Tag: coon cat logic

Friday night roundup

What went before: Errands always take longer than you think they will. However! I have accomplished all my errands.

err. except going to the grocery store.

Which I will be doing! Just as soon as I finish eating the cottage cheese and pretzel that I’m calling by the pet name of “lunch” today.

The guy at SBS said that I was the third stained glass person in on the day, so — good to see we’re all on the case.

The creperie is … difficult for me to understand, and expensive. So I’ll try again some other time.

And that’s all the news that’s fit to print at the mom– Oh. I have an Informed Delivery note from the USPS — news of a package due four days out.

Rookie, by the way, doesn’t think that I need to go away for hours just to come home stinking of D.O.G. eeewwww! (SBS has two resident Big, Friendly Dogs, who were Very Interested in me and happy to provide Vitamin Dog, and we all know that it’s rude to turn down freely-offered Vitamin Dog.)

And that really is it.

Off to the grocery store I go!
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Helping me read:
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The day didn’t go exactly as planned, but! I wrote 545 new words, bringing the WIP entire to +/-89,500 words. And I did eventually do all my errands. And Sarah left the house nice and clean.

I was addressed as “sir” in Reny’s by a woman who was horrified and more apologetic than strictly necessary. She had just seen my hair, she said, and, and my shirt, and she had just made an assumption and ohmighod so very, very sorry MA’AM.

And one more argument against the proposition that you can just tell what people “are” by looking at them.

My “business desk” looks like a bomb hit it, but that’s at least partly the printout of the material that didn’t go through yesterday. I can apparently submit via paper, and I’m trying to decide if that will introduce more Room For Error. No HUGE rush, I guess, but I’d like to get it outta here.

I should probably come back after Happy Hour to put the desk into some kind of order. Or, yanno, not. I hate the feeling that I’m falling behind, and behinder. I’m pretty sure I’m not, but I depended on Steve to make those calibrations for me — really depended; I never learned how to do it for myself. I mean, I can — and do — write down the tasks in hand and their deadlines, look at them, and the calendar, and intellectually understand that I’ve got plenty of time, but the panic-maker never stops running around inside my head, yelling, “Holy freaking ghod, you’ve got So. Much. To. Do. You’re never going to get all this done, and then everything will fall apart, and what will happen to the cats, and, and, and. . . ”

Stoopid brain.

It just about is Happy Hour and I’ll at least be pouring myself a glass of wine in celebration of having gotten through today.

Tomorrow evening, I’m going to a magic show (Yes, I am. Stop it, Brain.), which I hope will be fun. I haven’t been to a magic show in ages. In fact, I think the last time was at Messalonskee High, approximately a hundred million years ago.

Before I go serve out Happy Hour, I want to share a photo. When Belle died Sara Oseasohn did a pastel portrait of her. Steve hung it on the wall in the living room, near the cat tree. Sara very kindly sent me a portrait of Trooper, which arrived today. I just hung it up. Pic below — not a good one, but the glass and the lighting kinda stretched my photography skills to the max.

And on that note! Everybody have a good evening. Stay safe. I’ll check in tomorrow.

Forward to the fall

What went before: Back from needlework. Cats have had Happy Hour. I have two more business-like things to do before I can call it a day. Aside those two things, I think I did everything that needed doing (except writing) today, including reading 50 pages of proofs.

Tomorrow sees a return to the Write First Schedule.

Everybody have a good evening. Stay safe.

I’ll see you tomorrow.

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I rate two supervisors this morning. Tali is taking her off-shift in the living room.

 

 

 

 

Wednesday. Chilly. Still working with the heat pumps, but if this keeps up, I might have to turn on the actual oil heat.

The morning writing session produced +/-1,755 new words, for a grand total-ish of 87,400.

Breaking early because End of Scene, and also? I’m starving. And given that I’m losing weight, but I’m not trying to lose weight, I figured I ought to Listen To My Body.

After lunch: one’s duty to the cats; walk; read page proofs; answer email — not necessarily in that order.

What’s everybody think of Snuff?

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Frost advisory this evening!  And my rose bush has a dozen (I counted) buds on it.

Soldier on, only you can do what must be done

Up betimes because there were pony races in the hall, followed by a sound that my sleeping mind identified as “That’s not right.”

And, indeed, it wasn’t right. Steve has a piece of burlap hanging in his office with various convention badges and buttons appended thereto. And Rookie Too-Smart had gotten one of the badges down with its lanyard and had run it down the hall to put by the bed, so I’d be sure to see it, first thing.

Sigh.

What a good boy.

Tea brewing. And look! I have an extra couple hours to write!

And how’s Monday starting out for you?
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Supervisors on duty:

 

 

 

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Small break to refill the Yeti with water and confuse the cats.

Not quite as focused on the writing this morning as I have been. I did write +/-865 words, and I intend to go back and at least plot out — I use this term both loosely and idiosyncratically — the scenes that are missing. Very few of those, now, which is — I have no idea how this book is happening, but it’s managing to come together, and, yanno — I’m only the writer. Nobody tells me anything.

I really want to just continue writing today, absent breaks for staging the trash, and doing my duty to the cats, and my brain is telling me I could just call in a veggie burger from Five Guys and that would be efficient, which suggestion is entered as evidence for why I don’t trust my brain.

As I said, I wasn’t laser-focused this morning. For instance, I bought a slip-proof mat for my keyboard, since Steve’s desk is VERY slidey. I also signed up for braiding and storytelling at First Friday, reasoning that, if I have something to actually attend on First Friday, the whole affair will make more sense to me.

The addition of the braiding made me realize that I suddenly have lots going on this week, For Values Of. Tomorrow evening, needlework; Thursday evening, my first stained glass class; Friday evening, the braiding thing; Saturday, Magic Rocks. I should also get (another!) blood test and a back xray. I can do the back xray tomorrow, but I’m a little leery about another blood test, even though this one isn’t fasting, and shouldn’t require more than one vial.

The above is also an illustration of why I don’t take every weekend “off” — I tend to decide to do things whenever, since writing is, to a certain point at least, malleable.

So, that. And I guess, while I’m up, I might as well perform my duty to the cats and get the trash and recycling into the garage for tomorrow.

So, I see that the Reimagined United States now has autodocs? And special hospitals that are only filled with autodocs — excuse me — “Med Beds” (gags), and there’s one with my name on it, probably in Solcintra, but, hey, it’s the thought…

How’s everybody at more or less midday (Eastern US) Monday?

Today’s blog post brought to you by John Parr, “St. Elmo’s Fire“

Anything Can Happen Day, and it had better NOT

What went before: . . .it is too much; I will sum up. Yesterday, I visited the vampyres, who tithed me two vials, which was enough to make me sick and dizzy for the rest of the day, so nothing of note got done, unless you count new ways to be annoyed with life.

Wednesday. Rainy and chilly.

Especially chilly in Steve’s office with the gaping windows that I wish he would have told me about. But, new windows — actually doors — are coming, so that was a decision well-made.

For those keeping track at home, I’m feeling much better. OTOH, I’ve said that before. . .

Breakfast was oatmeal with cranberries. Lunch will be a chicken burger with a side salad. I have a lot of work to do on the business side of things, so this afternoon will be, um, busy. I do not think I will get to the grocery store today. I’m hoping tomorrow afternoon.

This morning, I wrote +/-1,870 new words. I’m starting to worry that this is going to be a very long book. The only length stipulation in our contracts is “at least 100,000 words,” so I’m taking that as, “Write ’til it’s Done.”

Big IRL victory, here! The FedEx guy actually put the Heavy Box o’cat litter in the garage. I mean, it was done in a surly fashion — dropped directly behind the car and at the very edge of the paving, so I’d be sure to run over it if I hadn’t noticed it was there before backing out. However, I did notice it, and used the push broom to scoot it safely further under shelter, and to one side, so all’s well and all like that.

The cats have been very attentive. Firefly took a half-shift while Tali and Rook attended me in Steve’s office. She accompanied me to the back when I came out to fetch my third cup of tea.

I really don’t have much else to offer. Yesterday was awful, and I am very tired of things that shouldn’t be a problem suddenly being a problem. *shakes fist at Getting Old*

Even though I installed my wordbook in the place where the native wordbook had been on Steve’s computer, LibreOffice is still not accessing them. I mean, it shows me that they’re all turned on, but unless I’m typing unusually well, it’s just not bothering to cross check. Well. Something else for the to-do list.

How’s everybody doing, here at the center of the week?

Hard at work on a rainy day:

Team Orca and other whimsies

Monday. Sunny and warm. All windows that open have been opened.

Breakfast was eggs scrambled with the last of the potato salad. Yes, I do this a lot. Yes, I like potatoes far too much. Lunch is in the oven — a small salmon steak, because I can’t remember the last time I actually ate fish, which is not particularly good news, as the cancer docs think that fish three times a week is just about right. Admittedly, my personal best was twice a week for several months, and that was with Steve pushing for all he was worth to make it happen.

I am very much liking this new writing schedule. Sat down at 9, and got up at 11:30 1,280 words the richer, and they’re good, says I, as shouldn’t.

Tomorrow, unfortunately, a break in the schedule, as I have an early visit to the vampires scheduled, something that hasn’t happened in way too long, ref hospital exploding, doctors landing all over the map, having to apply to be a new patient at the practice my PCP landed at, And! all like that.

I was watching a Josh Johnson clip, in which he was talking about the fact that the orcas had attacked another yacht, and the resonate phrase was, “Who expected the orcas would step up?” Which got me to wondering if there was a TEAM ORCA! sweatshirt and how I would go about getting one.

Facebook has also been serving me reels from Quincy’s Tavern, which is an … interesting work perhaps in progress. And it gives me the chance to use the word “ledgerdemain” with non-ironic precision, and with admiration.

Now that lunch is done, I’m on to the business part of the daily schedule: I seem to have a phone call and two letters to write, and! a Sooper Sekrit project to work on. So? I’d best get at it.

How’s Monday going for you lot?

Oh, wait!  Pictures.

Rosebush update!  It’s doing splendidly — new flowers and buds promising more:

And, I had intended to take a selfie, to prove that I was feeling much more the thing, but … Rookie had a better idea.  Admittedly, he is much more glamorous.

In which the writer has had more fun…

What went before: OK, so this is no fun. Apparently, I’m having a reaction to the COVID booster — the very first such reaction.

I am therefore taking the rest of the day off to curl up in a ball of misery under 45 blankets and three coon cats until my head stops hurting.

The good news is that the New Order allowed me to write 1,120ish new words, and the things I’m not getting done are business stuff that will just have to wait.

Hope everybody’s having a good Saturday.

Sunday.  The adventure continues.

As it turns out, I am … weller. The headache, which was the worst, is no longer with me. Fever’s gone. I am chilly, but that just might be because it’s chilly today and I haven’t turned on the oil heat, so we’re running with what the heat pumps and the sun through the window can provide.

OTOH, now I have muscle aches, and was briefly sick enough to my stomach that breakfast was a big cup of ginger and lemon tea with honey. I just went rooting around in the pantry, and it’s looking like that will be Progresso Chicken ‘n Rice Soup for lunch.

I have written +/- 1,000 words, and cleaned the cat boxes. A walk is not on today’s schedule. I do intend to write some more this afternoon, but there are two outstanding pieces of business mail that I have to get outta here, so that will be happening while I’m in the front of the house heating up my can of soup, and taking a break.

How I got 13 hours of sleep: I took a four hour nap, ably assisted by Nurse Rookie Cookie, who gamely declared he was up for four more, if needed. It being 6 pm by the time I arose, half-blind with the stupid headache, I served up Happy Hour a bit early, had a bowl of rice and two Tylenol — and went back to bed, whereupon I slept for nine hours. I did wake up once or twice, and noted the presence of Tali and Firefly.

So, apparently the tropes are not a gag, and author trading cards are serious business — this given the absence of an answer to my latest (no harm, no foul; at this point I’D be giving up on myself. Honestly, who is this out-of-touch old writer, anyway?).

The whole trope idea still makes me queasy and murderous, perhaps not quite in that order, but I believe I have engineered a Work Around. (And this is where we once again and reallyREALLY miss Steve, King of the, “Here, let me not do that for you, ‘k? This works for me; you go ahead and do what you do.” Insert charming smile.)

Into the trope column on the present form will go: honor, wit, true love, space opera. Those’re my tropes and I’m sticking with them.

And, honestly, that’s about as far as I can bend without breaking something, probably my last stick of patience, and it’s more or less what it says on the label: “The Liaden Universe: Where honor, wit, and true love are potent weapons against deceit and trickery.”

I will note that this morning’s writing session in Steve’s office was adorned by Firefly and Rook, with a brief visit from Tali, who doesn’t quiet Get It, yet. I am now in my office, attended by Rook and Tali, Firefly at last look was still snugged down in Sprite’s former aerie overlooking Steve’s desk.

And that’s the mixed bag o’news from the Cat Farm.

How’s Sunday treating everybody?

Friday on the road

Friday. It’s an awfully nice day. Sunny and breezy. Warmer up inland where the Confusion Factory is located, than down Bath, where it was Right Cool at that nice little park of theirs. If I could snap my fingers and move this house as it is to Bath, I’d do that.

 

 

 

 

 

Yeah.

So, I saw my PCP, who’s looking well. I have my COVID shot, so that’s taken care of. I will also be traveling up and down Central and Coastal Maine for the next little bit — acupuncture at Rockport (not really acupuncture, but something to do with needles and reading nerve health and messaging); PT at Augusta; Audiology in this, mine own city. … I’m not sure where the bloodwork’s to be done. I’m hoping Thayer, but I need to check the portal.

We are in pursuit of a Better, Longer Term fix for the back, because it’s getting worse, and the poor chiropractor has worn out at least three hammers on me, to no real avail. He no sooner pronounces me Aligned, poor man, then my back goes out again for no reason, and I collapse to the floor, screaming. I mean, something’s not right when you hurt your back doing Tai Chi.

While in Bath, I went down to the park, obviously, and enjoyed a chocolate peppermint latte at Cafe Cream. It was wonderful, and now I’m sorry I didn’t allow myself a scone or a muffin, but! I found that just sitting in a busy cafe, sipping my latte and not doing much else, was … oddly restorative. I think it helped that everyone was having a reasonably good time; there were no angry voices, or people being nasty to the folks behind the counter, said folks being Genuinely Interested in you and your order (“Ooh, the Yorkie Latte? (this being the official blackboard name of my drink.) You’re gonna love that.” And she wasn’t wrong.)

After I drank my treat, I went across to Now Your Cooking and toured the premises. I bought a couple of gadgets — including a hook that will help me open pull-tab cans, which has become an issue — and a what ought to be a very nice red blend bottle of wine, which I plan on opening this evening, to reward myself for having gotten credibly through the morning.

The car’s GPS did this to me the last time I went to Bath, but I didn’t remember it soon enough to keep it from freaking me out. When you get off the expressway, there is Only One Way to merge with the state route. The GPS Strongly Disagrees with this, and starts screaming ROUTE RECALCULATING! ROUTE RECALCULATING! like a mad thing, and it really gets your heart racing. As I did the time before, I pulled off into the handy shopping center, whereupon the GPS recovered itself and agreed that I had been on the right road. Next time, I’m going to have to Steel Myself to ignore it.

On the way home, I stopped at the Harvest Moon Deli and bought way too much food — Tikka Marsala soup, which was good, and I ate it all; a roast beast of burden (they name their sandwiches after classic rock songs at the Harvest Moon) sandwich, which I ate a quarter of one half, the other 3/4s destined for the evening meal, and the remaining half either for tomorrow’s breakfast or lunch.

I still have paperwork sorting and portal-visiting to do relative to the medical part of the day, so that’s what I’ll be doing for the rest of the afternoon, with an eye toward hitting the writing space tomorrow and getting something useful done.

And how was your morning?

Before departure, Whatcha Doin’ Moms:

Thursday at a glance

Installment ONE:  So, I got up, had breakfast, carried my tea to Steve’s office, and was at work by 9:15. Surfaced at 11:55 to go down to do my duty to the cats and take a walk. Now need to figure out if I’m going to order in or just zap a Lean Cuisine.

I need to do a couple things in the business office, from which location I write to you. Those include finishing making a list for my PCP visit tomorrow, researching where the new office actually is, and downloading the Word Book from this computer to take back to the writing computer, which had redlined every other word in the manuscript because it hasn’t been brought up to date.

Firefly kept me company in the writing room all morning, and Rookie popped in and out. He was clearly a little concerned about me sitting in Steve’s chair — was I actually allowed to do that? Apparently, he went off and checked the paperwork, because he has clearly accepted that, yes, I can do that.

Hope everybody’s having a good day. It’s lovely and sunny here, warm, but not hot.

Installment TWO:  Everyone who asked after the keyboard. It is a Kinesis Advantage2 keyboard. I’ve been using them for at least 20 years; started when my wrists went bad and I bullheadedly refused to give up typing, because speech recognition did not work for me at all. This is what happens when what you actually do instead of pronouncing words correctly is fake people into thinking you talk good by a combination of inflection and body language, neither of which translates into computer programs.

The Kinesis Advantage2 helps because your wrists are in a neutral position and your fingers can hang down in a neutral position, rather than being Poised! To! Strike! as is the case with a standard flat keyboard.

Yes, the learning curve was vile. And, also yes, the trade off is that I now can’t type on a flat keyboard, so if I’m taking my laptop on a trip, I either have to also take a keyboard almost as big as the laptop, or Accept that I’m going to be reduced to two-fingering it for as long as I’m away.

This is always a difficult choice because typing is my mode of expression of choice, right after interpretive dance.

Installment THREE:  OK, fun game!

First question: Do the Liaden books have any “tropes”? Examples given “grumpy sunshine,” “found family,” “the chosen one”? (What on earth is “grumpy sunshine” and do people really push the “tropes” in their books?)

Second question: Can you give us a 1 sentence (30 words) quote form one of your books? (“Yes,” which is my go-to, is not in this case a Valid Answer.)

In other news, the Lean Cuisine won, because I made the mistake of checking my mail. My plan is to eat, and then go back and write for another couple hours.

Installment FOUR:  OK. I have written to the originators of the Survey which included the Fun Questions.

So far today, I have Scrutinized the chapter-by-chapter, identified holes in the narrative and sketched in a couple of ideas to fill them. I finished writing a scene, for a total of more-or-less 1250 new words, and did more research. At this point, I might as well open my own noodle shop (no, I haven’t watched the movie yet; I’m a little leery of spillage, since I’m actively working on this situation for the book). I hoped to write more today, but that’s probably not going to happen? Because mail, and also I really ought to wash the dishes so I can find the sink. And see if, one! more! time! I can find LibreOffice’s Word Book.

Tomorrow is the much-complained about trip to Bath and the PCP. I suppose I might as well declare a Writer’s Day Off at this point, hit the bakery and tour the kitchen store, and plan on getting back to work on Saturday.

It looks like next week, I have, with the exception of Tuesday evening needlework, nothing scheduled, so that’s like a whole uninterrupted week of work. Fingers crossed that nothing comes up to force a change of plans.

So, that’s it. I feel like I had a very successful test-drive of separating the mundane and the writing work spaces, and I hope this continues to prove out.

Everybody have a good evening; I’ll check in as I can.

 

Ain’tcha got no rhymes for me?

What went before ONE: Well, that wasn’t what I was going to be doing when I got home.

Splinter Universe got blasted out of the water (no, I don’t know Exactly How; we’ve been having some DoS fun over at my blog, and there may have been residual damage. Or it could’ve gotten targeted just for its own self.). Whatever the cause, I spent the last couple hours trying to put it back the way it was, and finally gave up on that in favor of getting the site online again, and there I may report success.

Splinter Universe is back on line, for those who may have missed it. All the Stuff is there, but it is much simpler in appearance.

Also? Yon writin’ woman is Some Corked Off.

Tomorrow: Early mammogram, just in case I needed another reason to be grumpy.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll check in tomorrow.

What went before TWO: So…I’m sorry; I have to share this or it will haunt me all night. AARP has shared A Tip of foods to limit if you have “prediabetes” (do not get me started on “prediabetes.” Arguably we all have “prediabetes,” it’s kind of like having “predeath.” See? You didn’t have to get me started; I’m self-powered.)

Anyway, this list of things to avoid have swap outs — you know the drill, instead of pasta, have some tasty spaghetti squash. Instead of rice, have some cauliflower. And — here’s the one that will haunt me for the length of my days —

Swap out wine for!

Vodka.

Yes, yes, I’ve gone and scared the cats, and on that note, I’m going to pour a glass of wine, which I have abSOfreakingLUTELY earned this afternoon.

Tuesday. Sunny and chill, but getting warmer fast.

Trash and recycling at the curb. Mammogram accomplished. Breakfast was vanilla Skyr. Drinking my second cup of tea with the last two cranberry-walnut-oatmeal cookies. You know what this means, of course?

Right. I need to bake more cookies.

. . .

Yanno? I think I have chocolate chips.

Another bad night of sleep, with the exception of the two! whole! hours! that Firefly tucked her compact little self into my stomach, and turned her purr box on High. I’ve gotta get me some more of that.

Firefly is currently off-duty, but that does not mean I’m unsupervised. Tali and Rook are both on guard at the right-side window, so I can feel certain They won’t get in That Way.

Needlework this evening. Between now and then, I have to perform my duty to the cats, and then I believe I will address the Cookie Situation.

Y’all have enough cookies?

Today’s blog post title brought to you by Paul Simon, via Harper’s Bazaar (you may blame 60sGold on Sirius XM for this)  “59th Street Bridge Song.”

Photo of the Right Flank Guards at work:

Believe in me, I’m with the High Command

What went before: 42% of new ramen shops close within the year; 72% close within three years.

Good heavens; I had no idea (1) how many people want to open noodle/ramen shops or (2) what the fail rate is.

Yes, I’m researching noodle shops for the WIP.

Because! You should write what you know.

Which means: Do your research.

Edited to add:  No, I’m not looking for stats; I’m looking for what you need in the kitchen.  The stats were just … there.

What went before: So, wrote a scene kind of like the scene I had in my head, about 1,180 words.

I have a couple of things to set up for the rest of the week, which is just chock full of fun. Book club early tomorrow afternoon — that’s fun. Mammogram at 8 am on Tuesday — not so much fun — and needlework tomorrow evening. They’re going to start charging me rent at the library.

Wednesday and Thursday are clear, and on Friday morning, I get to drive to Bath to visit my PCP. Could be worse, I guess. At least Bath is interesting, and I can reward myself for my patience by visiting the bakery, after.

Speaking of fun, I suddenly, and almost without warning, decided that I was done with low-stakes cozies for the moment and on the advice of a friend have taken on Shards of Earth by Adrian Tchaikovsky. So far, so good. It’s good to see what the Iloheen got up to in their retirement. And it’s good to be reminded that we/I don’t write ambitious books.

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

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Earlier that same Monday: So, I often listen to Alan Hunter on Classic Rewind on Sirius XM. He’s doing something interesting — send him your top ten favorite songs from the “Cassette Era” and he, or somebody, will tally them up and play the Most Favorite Top Ten of Everybody Everywhere sometime in October.

Of course, I don’t remember Alan’s email address, and he did allow as how this is the sort of list that changes daily, if not hourly, but it’s an interesting challenge of itself.

So! I Challenge You! List your Top Ten Songs from the so-called “Cassette Era of Rock and Roll” (late 1970s-early 1990s) as of — Right Now.

Go.

My Top Ten before I finish my first cup of tea are (in no particular order, because that would be TOO crazy):
1 Silent Running, Mike and the Mechanics
2 Don’t Pay the Ferryman, Chris de Burgh
3 Werewolves of London, Warren Zevon
4 Don’t Fear the Reaper, Blue Oyster Cult
5 Under Pressure, Queen/Bowie
6 Burn with Me, Modern English
7 Missionary Man, The Eurythmics
8 Be Good to Me, Tina Turner
9 Sultans of Swing, Dire Straits
10 Beast of Burden, Rolling Stones

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Reading over a section I wrote a couple days ago. Made note: “Korval pilots do not SCURRY.” Sheesh. Who writes this stuff?

So, Monday. Sunny and pleasant. Been doodling around with mini-projects. Getting my needles ready for the next project. Making a pot of rice, doing some business correspondence. Need to go downstairs and clean the cat boxes in a few. Book Club at 1.

Last night, after I quit for the day, I sat down and handwrote another two pages. I really need to sit down, seriously, with the chapter-by-chapter and make a list of What’s Missing, ’cause I could write Good Scenes until the Heat Death of the Universe. Still looking at that title. It may have to do.

I keep forgetting to mention for the edification of Rookie’s Fan Club — for all his obvious charms, and they are many, Rookie has not really been very chatty. Given that he’s a Maine Coon, that made him practically silent. As a kitten, his purr was so loud, it sometimes knocked him over, which was — no, we don’t laugh at our kittens. We tell them they’re Very Special to have Thought of That. Now that he’s a Big Cat, though, his purr is extremely soft and puffy, and while I have once or twice heard him yell in frustration, his vocalizations were mostly quiet, and directed to the other cats.

That has changed, since, I’ll say, since Trooper left us. Rook has taken to meeping at me, making eye contact and Stating A Thing.  He’s still much more quiet-spoken than Trooper, or even Sprite, who spoke softly, but with Great Clarity — but he’s talking, and he clearly means to communicate. So, yanno, that’s exciting.

The kid’s still growing.

I don’t think I have anything else to report. As said, I’ve got a few chores to do before I head off for book club, but it’s not really a very crowded looking day.

How’s your Monday shaping up?

Today’s blog post title from Mike and the Mechanics, “Silent Running,” because how could I not?

Also, cat tax.  Tali is getting bold: