Tag: coon cat logic

Out and About

Wednesday. Grey and looking cold outside. I have not yet been outside by reason of the plowguy (All Hail, the Plowguy!) came by when I was still  snuggled in bed under a pile of blankets and three coon cats, to plow the drive and clear the steps.

Looking out over the Long Back Yard, it does seem like we might have gotten another couple/four inches after I threw the towel in last night, so the weatherbeans have redeemed themselves. A Long Slllloooowwww Snow.

PT at 8:00, then the grocery. I need gas before I go to Brunswick, but that doesn’t have to happen today.

Let the calendar show that today was the First Official Donning of The (short) Snow Boots, and the winter jacket (not to be confused with the Big Coat).

And that’s all I got for the moment.

Hope everybody’s having a good morning.
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Aaaaand back.

It is now sunny and bright and the snow is melting off of Surfaces, which is all good until it freezes up this evening.

PT was PT — did a couple laps on the sit-down elliptical (it has a name — NuStep? — but it wasn’t important and I don’t remember it), had tutoring in at-home exercises. I do have an appointment next week, oh! and the week after. So, not so bad with the timing as I had imagined. That’s good.

After PT, I went to the grocery store, where I bought more than was on the list, though not a wreath, because really, Hannaford? Those are some flea-bitten wreaths y’all are wantin’ the earth for. Instead, I brought the groceries home, put them away, and went over to the Agway in Winslow, and bought a on-clearance wreath, then, since I was out and spacing around anyway, I put gas in the car.

Let the record show that I used the Google Wallet for the first time to pay for my wreath at Agway.

Came home and had a mug of hot chocolate and a cookie (I see cookie-making in the future), which maybe could spoil my lunch, if I had any idea what lunch was gonna be, but since I don’t, that’s not an issue.

The cats and I will decorate the wreath this evening.

Speaking of cats:

Easing back into RL

I hate to waste a Buzz Lightyear stamp on the quarterlies (yes, I pay my fourth quarter in December), but that’s all I seem to have.

Also, it’s almost 11 hours from here to North Towinda NY, which — I’m trying to remember how we did that? Surely we didn’t go through Canada? I mean, we might — Oh. Wait.

We went via Pittsburgh.

Maine to Pittsburgh for Guest of Honor gig at CONfluence, then to North Towinda to the Herschell Museum, then to Niagra Falls, late, because that museum is awesome and we got lost for hours, and if you’re ever near enough for it to be even a tiny bit feasible, Do. It.

I remember coming home via Saratoga Springs, so that would have been 90 to 295.

Well. I’m glad I got that straightened out.

Looks to be more snow than mix outside, so, yeah, that’s still happening.

Maybe a cup of hot chocolate before I go down to cut some glass…

Firefly shared her blanket with me, even though I did not share my hot chocolate with her.
So that’s today’s fun with glass. I’d like to say I’m getting better, but what I’m actually doing is less “man that was awful” and more “that was a good cut.”

It’s now raining, and I’m thinking I should investigate the theory of lunch.

 

 

 

 

 

I think I’ve had enough fun for one day. I’m going to sign off, watch the last installment of Magriet, serve up Happy Hour when it’s time, read and go to bed on time. Tomorrow — is tomorrow.

Everybody have a good evening. Stay safe. Watch out for black ice.

I’ll check in tomorrow.

There are stars in the southern sky

Monday. Bright and cold.

Breakfast was two eggs scrambled with leftover cauliflower and broccoli, with sausage, and a piece of whole wheat toast. A Big breakfast, but it’s a biggish morning.

Trash and recycling are in the garage, preparing themselves for tomorrow’s journey to the curb. Dishwasher is doing its thing. Cats suspect that Something Is Up.

I’ll be getting on the road to the cancer center and my chat with the Survivalist as soon as I finish my second mug of tea. I’ll be early, but I don’t have Steve’s genius for split-second timing, so better early than late.

I’m having a lot of fun with the Thursday Murder Club, and having never seen the show, only read complaints about how it “did not live up” to the books, despite the excellent cast — I have Some Thoughts About that.

The voice of the book — aka “the narrator” — is hysterical and unless the show (again, never seen it) has a voice over telling you what, oh, Ian’s thinking, and how he’s thinking it, viewers are missing an important facet of the story, and expecting the actors to carry the whole weight themselves isn’t really fair.

. . . and that’s my second mug empty, so I’m off.

I hope everyone’s having a good morning. I’ll see you on the flip side.

Back, having gone the long way home — through Bar Harbor. I had somehow expected the town to be open. I mean, people live on the island. To be fair, some things were open, for instance the Village Green Cafe, where I got my lunch (grilled ham and cheddar on multigrain with blueberry ice tea), but I hadn’t expected the relative emptiness.

Also, I had not come dressed for ocean-side chill, so my window shopping was limited. However, I’m glad I did not just go Straight Home like a Good Do-Bee. And, besides, I need to keep in practice with driving longish distances (that was, eh, 220 miles on the day). She said virtuously.

The Survivalist is a dream. We have a yearly check-in plan in place, as well as an agreement that I may call upon her for various things, and reassurance that I had NOT screwed up by wearing my compression gloves when my hands hurt. And I got points for asking a good question.

I believe I have all my Stuff for Thursday in-house (well, except flowers. I forgot flowers. Oh, well.), so that’s good. I haven’t gotten a wreath, either, because I just can’t make myself buy a wreath before Thanksgiving. It’s just … wrong.

The cats inform me that I missed three — or possibly four — check-ins today and that they are not disposed to be lenient. I was immediately tasked with rubbing Tali’s ears, and scrubbling Rook’s belly, and picking up Firefly for an All-Grown-Up Hug. I draw the line, however, at moving Happy Hour up by an hour and a half.

What did y’all do today?

Today’s blog post title comes from The Eagles, “Seven Bridges Road,” which I can never resist singing along with the acapella parts, though I really ought to always resist singing.

Small victories in writing a novel

Cat Tax first! Firefly decided to sleep in this morning.

Lunchtime report: I do believe I’ll finish my business with the words that are already written today. Which means that my next 6-day writing sprint, starting Wednesday will be all about writing new words!

Guess I’d better in a box or two, so I don’t run out.

End of Day report: And that? Is the correx entered. I still may need to trim the front, but for now, I think I have all my avians in a row, and can go, more or less confidently, forward.

So! The week coming.

Tomorrow morning, I’ll finish up the Quick ‘n Dirty chapter-by-chapter, just to be certain that the assertion made above is true.

Tomorrow afternoon, I have a Zoom interview with the Baen Free Radio Hour, in which we’ll chat about I Dare. I’ll let y’all know when that will air.

Monday morning, I need to go to the cancer center to get a blood draw and talk with the Survivalist. I may or may not do some other errands while I’m out. Tuesday evening is needlework. Thursday, I’ll make myself a nice meal and Friday morning Sarah will be by to clean for me. This means I’ll have a large portion of six days (not six entire days) to write new words, which is Extremely Cool because I have reached the stage of being So. Sick. Of. This Book.

Right on schedule.

I guess I should wash the pots ‘n pans before it’s time for Happy Hour.

The cats and I may watch another episode of Maigret this evening. Firefly quite liked last night’s episodes.

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

In which Happy Hour is Unreasonably Delayed

Didn’t get as much done today as I had wanted, mostly because my hands hurt. I actually stopped working at one point, heated up the ol’ therapy mittens and watched a bread episode of the Great British Baking Show while they therapeutically warmed my hands.

I’m knocking off for the day, and will be watching Maigret on Masterpiece Theater. It’s been decades since I’ve read Georges Simeon, and while Maigret wasn’t a favorite, he’ll do in a pinch.

Hopefully, my hands will be less ouchy tomorrow.

On the plus side of the day, I thought I remembered that Jermone Joyita had come from “Wick’s World,” but I looked it up anyway, and it turns out I was wrong. He came from The Wikesworlds or “The Wickes,” but since this was a passing detail in Dragon Ship, I think I can be a little proud of myself.

Rook is marching back and forth in my office, shouting “Yowr!” and Utterly Rejects the notion that he has to wait A! Whole! Hour! for Happy Hour. I gather the idea is that we ought to have TWO Happy Hours on Friday.

. . . and Saturday . . . and Sunday . . . and Monday . . . and —

Yeah. Nice try, kid.

Anyhoot.

Everybody have a good evening. Stay safe. Tomorrow is also a writing day — glares at universe — so check-ins may be anywhere from odd-houred to absent.

YOWR! says Rook.

We who are about to brain…

Proof of well-supervised work happening:

Did a lot of braining today. And laundry. Braining means less words, but better results. Laundry — well. You gotta have socks.

So, I see that DoorDash has lost a lawsuit 4 years in the trying, in which they were proved guilty of privateering during Covid. They gotta pay money to Almost Everybody, which is of interest to me because!

I have money on account with DoorDash, thanks to kind friends, and I am very careful to use it when I really need it — I’m on a drop-deadline, or I’m sick, or I just got back from picking up a cat in New Hampshire and drove home in the snow — you know: emergencies.

Over the last two days, I’ve been getting messages — and I’m talking about a lot of messages, “reminding” me that I have $X on account and that now! would be the perfect time to DoorDash a Big Mac. Or maybe I’d like a milkshake? Or somebody to pick up some Tday groceries for me? Or, or, or —

In other Convenient Food news, I got a gift card — included in the cat litter delivery — for $140 OFF my first box from Factor. How much do these things cost that they can give me a week’s grocery money off?

And third? Came in today’s mail and these folks are playing for keeps! They’re not only gonna send me premade dinners, they gonna give me a FREE “smart oven” to cook ’em in. All I have to do is open the box, sprinkle Stuff over what’s cooking, put the pans in the “smart oven” and scan the QR Code from the box. The oven will then smartly cook my meal to perfection.

The future is a lot weirder than I thought it would be.

Anyhoots. Coon Cat Happy Hour has been served. I am a tired woman, and am going to go pour a glass of wine and try to find the first season of the glass-blowing show and see if that’s less … people-y. I know that people make glass, and that it’s a competition, but I want less posturing, and more thoughts on the art or the process when I have to listen to the people, and more of the actual Happening of Art, which I think is more interesting than the finished pieces.

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

Not a negative word was heard

Saturday. Sunny and blue and my goodness what a pretty day.

I? slept late. I mean, I woke up at six, but couldn’t quite get ucouldp the gumption to throw back the covers, so I turned over for “fifteen minutes.” Three coon cats immediately and unanimously voted Aye, and I had Rookie against my back — that is one solid kitten we’re growing here — Firefly in the crook of my knees, and Tali under my chin . . . and the next time I opened my eyes it was 8:30.

So, hummus, naan, and grapes for breakfast, who knows for lunch. Writing is on the schedule. And also laundry. Evidence seems to indicate that I missed laundry last week. Well.

I watched two segments of “Blown Away.” There was a little too much with the people and too little with the glasswork, IMHO. I do realize that this is the standard format for reality shows, but — you’re looking at a woman who saw every hot glass demo at Corning for two solid days and was Sad that she couldn’t wrangle a third day.

The cats were mildly interested in the goings-ons. At one point, Firefly looked at me and you could see her thinking, “You did this? Are you nuts, Mom?” Guilty as charged, but I did have people who really knew what they were doing standing by to assist “the gaffer.”

So, that’s all the news from the Confusion Factory at the moment.

How’s everybody doing this fine November Saturday?

Today’s blog post title brought to you by Rhymin’ Paul Simon, “Was a Sunny Day“

Art takes a rest

Earlier this same day: Wrote about 900 words while Sarah was here. Finished soldering the back of my glass piece, but couldn’t work out how to solder the edges, not having three hands, and came upstairs to look up how that’s done, exactly. Duh. So, I’ll do that after the Fidium guy has come and gone.

I guess I ought to get some lunch…
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Somewhat later: So, I’m stopping here, it being the best I can do. I note that the piece is not perfectly oval, but on the whole it’s looking much better than I had assumed it would.

I did have a moment of inattention and burned a BIG hole in my Styrofoam work surface (sigh). Note to self: soldering irons are hot; that’s kinda the point. I have another piece of Styrofoam. I also have lots of funny little pieces of Escaped Solder, which, as I was gathering them, it occurred to me that I’d done this before. My father was a solderer by trade, on the production line at GM in Baltimore (Spot Welder being the official title), and he had a soldering iron and pertinent equipment in his workshop. More than once, I was put to work gathering up the leftover solder and putting with all the rest in a big iron pestle.

The Guy from Fidium has been and gone, after giving the diagnosis of No Problem Here. Which . . . OHkay. Things seem to be working, so I’m not complaining.

What I’m doing instead of complaining is refilling my cup and taking it with me back to Steve’s office. Maybe I can write another couple hundred words.
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SNIPPET:

“How did you find Jen Sin?” Ren Zel asked, handing Miri a glass of wine.

“Awake. Complimentary, too. Said Val Con wasn’t an idiot.”

Ren Zel choked, and put his glass down hurriedly.

“He’s not wrong, after all, Beloved,” Anthora said.

“Yes, but – ” he waved a hand. “One wonders how the subject came up.”
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Now:  Well. That got to be a busy day. 1,440 total new words, for those keeping track at home. Tomorrow is a writing day. I’ll be finishing the scene I started this afternoon, which will be the final bridge I need to build in this part of the WIP, and get back with entering corrections.

It’s funny how, when you ask people why they want to be writers, nobody ever says, “Because I love entering corrections into the manuscript.” Which is, arguably, one of the most important parts of writing.

Go figure.

The cats are informing me, loudly, that it is Happy Hour. The cats, regrettably, are wrong.

I’m — tired. The Plan for the evening is to serve up Coon Cat Happy Hour on time then snuggle down on the couch and watch “Blown Away” on Netflix. There may be a glass of wine involved. Or even two.

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

Art Goes On

Thursday Night: Nasty outside. Rainy and cold.

Spent most the day with the WIP, entering correx, writing scenes, removing scenes, fine-tuning. Ate a late lunch, because class isn’t over until 8:30, so — late dinner. And I need to get up earlyish tomorrow to pick up for Sarah, who’ll be by around 9ish.

I know, I know — the excitement.

In a bit I’ll get myself together to go to class. Trying to think good thoughts about my art. I have learned a bunch of stuff, so there’s that. And I do have a soldering iron and wire and flux, so maybe if I can master — for values of “master” — the basics, I can be let loose to finish whatever’s left at home. And honestly, I have no idea how long soldering will actually take. I’ve been watching videos, but they’re by people who know what they’re doing, which would not be me.

I clipped Rook’s claws the other day while he just laid there and purred. Today, I got Firefly — who is NEVER going to SPEAK to me AGAIN for this violation of her innocent kitten trust — and most of Tali’s. Tali used to hang out with a Siamese, which I think is where she learned Those Words.

I’ll just bid everyone good-night now.

Stay safe.
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Friday.

Business First: Civilized Behavior is an “Amazon Best Seller”! Number 1 in Science Fiction Anthologies (Kindle)
Number 4 in Science Fiction Anthologies (Books)
Number 5 in First Contact Science Fiction ebooks
I hope you guys are enjoying your books, and!

Obligatory Reminder to leave a review, please, on the venue(s) of your choice.
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Hokay. Glass class. After some frustration, a pep talk, and a tutorial by the instructor, I did re-burnish my foil (I had not used a firm enough touch, first time), and soldered the front of the piece. It’s like magic! It’s now A Thing, and not a scramble of little pieces that won’t stay where I put them. Take that! scrambly little pieces!

My homework is to solder the back, and on Sunday another student and I will meet the instructor at her house to finish up.

So, the Plan is that I’ll work on soldering after Sarah leaves, and finish up after the Guy from Fidium, assuming that there IS a Guy from Fidium, leaves. Saturday will be devoted to writing. Sunday, a little writing in the morning, then out for glass project finish-up.

In service of the Plan, I have turned on the heat and the lights in Foosball Studios.

I was asked last night, semi-officially, if I’d like to teach Adult Ed writing, which — I’m thinking about it. I need to poke around and see how much of my teaching stuff I still have, and how much of it is still relevant.

In coon cat news, apparently Tali informed Rook that his mama wears snowshoes — which would not be inaccurate — an assertion to which he took immediate and violent exception, and the back hall was briefly filled with — y’all remember the rolling, cursing Tumbleweed Of Violence from, oh, Tom and Jerry, or The Roadrunner — yeah? One of those. Tali’s now having a wee dram of cat food and Firefly has discovered that I have picked up the cat toys, and is thinking about this.

Rook is cleaning orange fur out of his mouth.

I think that catches us all up, pre-breakfast.

How’s everybody doing?

Below, the State of the Project: Front side top, back side bottom

In which pets keep us young

Sunday. Cloudy and cold. “Rain and snow” in the forecast and in fact, it’s snowing now, just a tease, but — yeah, that’s snow.

Big Excitement on the overnight!

First, a little background. Years and years ago, someone told me about their cat who had gotten her head stuck in the handles of a shopping bag, freaked, and proceeded to wreck the house until she could be caught and disentangled.

Obviously, I remembered the story, but in all my years of cat-keeping, I had never seen one of our (superior of course) cats do this.

I want to pause here and state, unequivocally, that my cats are superior.

That said. . . At four-fifteen this morning I was waked by a mighty CRASH!, and the sound of claws skittering on hardwood floors. Looking back, I have to suppose that having been wakened from a sound sleep was a factor in my relative calmness, as I tossed back of the sheets, got into slippers (I hadn’t heard glass break, but best to be prepared) and robe (house was cold). I wandered out to the living room, where I first saw that the basket of keys, gloves, garage door openers, extra sunglasses, and assorted other junque that lives on the table by the front door, had been launched and the contents scattered everywhere.

It took a bit to pick all of this up, and I had to turn on the foyer light, which allowed me to see — in the kitchen — the contents of the bag I had started to fill with Stuff to take to Goodwill. Several of those things (not glass, but delicate) needed to be binned, which I did, then gathered up the other stuff to put on the snow bench . . .

. . . which is when it occurred to me to wonder where the Actual Bag was.

I sighted down the living room, and saw what appeared to be the bag between the rocking chair and the table next to it. Upon collection, however, it was revealed to be two-thirds of a bag: one handle and a swath of paper was still missing.

I got rid of the big chunk of bag and walked to the back, where I heard a rustling in the closet in Steve’s office.

Let me pause here to say that one of Rook’s many fine qualities is that he apparently trusts me to Fix Stuff. I stopped a couple steps into the room, where I could see the closet and it could see me, and said, “You’ve still got the bag around your neck, don’t you? C’mon, Rookie. Let me help you.”

And he came — belly low and tail drooping, yes, but he came — and put himself across my feet. I got the loop from around his neck, and dropped the remains of the bag into the recycling bin by the desk.

Rookie stood up on his back legs, put his front paws on my knee, and Gazed Adoringly™ up into my face, so I picked him up and sat down. We snuggled for a bit, then I brought him back to bed with me.

Which is why I was a tad late rising this morning. I’ve eaten breakfast — leftover sweet potato stifry from yesterday’s lunch — and my second mug of tea is at hand. I still need to locate a bag without handles to put the surviving Goodwill stuff into. And I guess while I’m in this part of the house, and on the Business Computer, I’ll pull the trigger on that order I’ve been building for a bit.

How’s everybody doing this morning?