SNIPPET:

“We ain’t so full up at Jelaza Kazone right at present,” she said.

“No.” He turned on his heel to gaze at her. “The clan is much reduced, I know. In my day, you could buy cousins in lots of a dozen. Come into the kitchen at any hour, and you would be certain to meet a hand or more of them, eating, drinking, playing, as I said, at cards; reading – and quarreling, naturally. We are a quarrelsome lot. Or were. Perhaps our manners are by necessity better, without numbers to back us.”

What went before: Well. It has been an unexpectedly productive day. I haven’t quite finished the laundry, though there’s still time for that to happen. I fed myself lunch, cleaned up the kitchen, put the clean towels away, did my duty the cats, took a walk, and!

Wrote. I really REALLY like this scene, at +/-780 new words, which leaves the WIP entire a breath short of +/-54,000. Perhaps tomorrow, since I know what the scene after this scene is — though not exactly after this one, but — oh, never mind. I’m declaring a victory for the write-what-you-like school of drafting today.

I also need to check in with the smoke detector, which failed to start screaming when I opened the oven to retrieve lunch and a billowing cloud of olive-oil scented smoke emerged. Possibly, it was unset during dusting and needs its button pushed. If it needs a new battery, I will be very cross, since it’s supposed to have a 10-year battery onboard.

I discovered when I was folding socks last night that I was missing one, and, as mandated in The Manual, went back to make sure it wasn’t still in the dryer, or in the hamper, or on the floor, but could discover no sign of it. Well. I hadn’t paid the Portal Tax for a while, so I was … unhappy, but not distraught. This morning, when I moved the towel hamper to start loading the washer, I found the missing sock behind it. I call Feline Shenanigans. Which is, I admit, better than the Portal Tax.

Anywise. I have to do some desk prep for tomorrow — new to-do list and whatnot. And eventually, it will be Coon Cat Happy Hour. But, really, I’m done for the day, and well-satisfied with my accomplishments.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Well. Monday, I believe. Cloudy and said to be on and off rainy. I’m up but not at ’em and am drinking a motivational cup of tea while I address the internets.

The rosebush has survived its second night in the garden.

Trooper has had his first snack of the day, the one with the probiotic stirred into it, and is now resting comfortably on the copilot’s chair. Firefly is staring at me from the observation table next to the window, possibly attempting to indicate on the Cat Telepathy Channel that she, too, would like a bowl of Delectable gravy. Tali (Wrasslin’ Name TaliBOOM) and Rook (Wrasslin’ Name Rookie the Cookie) are alternatively wrasslin’ and zooming.

The writer, Yr Hmbl Correspondent, is really struggling to keep her eyes open, here.

sips tea

On today’s menu — a haircut! The timing of this blessed event suggests that I’ll be stopping at Holy Cannoli to pick up something to take home for lunch, or perhaps I’ll opt to eat there, and sit in the window, brooding over Main Street in the Grand Romantical Style. We shall see.

Also on today’s task list: one’s duty to the cats, playing with the smoke detector (I failed to finish that yesterday, having found the instruction booklet), and trying to figure out why the electric broom (essential to my plan to keep the basement stairs free of dust and fur) doesn’t, err, suck. Also, I want to write.

That seems like a full day, right there. Of course, I deliberately maintain a low bar.

I do think that’s all the news from this location. I really need to finish my tea and go find pants. And a shirt, too, I suppose. And then I hope to be awake enough to hunt the wily Everything Bagel.

And how are you this morning?

Today’s blog post title brought to you by e e cummings, “in time of daffodils“

Every day you get more more yard

What went before ONE: The rose in its new home. I have done many foolish things today and it’s not even 10 am.

What went before TWO: So, while I was outside anyway, putting a rosebush into the ground, I weeded, and cleaned up the mess on the deck, discovering in the process that the pot the rose had been in was broken in the fracas.

When I came back in, after having expended some frustration, I swallowed some muscle relaxants, and iced my back while listening to These Old Shades. After lunch, I took a smol nap, with Firefly’s expert oversight. I sat with the WIP for a bit and actually recorded an idea I had through an app on my phone, and sent! the! transcript! to myself at Gmail. It’s really quite a good transcription. I’m impressed.

We are now nigh on to Coon Cat Happy Hour. Once that’s served up, I’ll have something to eat in order to buffer another dose of muscle relaxants and retire to mine bed with a cup of tea and These Old Shades and hopefully get a good night’s sleep.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Sunday. Cloudy and damp.

I am pleased to report that the rosebush has survived its first night in the front garden. I managed to have some solid sleep on that same overnight, and! have an idea for a scene that should be fun to write. Yes, yes, I know: a novel is not just a string of amusing scenes, but at this point, I’ll take what I’ve got, reminding myself that Salvage Right was a string of amusing scenes, which I then had to patch together with a series of bridges. So, it can be done.

The first load of towels is in the washer.

Breakfast is just about finished with the cooking part — sausage and cheese on a biscuit. Tea is brewed.

. . . and there’s the bell. BRB.

. . .and back. Breakfast was good. Not healthy according to the cancer ladies, but I ate breakfast and that’s a win. I have at least one yam, so lunch is covered; arguably, even a healthy lunch.

I wish to mention here that Rookie the Cookie’s Best Trick Ever is coming when he’s called, and if he cannot come when he’s called, by reason, perhaps, of having gotten himself locked in a closet again, he will call out in answer multiple times, if necessary, until he’s let out, whereupon, he will stand up on his hind legs and demand a cuddle.

This brought to you by Rook got locked into the linen closet while I was changing out the towels, and had no idea he was even in the hall.

My back aches the tiniest bit and I have, out of an Abundance of Caution, taken one more dose of muscle relaxants, and That — fingers crossed — ought to be the end of THAT.

So, I got When the Moon Hits Your Eye out of the library last Tuesday, and I’ve been reading a chapter or two at lunch to distract myself. So far, so good, though I did not expect a retelling of recent current events couched in metaphor. Notice me heroically avoid “whey.”

My quandary is that I’m also reading These Old Shades in audio; I’ve read the first chapter of A Gentleman of Questionable Judgement; and! the first few pages of Stone and Sky, and that’s too many books open, especially for someone who used to be a One Book At A Time reader. Given that I’m also writing a book, that’s a little too much to keep in my head at once, so I’m cutting back, and will finish …Shades and …Moon, then flip a coin — actually, no, I won’t flip a coin, I’ll go back to Stone and Sky, because the arrival of Peter’s entire family, plus representatives of The Folly, with a fox, was too funny to put on hold for long.

All that said! How’s everybody doing? And — bonus question — what are you reading?

Today’s blog post title brought to you by Mr. Tom Petty, assisted by Mr. Eddie Vedder, “The Waiting”

Photo from yesterday afternoon: Disheveled and Marvelous

Embroidering the tale

Wednesday. Cloudy, and cool, but high humidity. The windows are open, because — cats.

Breakfast was naan and hummus with a side of grapes. Salad for lunch with my pork chop.

Been to the chiropractor, now home; made myself a mug of iced peppermint tea (which is becoming a go-to), ate a pineapple ring (want another one, but so far holding out against tooth decay), and am fixing to place my completed embroidery project into my book, after which I will need to explore my project box to see if I have any more kits.

Stripped the bed, and the sheets are washing.

Made an appointment for a Monday haircut, which is none too soon. Flipping the coin on leaving it “long” or whacking it all off.

To-Do includes washing the bathroom rugs, so I guess while that’s happening I’ll steam mop the floor and the kitchen floor, too, why not?

This afternoon, I need to read what I wrote yesterday, and maybe write another few new words.

No, the excitement never stops. You can see why so very many people want to embrace the writing life.

How’s Wednesday treating everybody?

I finished my project last night at the needlework meeting: