Tag: coon cat logic

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.

Anything can happen day

. . . came in on the overnight.

Wednesday. Sunny; snow slowly melting out of the trees.

Slow, even very slow, morning. Sat for an hour or more in the window, with Tali, then Firefly, on my lap, trying to decide if it’s Me or the World. Or, yanno, both.

Discussed the matter with Tali, and decided, yeah, it’s both, and with Firefly’s help deleted all of the newsfeeds that come directly into my mail queue (with the exception of the local news, which I need for things like, how long is my road going to be closed to southbound traffic?). I have apps. If I feel like reading the news, I know where to find them.

I also ordered some tea, to top off dwindling supply.

Today is more ordering/straightening. I’m thinking stirfry for lunch.

How’s everybody doing this morning?  Firefly really wants to know.

 

Sunday evening report

So, another restful-ish day. I was, I admit, a little nervous of this activity, but Tali spotted me, and I’m pleased to say that I took a nap! Wow. I could get used to that.

As noted elsewhere, I ripped the guts out of korval.com and crammed the site into a new, very simple template. I still need help with the PHP issue, but I have help on-hand.

I have drafted, but have not mailed an InfoDump — that will likely go out tomorrow before I leave on my perambulations.

And that?

Is all I’ve got.

Everybody stay safe. I’ll check in tomorrow.

Monday evening with laundry

Unh.

Yanno what’s interesting? What’s interesting is that there are Twenty-Five PAGES of Characters/Places/Weird Words/Ship Names for Kin Right.

Yeah. Cutting it down. Good thing I finished writing the book early.

Tomorrow is Tuesday, which is Errand Day, finishing up with needlework, so Wednesday, I’ll get back with hacking down the “Cast of Characters.”

Rookie is demanding Happy Hour and I’m in sympathy, because I’m kinda hungry myownself. Guess the little frozen wontons from the back of the freezer weren’t all that sustaining. Good to know.

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

Earlier today, Firefly decided to do a surprise inspection of the clean clothes:

So you want to be a writer…

So, where are we? Ah. Friday. Cloudy and colder than the last couple days. Haircut scheduled for this afternoon; before that, more reading of Kin Right.

Drafted “Melant’i Refresher for Terrans” to go into the front of Kin Right, pointing to the Cast of Characters in the back. Was reminded in so doing about the dog who was our outfielder back when I was eight or so and playing pick-up baseball at the local rec center. We couldn’t keep the dog off the field, so we made him The Outfielder. He fielded for both sides instead of batting. Helluva outfielder, that dog.

What else?

Rookie got locked in the bedroom closet, and missed breakfast. He’s making up for that now.

I think that’s all I’ve got, really. The Exciting Life of a Writer, ayuh.

What’re you doing that’s exciting today?
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Tali helping me edit in the Command Chair

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So, Kathy talked me out of a buzz cut. After the new ‘do, I walked over to Holy Cannoli and bought two lemon-blueberry ricotta cheese cookies — one just eaten with a mug of tea, and one for tomorrow. I really ought to learn how to make ricotta cheese cookies. Or, yanno, maybe safer not to.

Rook is sleeping in the copilot’s chair at my desk (as different from Steve’s desk), while I take my first stab at a list of characters for Kin Right. This? Is going to be An Undertaking.

Next book, I swear — one character and nothing happens to them.

I have about 100 pages to read in Kin Right, then 200 pages to enter correx into, then finishing up with the cast of characters and so on. The end, as the saying goes, is in sight.

I’m a little less than half-way through Theo of Golden, and the next meeting of the book club is April 20. I did finish reading Balance of Trade, and I’m going to have to take a step back and given some thought to my reading strategy here. If I’m going to be re-issuing the fey books, I’m going to need to read them, so I may have to break off the Liaden read-through for that. In the meantime, books I preordered last year when I foresaw oodles of time to read — are starting to download.

Whee…

Well. It’s good to have things to do, amirite?

New haircut:

She’s all that I have left, and Music is her name…

Thursday morning, quickly. Warm and looking for precipitation of an Undecided Configuration.

Firefly and I had a Very Serious Talk while we enjoyed the Happy Lite, and find ourselves as one on every topic of importance.

Breakfast was oatmeal with semi-sweet chips and almond butter. Lunch will be a garnet yam. In-between will be entering corrections to Kin Right. I’m about half-done with the narrative, after, I need to write a Thing and also the cast of characters. Then? It will be free to leave the building.

One of the things I intend to do, once Kin Right has gone on to its next stop on the publication trail is to reissue the Fey Duology as an electronic omnibus. At the moment, I am leaning toward making it available through Baen only, for completeists. It can’t go up on Amazon, because I can’t cope with the grief they will give me regarding my ownership of the content. Such discussion always made more enjoyable by the off-stage threat that Amazon will delete all of my content if its AI or whoever’s answering the phone today decides that I’m lying.

Sigh. Thus, the Brave New World.

And a phone call! The computer repair shop reports that my printer is fixed and ready to come home. Two hours on the bench; $100. Bargain.

But now? I need to get another cup of tea, Tali having just inspected the mug on my desk and pronouncing the beverage icky — and go make corrections in a manuscript.

What’s happening with you today?
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And! Correx entered. Printer home, where it immediately found and log itself into the home network and printed me a lovely copy of the printer for LUC6.

Well worth $100.

Now to chop up onions and get lunch cooking.
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I used to adore the internet, back in the day before it became a hellhole.

That is all.
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Brought to the top because apparently I needed to say this. In re the internet, and Miller and Lee.

The green-screens were Da Pits, but the connectivity was mind-blowing. We were part of the early BBS networks in the mid-1980s, before we moved to Maine, which was about people connecting with people. Then when we came to Maine, in 1988, and found out there were nothing like it in our part of Maine, Steve got so offended he built Circular Logic, which became one of the biggest and most sophisticated bulletin board systems in the state, (this is still prior to the W(orld) W(ide) W(eb)), which is how we got hooked up with I-want-to-say-Usenet — EDITED TO ADD: FIDOnet — the listserv that went ’round the world, and arrived at Circular Logic at about 2 am every day, and had to be uploaded to the conversation section of the BBS, so people who were talking to their friends in Australia would get their answer in a timely manner, which is how we eventually got connected to Pardoz, who set up the very first Liaden Interest thread that went ’round the world, and so the Friends of Liad were born.

Steve had actually been on … bah. ARPANET? when he was doing online cataloging at University of Maryland, before I met him, in the late 1970s.

Well. Sorry about that. Guess my fingers needed exercise.

 

Today’s blog post title brought to you by Crosby, Stills, and Nash, “Southern Cross“

One foot in front of the other

What went before: Tuesday: So, that was no fun. Woke up sobbing sometime around midnight, apparently so I could buckle down and get the thing done properly. The cats piled on and did their best; Rook left at one point and came back with one of the floppy foxes he uses as wrasslin trainers when Tali don’t wanna, and tucked it under my chin.

Long story short, I finally went back to bed around 7, woke up around 10, with a headache naturally, and all things taken up and tallied, I do believe that today I’m taking one of my banked Sick Days.

Do feel free to talk among yourselves.
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Wednesday. Sunny and going to be warmer.

Slept long and hard, assisted by coon cats. Woke up hungry, but haven’t done anything about that yet. I’m thinking scrambled eggs and sausage are on the menu, as soon as I’m finished here.

Today, I need to go out and run errands. Notably, I need to take the Epson ink jet to the repair shop. The proposition that I do so was not met with Wild Enthusiasm, but an agreement that they could “look at it” and see if it was something simple. If not, printers being so twitchy and hard to fix and all, the advice is that I would be “better off” buying a new one. So, we’ll see, I guess.

Also need to go to the grocery store and probably the post office. Then back home for some more reading of the WIP. Oh, and figuring out how to cancel Cook Unity, instead of just stalling it, which is what I did for this week.

I still have the lingering rags of a headache, and I’m inclined to call Foul, but, hey, maybe breakfast will help. EDITED TO ADD: Breakfast has been et. Feeling much more The Thing.

How’s everybody doing?
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Ink Jet Printers: A Teaching Fable.

Once upon a time, printers were rated as to the number of pages per week they could be expected to handle without having a screaming breakdown. Those printers that could handle a heavy workload, week in and out, were called “office printers.”

We here at the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory legitimately ran offices: we printed letters, and manuscripts, and flyers, and all sorts of things, and because we subscribed to the Asimov Theory of Typewriters (paraphrased): “Always have a spare, and a spare for the spare, because you don’t ever want to be in a position where broken technology means you can’t write” — we each had our own printer and (usually) a printer that still kinda sorta worked, which had been semi-retired, and could be pressed back into service in case Catastrophe Struck.

We bought, in a word, for the Ages. At the moment there are two high-capacity printers in this house, both inkjets, both work horses, neither cheap. Both are, yes, more than 8 years old, because I remember Steve carrying them into this house like they were infants.

In comparison, back in 2012, I went to live for a month at the ocean, where I was going to be finishing the second Carousel book and making a good start on the third. Obviously, I needed a printer, but! I didn’t want to schlepp my good printer to the ocean and risk getting sand in the workings.

So, I went to Staples and I bought, I kid you not, a sixty dollar inkjet printer, which came with two ink cartridges, guaranteeing, I think, 600 pages between them. Subsequent cartridges cost Approximately The Earth. Important Plot Point.

Off to the ocean I went. The Sixty Clam Printer worked flawlessly for the entire time I was away, and I did not stint it. When the month ended, I brought it home, and put it online as a “spare,” mostly to use up what was left of the ink.

Two weeks after I got home, the Sixty Clam Printer died the true-death, without even finishing the ink in the second cartridge. I took it to the local computer recycling joint, and waved good-bye. Sixty Clams owed me nothing, and it certainly wasn’t worth getting it fixed, not with what the home office was charging for ink, and I had a Good Printer at home.

Moral! Not all ink jet printers are cheap pieces of crap that ought to just be thrown away when they develop a glitch. Analysis is worth your time.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk.