chop wood carry water – Page 27

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.

Zooooooooooooooommmmmmmmmmmmmmm

Monday, sunny and cool.

Breakfast was eggs scrambled with sausage and onion, and the last of the silly little corn cakes. Lunch … may be take out.

I have errands, including the long-put-off getting of gas, and foraging. This afternoon, I have an appointment to choose a frame for the Diviner’s Bow art.

And that’s really all I’ve got. I’ll see you on the flipside. Do feel free to talk among yourselves.

The cure for anything is salt water

So, yesterday, I looked at the long-term weather, by which I mean, the weather over the next four days, because this is The Changing Land, and one dare not look too far into the future. My climatic explorations revealed that tomorrow, Sunday, the weather was to be warm(ish) (by which I mean 36F/2C) and sunny(ish). The last snow has long since melted off the roads, and the Long Back Yard is showing more grass than white, so driving wouldn’t be a challenge in any way. And I thought to myself, “Self? You could drive to the ocean. After all, we’ve already applied sweat and tears.”

Saturday. Snowing. And so I am taught what I already knew: Do not plan drives in Maine in the winter.

Breakfast was hummus, naan, grapes. Second cup of tea brewing. I don’t have a clue about lunch. Need to stick my head in the freezer and see what’s there.

I should go out today to put gas in the car and grab some milk. Should’ve filled up the last time but one that I was out and about, but I was already feeling not quite the thing and standing out in the cold breeze while the car gassed up didn’t appeal. So, as a consolation prize, I can stand out in the snow. Which — it seems to have stopped snowing for the moment. Nope, started again.

Finished The House in the Cerulean Sea last night. Someone asked me to discuss my reactions. Honestly, it was — OK. A bit heavy-handed, but I can see why it won awards. There’s a whole population of people out there who need heavy-handed and confuse it with art. I did like the kids, and laughed a couple of times at the dialog. Not a Glowing Review, and I wouldn’t have given it a prize, but I’ve certainly read worse. Shaker of salt: Readers of this review will do well to recall that I found The Martian infuriating, though I am assured by All The People that it’s brilliant.

Still Not Writing. This morning, my brain offered a tentative scene, and I did remember to go laLaLALACANNOTHEARYOU! This is much easier to do when you have a co-conspirator who is more than willing to talk at you for hours on end about Name Your Obscure Science or Engineering Theory, and then demand to know what your favorite Danny Kaye movie is. And why.

Today’s chores include the aforesaid gassing of the motorized chariot, finishing the laundry, nibbling at the taxes some more, doing research, and figuring out what’s for lunch. Oh, and choosing my next book to read. That pretty much amounts to a lazy Saturday.

Is your Saturday lazy or busy?

Today’s blog title brought to you by Isak Dinesen, “The cure for anything is salt water: sweat, tears, or the sea.”

In Which the Writer is NOT Writing

What Went Before: Last night, as part of the curriculum of Not Writing, I watched a show on PBS Passport called SAFE HARBORS, which is a tour of 65 Maine lighthouses (I note here that this is not all of the lighthouses in Maine, and also that I’ve been to/seen a surprising number of them). I urge everyone to find this show and watch it (I’m told it’s soon to come to YouTube). It’s not a documentary, there’s no narration, only music and these incredible, incredible views of the lighthouses.

Moving on to!

Friday. Chilly, lots of puffy white clouds moving fast across a mostly blue sky.

Tea brewing. Breakfast will be cottage cheese, corn flat (I’ve forgotten what they’re called — Thomas’ Toaster something. As a substitute for corn bread, it’s not. Next time, I’ll make my own. — and grapes. Lunch — I guess fish and — something.

I see there are as many as half-a-dozen folks admitting to having read Diviner’s Bow — thank you and I hope you had fun. Do remember the spoiler space, and to drop a review at Goodreads or other venue of your choice.

Regarding the spoiler space, I am going to vary. It has been the authors’ policy not to be involved in those discussions, merely releasing messages after a scan for politeness &c. This time, I have a Question Regarding Craft that you, the readers of this particular work, can help me with. So, I’ll be posing my question in the spoiler discussion, and I thank all participants in advance for your patience and your assistance.

Today is another No-I-Am-NOT-Writing Day. This is kind of hardcore, but I’ve got to get my brain back, and the best thing I know to do is Do Other Things. If the weather were more clement, I’d go for a drive, but I think that’s off the table. *looks out window at the wind shaking the crab apple tree* Yeah. Off the table.

What I will be doing is taking down the wreath, which has started to lose needles, and changing out the 2024 moon phase calendar for the 2025. Also, there’s rumors of the June royalties in the bank, so I’ll be doing some cash juggling.

I read an interesting article last night about the Five of Cups, which is typically rendered as a Card of Loss. In traditional decks, the image is of a figure and five cups, three of which are overturned; two remaining upright. The figure is focused on the overturned cups — thus the loss. However, the two unregarded cups, still full, sitting behind the figure, hint that all, perhaps, is *not* lost.

It will surprise no one here to learn that my favorite tarot deck is not a traditional deck, but the Halloween Tarot, which I find both joyful and accessible. In this deck, the suits are Pumpkins (Pentacles), Ghosts (Cups), Bats (Swords), and Imps (Wands).

The Five of Ghosts, then: a central figure, gazing downward, clearly disconcerted or sad; there is a bucket on the ground directly behind him. Around the figure are five ghosts, hovering in a sky with five stars. The ghosts are also disconcerted, following the central figure’s downward gaze. The black cat (which appears in all of the cards in this deck) is in the foreground, looking at the ghosts.

I was at first somewhat alarmed. Playful my deck might be, but it stringently adheres to the Language of the Tarot, and this card varied and not in a good way. It seemed to withhold the promise of those two, unspilled, cups, not only going against the Language, but the spirit of the deck itself.

So, I sat with the card for a while, and it came to me, finally, that one of the ghosts was not focused on the disaster, whatever it was. It was focused on the figure, and its arms were outstretched, as if it would offer comfort. And then, of course, there’s the bucket, sitting quietly — empty or full, but not spilled. The Language remains pure, and the card remains true to itself and the deck.

So, that.

What’s surprised you recently?

Wake-up cat census:

There will come the soft rains

What went before: Yesterday, that being Sunday, I did the needed touch-ups to the paint, baked sugar cookies, visited my embroidery basket, played with and groomed cats, read, and went to bed.

We now move on to . . .

Monday. Raining and warm. Might hit 50F/10C. Fog is rising as the snow sublimates. Spooky ol’ winter, this.

Breakfast was! Braunschweiger (aka liverwurst) on black bread with butter and mustard, because if you’re going to do this thing, Do It Correctly — with an orange for dessert. Second cup of tea to hand. Lunch is still an open question, as I have a choice of leftovers and will also be stopping at the grocery as part of this morning’s errands.

One has performed one’s duty to the cats.

Today’s to-do includes the aforesaid errands: chiropractor, post office, vet (for a bag of Trooper’s Special Sort), grocery store. Also staging the trash for delivery to the curb tomorrow morning, and call the cardiologist to see does he want to reschedule the appointment both of us think would be a waste of time, and start rectifying the 2024 financial records. Other than that, I’ve got a small pile of things I was working at before the galleys disrupted life, and I really ought to get back to them, but I’m not feeling the love. Or the energy. They’ve waited this long, they can wait until the new year.

Yesterday, I did get into my embroidery basket for the first time in forever. Man, I’m all kinds of out-of-practice. But, still, a calming, if not exactly graceful, exercise.

Fans of Rook will wish to hear that he is making very good progress, and taking his responsibilities as a Feline Share Holder seriously. I woke up around 2am, not in the best shape, and thinking that I would just get up. Rook was sleeping on top of the bookscase by the bed. No sooner had I thought the thought, then I heard a THUMP above my head, and then Rook was under my chin, purring. Reader, I went back to sleep.

And, that’s Monday in anticipation.

How’s everybody holding up?

Cat pics below, to enliven the feed.

Today’s title comes to you via Sara Teasdale and Ray Bradbury.

Last Sunday of the year (second in a series)

Sunday. Dullish blue and cool. The weatherbeans tell me that we’re going to hit 40F, that it will rain this afternoon, and won’t that be a mess? Just in time for 50F/4C and Even! More! Rain! tomorrow, when I actually have to go out.

Breakfast was a carton of skyr while I wandered around the house, Looking. With luck, lunch will be salmon cakes. The oven’s heating for sugar cookies, which I never got around to yesterday.

Today I will be Not Writing. I will also not be looking at the Tax Packet, because — no. I will instead be baking sugar cookies, which I never got around to, yesterday, and touching up the spots left paintless by the various installations of smoke alarms and thermostats, not to mention the scar that was Sprite’s contribution to decorating the dining room. I will perhaps knock off early to read, or maybe look inside my embroidery basket. A Structure of Looseness, today.

Against all expectations, I did finish reading another book — A Gentleman Fallen on Hard Times — and I started the next in the Lord Julian series, A Gentleman of Dubious Reputation.

And that’s all I’ve got right now.

What’s everybody reading?

In which Time is broken

“Time is what keeps everything from happening at once.”

Hah.

UPDATE: Finished my tyop read of Diviner’s Bow last night. Received a anonymous gift of Walker’s Mince Pies in the mail, and! the Tax Packet in email. Collapsed in the Command Chair and listened to The Goblin Emperor because my eyes wouldn’t focus. Went to bed early so I could ditto get up, this morning.

Wednesday. Up before the sun. I say this in literal truth. Warm already, going to be warmer.

Breakfast was pumpernickel bread with cream cheese; finishing up the first cup of tea.

Tax Packet printing as I type — no, I take that back. Paper jam. Print job stalled and restarted. Welcome to the Tax Packet, and the first of many ggggrrrrrrrs.

. . . and another paper jam.

. . . and another.

Finally back in business as Rook has appointed himself Overseer of the Print Job, and has turned his Fell Gaze upon the machinery.

Today’s plan is to start the tyop log, go to gym 9:30ish, get my hair cut 10:45ish, go to the grocery and maybe the post office, assuming I can find a place to park, then come home and get back to work.

As I plan, it doesn’t have much to recommend it, and I’m still behind on things I WANT to do, some of which I may have to jettison.

All together now — Adulting is Hard.

Everybody have a good day. Please feel free to talk among yourselves.

Below, the fruits of the hunt, and a candid portrait of Firefly.

Kit Kat

The ebook edition of Sea Wrack and Changewinds: All of the Archers Beach short stories, by Sharon Lee has dropped in all markets, and! AFAIK. Thank you and happy reading to all.

Monday Catchup: I got out some of the glass trees from MOMA and put them up, along with the daily birch trees, and the old yellow tree that used to be in my office. The lighted stand for the crystal ball arrived, and all lit up they make a … comforting display.

Tuesday. Rainy and warm. Trash and (some) of the recycling at the curb. (The open bin can’t go out, ref “rainy”)

Breakfast was pb&j on a whole wheat English muffin. Lunch will be the leftover pork chop and the leftover veggies.

After I finish writing and posting this communication, I will be mixing together the pumpernickel bread kit from Steve’s stash (Steve bought kits; I think, after the pumpernickel, there’s a multigrain bread kit, and a crepe kit), and setting it to rise. Then I will be about reading the last 50 pages of Diviner’s Bow’s galleys, and opening a correction log.

<whine> I had really wanted to feel good about this book, but all I feel at the moment is tired and lonely</whine>

Aside one’s duty to the cats and so forth, I think that’s all I got on for the day — baking and reading.

What’s on for your day?

Winter Living

Tuesday. Snowed on the overnight, and the plowguy is somewhere in my future. Yanno what? Trash and recycling can stay right there in the garage and get dealt with next week.

Breakfast was an English muffin with cream cheese, and one of those little oranges — Peelz, they call themselves. Lunch ought to be fish-and-something. I guess We’ll See.

Fingers crossed that the guy who agreed to replace the thermostats can still do that today.

I did a bit of puttering yesterday, baked some cookies, and inventoried winter gear. I have my winter jacket, Steve’s winter jacket; my Big Coat, and Steve’s Big Coat. So — well supplied there. I also have my gloves, Steve’s gloves (which are too big, but will do in a pinch), and various ear muffs, watchcaps, and scarves. And boots. I have two pair of boots — one short and one tall. Anyhoot — that’s winter sorted.

I wrote to Pair Network yesterday regarding the legacy email accounts. A rep has written back this morning with instructions for closing those mailboxes. Anyone who holds a “korval.com” address for either myself or Steve? Delete them from your address book.

Today, I’ll be deleting email accounts, as above, waiting for the electrician and the plow guy, taking down the window screens in my office, which Firefly has decided are *lovely* to hook her claws into, submit information regarding upcoming publications to the Maine Writers emagazine. I would *like* to look at my story, which was just gaining momentum. Word from Baen is that galleys for Diviner’s Bow will be arriving this week, so I have to consider the fact that I’m going to get interrupted again, RSN.

Last night after Coon Cat Happy Hour, I snuggled under my new blanket in a corner of the couch, which rather quickly accreted cats, put on the big, expensive headset Steve bought for me years ago, and listened to The Goblin Emperor. It was . . . really nice to just sit with my eyes closed and do nothing, except listen. I’m not much good at doing nothing, so that was a revelation. …it kind of reminded me when headphones had suddenly arrived on the home music scene, lying on the floor, tethered to the record player, eyes closed, and there was just — music. I s’pose that’s another option in this Brave New World; I’ve been used to playing music through a boom box, or the devices scattered ’round the house. Well.

So, there’s the news, such as it is.

How’s everybody doing?

Cat census and proof of life: