everybody talks about the weather – Page 11

Burned all my notebooks; what good are notebooks?

What went before: Home again, with a very large black kitten on my lap, purring like this: Purr. Purr. Purr. Purr.

I have gotten Trooper’s meds. I have taken on another box of Delectables Bisque to hide the meds in. I have sworn at stupid drivers who don’t think that stop signs in parking lots count. I have updated the software in my car. I have determined that the CD player in that same car works (it only plays one CD at a time, but here we are. At least I will have music when the phone is connected to the car, because I can either have the map from the phone speak to the car, OR I can have Sirius XM, but I can’t have both. This is a problem on a long trip, such as the one coming up, because I need both.

All duties having now been discharged, Imma order in lunch for the next three days and then sit down with my WIP.

As predicted, Asian Cafe has provided me with multiple meals, which means I can focus on things other than wondering what the heck I’ll be eating for a few days.

I jumped ahead and wrote a scene that I’ve been thinking about, so that’s 1200-ish words today, bringing the total rough, Oh-so-very rough WIP to +/-20,500. Another 5,000 words gets me to 100 pages, at which point, I’ll print out everything and See What I See.

The weather . . . We’re under an Active Weather Advisory, with snow/sleet/freezing rain said to be starting around midnight tonight and ending for realies around 6 am on Monday. Snow accumulations, it says here, between 3-5 inches; sleet accumulations around three quarters of an inch, and ice accumulations between one tenth and four tenths of an inch.

I’m not liking all that ice, but here we are.

Right now it’s sunny and blue, and all the snow in the Long Back Yard has melted yet again.

Saturday. Snowing. I am drinking a mug of tea.

Woken up just before 6 by an insistent beeping and the cats On Alert. I tried turning off the alarm I didn’t remember setting — that wasn’t it. I told Google to turn off music. That wasn’t it. I turned off the stupid heart phone. THAT wasn’t it. It came to me about then that it was my chest that was beeping.

Now, yes, they gave me an instruction manual, and yes, I read it. But yanno? I didn’t actually remember at 6am and just roused out of a sound sleep what the beeping and the red light meant. It occurred to me, as it must, since I was wearing a heart monitor, that I might be having An Event. Which woke me right up.

Long story short, the monitor was convinced that it hadn’t had skin contact for more than 6 hours and it was needy. The instruction manual suggests removing the tape and installing another monitor.

I did remove the tape, but guess what? I am not replacing the monitor. This thing is going back in the box. It’s been glitchy from Day One and I for one would suspect ANY data it managed to gather in its enfeebled state.

So, I’ll write a note to send with it, pack everything back into the box, and whenever I’m able to get out to the UPS store (Monday? Tuesday?), it’ll be on its way to Boston.

Minus stars. Will not do again.

Breakfast will eventually be a waffle with sausage gravy, probably an orange, and more tea.

On the list today is changing out the cat boxes, and vacuuming the basement. I hope to write, but I may instead make a blanket fort. We’ll see how it goes.

Re the weather — apparently we’re looking for very light amounts of snow today, to soften us up for the BIG storm, which is to arrive sometime tomorrow.

So! what’s everybody having for breakfast?

So, I’m charging Steve’s Chromebook. The plan is to see if I can install the Sirius app on IT, then run it off the car’s wi-fi hotspot, thus allowing me to have both GPS and music while I travel.

fingers crossed

Waffle and sausage gravy was a little bit of all right. Of course, I now have leftover sausage gravy for the ages. Could be worse, I guess.

The cats have been Sorting Out. Rookie was oppressing Tali, and Firefly intervened, apparently tutoring Tali on the one-paw power-smack between the ears, and the Ol’ Knock Him Over and Kick Him in the Stomach Routine.

Firefly and Rook just had a bite together, and Tali is lounging beneath the dining room table. As soon as my second cup of tea is finished, I’m for my chores in the basement.

Still snowing. The City Plow went by a couple minutes ago.

Today’s blog title brought to you by The Talking Heads, specifically one of the songs that Agent of Change was written to, “Life During Wartime.”

Here’s Rook, being appalled that I didn’t save him any breakfast:

They’re rioting in Africa

Friday. Sun behind the clouds, coolish. Supposed to stay that way.

We here in Central Maine stand, battered, snow shovels in hand, beneath a Winter Storm Watch. Heavy snow with sleet predicted from this evening through tomorrow evening. The danger now, aside slick roads and travel surfaces, is ice coated limbs and wires coming down.

Today may be the day the heart monitor goes back in its box and goes home to Boston. It has been progressively losing its mind, but this morning, it wants to be charged. This despite having been charged all night. I moved it into my office and plugged it into another working plug, and still it cries out for life-giving electricity.

I am so done with this device.

I tried to call the cardiologist’s office, and got the It’s Too Early message, which was bemusing, because I’d slept long and hard, and got up late. And yet? It still lacks a few minutes til 8 am.

Well.

I s’pose I ought to get a kettle on for tea and go find some pants.

How’s your Friday starting out?

Following up.

It’s now very sunny in my office. I chose to put on one of Steve’s nice heavy Carhartt flannel shirts, which may prove to be overkill, but is comfy, anyway.

Breakfast was tomato and swiss cheese sandwich. Second cup of tea by my side. Possibly, I will call in lunch. If I order from Asian Cafe, I’ll have enough leftovers to last the weekend.

I did speak with the cardiologist’s office, and, as I was explaining the problem, the heart monitor decided that it was charged. I did some guided punching of buttons, and the device does seem to be working, for very flexible values of “working,” so I can’t get rid of it quite yet, more’s the pity.

The cardiologist’s receptionist wanted to let me know that they were *there* for me until May 28. I asked her what was going to happen after that, and she said, “Oh! You haven’t heard? The hospital –” No, I said, I had heard that. What I wanted to know was what was going to happen after May 28 when I had no cardiologist. “Oh! Call your PCP.” My PCP, says I, is also attached to the hospital. He’s going to be vanishing, too. “Yes. But he will be able to refer you to other doctors. The hospital is working on a plan, but it’s not solid yet.”

By reports, the hospital knew it was going to have to close two years. And yet! They announce a month ago that they’re closing in June, and it has no plan for its patients, for whom they apparently accept no responsibility. Shame on you, Inland/Northern Light. As for referring to “other doctors,” I believe I mentioned here that the Other Hospital is laying off doctors and staff because they, too, are bleeding $$s.

In view of the upcoming weather, I’m going to call the vet and see if I can get another scant jar of prednisone for Trooper. I’ve taken to mixing it in the gravy food, because he hates the syringe and he’s too strong for me to hold when he’s determined. The old system was that Steve would hold the cat and I would administer the drug, but that’s no longer playable.

So, aside from one’s duty the cats, and going out for meds and more of the cat gravy, my plan is to do ASL homework and write.

That’s it. Yes, it’s a boring plan, but it’s MY plan.

Today’s title brought to you by The Kingston Trio, “The Merry Minuet“

After-snow

What went before: So, there’s six inches of snow on the front step, and it’s still snowing. It did stop for a couple hours, and I thought the Big Storm was a bust, but it started to snow again just as the mailman came past and I trekked out to the curb to get my package, which was, indeed, delivered.

I spoke to Martin’s Point, which allowed me to know that neither 0 nor 45 was the correct number of dollars owed the clinic. That number is 35, which I didn’t even know was a choice. The check has been written, and we’ll hope the clinic is better informed than I am.

I made a few inroads into the next ASL lesson. Tomorrow, I fear I will have to go back and review the previous lesson. Though I did today, for two minutes, watch a conversation between two ASL speakers, and understood what they were saying — by which I mean, I wasn’t translating what they were saying into spoken words — so that gives me some hope for eventual adequacy.

I note that the Other — as in the remaining — Hospital serving this area (in Augusta) is laying off staff, citing financial problems.

The WIP — remember the WIP? — currently weighs in at +/-16,580 words, and at this point we’re not arguing if they’re good words, as long as we’re all heading in the same direction.

I have exchanged emails with the Techs of BaltiCon, and also with Mark Van Name, the toastmaster, and my issues in re the microphone have been revealed and are being addressed, which is a huge relief.

I have one more letter to write, then it’s time to relax. They say.

The Garmin watch and I continue to have very different ideas of what constitutes stress. Again, I would have told you that I had a fairly peaceful day. The watch is urging me to take some downtime after a Very Stressful Day. OTOH, its understanding of how well and how much I’m sleeping is much closer to my understanding of these things, so that’s good. And at some point, I’ll figure out how to tell it that I’m taking a walk. Or perhaps I’m simply not energetic enough for it. At least it counts the steps.

Slightly off-topic — how many folks who read here know who Paul Novak was?

Tuesday. Trash and recycling are at the curb.

I woke up slightly early, knowing that there was shoveling before me so I could get the trash to the curb. I was just pulling on my sweatshirt when the door camera jingled and I looked outside to see that the plowguy had arrived. Six inches of wet snow swept away like it was nothing. All hail the plowguy.

After that, it was easy enough to give the trash bags a ride in the toboggan to the top of the drive. Wheeling the recycling bin was a little tricky, but it got there.

Breakfast was oatmeal with cranberries and walnuts and a cup of Republic of Tea English Breakfast that came as a sample with my order. It’s … better than other English Breakfast teas I’ve sampled, but I’m still preferring the Irish. I think it’s the malt.

I thought I might forage today, but — maybe not. It’s supposed to get warm(ish) later, but I’m not really eager to go out in the slop and the mud.

Mostly, then, I’ll be ASLing and writing. I stripped the bed yesterday, so I can throw the bedclothes in the washer and get (slightly) ahead of the game, so that may be a plan.

A reader query has been received, which I paraphrase: Do I know that the world is falling apart, as I sit here and natter about nothing?

Answer: Yes. Yes, I do.

The cats at the moment are dispersed throughout the house: Rook among the toys in my office; Firefly on top of the bureau in the bedroom; Trooper on the rug between my office and the kitchen; Tali under the dining room table, taking up, I may say, most of available space. They make a compelling case for snuggling under a blanket, but maybe I’ll get the washer loaded, first.

What’s everybody got going today?

I Am Remiss.

I posed a Question last night and have failed to give the answer.

Paul Novak was the man who was, in his own words, “put on this earth to take care of Mae West.”

Mr. Novak was born Chester Ribowsky in Baltimore, Maryland. In WWII, he was a navy gunner. After the war, he took to the stage as “Mr. Baltimore,” a wrestler. Previous to joining Mae West’s nightclub act in the 1950s as part of the chorus line, he became Chester Krauser. Mr. Novak was 32; Ms West was 62.

They remained together until her death in 1980 at the age of 87. Mr. Novak died in 1999, at 76.

Poor man’s fertilizer

What went before: Oh, let’s see. Wrote +/- 800 new words, sketched in another scene, did Yet. Another. Timeline off the end of Salvage Right, and I have to ask, Who thought writing a sequel to Salvage Right was a good idea, because We? Gotta Talk.

Finished the laundry, put the sox away, brushed four out of a possible four coon cats, watched a couple How To Play Nice With Your Microphone tutorials, because I have never in all these years made peace with microphones. I have not done my ASL work, and … yeah, I’m not doing it now.

Coon Cat Happy Hour has happened. I’ll need to refill the bowls with dry food before I go to bed or there will be complaints to the Committeecat.

Tomorrow is Monday, and the weatherbeans are calling for 2-6 inches of snow to fall between 10am and 10pm. In Theory a guy is coming by to look at washing the windows and cleaning the rain gutters, but I’m not holding my breath.

Pretty much, I’m done for the day. Gonna make a sandwich, have a glass of wine and find something to read.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Monday. Cloudy and on the road to snow.

Breakfast was the two steamed chicken buns from the freezer. They made a pretty good breakfast, and the orange was a good chaser for the spice. Second cup of tea is brewing. I’m defrosting a beanloaf to have someway or nother for lunch.

Informed Delivery informs me that a package that the vendor rescheduled delivery for twice is suddenly! and literally Without Warning! out for delivery today. This may be what brought the snow to us.

The morning started with tears. Seattle in 2025 Programming wrote to me yesterday reminding me that I hadn’t filled out my panelist information, and — I took a deep breath and let them know that I would not be attending. SunnyJim wrote back very graciously, and — I wanted to go, dammit. I even have enough Amtrak credit to fund half the trip, but reality suggests that the trip alone would unglue me for days, and it’s not much of a con if you’re huddling in your room (which is another Test I’m not ready to take; hotel reservations for Worldcons have become the stuff of nightmares). Steve would have made all this look easy, but that was Steve’s promise before we even moved in together — “I’ll make it easy for you.” Which, granting various definitions of “easy”, he did. (Cue Paul Novak).

I note, a year out, that this New Order still has some massive bugs.

So, that.

Today, aside from the possible arrival of the guy who needs to look at the windows and the gutters, is projected to be a quiet day of homework, writing, and watching the snow. I think I have enough milk left to make a mug of hot chocolate to sip while looking out the window.

What are your plans for the day?

*Today’s blog title brought to you by the Folk Wisdom that snow is the poor man’s fertilizer. Why? you ask. Because snow brings nitrogen down to earth and revitalizes the soil.

Here’s a picture of Trooper to light your way today.

Big wind, tiny void

Big wind tiny void
curls in safety, softly warm
Big wind dies, void sighs
–Haiku off the cuff, Sharon Lee

What went before ONE: And the bread’s out. Not a bad looking loaf, though I got a little carried away with the dusting.

Recipe here

TWO: Big wind blowing. The Teeniest Void Kitten climbed into my lap when it started, and curled up into a knot the size of Rhode Island.

This of course makes it very easy to type.

Ren Zel and Anthora are an … interesting couple.

THREE: What went before: So, I thought I was waiting for a box of bookmarks today, but it turns out that what I was really waiting for was a box full of Ribbon Dance mmps! Coming out on April 29!

In re BaltiCon: People are asking if there will be a Friends of Liad breakfast and/or a Teddy Bear Tea.

The Friends of Liad breakfast, which is not a con event, but a gathering of the clan to share a meal, and to catch up with each other, is definitely possible; the hotel restaurant is able to accommodate a group. I can’t tell you when, because I need to find what my schedule will be.

Teddy Bear Tea: is traditionally a con event, and therefore vulnerable, as all events, to the necessities of the program.

Bottom Line: I don’t have any information to share until I get together with BaltiCon Programming, and their schedule is finalized.

Summing Up: Watch the skies.

Saturday. Sunny and gonna get warm. Monday, say the weatherbeans, it will snow.

Breakfast was naan, hummus, and a mini-orange. Second cup of tea to hand. Lunch is on the knees of Zao Shen.

This morning, I need to change the strip that keeps the heart monitor stuck to my chest. No, I am not happy about this.

After that — we’ll see. Maybe I’ll go for a ride, being as it’s gonna be so warm and all. I haven’t been to Belfast since forever. Maybe get lunch at the coop. That could work.

In other news, and in the spirit of saving the best for last — it comes about that the anniversary edition of I DARE will be published by Baen in December. Here’s the new cover; art by Sam Kennedy.

Baby, you want the forgivin’ kind and that’s just not my style

What went before: Everything checked off the to-do list except homework. Which is why homework needs to happen in the morning, and after-lunch is writing time.

We’ll figure it out.

Tomorrow, we are to have rain. I will be staying in. The cats have planned a quiet day of napping in honor of St. Gertrude.

And with all that said, and Coon Cat Happy Hour coming right up!

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

. . .

A blessed St. Gertrude’s day to all.

Monday. Raining. Flooding is in our future, though probably not in my personal future, the river being Way Down THERE. One small patch of snow remains in the Long Back Yard.

Breakfast was rice cakes with cream cheese and the last of the sad, black grapes. First cup of tea is well underway. I have a can of tuna and a can of tomato soup. I believe lunch has been decided.

Today is the Actual Anniversary — five years since my mastectomy. About now On That Day, I would have been getting injected with mercury or some such item, much to Steve’s horror, so I could be placed into a machine that would map my innards, pre-op. I remember the tech administering the shot telling me it would hurt. She wasn’t wrong.

The Garmin watch continues to please, even as it adds to the day’s puzzles. Yesterday, I would have — in fact, I believe I did — tell you that I had a mostly quiet and peaceful day, munching through my to-do list, and writing.

Around 8:00, my watch sent me a very kind message, telling me that I had had a Very Stressful Day, poor dear, and should consider relaxing now.

I’ll be interested to see how this plays out, going forward. It may be that the watch and I have Very Different Takes on Stress.

Today, my choice is either to go back to bed or write, so I believe I will write.

What are your choices today?

Today’s blog title brought to you by Bachman-Turner Overdrive, a Canadian band, for no reason other than the fact that I’m listening to the radio and the DJ just said that he had never thought of the band as Canadian. OHkay. Anyhow, if you need to get moving, as who does not: “Let it Ride.”

Below, a picture of the Hall Blockers Cadets St. Gertrude’s Day project:

Tali’s natal day, clockwork edition

What went before: Well. My watch is updating. I am not accustomed to the watch being my main point of information, so that will be a change. Also, some things that are I guess supposed to be intuitive — aren’t. Like, yanno, putting on the band. I did finally figure it out, but Jeez Louise as somebody once said.

I did get my reading of the WIP done, despite It All. It’s not Terrible, there are some things that are in the wrong place, but since I’m trying to match at least three separate timelines so that everybody can arrive at their meeting at the right times, that’s probably, oh, normal instead of evidence of a Descent into Dementia.

Yanno? When I was twenty, I never worried about a Descent into Dementia. Just sayin’.

I should probably go find some cheese to put on a piece of bread, brew a cup of chamomile tea, and take it and my book with me to bed, hoping for a better day tomorrow, which is!

Tali’s third birthday.

Sunday. Cloudy. Well. I suppose I can concede to the Weatherbeans in this. Foggy. I am led to believe that it will be foggy all day, which I suppose is possible, at the rate that the snow is sublimating. The Long Back Yard is more grass than snow. I was just watching a crow sorting through dead leaves and old grass and fly off with a beakful into the Really Tall Pine Tree, so I’ll guess I’ll have new neighbors.

Breakfast was biscuit with sausage and a slice of cheddar with black grapes. Second cup of tea to hand. Lunch will be — yeah, whatever. Maybe a scone.

As planned, I just put myself and my book into bed at 9, and read while I drank my tea. Firefly and Rook joined me in the bed. Tali took the overlook position at the top of the bookcase. The new watch says I had a “highly restorative” sleep of 7 hours and 40 minutes, with lots of Deep and REM, which have been in short supply lately, and probably why I’ve been feeling so tired.

I must say that I’m enjoying Mr. Harney’s Egyptian Chamomile tea. I’m alternating with the Republic of Tea Chamomile Lemon that a friend sent me, which I’m also enjoying. I’m trying to simplify my life, but I really do think that I’ll order in replacements of both.

I am not dizzy this morning, and I’m counting that a win. I am feeling rather meh (Note to Weatherbeans: Some sunshine would help over here), so, as advised by my new notepad, I made a list, and I do feel (a little) better. On the list is a blankie run, changing out the cat fountains, buying cpap supplies, homework, and writing.

Writing may only be working with the correx/additions I identified yesterday, but that still counts. And! one of the benefits of reading your WIP over (and over and over and…) is that engaging with the story produces more story (i.e. You know what’s missing here? Or, happier: You know what comes next?) I don’t know how writers who just start and flame through to the end of the first draft without ever stopping to read what they’ve already written do it, honestly.

As mentioned previously, today is Tali’s third birthday. She has been celebrating energetically, chasing spring, ball and her kid brother all over the house, so much in motion that I am not at this time able to offer a picture of the Birthday Cat. She did come by and check in with Trooper. He muttered at her, she cleaned his ears, then bolted off to discipline Rook.

The new watch is … interesting. It has a lot more functionality than the FitBit, and is much bigger — despite which, it’s lighter and more comfortable on my wrist. The FitBit and I had never had a warm relationship, even before Google decided to try to force me to buy a Google watch by driving the FitBit insane. By comparison, the Garmin (bear with me, people; we all have to work with the brain we have) is calm and friendly. I’m not used to having so much information on the watch but even so it’s easy to navigate, and I can of course add and subtract the information I want to see. I think I did the right thing.

I’m about halfway through Tomb of the Dragons, and having a good time with it. I had to stop and explain to Firefly that these were not Liaden dragons, because they lived in another book. It’s a hard concept, but I think she got it. At least, she blinked her eyes and went back to sleep.

And that’s it from the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory.

So! Who has sunshine where they are?

Now it’s Monday morning

What went before: I may have straightened out the timeline. Maybe.

In other news, I wrote about 1,000 words, recasting a scene impacted by the timeline kinks.

The cats are *not* demanding Happy Hour, and I’m wondering if I just out to let it run out to new-8:00. Hmm.

Also — I re-re-re-&c-read The Thirteen Clocks, which is every bit as silly and beautiful as I remembered.

Monday. Snowing. Of course, it’s snowing.

Breakfast is oatmeal with cranberries and walnuts, with tea. Lunch will have to take care of itself.

COVID shot at 10:30, followed by foraging, since I’ll be in the grocery store, followed by We’ll See How It Goes.

Nothing really more to report.

What’re you doing today?

Cat pictures in lieu of content:

Monday morning you sure look fine

What Went Before: Aaaaaand back from ASL class. I remember a little bit of finger-spelling and some signs, but I’m sloppy, and need to clean up my act. Fun doing something that’s not writing, in any case.

My package from the Royal Mail arrived, however, the Royal Mail thought I was gonna sign for it, and sent me instructions to be on-hand. Our local carrier wasn’t interested in getting out of his jeep in the wet, so he just tossed it in the mailbox. No harm done, and the package is in the drawer.

The cats were in post-Happy Hour places when I came home and were initially startled. Then Trooper got with the program and started demanding to be fed.

I have a glass of wine, and ought to look around for something to feed myself.

Friday. Cloudy and cold. Snowed on the overnight. (All together now, with feeling: Will this torment never end?) Dry ingredients for today’s loaf of oatmeal/wheat bread mixed and coming up to room temperature, while I gird myself to meet the day, and set the kettle to boil.

…continuing…

We here in Central Maine are under an Active Wind Advisory. Hopefully, it will blow the snow off the driveway. OTOH, I’m not going anywhere today. One of the news feeds would have me to know that many folks in York County have already lost power.

Breakfast was one egg yolk (because I need the egg white to stick the oatmeal to the bread crust) and a whole egg, scrambled with leftover tomato, onions, rice, with the last piece of bread from last week’s loaf, toasted. Finishing up my first cup of tea, with Trooper on my lap, purring. Lunch will be fish and something. I’ve fallen off the fish wagon, which is all too easy to do without Steve around to remind me.

There are eleven in the ASL class, plus the teacher. I have homework — practice my ABCs, count from 1-10, which isn’t as easy as you’d think, work out how to fingerspell my last name — *cough* — and the name of the town I live in. Also, there’s a website and I’m to do Lesson One. I may have to teach Firefly how to Sign, because here’s the thing — you not only need to learn how to make the sign; you need to learn how to read the sign when somebody else is talking. Which is Every. Bit. As. Hard as trying to follow a conversation between two native speakers of, oh, Spanish, after having aced your Spanish 101 vocabulary test.

The classroom we’re in has … character. Also, a line of rubber duckies on a ledge above a bulletin board. There’s a podium with stickers all over it — colleges, coffee, sports teams. And a sign up with the duckies that says, PLEASE REFRAIN FROM WHINING. I’m not doing the room justice, really. For me, it’s Just This Side of Sensory Overload, and I have to force myself to focus on the teacher and my fellow students, instead of spacing around to study the Things.

So, that. As reported elsewhere, today I bake bread, ref “last piece” and “toast” above, and also the ASL homework. What else I do — depends.

What’cha all doin’ today?

Today’s blog post is brought to you by Fleetwood Mac, “Monday Morning,” not because it’s Monday morning, but because, in order to pass my very first sign course, 50 years or so ago, I had to sing a song in Sign, and for some reason I chose “Monday Morning.” Yes, I got my certificate.

Oh, I had a debriefing when I got home last night:

Dancin’ in the dark

What went before: So, today’s work revealed to me that the niggling feeling that I had regarding something being off about the timing was, indeed correct. I need to recast a few scenes, but thank ghod I caught it this early in the process. If I’d written half a book incorporating this error, fixing it would have been a Nightmare.

I spoke with Eileen Stevens again this evening; she plans on beginning her narration of Diviner’s Bow this weekend.

Onward.

Oh, let’s see. Thursday?

Thursday. Dim and! It’s going to snow! Bah. BAH, I say.

Breakfast was oatmeal with inclusions of dried cranberry and walnuts. Lunch will be — I took some of that ham and pea soup out to defrost. If it’s gonna snow…

Today’s plans are to make the last of Steve’s bread kits that he squirreled away. This one is for a multigrain loaf. The flours and seeds are all premixed. I’ll be using my own yeast, rather than trust the little packet that came with. So, that should be good.

I have some PR to do, and a couple letters to write. Also, writing. I left myself a V. Cranky Note last night, to wit: WHAT TIME IS IT ON TINSORI LIGHT? Which — wow, talk about a head-scratcher.

Tonight is supposed to be my first ASL class, which is in-person at the high school. I’m hoping the snow just blows out to sea and leaves us to it. That would be nice.

The cats would have me believe that they are Out of Food. This is almost true, and they’ll be due for a refill about lunchtime.

I am still like The Plan that has me driving to Balticon, then stopping at Corning on the way home to do the glass museum for a couple days before coming home. If it still seems good tomorrow, I’ll have some reservations to make.

For those playing along at home: my ears have not fallen off, or turned red or black. I’m cleaning them three times a day, like it says on this sheet of paper here, and turning them per likewise.

This morning so far, Firefly and Tali have played a game of tag; Tali and Rook have played a game of tag; and Firefly has smacked Rook repeatedly on the head. Trooper is napping in the copilot’s chair.

And so it goes. Time to start the bread.

What’s the weather where you are today?

Today’s title brought to you by Bruce Springsteen, “Dancin’ in the Dark.”