Tag: coon cat logic

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?

Begin as you mean to go on

Wednesday. Raining and warm(ish).

The first day of a new year. Begin as you mean to go on.

On this day in history, Steve had just given me his draft of “Familiarity,” commissioned for the ZNB Familiars anthology. I spent the rest of the day reading it, tweaking it, and trimming it.

Breakfast today will be oatmeal, because — have you looked out that window? Lunch will be pre-planned chicken pot pie.

I have some various bits ‘n bobs to do at the computer, as well as some housekeeping (first load of laundry is washing, for instance), and I’ve scheduled some time curled under the blanket with pen and notebook and notes for the next book.

How are you beginning the new year?

Rook at work:

 

 

 

 

 

 

Last Day of 2024

Tuesday. Grey and cool. There is no snow in the Long Back Yard, though there is a skim of ice on the front steps. Trash and recycling at the curb. First cup of tea in hand.

Breakfast is destined to be a PB&J on an English muffin with a follow of red grapes. And more tea, naturally. Lunch — I have so many options for lunch. Really, I’m embarrassed.

So far this morning, Rookie has played fetch — he’s really good at bringing the ball and placing it at my feet — tried to lay claim to the deer antler that has been sitting peaceably on a lower bookshelf for years, and peeled all the sticky notes off of the to-do list. Sigh. A Morning Kitten. *Just* what I need.

I finished *another* book last night — Lord Julian is a quick read, so that puts me at 61 books on the year (57, if we don’t count endless rereads of Diviner’s Bow  and a re-read of Salvage Right). I do have the third Lord Julian on deck, but, really, I’m not finishing that one today.

This morning is sewing at St. Mark’s. This will be my first foray, I hope of many; and I have an appointment with the chiropractor in the afternoon. And that neatly accounts for my day, give or take a chore or two.

This is the last day of a very bad year, and I stand in dread of what next year will bring, because, absent a death or two, it’s looking to be worse.

What are your anticipations for the new year?

There will come the soft rains

What went before:  Yesterday, that being Sunday, I did the needed touch-ups to the paint, baked sugar cookies, visited my embroidery basket, played with and groomed cats, read, and went to bed.

We now move on to . . .

Monday. Raining and warm. Might hit 50F/10C. Fog is rising as the snow sublimates. Spooky ol’ winter, this.

Breakfast was! Braunschweiger (aka liverwurst) on black bread with butter and mustard, because if you’re going to do this thing, Do It Correctly — with an orange for dessert. Second cup of tea to hand. Lunch is still an open question, as I have a choice of leftovers and will also be stopping at the grocery as part of this morning’s errands.

One has performed one’s duty to the cats.

Today’s to-do includes the aforesaid errands: chiropractor, post office, vet (for a bag of Trooper’s Special Sort), grocery store. Also staging the trash for delivery to the curb tomorrow morning, and call the cardiologist to see does he want to reschedule the appointment both of us think would be a waste of time, and start rectifying the 2024 financial records. Other than that, I’ve got a small pile of things I was working at before the galleys disrupted life, and I really ought to get back to them, but I’m not feeling the love. Or the energy. They’ve waited this long, they can wait until the new year.

Yesterday, I did get into my embroidery basket for the first time in forever. Man, I’m all kinds of out-of-practice. But, still, a calming, if not exactly graceful, exercise.

Fans of Rook will wish to hear that he is making very good progress, and taking his responsibilities as a Feline Share Holder seriously. I woke up around 2am, not in the best shape, and thinking that I would just get up. Rook was sleeping on top of the bookscase by the bed. No sooner had I thought the thought, then I heard a THUMP above my head, and then Rook was under my chin, purring. Reader, I went back to sleep.

And, that’s Monday in anticipation.

How’s everybody holding up?

Cat pics below, to enliven the feed.

Today’s title comes to you via Sara Teasdale and Ray Bradbury.

Accidents will happen

Friday. Sunny and Cold.

Went to bed at midnight — not something I’ve done for awhile — and therefore slept until 8. Breakfast was cream cheese on an English muffin with cherries. Second cup of tea at hand. Lunch will be … I have spaghetti left over, and so A Plan is born.

Rook and I have had a miscommunication. He was chewing on my jeans, and I slid my finger into his mouth to make him stop — which is how we’ve been handling “don’t chew on that” for months with no problems on either side. This morning, however, instead of opening his mouth, he bore down, and broke the skin, very slightly. It bled freely and I encouraged that, then cleaned and bandaged. It’s quite a small wound, and Rook is very apologetic. I will be keeping an eye on it.

In other news, I need to at least start changing out the cat boxes this morning, while also not screwing up my back again, so that’s change one each day for the next four days. Slow and steady wins the race. Sigh. I also need to fetch in last night’s mail, but it can warm a little before I undertake the hike across the tundra. The glamour. Truly, I don’t know how anyone survives at these heights.

Mostly, today, I’m going to write, with an eye to finishing the first — well. Draft 2.5 — of the story today. I note that the story has wriggled around sufficiently that the working title no longer fits, so I’ll also be looking for a new title,

And that’s it, from the sunny middle of Maine.

What’ve you got going today?

Today’s blog title brought to you by Elvis Costello, “Accidents Will Happen”

Below, a sunny morning in Maine:

All Systems Green

Tuesday. Snowing. Has been for awhile, and apparently will be for awhile longer. About 3 inches on the ground — or, well, the front step — at Opening Time.

Trash and recycling are snug in the garage, where they will be staying until next week.

Cardiologist appointment canceled by patient. Chiropractor appointment at 2 may suffer the same fate, but I have time to Observe and Refine.

Drinking my first cup of tea and eating a sugar cookie while I think about what’s for breakfast.

Trooper is in Steve’s office, in Scrabble’s Basket. Firefly has been checking out the state of the world from various windows. Rookie is hanging around with me. He, too, wonders what’s for breakfast — no, I misspeak. He has left the desk and is now at the food station, chowing down on crunchies.

Last night, I read for a bit (Alliance UnBound, Cherryh and Fancher), snuggled with cats — Firefly really approves of the new blanket, and has become the most steadfast of my Evening Reading Buddies — then listened to a chapter of The Goblin Emperor before retiring, quasi-early, in anticipation of arising same to attend the cardiologist.

The tea tastes good this morning.

The snow’s pretty. Traffic on the normally busy road out front is very light, and conservative. I’m not going anywhere for the next couple hours at least. My back doesn’t hurt, and I’m not having a panic attack.

All systems green, I guess.

What’s everybody got going today?

A minute a day

Sunday. It’s cold, and very bright. Tiny bit of snow on the ground, which ought to please the Season Purists.

Breakfast was a slightly overdone biscuit with sausage patty and cheddar cheese, with one of the little oranges on the side. Rookie is having the time of his life with the sticker that came off of the little orange and hit the floor sticky side down. … eventually, I’ll have to do something about that, but let the kid have his fun.

Lunch — I think there’s black bean soup in the freezer downstairs. Will forage later.

I was up early and stripped the bed, then got involved in buying audiobooks on sale. My strategy is to buy in audio books that I’ve re-read multiple times. This has thus far netted me, in addition to The Goblin Emperor — Cuckoo’s Egg, The Masqueraders, Brat Farrar, Witness for the Dead, Agnes and the Hitman, These Old Shades, Getting Rid of Bradley, Fakin’ It, The Grand Sophy, and so forth. I was … surprised to find These Old Shades for $0.00/included with my membership, but — OK.

It occurred to me this morning that The Plan Steve and I had regarding replacing the windows in this house — while a Good Plan of its kind — is not something I’m not going to be able to finish. We managed the big windows in the living room, and my office windows. But that leaves a helluva lot of windows left to do, this having previously been a Temple to Lugh. My pockets are not quite to let, but I don’t want to get there. Well. A project for the next owners. I’m sure they’ll thank me for thinking of them.

Today’s To-Do List includes, but may not be limited to! Logging Tyops, re-sheeting the bed, signing the accountant’s Letter of Engagement and getting it ready to mail, baking a batch of frozen sugar cookies, setting up the 2025 electronic accounting — and that may be it. Setting up the accounting is going to be … hard. Depending on how long all this takes, it might be a good idea to re-watch Red One.

So, that’s what’s going on at the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory.

What’s going on at your place?

Below is a picture of Trooper and Firefly simultaneously taking advantage of the snuggly new blanket and holding me firm on the couch.  We get a lot of random gravity fluxes hereabouts, and if I’m stuck to the ceiling, I can’t perform my Primary Function of Feeding Cats, so this is a very practical move of their part.