coon cat logic – Page 21 – Sharon Lee, Writer

Thursday’s child has far to go

Thursday. Grey and cold. Apparently the snow risked a speeding ticket to get to us by noon, instead of four, as previously predicted.

Breakfast was rice cakes, cream cheese, grapes, tea. Second cup of tea to hand. Lunch will likely come down to tuna melt, because — snow. Also, lazy.

Tali is not AT ALL convinced that I should sing “Me and Julio” along with the radio. Let’s hope they don’t play “Werewolves of London” anytime soon.

Last night I broke a cat food dish — of course one of four that “matched.” The cats don’t care and, sometime when it’s not set to snow a blizzard, I’ll be dropping by the Dollar Store, or Goodwill to pick up replacements, but I hate to break things.

We’ve had a busy few days in Maine, and not in a good way. On Monday, police answered a call of domestic violence, which resulted in a many hours armed standoff. The proximate cause of this situation, Steven Righini, had posted messages ranting against abortion, Democrats, and other Liberal Evils. His hostages were his SO and their baby. Mr. Righini was eventually shot and killed by officers, but not before he had shot and wounded Officer Johnathan Russell and killed his K9 partner, Preacher.

On Tuesday, a guy walked into our local Wal*Mart and stabbed himself in the neck. And, yesterday, another person, not yet apprehended, went into the food court at the South Portland Mall and killed someone.

It would be nice if Karma and the Rule of Three could expedite the paperwork, is all I’m saying.

Ashley’s due to arrive in about an hour to clean. I will be retiring to Steve’s office, as I do, which means it will be open for cat business for the first time since Monday.

I have a big stack of Who Knows What to sort through. This afternoon, I intend to write.

And that’s the news at the start of the day.

How’s your day starting out?

This morning’s cat census. I note that Rook is slightly confused. When I walked into the bedroom, he and Tali were on the bed. Rook was showing his belly and hissing at the same time.

All’s well that ends well, feline edition

Well. Where to start?

Ah. Thank you to everyone who read and kindly donated to “Core Values.”

If you haven’t read the story yet, here’s your link to the introduction, which itself includes a link to the story. You may read the story for free. Those who wish may also donate, to the story, to the site, to the Coon Cat Food Bank, or to the author. A donation is not required to read the story.

Now we can get to the Important Topic of Tali.

Tali found the Guest Parlor too small. Because I have a Very Weird House, I was able, after yesterday’s breakfast, to close off the hallway in which the Guest Parlor is located, closing the door to Steve’s office at one end, and the rest of the house, at the other end. This gave Tali the Guest Parlor, a short hallway, a cul de sac which is glorified as the Laundry Room, and a big window overlooking the Long Back Yard. I also put Trooper in with her, thinking he could share some more pearls of feline wisdom.

This is what that looked like, when I peered in a couple hours later.

After lunch, Trooper and I traded places. I took my laptop back to the laundry room, and sat in the chair I’d moved in from Steve’s office, and finished inputting corrections to “Core Values.” Tali several times leapt into my lap — she gives epic head bumps — and tried her paw at editing the story.

Firefly was still being hissy, and Rook was taking his cue from her, so I visited Tali once or twice on the evening, but my intention was to leave her in Steve’s hallway until at least Thursday afternoon (I had a doctor’s appointment this morning, and Ashley is coming tomorrow morning to do the cleaning).

At 5am this morning, Trooper opened the door to Steve’s hallway, and let Tali out.

I got up, turned on all the lights, and prepared myself to run interference (Tali does not like to be picked up. She will jump in my lap, but she Does. Not. Want. me to pick her up, and I had … reservations about allowing a cat who will not allow me to pick her up roaming the house.). Trooper, however, had appointed himself Tour Guide. He took Tali downstairs, where the Accommodations are (she has a litter pan in the Guest Parlor, but apparently it’s not the best arrangement), he showed her the food station and the cat fountain. He walked her right past Firefly, who was hissing, and Rook, who was likewise.

Since he had it in paw, I got dressed and put the kettle on for tea.

Tali eventually went back to her hallway. I followed her in, closed the door, and sat down. She jumped into my lap, and we had a cuddle while chatting out her first impressions.

I let her out again when I got back from my Annual Wellness appointment (spoiler: I’m healthy).

I must say Tali’s being very smart about integrating herself. She spent some time in the bedroom, and has explored the rest of the rooms once or twice, entirely unfazed by hissing sillies. She offers no aggression, nor does she hiss back; it’s merely nothing to do with her, what those cats are carrying on about.

Occasionally, she goes back to her hallway for a breather.

And that’s where we are right now. Trooper, Firefly, and Rook are in my office with me, and Tali is exploring the living room.

Meet the New Director

The new director is on her way upcoast. I will be meeting her in New Hampshire, and bringing her the rest of the way into the motherland, where she’ll be joining KelimCoons Sooper Trooper, KelimCoons Firefly, and Rook Thunderpaws on the staff of the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory.

Who is the new director?

Her Official Name is Rickooncattery Talizea of Kennebec. She is a red silver tabby/white Maine Coon female, born March 16, 2022. Previously, she worked in kitten production, and is now moving up to administration.

Some of you will remember Kennebec Mozart, who ruled the Cat Farm from November 2003 until February 2015. It happens that Mozart had a litter brother named Kennebec Wyatt Chirp of Lakeffect. Talizea is Wyatt’s many-times great-granddaughter, and Mozart’s grand-grand-&c-niece.

One of Tali’s sons is now the main stud at Kennebec Cattery: Supreme Grand Champion Tollance Berik Jones.

Tali is a petite cat. Her hobbies are sitting on laps, chasing the Siamese, playing with her people, and giving cuddles.

Here is a picture of Tali, and a picture of her grand uncle Mozart:

Book planning and Big Cat update

What went before: Yesterday, as I was staring out the window, my brain informed me that it wanted to write an epistolary Liaden novel. I pointed out that we couldn’t do that, because we were going back to Catalinc Station and the Action! folks, who — while they can write letters — really prefer not to.

Recommencing with the staring out the window, it — finally, some will say — dawned on me that while Diviner’s Bow and Book the Next are — ahem — “unrelated” novels, there’s a character who is leaving the traders and headed for the Station. And that this character not only knows All The Players — he corresponds with them. And the Action folk do write back to him.

I don’t usually like to think about Structure this early in a project (which may be why my first drafts always end up with everything happening on Tuesday afternoon), and I can’t in fairness to the action players have a book that is only letters, but I can use the letters to frame and illuminate the action.

And that? Sounds like fun, which none of the other things I’ve been slinging at the wall, looking for a conceit that will bear a novel, have done.

Also, the letter structure may give me room to do A Thing I wanted to do and shelved, because I couldn’t figure out how to make it fit into a novel set on the Station.

All that being said, I resolved to Sleep On It, and if it seemed good in the morning, I’d go forward.

Going forward!

Friday. Grey and chilly. ‘beans are calling for a high of 36F/2C, following yesterday’s deep freeze.

Breakfast was leftover fried rice. I don’t have one clue what lunch will be.

Today’s Big Ticket To-Do List item is Trooper’s vet appointment. He’s been … off … with many many complaints, so either I’m providing really subpar service or something’s up. I worry; he’s 15, and he’s outlived both his childhood sweetheart, and their daughter.

Speaking of cats. Negotiations have taken a major step forward. I’m awaiting a call from the escort, and it could — could! — be that the new director will be with us on Monday. This will require some finagling in and around the Greater Portsmouth NH Megalopolis, and thus we await that call from the escort, with deets.

The Hybrid Epistolary Novel still sounds good to the me, so! Next step is to open a file and start writing.

That’s all I’ve got; hours spent staring out the window don’t make for a riveting narrative.

What’s your riveting narrative for the day?

Below, a “memory” offered up by the photo app on the phone. Sprite and Steve, sharing a moment.

Herding Cats

What went before: Under Old Business: There have been ongoing discussions between the stakeholders here at the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory regarding whether or not to bring on a fourth cat. This continues a topic under discussion last February before we jumped from the Timeline That Made Sense to our present position on the Timeline That Doesn’t Make Sense.

Yesterday, the question was called, and all present voted ‘Aye’ with the provision that said new hire would be an older cat, which is to say, not a baby kitten, but a retiree or so-called “older” kitten. We also confirmed that said new hire should be a “kind” of cat — that is to say, a breed. This is nothing against shelter cats; Nicky, Hypatia, Kodi, Max!, and Scrabble were all shelter cats. However, it was felt that, with current crew in-house all being Maine Coons, it would be best to stick with a Clan that’s known to be mellow.

The Secretary of the Board has been directed to seek out possible new hires of the breeds Birman, Maine Coon, Ragdoll, Siberian. One such letter was written yesterday, and has received a reply in the negative.

And that brings us to!

Tuesday. Sunny and cold. Trash and recycling — isn’t that much, I’m lazy, it’s cold — so — next week.

Sun is pouring into my office, but it’s still chilly enough to warrant wearing The Big Fleece Sweater.

Breakfast was an English Muffin with seedless raspberry jelly, an orange, and tea. Kettle on for second cup of tea. Lunch will either be leftover soup, or something else.

I feel — fine. I still do have one day’s worth of meds to finish out, and knock wood that will be the end of that.

I’ve written to a cattery that we had spoken with before Steve died, and have a couple more, non-cat-related, letters to write, but today is mostly going to be dedicated to hitting the Tax Paperwork and seeing how much — and what — Stuff I still need before I can send it on to Gary the Accountant.

Firefly and Rook enjoyed an early game of tag, which Trooper opted out of. Trooper is presently on my copilot’s chair, snoring; Firefly went back to Steve’s office, and I believe I saw Rook heading down the hall to join her.

Summing up — a quiet day planned here at the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory.

What are your plans for the day?

Gamesmanship

Sunday. Bright, damp, and warm. As mentioned elsewhere, the Long Back Yard is mostly showing grass, with a little snow, no thicker than a heavy frost, where the house casts its shadow.

We here in Central Maine currently rejoice in a Winter Storm Watch, in which we will start watching the snow fall at around 4pm. Expected accumulations of “heavy, wet snow” are between 4 and 8 inches.

Breakfast was oatmeal, because I Couldn’t Decide and I had gotten up latish and needed to eat SOMEthing. Lunch will be leftover potatoes.

So some of you know that I “play” a game called Finch. I’m not particularly good at it, as the game rewards you for changing stuff up, and I like to get everything the way I like it and then leave it there. It also rewards you for nurturing pets, which I find alternately stressful and irritating. Some of the pets are blobs of jelly, or clouds, or drops of — something? — and I have a hard time relating to them. I’m supposed to be hatching more pets, but I’ve stopped because I don’t feel that I can properly take care of the ones I already have.

Now, I did score a cat a little while ago, and my character, young Perry Wink, has been keeping company with her, and saw her safely from kitten to full grown. Honestly, I’d’ve been perfectly happy to just stick with the cat. But — I also had a baby fox in my menagerie, and a couple days ago I linked him up with Perry to have some adventures.

The pets make sounds — the cat purrs, the blob says, “BLOORP,” the llama says, “llamaLLAMA,” and the fox — howls.

I didn’t know that the fox howled, until this morning, when I rubbed his ears and he did just that.

Rook immediately leapt out of the dining room to the Big Intersection, and froze, ears up, tail straight and stiff behind him, head turning slowly from side to side. Firefly came rushing down to join him and the two of them did a sweep of the dining room, the living room, and the hall.

Oops. Won’t be petting the fox any more, I guess.

In health news, I have now reached the Challenge Stage. Which is to say, I feel — OK. My head isn’t stuffed with cotton, the niggling nasty little headache is gone, my teeth don’t hurt, and I feel like I actually have some energy, and could maybe Think some Thoughts.

However! Having had one relapse, I really don’t want another, and I still have meds to finish out. I will therefore attempt to be Smart this time, and continue with the whole rest thing. I will add the Next Novel Planning Notebook to my cache of couch amusements. Just in case, yanno, I do manage to Think something Useful.

So, that’s my news.

What’s yours?

Doctor, Doctor, Mister MD

What went before: Yesterday was all errands all day. The cover art for Diviner’s Bow is with the framer, and I should have it back by mid-February. There came up for discussion the always interesting question of which band did the superior version of “Good Lovin'” — the Grateful Dead or the Young Rascals. Facebook is leaning toward the Rascals. I now open the question up to those reading here. Here’s the Dead’s version. Here’s the Rascals’ version.

Onward.

Tuesday. Cloudy and cool. Snowed a tiny bit on the overnight. Trash and recycling at the curb.

Woke up sneezing and hacking, so — no sewing circle for me today. Grr. I did mask everywhere I went yesterday, and a good thing too, I’m thinking.

Breakfast was an English muffin with cream cheese and an orange. I only have two of the little oranges left. *adds to list* Lunch will be … um.

Rookie decided to help me choose my day wear this morning, and as a result got locked in a closet for a few minutes. I called him; he answered; and I let him out. It’s nice to have a cat who answers when he’s called.

Having been let out, he had to go get Grandpa to Show Him, I suppose, but neither one could get the door open again.

So, I guess today is stay at home and poke at things, but not too energetically.

I think my next audiobook will be Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day, another frequent reread for me. I finished reading Midlife in Gretna Green last night. I had a good time with it, and there are six (?) more, I hear.

The backbrain has been providing snips of scenes and various insights for the next book, so Not Writing is paying its dividends. I plan to continue Not Writing today.

What are your plans for the day?

In Which the Writer is NOT Writing

What Went Before: Last night, as part of the curriculum of Not Writing, I watched a show on PBS Passport called SAFE HARBORS, which is a tour of 65 Maine lighthouses (I note here that this is not all of the lighthouses in Maine, and also that I’ve been to/seen a surprising number of them). I urge everyone to find this show and watch it (I’m told it’s soon to come to YouTube). It’s not a documentary, there’s no narration, only music and these incredible, incredible views of the lighthouses.

Moving on to!

Friday. Chilly, lots of puffy white clouds moving fast across a mostly blue sky.

Tea brewing. Breakfast will be cottage cheese, corn flat (I’ve forgotten what they’re called — Thomas’ Toaster something. As a substitute for corn bread, it’s not. Next time, I’ll make my own. — and grapes. Lunch — I guess fish and — something.

I see there are as many as half-a-dozen folks admitting to having read Diviner’s Bow — thank you and I hope you had fun. Do remember the spoiler space, and to drop a review at Goodreads or other venue of your choice.

Regarding the spoiler space, I am going to vary. It has been the authors’ policy not to be involved in those discussions, merely releasing messages after a scan for politeness &c. This time, I have a Question Regarding Craft that you, the readers of this particular work, can help me with. So, I’ll be posing my question in the spoiler discussion, and I thank all participants in advance for your patience and your assistance.

Today is another No-I-Am-NOT-Writing Day. This is kind of hardcore, but I’ve got to get my brain back, and the best thing I know to do is Do Other Things. If the weather were more clement, I’d go for a drive, but I think that’s off the table. *looks out window at the wind shaking the crab apple tree* Yeah. Off the table.

What I will be doing is taking down the wreath, which has started to lose needles, and changing out the 2024 moon phase calendar for the 2025. Also, there’s rumors of the June royalties in the bank, so I’ll be doing some cash juggling.

I read an interesting article last night about the Five of Cups, which is typically rendered as a Card of Loss. In traditional decks, the image is of a figure and five cups, three of which are overturned; two remaining upright. The figure is focused on the overturned cups — thus the loss. However, the two unregarded cups, still full, sitting behind the figure, hint that all, perhaps, is *not* lost.

It will surprise no one here to learn that my favorite tarot deck is not a traditional deck, but the Halloween Tarot, which I find both joyful and accessible. In this deck, the suits are Pumpkins (Pentacles), Ghosts (Cups), Bats (Swords), and Imps (Wands).

The Five of Ghosts, then: a central figure, gazing downward, clearly disconcerted or sad; there is a bucket on the ground directly behind him. Around the figure are five ghosts, hovering in a sky with five stars. The ghosts are also disconcerted, following the central figure’s downward gaze. The black cat (which appears in all of the cards in this deck) is in the foreground, looking at the ghosts.

I was at first somewhat alarmed. Playful my deck might be, but it stringently adheres to the Language of the Tarot, and this card varied and not in a good way. It seemed to withhold the promise of those two, unspilled, cups, not only going against the Language, but the spirit of the deck itself.

So, I sat with the card for a while, and it came to me, finally, that one of the ghosts was not focused on the disaster, whatever it was. It was focused on the figure, and its arms were outstretched, as if it would offer comfort. And then, of course, there’s the bucket, sitting quietly — empty or full, but not spilled. The Language remains pure, and the card remains true to itself and the deck.

So, that.

What’s surprised you recently?

Wake-up cat census:

Recovering writer is recovering

Wednesday. Sunny and chill.

Breakfast was rice cakes with cream cheese and grapes. Finishing up first cup of tea. Lunch will be leftover quiche.

The bed has been stripped down to the mattress — which Rookie found very exciting. The spread is drying, which will take FORever; blanket and coverlet soon to be washed. Opened the windows briefly to let the good air in and, hopefully, drive the bad air out. I missed a picture of Rook stretched full length in an open window, head high and proud, his fur ruffled by the (icy) breeze, looking every inch a Winter Lord.

I am feeling much much better, obviously, and yes, I am trying to not overdo myself into a relapse. I do note that I’m still hacking and that I’m going to have to send someone out to get me some more Robitussin, which I forgot to put on the grocery list yesterday.

In reading news, I put Lord Julian aside for the moment; he had been such a good friend in illness that it would be wrong in me to thrust him away in a fit of convalescent pique. I read instead last night from The House in the Cerulean Sea.

The plan today is to perform one’s duty to the cats, finish with the washing, reassemble the bed, and work on the short story — which now has a better, and more fitting, title: “Core Values.” I will possibly find it necessary, as I did yesterday, to break in the middle of the day, and listen quietly to a chapter or two of The Goblin Emperor.

A simple, even a modest, plan but mine own.

What are your plans for the day?

Proof of life:

In which the writer has the flu

What went before: Woke up yesterday feeling extremely awful, and running a stoopid high fever. Took myself to the clinic while I could, and Tests were performed. I’m cleared for COVID, RSV, strep, but! I do have the flu. This, according to the doctor, is what passes for good news, because the flu only lasts “a couple days.” I’m to stay in until the fever breaks, wear a mask if I do go out, and avoid, well, people.

Sunday. Cold and sunny. Predictions are for snow.

Kettle’s on for tea, peppermint and honey. Stirred, not shaken. Breakfast will … likely involve toast. Today will likely be spent in the corner of the couch or in the Command Chair. I wouldn’t say that I’m well (especially since I’m now a sneezy, drippy mess) but I have perhaps turned a corner, because yesterday I was content to just sit and be miserable, and this morning I’m grumpy because I haven’t been *doing* anything.

On the plus side, I have discovered something that’s even *more* boring to talk about than writing.

The cats have been taking this Health Emergency very seriously, piling on all three at once, though I’ll note that the Rookie was left on nursing duty all by himself for a couple hours yesterday. He did very well, initially setting up station in the rocking chair directly across from the couch, later adopting a more paws-on approach, by coming over and sitting on my lap to purr. Boy, that cat has a purr.

So, that’s what’s happening hereabouts today. What’s happening thereabouts?