chop wood carry water – Page 4

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:

In which practice makes perfect, eventually

Wednesday. Sunny and cold. The Weatherbeans are calling a rain/snow event, starting this evening and continuing through tomorrow morning.

Breakfast was an apple fritter (what? They came in a box of three; I should waste them?) and cottage cheese. Second cup of tea brewing. Lunch — oh, what do I know?

Today, I am at home to work persons of various skill, and I have one additional phone call to make.

There’s a load of laundry in the washer, though I’m not sure how far I’ll be going down that path today.

Ingredients for a loaf of whole wheat bread are out on the counter, ahem, coming to room temperature.

Firefly and Rook are playing tag. This in the aftermath of Rook leaping into my lap while I was finishing breakfast, and putting his paw in the last spoonful of cottage cheese. Surprisingly, he did not receive the rest of the spoonful as a reward for his cleverness.

As reported elsewhere, I wrote 750 words last night in service of the short story I want to write. Morning light discovers them to be the wrong 750 words, but the fortunate part is that I now know how to get to The Point in a much more economical and, um, surprising, way. So, I’ll be thinking about that some more as I get the bread ready for its first rise.

I finished reading The Masquerades of Spring last evening, and liked it a great deal. I believe I’ll start Alliance Unbound this evening. Unless of course my eyes don’t want to focus, in which case my Plan B is to start listening to The Goblin Emperor.

So, those are the Big Wednesday Plans hereabouts.

Who else has Big Plans?

Below you see the coon cats, already at work.

Oranges and lemons, say the bells of St. Clements

Tuesday. Cloudy and cold. Trash and recycling at the curb.

Breakfast was rice crackers, cream cheese, and one of those tiny mandarin oranges. Finishing up the first cup of tea. Lunch — is hours from now.

I really need to go to gym and get back in the habit of going to gym. I used to go to gym so I could do stuff for us that Steve could no longer do, and that logic remains. I hate running without backup, but that’s the road, so — gym. No, really. Even though it’s cold and I don’t wanna.

After gym, I may or may not swing by Marden’s to see if I can find a runner — winter is here and snow will be tracked into the house. Better it melts on a rug than on the wood floors. I keep trying to remember what we did, yanno, last winter, and the five winters before, but — apparently it’s one of those minor details the brain scuttled to make room for Larger Things. I suppose it’s possible we just brought one of the runners from downstairs, upstairs, but they’re being used and useful where they are, so I’d rather just leave them where they’re doing good.

I got the proof trade paper of Sea Wrack and Changewind yesterday in the mail. My! That is a *handsome* book.

Preorders for Sea Wrack and Changewind ebook stand at 177 at Amazon; 10 at Apple; 2 BN; 9 Kobo.

. . . and that’s the news.

Off to gym with me.

Who else is going to gym today?

Oh Monday mornin’ you gave me no warnin’ of what was to be

Monday. Sunny and cold.

Breakfast was two scrambled eggs with cheese, onion, and rice inclusions, toast with strawberry jam. Finishing up the first mug of tea.

I have a long list of phone calls to make today, and have already made one. I also need to go outside and make sure the dryer vent is clear. Oh. And hardboil some eggs. I have a lot of eggs, for some reason. Good thing I like hardboiled egg sandwiches.

I also have an appointment with the chiropractor, and I need to stop at the pharmacy/grocery, to pick up meds and the classic A Couple of Things.

I quit just in time yesterday, folded up on the couch under a blanket, with tea and graham crackers to hand. Read some more of Magpie Murders, shifted ahead, and saw that Mr. Horowitz was going to make me read Alan’s WHOLE DAMN BOOK (absent the last chapter) before we got back to Susan, and decided, as I once similarly decided for Harlan Ellison, that Mr. Horowitz was not going to make me do that, and put the book away. I then thought I’d read the Rivers of London novella that I’d been holding in reserve.

Except, I fell asleep. This was *not* Peter’s fault; I hadn’t even opened the book.

Woke a little while later and decided to explore Roku, since I had found the lighthouse show I’ve been trying to track down on Maine Public TV in the December guide, which meant that I had to find if Roku would show me, well, television.

In fact, it will. I watched a short documentary on Sequin Light Station in Phippsburg (not the new show I want to see), which was very interesting, indeed. Especially that tram system up the sheer cliff from sea level to Light level, all in the service of delivering the vast quantities of wood required by the fog-horn, which was steam-powered.

Having proved that I could, indeed, watch Maine Public on Roku, I doodled around on my tablet and somehow came up with the Muppet Show featuring Harry Belafonte, which I was pleased to watch.

Then, I opened up Masquerades of Spring, to get in some reading — only to find that I couldn’t focus my eyes sufficiently to do so. Yeah, well, I’d known I was tired, now didn’t I?

I made a couple notes for that short story my brain thinks it would like to write, and about 9:30 threw in the towel and went to bed.

I occurs to me that I may need to lay in some audiobooks, so I’m not staring at screens 24/7. Ack.

interrupted here by an incoming phone call from the local hospital. “Hello! May I speak to Steven?” / “You may not. Steven died in February.” / “I’m so sorry. Good-bye.”

That’s about it on the Cat Farm News Channel.

How’s everybody doing today?

Today’s blog title brought to you by the Mamas and the Papas, “Monday, Monday.”

A Mischief of Magpies

Monday. Sunny and chill.

Breakfast was a tomato sandwich on toasted cheese bread and red grapes. Still drinking my first cup of tea. Lunch is — I have leftovers to choose from; no need to be hasty.

So, I didn’t get to the Magpie Murders last night; I sat down to read “a few pages” of Salvage Right — have you guys read this? It’s good. — to refresh myself before I go too far down an interesting idea-road for the next book I need to write. Maybe tonight.

Today’s chores include one’s duty to the cats, a visit to the chiropractor, the post office, and the grocery store — I ran out of milk; this never happens. And I don’t seem to have any just plain ol’ all-purpose flour, so that can’t stand, and yanno? Flowers might be nice. Haven’t had flowers in the house for a bit.

I’ll also be staging the trash in the garage for tomorrow’s journey to the curb. And, since I never got ’round to it yesterday, cleaning up my computer desktop and making backups for transfer to the new computer, when it arrives.

The weatherbeans are talking snow on Thursday, which isn’t the best timing in the world, and that event would seem to be Winter’s Clarion Call, because, after, temps are apparently going to move sharply downward, and keep sliding.

. . .and that’s about all I’ve got to say for myself this morning. The cats are trying out the various sunspots, and Trooper is explaining . . . something to me. Probably the cure for cancer. When are we getting that translation program?

Everybody have a good day.

Here, have some music. “The Thieving Magpie Overture,” Rossini, Utah Youth Symphony Orchestra, conducted by Barbara Scowcroft