Tag: coon cat logic

Quittin’ time

Well, look. Quittin’ time already.

I have not completed the layout of The Fey Duology. Most of this is because I’m picky, and D2D has A System.

Now, I know that D2D has A System, and I know that I can’t bend it to my will, and I also know that my skillset is limited. None of this stops me from fussing and getting frustrated and trying to bend the system to my will, anyway.

So, where we are right now is that I think I’ve worked my way into the proper pitch of frustration, and the next time I look at this project, which may be tomorrow or may be Tuesday, I’ll say, “Oh, D2D, you heartbreaker, you.” and hit the publish button.

For those who are interested in such things, it does look as if there will be a trade paperback edition. It will be ugly (ref “frustration” above), but it will exist.

Speaking of frustration, Tali is in the middle of her fifteenth tantrum in the last fifteen minutes. She demands to see the committeecat right! now!, and by Bast, I am going to be written up like nobody’s ever been written up in the history of ever for wrongly withholding Happy Hour.

Really, she’s in quite a state. Rookie actually left the room, rather than try to compete. Thank ghod they didn’t think of joining forces, or I’d be writing this from the deck.

Tomorrow, first thing, I need to take the car in for service, and do another couple errands while I’m in Augusta, so I may not be visible until after noon.

Everybody have a good evening. Stay safe.

I have a dream…

OK, then! Friday evening. I’m sure I must’ve done something today, but I’m not bringing it to mind at the moment.

In re My Dream*, I have one contractor coming out to look the situation(s) over tomorrow afternoon. There are, in fact, two situations, The Dream and the need for roof extensions over the back wall of this house to fend the rain off.

I have heard back from Draft2Digital, which assures me that, if they believe that a Mistake Has Been Made, they will contact me and offer options for Fixing Said Mistake. I will therefore be going forward with republishing the Fey books.

Rookie stamped his feet and demanded to be let outside, so I told him he had to wear his jacket. To the astonishment of everyone, including Rookie, he let me put his jacket on, attach the leash, and take him out to my chair on the deck. He was content to sit on my lap for a few minutes, then squirmed to Get! Down! and did a sllloooowwww exploratory creep-and-sniff of the corner of the deck off of Steve’s office. I brought him inside when it seemed like he was thinking about squeezing through the rail posts to see what was on the other side.

So! Busy few days upcoming — tomorrow, I believe I will go to TJ Maxx’s little party for its members, then the contractor in the afternoon. Sunday, I’ll try to get the Fey Duology up for preorders. Monday, car to Charlie’s for its annual whatnot; Tuesday Dead River to do another inspection (didn’t we just do that?); Wednesday, the much anticipated delivery of the dishwasher, and Thursday morning crack o’dawn, the installation.

Phew. Oh. I need to line up a haircut. For the week after next, is what I’m thinking…

Everybody have a good evening. Stay safe. I’ll check in tomorrow.
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*Transcription of a post to FB, seeking advice:

Where are my handyfolk?

Handyfolk, I have A Dream.

My Dream is to have a permanently attached screened room with a solid ceiling on my deck, ideally using one of the French doors in Steve’s office as access. This would be both a catio and a place for me to sit out and take the air, while managing to dodge the Evil Solar Rays that radiation therapy has (according the Cancer Ladies, and I’m inclined to believe them on this) Forever Placed Beyond My Reach.

How would I go about achieving this Dream? Which seems fairly modest to me, but what do I know? How much is it likely to cost?

The reason it has to be permanently affixed, is that I have a screen house, but I can’t either put it up or take it down by myself and in high winds it’s a flight risk.

Spanish Aunts.

My cat is purring, it scratches my skin

The reason for yesterday’s trip to TJ Maxx was to acquire summer weight lap coverings to accommodate the cats. (Firefly and Tali prefer a blanket layer.  Rookie doesn’t appear to care.)

Here you see the lap covering, AKA beach towel, for the comfy chair in my office.

You also see the Tali seal of approval in play.


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LOL!!! Local peeps! If you get the Bangor Daily News, take a look at the Top Maine Towns you Should Live In. Not only does Waterville not make the graphic, but Kennebec County doesn’t even show up on the graph!

Oh, wait.

*whispers* . . . did . . . did Canada adopt us and I missed the memo? Huh? Is that what happened? Tali’s standing on my desk right now, telling me she won’t at all mind being a Canadian Coon Cat.

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So! Tuesday. Which I was for a moment convinced it was Wednesday, but Firefly straightened me out. Sunny and breezy. We here in Kennebec County, Canada, are laboring under a Fire Warning, due to dry air incoming, pushed by excess breeze. Well, there.

Trash and recycling are at the curb, and breakfast has been et.

Today has been A Week, and it’s just past 9 am.

Last night, I noticed that my left ankle, which I had sprained back in God, She Knows. When were we GOHs at ChattaCon? Then. (January 2012; I looked it up. Also — how long ago?) Anyhow, I noticed that ankle was aching last night, but I put it down to having actually been on my feet quite a bit yesterday, In Between It All. Sleep would fix it, I thought.

Well. I woke up this morning and said ankle was swollen, and still, yeah, achy. So I searched out the ankle brace and got that on. Came out and started a cup of chocolate tea, got out the milk while I was waiting for that to finish brewing, opened the windows, prepped the comfy chair, came back to my tea, took it into the kitchen, picked up the milk, absently shook it and!

You’re ahead of me, I can see the smirks.

Yep. Milk everywhere. I did a mop-up, but I still have to wash the utensils (puddles of milk in the kitchen tool holder by the stove. ick.), and make sure I got all the milk, oh, off the wall. Yeah, this may qualify as a Personal Best. I’ll check the record book.

OTOH, there are daffodils.

And how’s Tuesday treating you?

Today’s blog post title brought to you by The Scorpions, “Rock You Like a Hurricane”

 

 

Hittin’ the books

Saturday. Sunny. The weatherbeans give it as their opinion that it will achieve “warm” today.

Found one of Rookie’s whiskers — I don’t find them nearly as often as I find the long white sort favored by the girls — so that was exciting. Also, he managed to bank two out of three possible new balls, so I ordered in nine more (3 additional cards) from Petsmart, which declares that they will deliver these essential items today. Guess somebody in Augusta thinks it’s a nice day for a ride.

Next up, putting the kettle on and rustling up some breakfast before I hit the books.

What’s on the books for Saturday at your place?
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And, in celebration of a sunny Saturday, one of my favorite character interactions, in which we learn that Clonak isn’t … quite … a fool, after all. From I Dare:

“You fed me to them,” [Val Con] said, and his voice was, perhaps, not quite steady. “The scouts gave me to the Department.”

Clonak stared at him as if he’d taken leave of his wits. “Well, *of course* we gave you to them, Shadow! Who else did we have more likely to trump them than a first-in, pure-blood yos’Phelium scout commander? Concentrated random action. Would we waste such a weapon? Would you? I didn’t think so. Besides,” he finished, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s the duty of the Captain to protect the passengers. Er Thom can’t have missed telling you that!”

“As close-kin, I ask that you not kill him,” Daav said into the silence that followed this. “I allow him to be twelve times an idiot. But he is also my oldest friend, and I value him.”

Nope, still a ways to go

So! I found somebody to install the dishwasher when it arrives (actually, the day after it arrives). I had thought that part was going to be the most difficult, after the whole banking mess, but — a pleasant surprise.

The tech from Andersen who was supposed to be here by 12 and then by 1:30 has yet to arrive. He did call when he realized he was running late, so I was able to have lunch.

The laundry is almost finished, and Firefly is sleeping in the comfy chair in my office. Tali and Rook came out to shark at lunchtime, but I think they’ve gone back to Steve’s office.

On the Writing Side of Things, my plan is to finish getting The Fey Duology ready to rock ‘n roll, catch myself up on the Liaden Read Along commentary, and read the Jethri books as a lump.

The last is in service of ensuring that This Idea I Had to finish up that sub-series will actually square with what’s already canon.

This means, yes, I’ll be — adjusting — the order of my complete reread of the Liaden books, but needs must, and at least I’ll still be reading in-Universe.
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On Facebook, someone commented that I had clearly always been a cat, which gave rise to this memory:

You may be on to something. The first time Steve and I went together into a neighborhood strange to both of us, we had barely gotten out of the car when two cats came charging down the street, tails high, ran right up to Steve and started slamming themselves against his knees. He knelt down, administered ear scrubbles, then kinda looked up at me, half-smiling (I might have been staring), and said, “Yeah. Cats like me.”
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So, today didn’t quite work out like I expected, but! Tomorrow’s decks are clear, so I can hop right into The Fey Duology.

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

Rainy Day and Story Notes

Thursday. Rainy and cool.

Today, I believe, is going to include a sizeable chunk of time in the Comfy Chair in my office, with a pen, a pad of paper and various notes. Which is to say — working, today.

I will be baking a couple of chicken breasts, some of which will be for lunch today, the rest of which will be leftovers.

I have a note from the finance company assuring me that they are On The Case.

In all the Excitement attending the finance company shenanigans the other day, I forgot the Biggest! News! Users of electricity have been being promised for months now that our electricity bills Will Be going down next year, and a couple days ago I got a letter from CMP, assuring me that this happy news is true!

In fact, my monthly electric bill will be doing down by!

Four dollars.

Y’all, I can’t even buy a bottle of cheap wine for four bucks anymore.

I noted several people remarking on how small alpacas are, and indeed they are much shorter than their cousin, the llama. Breed standard calls for a compact animal, and one of yesterday’s companions of the road — Obadiah — is considered Too Tall, and for that defect, he will never know the joys of alpaca fatherhood.

All that said — I’m no longer six foot tall, but I’m still way taller than the so-called “average” American woman at five-foot-three-anna-half feet. Cory, who is closer to the average, but not what I would call short, had to reach UP to fasten Zander’s lead, and had to Speak Sternly to Obie, when he casually lifted his head, putting his nose beyond her reach, when she was trying to fasten the lead.

So — alpacas are compact, yes — but they’re not small. I would not, for instance, have wanted Zander to step on my foot.

Oh! And another question — this regarding the cat balls — Do the cats like them? Yes! In fact, these are the culmination of A Quest to replace the two (similar) cat balls that Rookie carried around with him and brought to me to throw for him, and, indeed, brought to his grandpa Trooper, to show him what a ball was. The original balls are doubtless in a safe place, because they are Treasure, but Rookie doesn’t really get the springs, though he’ll compete with Tali, because — Competition R Rook — and none of the other balls in the house are quite so perfect as those which have been banked.

So! All questions now being answered: What’re your plans for the day?

For a fee, I’m happy to be

Sunday. Grey and damp, but not snowing yet.

This morning while taking my shower, I learned that Joan Jett had covered “Dirty Deeds,” which, had I taken a Moment’s Thought, I would have said, “Of course she did,” but there we are.

I am, let it be known, Very Fond of “Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap,” AC/DC, and here we find the fundamental problem with humankind. It’s a song about a hitman soliciting business, and assuring customer satisfaction through a variety of means. It is, in a word, a terrible song. And yet, yes — I do love it. Why do I love it?

Well. Beyond the fact that it is of course always a pleasure to hear someone who is happy in their work (I’m especially fond of the list at the very end of AC/DC’s version: “Concrete Shoes. Cyanide. Neckties. Contracts. High Mountains!”); it’s manic; and, so I choose to believe, meant to be a parody. Also, because it may remind me of home — gently raised as I was in a blue collar family in a violent, ugly, port city.

I also learned that I need to find a source for the particular fuzzy little balls that Rookie dotes on and then hides so effectively I can’t find any to throw for him, leading to Sadness of the Tiny, Abused Coon Cat variety.

And! I’ve also learned that my tea has brewed, and Firefly is waiting for me on the comfy chair.

What’s one of your favorite songs — and why?
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Had a lovely chat with Sean Hazlett for the Baen Free Radio Hour. We talked about Liaden Universe Constellation Six, Duainfey and Longeye, The Wire, and had a fine time.

Rook and Tali joined me for moral support, and even Google chimed in at one point, thinking, apparently, that I had asked it a question.

For the curious, it has not snowed, but the skies have opened several times to let St. Peter dump out his washtub.

I’m off for the rest of the day, I think.

Everybody stay safe.

Look at these guys; are they pros or what?

Today’s blog post title from, of course, AC/DC, “Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap“

Follow the compass that beats in your chest

Wednesday. Grey, damp, and warm.

Today is the day I was to have turned Kin Right in to Baen.

I have a bunch of clerical tasks to finish with today, so that’s what will be happening. I also need to chop and freeze onions, figure out if I can freeze lemons, and also sliced deli ham (I went a little nuts at the grocery and bought a fresh-deli pack of black forest ham and another, of baby Swiss, because damn, I miss ham sandwiches). My desire having been somewhat slaked, I realize that I had better freeze what’s left and parcel it out later.

Lunch will be a salad, on account I have lettuce, tomato, cooked potatoes, pickled beets, olives, cottage cheese, and I can have tuna, if the whim so takes me. Breakfast was ham and Swiss on whole wheat with mustard. Third mug of tea is brewing.

The cats have relocated themselves to the front of the house, which is where my office is located. No one is actually in my office with me at the moment, but all are within the sound of my keyboard.

I started reading Longeye last night, and have yet to encounter porn. I will backtrack to Duainfey briefly, reminded as I was by the audiobook company that sought out the Fey Books, signed a contract, and then pulled out, giving as their reason, and I quote: “Chapter Thirty-Seven!”

Now, Chapter Thirty-Seven is … hard. Even very hard. Or, one might say, effective. Not porn, and I contend that no one would have paled, had Our Heroine instead been multiply and terribly wounded in a gun fight, or tied to a post and whipped.

I further note that we apparently have always wanted to talk about Power’s drive to subsume and control Art/Soul/Love/Innocence.

What else?

Ah! A book came across my newsfeed — Falling Forward, which apparently discusses the Myth of Resilience. As someone who still finds herself saying at least once a day, “I can’t do this,” I’m interested in what this book has to say, and I wonder if anyone here has read it, and what you thought.

I think that’s it for the Morning Edition.

Today’s blog post title brought to you by Sail North, “Compass.”

Here, have a picture of Rookie before he jumped up into my chair in the dining room and went to sleep:

Philosophizing with Firefly

Sunday. Sunny and going to be warmer than yesterday, say the ‘beans, but it ain’t there yet.

Firefly and I had a very serious conversation about reset keys and how, no, no one has found a reset key, though not, I imagine, for lack of trying. That means that, no, we can’t get Trooper, or Sprite, or Steve, or Belle back, but that we have Rook and Tali, and while that’s not the same, it’s not necessarily bad.

She’s thinking about it.

Breakfast was flat egg on toast with cheddar cheese slices, followed by a dried pineapple ring, because I was Weak when I was at the co-op the other day, and bought a bag of dried pineapple rings.

Lunch . . . I’m thinking fish — haven’t had fish in a while again — and whatever I’ve got in the freezer for veggies. Peas, maybe.

Today is mostly going to be chores. I’ve done the dishes, and now I need to go sort the laundry and get that started. Also, while I was cleaning off my desk, I found orders to visit the Vampyres, um, a couple weeks ago. So! Vamps tomorrow afternoon, or, yanno, Tuesday morning. They’ve waited this long, they can wait a day longer.

And that’s what I’ve got this early in the day.

How’re you doing?

Tali helped me write this blog post:

Friday wrap-up

“. . . while the Tree cheered rain-lash and lightning.”

I’m not going to remember which convention it was — aside it was a southern con — standing in the Dealer’s Room, describing this scene to Stephe Pagel, and being so very pleased with it. Stephe perhaps more befuddled than pleased, but he Lacked Context.

Also? The black dragon’s last flight . . . those kids (in their mid-50s at the time) could write a sentence or two. Yeah. Wow.

The cats are informing me that it’s Happy Hour, which it isn’t quite, yet. OTOH, a glass of wine would be welcome to the bartender, so Happy Hour it is.

Everybody stay safe. I’ll check in tomorrow.