Tag: coon cat logic

Last night and this morning

Once More Into The Breach

Friday evening.

I had One. Last. Go. at the whole Patreon thing, and guess what?

I found it! And I also found that I’m already on “subscription billing,” so I can forget about this all over again.

For those who are as confused as I was, you need to go down the side of your home page — down, down down, no, even further down, below your subscriptions to other creators, to those stupid three dots. See them?

Good. Click on them. You’ll get an unpromising looking little box:
Appearance
Settings
Support
Log Out

Click Settings, which will open up a much more promising and larger box. Under Creator Settings, right above Account Settings, there you will find Billing and Payouts. Click. And right at the top of the new page will be Billing Schedule.

Sheeeeeesh

For my next trick, I have another damned email from the Anthropic legal team, allowing me to know that yet another of my titles is “disputed.” Man, I’m tired of this game. Can we play Boggle now?

Oh. Wait.

PSA:  This whole kerfuffle has nothing to do with Patreon subscribers aka Patrons.  Purely an administrative funtime for creators.

Errands Being the Order of the Day

Saturday. Sunny, cool; last night’s rain still lingering in the grass. Leftover (and rewarmed) macaroni and cheese custard for breakfast with a little hoarded can of pineapple juice on the side.

I slept a long, long time, and here you will see that I am Inconsistent. I worry when I sleep four hours, and I worry when I sleep nine. Especially I worry when I sleep nine and the toy on my wrist tells me that stress while I slept kept me from recharging sufficiently unto the day.

Today’s theory is that I’m Just Exhausted. Everything, it is finally Too Much.

Moving on.

Today, Errands Come First. I have already informed the cats, who have gone to their posts in Steve’s office. No one has ever said that coon cats are slackers.

It is, I’ll note, very quiet in the house. Apparently Tali took up a lot of room, and RookandTali was a whole ‘nother cat.

Finished listening to Chanur’s Homecoming last night. “I’m real fond of you, too, Skkukuk.” That being so, I really need to bear down on the book club book (The Burgess Boys), which I’m finding to be hard going. I did figure out that “Shirley Falls” is meant to be Lewiston — I was thrown off by the description of it being a “small town” — but I’ve yet to find a character I can connect with, even a little bit. Given that I identified with the Hani the first time I read them, and greeted them on this reread with the joy of reconnecting with old friends, this probably says terrible things about me as a human being.

What else? Oh. I need to make a video. Probably that’s for tomorrow. Also, I need to make an order with Upton Tea — I’m almost out of Russian Caravan.

All that being said, and my tea mug empty, I’d better get on the road. Errands ain’t gonna run themselves.

Whatcha got on for the weekend?

Thursday at the word farm

Thursday. Kinda glary and warmish, with an intermittent breeze.

No word from the lab, which I didn’t really expect, so I wasn’t disappointed.

Spent most of the day reading/editing the WIP. Still have about 60 pages to go, which I’ll likely finish up tomorrow.

Did some laundry, performed my duty the cats. For lunch I made macaroni and cheese custard from an old, old recipe — we used to eat this at least once a week. Still tastes good, and? I have leftovers. Breakfast was scones and the last orange. The scones still taste good — and the orange, too.

Sarah comes by tomorrow morning to make everything clean again. Tomorrow afternoon, I’m expecting to be called to pick up Tali’s ashes. I should also go to the grocery store. I had, until two minutes ago, thought I’d also stop by city hall to pay the excise tax on the car, which, actually, I can’t do, because city hall is closed on Fridays. So! Next week — possibly Monday, on my way home from the car’s annual inspection, and everything will be tidied away for another year.

Rookie wishes me to know that it’s time for Happy Hour. Rookie is regrettably in error.

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

#

I knew there was something else.

I will not (that’s NOT) be taking part in The Game this year.

Wednesday with a side of baking

Coon cats first

Firefly:

Rook:

#
Wednesday. Cloudy and cool.

Hard to get out of bed this morning. Rook finally had to resort to sitting on my head and chewing my hair.

Read about a quarter of the WIP, breaking to make macaroni, some of which will become part of lunch; the rest of which will become part of lunches going forward. Also have to do some banking.

Came across a recipe for scallion-and-cheddar scones, which I do believe I’ll be making this afternoon; they actually look like Real Food, in addition to being tasty.

The Lawn Guy has been by and done his thing, being as it’s not Actually Raining at the moment.

The question How Are We/I Doing? has been asked. The answer “I’ve been better,” may be seen as flippant, and “Working,” may be seen as not being kind to myself.

A story. Steve and I many years ago attended the Universalist/Unitarian Church, where I was also a volunteer with the Evening Sandwich Program.

Now, Unitarians are kind of the Virgos of organized religions. There are many variations on the joke that starts out with a question like What Do The Religions Do When Their Church Catches on Fire, and it’s inevitably the punchline that the Unitarians call the fire department.

At our particular church, there was a tradition when those in the congregation who had experienced a Good Thing in their lives during the previous week, were asked to stand up and share this with those gathered. One Sunday, Steve stood up and talked about some writing triumph that I no longer recall, and got A Look from the pulpit.

At coffee, after, the minister came up to him and said, “The Good Thing is supposed to be personal, you know. About your life. Not business.”

To which Steve famously said, “But writing is my life.”

All this to say that when I say I’m going to work, it doesn’t mean that I’m being mean to myself or exceptional in my dedication to my job. I’m writing. It’s what I do. Worry when I don’t do what I do.

. . . and that’s the bell for the pasta.

How’s everybody getting by today?
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There was a call for the scone recipe, which is rendered below:

Scallion Cheddar Scones
This is supposed to make 12 scones. I made 16, because I have a scone pan and it has 16 spaces.

From the King Arthur All-Purpose Baking Companion

2 cups (240g) unbleached all-purpose flour OR (224g) unbleached pastry flour (I used white whole wheat, because that’s what I had)

1/2 tsp salt

1 Tbs sugar

1 Tbs baking powder

6 TBS unsalted butter, cold, cut into pieces

2 large eggs, beaten

1/3 cup (77g) cream or sour cream (I used sour cream)

1 TBS Dijon mustard

1 cup (112g) grated sharp cheddar cheese

3-5 (56g) scallions, chopped (I used shallots because no scallions)

Preheat oven to 375F. Sift together flour, salt, sugar, baking powder. Rub in butter with fingers.

Mix together eggs, mustard, cream. Add to dry ingredients. Stir in grated cheese and scallions. Mix until just combined.

Liberally flour the counter and your hands. Pat the dough into a 6×9 in rectangle about 1 inch thick. Cut the rectangle into 6 smaller rectangles, and cut each smaller rectangle into two triangles to form 12 triangular scones. Place on well-greased baking sheet.

OR 1: Squish even amounts of dough into each space in a dedicated scone pan

OR 2: Make 12 even amounts of dough into balls, put on well-greased baking sheet.

BAKE for 20 minutes, or until nicely browned.

Mine just came out of the oven:

. . .I have conducted a Quality Control Taste Analysis.  These?  are good.

Tuesday reportage

Tuesday. Gloomy, rainy, and cool.

Dithered around this morning with an outtake from Kin Right, which I’m expecting will become a chapbook along the lines of The Wrong Lance, while I printed out the current WIP which I will be reading (yes, again) since it appears that the sudden shock knocked the damn’ thing right out of my head.

I’m on my way to PT. I’ll hit the grocery after, come home, put groceries away, then head out for needlework.

The cats are sticking with me, with Rookie taking the lead in Administration — explaining to me when the cat bowls need refilling, demanding that I be to work on time, and guiding me back to Steve’s office, in case I’ve forgotten where it is, and accompanying me downstairs to perform my duties there. He’s also being sure to sleep with me, at least for a few hours, though not in Tali’s spot under my arm — he prefers to have a space next to my pillow.

Firefly has taken over lap duty. Historically, Firefly has been a Sit-With Cat, as opposed to a Lap Sitting Cat. Tali was *definitely* a Lap Sitting Cat, so it seems that duty has passed, at least for a while, until the human gets her act back together.

Someone had asked if “cat CPR” might’ve saved Tali’s life, and the answer to that is multifaceted. One — I don’t know. Two — I don’t know how to do “cat CPR;” in fact didn’t know it existed until the question came up, and? I would be terrified that I would have done more and more grievous damage, considering how much force has to be put into human CPR.

I do appreciate the people who have contributed to the cost of the lab work, and, yes, the cattery is helping.

Oh! A package arrived today via FedEx in an Unmarked Van, and the nice young man walked down the drive and handed it to me, since I had seen the truck and opened the door.

And now? I’d better get outta here.

Everybody stay safe.

Update, post-Tali

This is going to be … difficult.

Rookie did come to bed with me when I finally decided that I had to at least lie down, despite the fact that Tali most consistently slept with me.

Unfortunately, he got up in a couple hours and stamped around the house, calling, and going downstairs to bang on the two closed doors, which … was actually pretty smart. I got up, picked him up, opened the doors, and showed him that Tali wasn’t locked in anywhere.

He was present when Tali died, and I made a point of allowing him and Firefly to pay their respects before I put her in the fridge. I think Firefly Gets It, but Rook hasn’t seemed to put the poor dead kitty and Tali in the same sentence yet.

She was only here for 19 months, but she leaves a big hole.

I? have a raging headache, no surprise, and can’t see too well. Probably the smart thing to do, after I’ve managed to talk to a human at the emergency vet, is sit down, close my eyes and listen to music, or a book, or … something.

While I do realize that Tali — and I — were “lucky” that this happened so quickly, and apparently painlessly, just like Steve — and I — were “lucky” for the same reasons — it’s … a lot.

A lot.

I may be off-line for a few days.

Thanks to everyone for your care. The cats and I appreciate it.

Catching up Thursday with a dash of Friday, too

So, yesterday went a little pear-shaped. I had planned on an all-writing day, but Real Life intervened, which meant I got a couple hours of writing done, plus my duty to the cats, plus some little bit of embroidery while listening to Chanur’s Venture. I did chat a bit on Facebook, mostly about cats. To wit:

Answering the question that went past and now I can’t find it again: Is Tali the biggest Maine coon currently in house?

The contestants are:
Firefly, calico — 6 years, 11 lbs
Tali, orange tabby — 4 years, 13 lbs
Rook, black– 2 years, 13 lbs

Ladies and gentlebeings, we have a tie!

Biographical notations:
Firefly is petite, for a Maine Coon. She’s also an adult, by Maine Coon reckoning, and the most retiring of the present lot of supervisors. She’s affectionate, but easily overwhelmed, and can frequently be seen thinking. It is well to recall that Firefly has taken . . . many losses: Belle, Steve, Sprite, and Trooper.

Tali is the most compact of the three; when she lands on your lap, you know you’ve been landed on. She is the supervisor who demands the most lap-time. Very bossy, our Tali.

Rook is a growing boy; easily distracted, very affectionate, and scary smart. He and Tali have formed a partnership — he keeps time and she registers the complaint.

More about Maine Coon growth stages here.

The above led to the question of which was the largest Maine coon we had owned, to which I answered: You know? I’m not sure. Hex(apuma) was pretty big, but lanky. I thought Mozart–our first Maine Coon–was Ginormous when I first saw him. I think he might’ve clocked in at 14 or 15 pounds. Trooper was 17 pounds FORever, and in her heyday Belle had a pound on two on him. Sprite was right around 15 pounds. To put all of this into perspective, a Bichon Frise (aka “the little white dog everybody has”–I finally asked someone what breed her dog was) will weigh between 12 and 15 pounds.

This answer led to the evergreen But I thought Maine Coon cats were HUGE! To which I answered: Breed standard for Maine Coons is females 12-15 pounds, males 18-22. So, yeah, I guess I’ve had small Maine Coons. Given that domestic cats average from 8-12 pounds, that’s big enough.

Maine Coon breed standards here.
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All of which leads us handily into today, which I believe to be Friday–sunny and going to be warm-but-not-hot.  Tomorrow, we’re looking for the rainy rags of the nor’easter that’s been plaguing downcoast to arrive.

I had flat egg and Swiss cheese on homemade bread for breakfast, I am updating my blogs while I drink my third cup of tea, and will shortly be moving back to Steve’s office to accomplish some work on the WIP. For lunch, I have my choice of warming up a pre-cooked pork chop with … I think there’s carrots left over, or warming up leftover chicken pot pie.

Not a particularly ambitious day, but mine own.

And hoping yours is enjoyable.

Sunday wrap-up

So, that was a little more harrowing than I thought it would be. I’ve deleted thousands of emails–which would feel like more of an accomplishment if there weren’t thousands more to sift through. I finally managed to stop automatic payments on the last two of Steve’s accounts that had automatic payments, and got caught up with various bits of bookkeeping that I had let slide because — I don’t know? Because everything’s pointless? Something like that. Though bookkeeping, of course, is never pointless.

I finished listening to The Paladin and have Pride of Chanur lined up in the audiobook library. Still reading The Glass Cursed, and starting to get a little grumpy with it, but the voice is still interesting enough to keep me reading.

The “spaghetti” was good for lunch. Rook is insisting that it IS TOO Coon Cat Happy Hour RIGHT NOW. Alas that Rook is incorrect.

Tomorrow is book club. I guess I should stop at the grocery while I’m out, since the milk went over today, and I seem to be out of fruit, not to mention running low on wine. Also, I need to check the state of the ice cream supply. Won’t do to run out of the essentials.

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

Sunday morning IRL

Important things first:  Proofs of life, with coon cats here

Sunday. Dim and cool enough that I switched station air to “heat.”

I also put another blanket on the bed, ably assisted by the girl cats, who are now resting atop their labors.

Breakfast was a couple slices of last night’s baking and a cup of cottage cheese. I’m thinking lunch will be left-over macaroni dressed with red sauce, served with meatballs, which I’ll be calling “spaghetti,” thank you.

Today–or at least this morning–I will be catching up with all the emails and other business I’ve been ignoring for the last two weeks, and cleaning out my inbox of Stuff, which just keeps accumulating.

I have Notions about my two problems with the current WIP, but they need some time to themselves, hence today’s curriculum of tidying up IRL.

Rook is currently on duty in my office, positioned so that the warm air from the heat pump is flowing down on him.

I think that’s all the news that’s fit to print.

What’s for lunch at your house today?

Saturday with writing and bread

Saturday. Sunny and cool.

Wrote about 600 words this morning, and discovered that I twitched something that I should’ve tweaked, so I printed out the offending pages and will sit with them later to try to untangle the he-said/she-said.

Since I’m down to my last two slices of bread, I’m baking a loaf, which is in for its first rise. I’ve cleaned up the kitchen. Still need to perform my duty to the cats.

Nothing much else doing, except the observation that it’s apparently Tali’s afternoon to keep me Under Surveillance. Either that, or she just likes to watch bread being put together.

Oh. The question of When Can We Buy Kin Right, which has come up three or four times in the last week.

ANSWER: The last I heard from Baen was that Kin Right would be published in “Spring 2027.” So now everybody knows as much as I do.

Also! It’s “taking so long” because I needed 18 months, instead of our usual year, to write it, which meant I turned it in to Baen in April 2026, instead of October 2025.

The reason I had to “take so long” to write it is because my co-author died in February 2024, and the September 2024 delivery date for that book (Diviner’s Bow) had in actuality not been extended, as I had thought it had been, which meant that I had to scramble hard to turn it in on time, or, rather, only a little late. Which in turn meant that I was exhausted, and that Creative Well we all talk about was dry and I needed some down time before I pulled the next rabbit out of my hat. Files under “Writers are Human.”

I think that really is all.

How’s Saturday going at your place?