chop wood carry water – Page 5

Saturday on the run

Saturday. Raining.

It’s been a scrambling sort of a morning. I got a call from Rookie’s vet last night at just about their closing time. She wanted to tell me that Rookie has roundworms. (I thought this was a kitten thing, but apparently roundworms can stay dormant inside a cat for a long time. Who knew?)

Anyhoots, the vet was putting up some Magic Dust that I am to give to all three of the cats in their Happy Hour treats, starting Monday. This discovery means, among other things, that I’ll need to disinfect the existing litter boxes, and the best way for me and my back to accomplish this is just to change to new litter boxes, then clean the old ones thoroughly at my leisure, while they are locked away in the Goblin Room where No Cat May Come.

This meant that this morning I went to Chewy, as the path of least resistance (I only need one new litter box, as it happens; I have two that I can disinfect and make ready today), but Chewy can’t expedite, and — long story short, I’m hoping Fish Tails in town can accommodate me with an XL litter pan, and I’ll give them a call when they open at 10.

Also, it came forcefully to my attention last night that I really can’t read paper books anymore, so I need a page magnifier, which means? More shopping! Honestly, getting old is for the birds.

So, now having finished my shopping and my breakfast, I’m going to finally start my writing day.

How’s Saturday treating you — yes, you! — so far?
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I found a third, though smaller, “extra” litter pan, which I swapped out with one now in use, disinfected it with the other two “extra” XL litter pans, and so! All is in readiness for the Great Litter Pan Swap-Out, as soon as the first dose of the meds is administered.

I am at this point Completely Discombobulated, and have made the Executive Decision to Declare an Emergency Writer’s Day Off. I will be showering, eating lunch, and then going to see the 4:30 show of Hadestown.

Because I can.

. . . It comes to me that my current Smol Disagreement with the WIP is that I Wanna Know How It Ends, and guys in the basement aren’t forking over. Which, let it be said, they never do. Possibly, I’m a Tad Anxious because this is Steve’s Book, and I don’t wanna screw it up. OTOH, and in all fairness, we are presently on this road because Steve didn’t know how it ended, either.

Be a writer, they said. It’ll be fun, they said.

Wednesday doin’s

Wednesday. Hot and sunny.

Much has happened already.

The lawn guy was here at the crack o’breakfast. Rookie the Cookie has been to see his vet for his annual exam, and a three-year rabies shot. I have, with only a moderate expenditure of swear words, managed to install the two “safety hook and eyes” I purchased yesterday at the hardware store. Nails…

Nails are unexpectedly difficult. I shall need to take advice.

After Installation, I had a cup of tea and a cookie and just now as I was cleaning up the tea station, I dropped and broke the tiny ceramic saucer that acted as a used tea bag holder, because of course I did. Argh.

I still need to make some tuna salad, so it can be part of the luncheon salad, and I need to tidy up a bit, because the home health nurse is arriving “this afternoon” to make sure that I still know how to draw a clock face.

Rookie is pronounced by his vet to be perfectly gorgeous and in good health. He has apparently decided to hold at 13.2 pounds for the moment, though we all agree that his paws — Labrador paws, says the vet — might still predict a growth spurt. He is only two years old, and Maine coons aren’t officially Grown Up until they’re five.

I went to PT yesterday about my balance. Not that I’m falling, but I’m catching myself catching myself, if that makes any kind of sense. The evaluation was … fascinating. Indeed, I do have an imbalance. When I close my eyes with my feet together and try to Just. Stand. There? I sway to the right. Also, my hips and ankles could stand to be stronger. I have exercises, of course, and a promise that I will be taught to fall. This will be a great boon, because, historically, my reactions have been too fast (which was also proven yesterday), and my objective is always to not fall. Which usually results in more damage than if I had just let gravity have its way with me.

I am, so I’m told, in really good shape for an Old. My walk is brisk and firm, my overall balance, as long as I don’t have to close my eyes, is really good, and, absent the need for work in hips and ankles, reasonably strong. I’m not sure what to make of all this excitement about my general “good” shape. Steve and I used to walk for hours, miles and miles; and I walked All Over Baltimore City. I’m nowhere near in that state of lean meanness. OTOH, I suppose one must account 26 against 73.

I’m expecting I won’t be doing much, if any writing today, what with the uncertainty regarding the arrival of the nurse.

So! I’d better be about making some tuna salad.

What’s for lunch at your place?
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And! The visiting nurse arrived while I was just finishing the tuna, so that’s done, and now I can move on to lunch and maybe getting with planning my course.

Thursday on the move

Woke up early — too early — after a not-very-good night’s sleep. Honestly, it was more like I decided to give up pretending to sleep than anything like “waking up.”

Wrote 1,100ish words bringing the WIP to 34,530. I’m getting very close to the point where we leave Sactizzy behind us, and I’m going to have to sit down and Plot, which likely means the word count will come way down, way fast. Still, it’s kind of nice to have written a full third of a novel in eight weeks — no, wait. Six weeks, taking ten days off by reason of backache.

Speaking of backaches, a kind friend ordered me a heated mattress pad, which was delivered today. Now I’ll be able to keep my back reliably warm when it hurts. And I’m pretty sure it’ll come in handy during the winter, too.

I had a haircut scheduled for the afternoon. Why, you ask? This is why:

While I was out, I donated used batteries to the jar at Holy Cannoli and stopped at the grocery store for milk and grapes.

Here’s the after-haircut picture:

And a picture of the WherethehellyouBEEN Committee, which had convened in my absence. Or because of my absence:

It’s supposed to rain this evening, though not tomorrow, so I’m holding out hope that the nature cruise will come off tomorrow morning without a hitch, and that will be an Official Writer’s Day Off. If the captain has better weather information than I do and the cruise is cancelled, then Saturday will be a Writer’s Day Off and I’ll go to the gem show in Belfast.

The glamor!

For now? I’m going to have an early glass of wine and curl up with a book until it’s time to serve up Happy Hour.

Sleepy Wednesday

Earlier this same day: So, that’s 1,300 new words, for a total of +/-33,630 words.

Breaking now to rustle up something to eat — apparently breakfast was a little lighter than it should’ve been — and then to the sell copy for Kin Right, which I at least found my conceit last night. Also, I need to fill out the paperwork for Friday’s nature cruise, and perform Other Needed Household Chores.

The day is damp and dim and not really very pleasant. Tali and Rook assisted my efforts on behalf of the WIP, while Firefly napped on the cellar stairs. I don’t fit on the cellar stairs, but I gotta tell you, a nap is really tempting.

That’s all I’ve got, I fear.

How’s the weather where you are?
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Sell copy sent on. Heat pump filters removed, vacuumed, and re-installed, release form filled in and directions to the boat reviewed. I did have a brief nap in the bed, and Firefly was gracious enough to leave her step to join me. Duty to the cats accomplished.

Coming up on Coon Cat Happy Hour and so, also, my evening meal. I feel — I really do feel very strongly — that I’ll be hitting the bed early tonight.

Ah. A note from the Captain/Maine Guide who will be conducting Friday’s educational cruise. It may be that rain will require a postponement. Rain date is the following Friday afternoon. Definitive information to arrive tomorrow evening.

Well.

I hope everybody has a good evening. I’ll check in tomorrow.

Monday Update

Proof of Life. Writing this morning, movie this afternoon. Movie is Hadestown.

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So that’s 1,085ish new words for a WIP total of 31,220ish.

Someone asked the other day if Trade Lanes had “ever been written.” I’m writing it now.

Now to do my duty the cats, call for a haircut, catch-up the blogs, and see about a pre-movie snack.
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Came around the corner to find that Rookie has made an art installation.

Catching up Sunday

Sunday.

So I figured I was hale enough to do the shopping, which I was. I bought two different kinds of protein shake (so I can perform a taste-test), along with other needed supplies, along with Sanpelligrino Lime, and so-called ginger ale. Didn’t ginger ale used to Actually Have ginger in it, rather than “ginger flavoring”?

Though I was fit enough to get the shopping done, I am now, I suppose predictably, exhausted. Had some pudding after I got everything put away, and listened to a couple chapters of Salvage Right, which — writing a character with PTSD isn’t easy, but I think we did a credible job. Also? I do so love Seignur Veeoni.

In a couple, I’ll start the oven to heat lunch, and then I think I’ll concentrate on bookkeeping and mundane desk work, and correspondence.

The cats think I should take a nap, and they may be right, but, if that’s found to be the case, it will be after lunch, not instead of lunch.

How’s everybody doing?

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I see I forgot to update yesterday. Herewith, the cold news from Saturday:

A break for PT homework and to throw a load of towels into the washer.

This morning, I have been in the comfy chair in my office, Sitting With The Big Ideas. I have Notes. I have an inclination toward More Notes, so I’ll head back to the comfy chair after I finish this note and collect a cookie as my reward for doing my homework.

I’m working with notes that go back to 2022, at least, trying to identify recurring themes. I wish to honor Steve’s vision for what were his character and story, far more than it was mine. Which isn’t as easy as it sounds.

I had early cat assistance, but just before I broke for homework, Tali and Rook decided that I was well in hand, and took themselves off to Steve’s office to recharge. I know they’re recharging because they’re curled up in the plentiful sunspots.

On the health front, I have this morning decided not to take naproxen, which is really not something you want to be taking all the time, even given anti-nausea meds. So far, I’m maintaining at a whisker over ignorable levels, so that’s Good. Naproxen does have a long half-life, so I’m guessing any increased discomfort will start showing up this evening.

Interestingly, for values thereof, while I can concentrate on the WIP, and am doing good, sharp work there, for anything else, it’s an extremely fuzzy day in the neighborhood. I hate feeling stupid, OTOH, pay copy is being written and/or plotted, so — onward.

Looking at next week — The 1:45 showing of Hadestown on Monday, needlework, and on Friday, which would have been Steve’s 76th birthday, a morning nature cruise on the Messalonskee, if it doesn’t rain. Maybe, if I can keep to current levels, I’ll actually be able to get my hair cut by a professional some day next week, and before I take a pair of kitchen shears to it.

How’s Saturday treating you?

Saturday’s editor:

Three goods inna row

Tuesday. Raining half-heartedly. ‘beans are still calling for “near record high” heat, with indexes “near 100,” with bonus Violent Thunderstorms with damaging winds and hail, and perhaps a surprise appearance of a tornado, for the overnight.

Trash and recycling are at the curb.

Slow getting started today, despite a long sleep fully supervised by Coon Cats. Both ladies piled in immediately I had pulled the covers up, and Firefly tucked up against my stomach, which she never does, purring to shake the bed, while Tali made her very solid presence felt at my back. I woke up a couple times and they were still in place. Firefly, apparently noticing the change in my breathing, started purring again in a blatant effort to make me go back to sleep.

It worked.

Rookie seems to have spent a peaceful nightshift in his basket on the edge of Steve’s desk.

Rookie is not drooling this morning–his fur is dry and his eye is bright–and I have called his physician to report this.

I have a note from my physician, agreeing that the arrangements I have made with lisinopril dosing times and lifestyle adjustments have, indeed, produced a more seemly sustained level of BP readings, and has given his permission to stay the course. Which means I get to stick with 10mg rather than leaping into a double dose. So, that’s good.

Once I have dispatched this note to the internets, I will be doing the dishes and performing my duty to the cats.

Unless the fog in my head melts, I foresee a day of chores before heading out to crafting. Which means the house will be straight, and I can concentrate on writing Wed-Thurs-Fri.

That’s also good.

Back pain is at the Ignorable Level–three goods in a row. Not really very interested in eating food, despite the effort I made to have tasty things in-house, so that’s — worrisome, but not particularly novel.

The Perambulating Package is still being “assessed” in Augusta, and nobody’s committing to a delivery date.

And all that said — Onward.

What’s the weather where you are?

And! A picture of Rookie from last evening, post Happy Hour

Monday Evening

So, Rookie is at the vet. I stopped at the food store on the way back and took on supplies. Came home, put said supplies away (It had used to be, in the Beforetimes, when only one of us went to the store, that, when they returned, they would call, “Lucy! I’m home!” and thus gain assistance in the Putting Away, which also served to inform They Who Had Not Shopped what was new in inventory. Hard habit to break).

I have consulted with Firefly in her melant’i as Top Cat, confirming that staffing is reduced, but that I will be away for parts of the day, so the workload balance for those present will still be within the Union guidelines. I also confirmed that she is not required to redraw the Organizational Chart at this time.

Since I was at the store, I bought cookies, that being one of the necessities I was out of, and have performed a Quality Control test consisting of half a cookie (they’re big cookies), and will now proceed with Monday’s chores, of which the first is!

Writing to my physician.
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Sigh.

Meant to say that the perambulating package is on the truck to be delivered today.

Also meant to say that both Hummer Bars are enjoying good patronage.
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Home from bookclub. Our next book is Edison’s Eve by Gaby Wood. I have read this before, but it’s been a decade, so I’m looking forward to re-reading. I was Riveted when I first read it.

I have! An appointment for a haircut on Saturday at 9 am.

I have! One very damp and extremely cranky black Maine Coon Teenager, who reportedly sat in the vet’s back room and swore non-stop the entire time he was there, and growled at his vet.

The good news — there’s nothing wrong with his mouth or throat. He has a lot of gas, and theory at this point is that he has — a stomachache. Vet administered an anti-nausea, and I’m to report in tomorrow morning.

It’s hot out.

I should probably get a little something to eat…
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Who had “sent back to the sorting center” in the Perambulating Package Pool? If it was you, hold onto that ticket!

When last we heard from the package, it was inside my local post office, and this morning it was promised to be delivered by 9 pm.

However! In a shocking turn of events! When the mail arrived, the package was not among the pieces delivered.

I came back into the house, brought up Informed Delivery — and found that the package was on its way to Augusta — South, in other words.

I have spoken with a live human at the local post office, who has the tracking number, my name, and phone number and is going to be “monitoring” this delivery for me.

Whatever that means.

In other news, we’re to the chopping and freezing onions part of the festivities. Rookie came up to my lap on his own and let me dry him off. He’s still drooling but only a very tiny amount, so maybe the anti-nausea was what he needed.
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We were just having a conversation about home inspections for what was called when we moved to Skowhegan “town housing,” the direct descendant, as I believe I understand the matter, of the “town farm.”

In any case, housing inspections, and the things inspectors might look for — holes in the walls, garbage just lying around, too! much! stuff! imperiling foot traffic, dirty dishes in the sink…

All of which seems reasonable, except — I’m going to need to leave dirty dishes in the sink for the second day in a row — those being yesterday’s dishes — because my back wishes to register a complaint. I will therefore remake the bed, so I can sleep in it tonight, and then retire to a comfy chair with a heating pad, a book, and a glass of iced tea.

And remember to be grateful that I am not in a situation that means I have housing inspectors in my life.
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Evening wrap-up.

Fans of Rookie will be encouraged to learn that he has stopped drooling, his stomach is soft, and he had sweet words of flattery in his mouth when he came into my lap as I was reading. Apparently, I’m to be rewarded as a Hero for breaking him out of That Place. I was also allowed to comb the random sticky bits out of his mane. He and the girls have just finished a good happy hour and are now taking their ease in Steve’s office.

Back pain is slightly above the Ignorable Level, which is not what we prefer, and I’m kind of tired, so it will likely be an Early Night for This Hoomin.

The Perambulating Package is “processing” at the USPS in Augusta, 20 miles in a southwardly direction.

Tomorrow, I need to organize my reading. I have a little less than 100 pages left to read of Horngard before I may craft a quote that is a little more substantive than “Read this book, it’s good!” I also need to read the WIP to date and start (re)reading Edison’s Eve. Hopefully, I will be able to attend the craft meeting tomorrow evening. Oh. And I need to do the dishes.

Everybody have a good evening. I’ll check in tomorrow.

Monday morning

Monday and sunny and starting to warm up for tomorrow’s run for the Coveted Dangerous Heat Rating.

I have a cup of tea with me here at the desk and in a couple minutes, I’ll be rustling up some oatmeal.

Many thanks to everyone who expressed concern about my back and yesterday’s blackberry removal. Two things about that:

(1) The bush really wasn’t rooted very deeply. I basically poked at it with the shovel (see mile-long thorns), and it fell over. I went back inside, got Steve’s leather gloves, came back out, gave it a very small tug, and it came out that easy. The root was long, but not torn or broken, so it may be that I’ve got it all, which would be very unlike Blackberries I Have Known, so I’ll Keep An Eye Out.

(2) My back is a crapshoot. Or possibly I mean an abuser. This is how it works: Mostly, it hurts. Mostly, because of my Superpower, I can, and do, ignore it. Sometimes a piece of Kryptonite comes along, and pain levels escalate to where I can’t ignore them, whereupon I am Utterly Undone and Complain Incessantly for, eh. Two or three days. The pain then subsides to the Baseline Ignorable Level and I get back down to business. I do try to plan and consider and not overtax my back, but really, nothing placates it, and there’s no observable reason for having one day where everything’s fine, for values thereof, and another day where it hurts my back if I blink. Back pain was Ignorable yesterday afternoon, so — business as usual. Mind, if the blackberry HADN’T fallen over when I poked it with the shovel, I wouldn’t have gone any further, because I’m not completely nuts, evidence aside.

THAT said, on to Important Issues, in fact — Rookie the Cookie. Rookie starting drooling last night, and he’s still doing so this morning. While my two ladies do drool when they’re VERY excited, this is is not at all Rookie’s Thing, and he just seems to be…dripping. I don’t see anything wrong with his mouth, but what do I know. So! Rookie has won a trip to the vet 4:15ish this afternoon, Just To Make Sure.

I have phone calls to make today, and I really do need to pick up some stuff at the grocery (which we, too, called the “food store” in my youth — someone said this yesterday. Also, my grandmother had an “ice box,” and I still default to that, to the bewilderment of Many, and even though I haven’t seen an actual ice box, nor ice man, for … most of my life, actually), so — probably no writing today, which as it happens is just as well, because I had a Thought this morning that I really need to talk over with Steve. Lacking that, I’ve got a lot of thinking to do.

That’s the news from the Cat Farm.

What’s your news?

This just in: Rookie’s physician wishes to have him dropped off by 10, rather than brought in at 4, for Observation.

Guess I’d better find that breakfast I was talking about.

Sunday midday

Sunday. Sunny. It’s going to be warmer than yesterday.

My back does not hurt. No, I misspeak. What I mean to say is that my back only hurts the normal amount and that I can, literally, work with that.

Prudence dictates that I do not go to the Oxford gem show today. I’m sure they’ll do fine without me.

The actual plan for today is to not weed the garden, which really, really needs it. Maybe I’ll throw in a load of laundry to feel like I’m doing something to alleviate the chaos that is the present state of the house.

I will be writing.

I’m about halfway through EMoon’s Horngard, and having a really fine time with it. You guys are going to love this one!

This morning I received news from the US postal service of interest to us all. The perambulating package left New York yesterday, arrived in New Hampshire, and was drop kicked to — anyone? . . . Yes, you, right here in front . . . In fact — yes. Thank you.

The Southern Maine sorting center, the root cause of all of this unseemly gadding about the Northeast.

USPS informs me that I will have my package tomorrow, Monday, July 13th.

I await developments with interest.

What developments are you awaiting with interest on this fine Sunday morning?

Dictated to my phone. Please excuse voice-os
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Getting started snippet. This will perhaps be familiar to anyone who has been on, or witnessed, a panel at a con.

“Right,” Tez said. “Meetin’ rules. Hear me out—all the way out, Cousins!—before questions. Question period’s limited to questions, neither captain nor crew is asking for advice or alternate plans. The quicker the questions are put and answered, the quicker we can get back to our beers. Who of you don’t understand what I just said? Put up a hand.”
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Spent the morning trying to track down this “ruler fractin” Jethri has in his pocket in Steve’s last draft. I have concluded that this was not set up in Fair Trade, and now I get to decide if it’s useful/I want to keep it. If I want to keep it, I have to introduce it, which ought not to be completely impossible, being as Jethri took delivery of a Whole Lotta fractins from Elsvair.

Well.

Research is still writing, but it’s not words, and I want words while I still know (more or less) what I’m doing. Once we leave Sactizzy, things are not nearly so straightforward. What a surprise.

All that to say that I’m taking a break in order to make something that looks like lunch (and, yes, to eat it, not just admire it). I expect to go back to the WIP this afternoon and write a chapter.

I’m still feeling somewhat off-center, which I guess losing six pounds in three days will do for you. So! Lunch. And maybe even ice cream.

Tomorrow is book club, and I have to reschedule the appointment to get my hair cut, since there was no way I was able to keep Thursday’s appointment. And of course, there’s needlework on Tuesday evening. After that, it looks like I have a good handful of days in a row to actually bear down on the WIP, so I’m really trying to be sure that I have something to bear down on.

I also need to figure out how to take care of the garden I have, which is so low-maintenance I’m embarrassed that it’s a problem. Before my back staged its most recent drama, I had been thinking that I would go out every evening and put in a solid 15 minutes, which, so I reasoned then, wouldn’t challenge either my back or my knees. Too much. I’m going to have to re-evaluate this.

In the meanwhile, if any of my gardeners are still with me, I have a question. A blackberry bush has appeared in that same front garden, which — blackberry bushes are weeds around thisaway. I know the birds eat the berries, and I’m not unwilling to let them have at it, but! Blackberry bushes are also on a mission, as I understand the case, to take over the earth. I wish to avoid the blackberry bush fulfilling its mission in my garden. How do I contain it?

Spanish Aunts.

And! I need to go put the pieces of lunch into one plate, so I can actually eat.

How’s everybody doing so far?