everybody talks about the weather – Page 12

You can make or break; you can win or lose

Notice: Today’s blog post is picture-heavy. Some days are like that, Mrs. Miller.

What went before ONE: So, here in Maine, where it’s snowing, the US Government has pulled the funds that pay for school lunches in Maine, because there are trans students in school sports, and! it has just pulled correctional funding because there’s a trans prisoner in a women’s prison.

This, according to the US Government’s Speaker to Animals in the service of “protecting women.”

What fun.

What went before TWO: This of course makes it very easy to type…

What went before THREE: Snowing harder. Hands still hurt.

1260 new words today, and that’s the end of the new scene.

Trooper is yelling his head off, which is going to get tiresome RSN, and won’t make Happy Hour happen faster. It’s just — clocks, man. SO disobliging.

I was able to schedule a mammogram at Thayer in September, and therefore cancelled the one at Sebasticook. There were a couple of confusing points, such as — Where do you want the report sent. Which, given my PCP has gone or will shortly go, poof! was a puzzler. I finally recalled to mind my surgeon at the cancer center, so that’s who will receive the report. The other one was — Have your records sent over to us. Oh, yeah, sure. How? Oh, just call their file room, they do this all the time. Uh-huh.

I ended up calling the women’s health department, explaining what I was told and they were able to send the electronic files on while I was on the phone with them.

I also signed a service agreement, which will take care of my lawn mowing and the upcoming winter’s snow removal.

So, yanno — progress made on several fronts. Go, me.

Speaking of progress — I did wash the sheets, but now I have to fold them. So, I guess I’ll do that, and let Trooper yell out here all by his onesie.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Wednesday. Sunny and cold. About 2.5 inches of snow on the front step; trees coated with white. Ref pic below.

The Weatherbeans are calling for sun and 40F/4C today and warmer tomorrow. Already, the snow’s falling off the trees. Friday should be quite pleasant. Saturday and Sunday, you ask? Mixed snow and rain. What else?

Given Conditions, today will be more writing, lucky characters; also ASL homework. I should also Scrutinize my travel arrangements, and nail down an appointment in Corning to make some glass.

Breakfast was cream cheese on rice crackers, with a side of grapes; second mug of tea to hand. Lunch will be soup and salad, because I’m lazy.

On the Fashionista Front, the pearl studs worked out well yesterday, so I may put in the sapphire studs today. They’ll look nice with my green-and-black-check flannel shirt.

It appears that the morning wrassle-and-scream session is now a Tradition for Rook and Tali. They have at it mightily for, oh, six minutes? Then Rook rolls over and shows his belly, Tali licks his head and they go off to their morning nap spots. Cats, man. They passeth understanding.

Oh, another thing to do today. I’ll be attending AlbaCon remotely, if I can figure out how to tell Zambia that.

. . . and that’s really all I’ve got. As a spectator sport, writing is even more boring than chess. No, I misspeak. Chess isn’t boring at all, to an informed onlooker. So I’ve been told. Golf, then. Writing is more boring than golf. There’s a tshirt.

What are you doing today that’s boring?

Here, have a picture of Trooper the Wise. And Grumpy. Can’t forget Grumpy.

Today’s blog title brought to you courtesy of Mr. Glenn Fry, “The Heat is On.”

In which the harpoons are removed

Sunday. Raining, coolish.

Breakfast was salmon cake on multigrain whole wheat bread and the last orange. Lunch will be the chicken breast from the freezer, likely stir fried with rice and veggies.

Yesterday was a V. Quiet Day here at the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory. It did not snow, but it did kind of grumble and sleet and grumble some more, so a good day to be in the office comfy chair with a manuscript and cats scattered about, napping. I wrote 750ish new words yesterday, and I think I have the timeline going forward straight in my head at least, which where we need to start to keep in straight in your heads.

I took the hole-making titanium studs out of my ears yesterday — yes, three days early! Call me a rebel. This was a Rather Difficult Operation. For a minute or two there I thought they were going to be For Always. I did finally get them out, discovering that they’re nothing but little peace-bonded harpoons, which I will not be putting back in my ears, TYVM. I replaced the harpoons with my old and comfortable sterling silver studs, and in a couple days — or, who knows? this afternoon — I’ll put in a pair of “real” earrings and see how that feels.

I bought a new space heater for the bathroom. The ancient of same, circa 2005, will be swathed in plastic and go downstairs with the tower fans, against need.

I also bought a bread slicing guide, since I’m not getting any better at slicing straight pieces off the loaf. This one is notable for being made out of bamboo rather than plastic, has guides for two sizes of slice — East Coast Sandwich and Texas — and has a crumb catcher built in. I’m looking forward its arrival.

The Long Back Yard is Once! Again! snow free, and the snowdrops have doubled their numbers.

I slept short and bad Friday night, so was in bed early last night with my mug of chamomile tea, my book, and three cats — Firefly, who is really getting the hang of this reading in bed thing; Tali, who seems to think she remembers something like this, somewhere else; and Trooper, who clocked out by my knee and wasn’t heard from again. Rook obviously had first shift of night watch. This morning, he was solidly asleep against my back when I woke up.

Today, I’m back with the manuscript, and ASL homework. Dr. Bill at lifeprint.com delivers our homework and you, too, can watch his videos and learn Sign, does something that I really like. He reviews the lesson with an assistant drawn from the off-camera class, but he also hams it up, introduces words that are not in the lesson in his answers, and gives you the feeling of being immersed. The first two lessons, he stuck pretty close to the syllabus, but by lesson four, he’s apparently decided if we’ve stuck it this long, he can pick up the pace.

I will finish my re-read of Night’s Master … probably over lunch. Next book up is another Grace Burrowes, speaking of whiplash — the first in the Bad Heirs series, because I’m a sucker for a Bad Pun.

You are now All Caught Up.

What’s up with you guys?

Sunday morning cat census.

The red basket that Rook’s tucked into has a History. Ten years ago, it was manuscript basket on my desk at the Cat Farm’s previous, country, location. Sprite took it over as a cat basket. Trooper then claimed it — the conflict that decided his precedence is what gave it that Interesting Bend. I bought another box, ceding the first to cats, but then there were two boxes, so Belle claimed that one…Anyhoots when we moved, Steve took the red basket, put a towel in it, and announced it an Official Cat Place. It was used by all of the cats while Steve was still working at his desk. Rook now uses it, and sometimes Trooper.

Physician, have you nothing to ease the pain of living?

What went before: So, Northern Light Hospital in Waterville is trying to refer all its patients to Maine General. I know this because the office of a Maine General Spine Surgeon called me to tell me that I had been referred by someone I’d never heard of for neck pain. In the course of sorting that out, I actually spoke with someone at my PCP’s office, and she did confirm that, not only the hospital, but ALL the clinics, and specialty offices attached to the hospital (with the exception of the continuing care facility on the hospital’s campus) are closing down dead on May 27. This means, among other things that I will be driving 120 miles, round trip, to see a PCP, if one can be found at Eastern Maine Medical. Inland will also happily fix me up with Reddington Fairview, in Skowhegan, which is chronically overworked, or, oh MDI Hospital, which is very nice, but — it’s on Mount Desert Island.

The FAQ on the We’re Abandoning You Page (it’s not called that; it’s called The Transition Page), chirpily informs us that making sure any on-going prescriptions are up-to-date is very important, because the hospital realizes that it may “take some time” for people to find a new PCP.

The hospital also acknowledges that one of the several reasons it’s shutting down is because of staff shortages, so one wonders where the hell they think the people its abandoning are going to find doctors, since a bunch of them are BEING FIRED, and probably moving out of state.

What a freaking mess.

Well.

I guess I’d better make some lunch, hey?

Some time later: Got some reading of the WIP done. Will do more tomorrow while Ashley is here, and I’ve pulled back to Steve’s office to give her room to wield her equipment.

One of the Afternoon Thoughts was that Steve’s cardiologist is going down with the hospital, and that I was glad Steve didn’t have to stress through that. Of course, he’s also my cardiologist, but that seems much less of a *particular* blow. I’ll miss my PCP more. That Thought led to the subsequent thoughts, that I’m glad Steve is missing, oh, yanno, the dissolution of Democracy, and the general demise of the world. I kinda wish I could miss it, too, but — I told the characters I’d do this book for them.

In other news, Trooper is telling me that it’s Coon Cat Happy Hour and he’s pretty nearly right, so I’d better go see if I have enough plates and cocktail napkins, and little paper umbrellas.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Thursday. It’s…raining, and the temps are just above freezing. Supposed high temps for the day in the upper 40sF.

I had taken all the cat toys up from the living room floor and piled them up on top of the ball racer, and put the pile on the sofa so Ashley’s vacuum has a free run. Rook has cleared all the toys off of the ball racer and is playing with it. So, there, Mom! Oh, and now the girls are interested. Photomentary at eleven.

Again! I thank everyone who has left a review for Diviner’s Bow. Keep ’em coming! Also? You guys read hella fast.

Breakfast was sausage gravy on whole wheat/multigrain toast. Kettle’s on for my second mug of tea. Lunch will be — eh. I’ll check the freezer and see if I have any soup. If today’s weather has a Theme, soup is what it’s good for.

Ashley texted that she might be a little late, which, given the weather, is prudent. I’m here until 5:00 anyhoot.

I? Am never going to learn how to count in ASL. Or maybe I mean to say that I’ll never learn how to count fast in ASL. Which is OK. I mean, I don’t particularly count fast in English. I count slightly faster in Spanish, because it became music for me somewhere along the line, and more about matching cadences than counting. Also, it’s my contention that you don’t need to count in sign. If somebody asks you how many kids you have, and you have three, you pat three invisible heads. If somebody asks how many cats you have, you make the sign for “cat” until you’re done.

As soon as I dispatch this letter, I’ll be pulling my work back to Steve’s office, where I’ve activated the heat pump, so it ought to be nice and toasty.

How’s everybody doing today?

Today’s blog title is brought to you by The Star Fox by Poul Anderson. I attribute the quote to Cynbe ru Taren, but it’s been at least 60 years since I’ve read The Star Fox, so I could be wrong. Great quote, though.

Reading and writing and counting o! my

What went before: So, at end of writing today, the WIP weighs in at 23,075 words OR 113 double-spaced pages. It has been printed out and we’uns will be getting together tomorrow to see where everything is, what pieces are missing (I mean, yes, three quarters of a book is missing, but where’s it missing from? Eh? I. Riddle. You. THAT.)

For right now, I’m straightening up the disaster area called my desk, and trying One! More! Time! to learn how to count in ASL. This is not going well. Part of it is that my fingers are none so limber as they were 50ish years ago, when I learned this stuff the first time, and honestly? I don’t remember being taught how to count. How to say stuff, oh, yeah. Number of stuffs? That’s what the “many” sign is for.

I do remember from the past that one of the very first signs we were taught was “Bathroom” In this iteration “Bathroom” is in Lesson Three, which seems — harsh.

Of course, my first sign teacher was herself deaf, and the most practical woman I’ve ever met. I remember when I forgot the sign for “dear” and substituted “deer,” which made sense to me, but not so much to her, and she demanded to know what I was thinking. I explained that they sounded the same. And She. Just. Stared. At. Me. until I meekly asked, “D-E-A-R, how sign?” Whereupon she signed it for me, LARGELY. . . SSSLLLOOOOOOWLY. So I’d Get It.

A major motion picture, that woman. She was born to conquer worlds, and the Luck gave her me.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Wednesday, sunny and warm-ish. We here in Maine once again stand, battered but unbowed, beneath the threat of a Winter Storm.

Before we go any further, the ebook edition of Diviner’s Bow on Amazon has cracked the top ten list for Science Fiction Adventure. So make of that what you will.

Thank you! to those who have starred and! reviewed! *smooch*

So. Breakfast was Cabot cream cheese on Lundberg rice and red quinoa cakes. The Cabot cream cheese was good (better than Philly cream cheese, which I have been bored with for years, but which has been, except for a brief period when a local dairy operation produced its own cream cheese, the only game in town), the rice-and-quinoa cakes were — OK. Not much different to me than their plain rice cakes. Second cup of tea is with me here at the desk. Lunch will be fish of some kind. Maybe I’ll make good on those salmon cakes that I didn’t make last week. That’ll give me leftovers.

Today, I have some work to do on behalf of the Ribbon Dance audiobook, since I’ll be traveling about the time book prep will be going on, but mostly I’ll be sitting with the WIP, reading what’s there, making notes, and hopefully not yelling, “This is hopeless — HOPELESS!” FWIW, I don’t think that’s where we are.

Last night, I started (re)reading Night’s Master (because of course everyone read Tanith Lee Back In The Day), and being soothed by the lushness of it. That used to be a fantasy thing, all that Imagery and soft, unlikely, specific words, told in that dreamy once-removed voice.

I ran out of socks, so I started doing the laundry, and the sun is pouring into my office, making it toasty warm. Rookie had decided to make Tali’s life a misery and a burden, and once again Firefly stepped in on Tali’s side. I’m finding this evolving dynamic fascinating, and to the point. Rookie’s going to be way too big a cat to allow him to be a bully. And the fact that he’s already bigger than Firefly and she’s whaling the Bast outta him is apparently making an impression. I hope he draws the Right Conclusion.

And that’s what I’ve got for the early report.

What’s everybody doing today?

Firefly, during yesterday’s Gala Book Day Celebrations:

Roland, the Headless Thompson Gunner

What went before: 500ish new words, bringing the total WIP to +/-21,750 words.

Knocking off a little early today, mostly because I have correspondence to write and a house to visualize.

Tomorrow, it looks like I’ll be in, unless the weather revises itself again. We have gotten nothing like the pretty bad storm the ‘beans were predicting. So far. It’s supposed to be warm and rain tomorrow, but a lot depends on timing. Right now, it’s looking like Tuesday is my day out, in between Monday’s warm-and-rain, and Wednesday’s — wait for it — snow.

Also tomorrow, I need to bake bread. I bought some harvest grain mix which I’m going to add to the Standard Whole Wheat Loaf to jazz it up a bit. There’s nothing wrong with the Standard Whole Wheat Loaf, mind you; I just prefer something a little chewier.

Tuesday, of course, is Book Day. It may also be a day to take a short drive and test the proposition that using bluetoothing both googlemaps and sirius xm from the phone will result in my having both things, with the map program interrupting the music as necessary. I’ll also see if the car’s map program will speak to me when there’s a CD in play. I would also like to speak to the person who thought that drivers only need a map or music. Must be a non-driver.

In. Any. Case.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Monday. Cloudy and … there’s something weatherly going on outside — frizzling, I guess.

Breakfast was the last waffle with sausage gravy. Waiting for one of my extremely rare cups of coffee to brew. I have a choice of leftovers for lunch.

The dry ingredients for today’s loaf of bread are mixed together, the other ingredients assembled and ready to be added as soon as everything warms up a bit.

Aside the bread, I have a couple of minor tasks to attend to, but today is, one! more! time!, devoted to writing and to ASL homework.

Has anyone here read Alibi by Sharon Shinn? May I have your no-spoiler impressions?

Unless I knock off really early today, or for some reason choose blanket forting, I will not finish the Honey Pot Plot today. But I probably will finish it tomorrow. It’s a spare little trilogy, but I’ve been consistently amused. I am especially amused that the Myth of the Winged Russian has leaked over from RED (now RED One)– and for all I know RED‘s writers got it from somewhere else. The Winged Russian really deserves a place beside Roland The Headless Thompson Gunner. For those who haven’t read it, the first book is Rocky Start, by Jennifer Crusie and Bob Mayer.

I’ve been rotating between reading on the couch in the evening and reading in bed. The cats are trying to work with it, but I get the sense that they prefer reading on the couch, which, after all, has History behind it. Last night was a couch night, and they all four came in to join me. Tali took the top platform of the cat tree, so she could overlook the whole room. Trooper claimed his usual corner of the couch. Firefly snuggled in hard against my hip, and Rook got up on the back of the sofa and put his paw on my shoulder.

And that’s the Monday morning report from the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory.

How’s Monday treating you so far?

Today’s blog title brought to you by Mr. Warren Zevon, “Roland, the Headless Thompson Gunner.”

And the snow comes tumbling from the sky

What Went Before: So, I’m kinda tired, which I attribute to having been woken up and terrified before the day properly began. The heart monitor is all wrapped up with a note detailing its slide into insanity and ready to be dropped off at the UPS store. I’ve written a note to my cardiologist on the portal, explaining what happened. I’ve done some ASL homework, and some writing, by which I mean thinking and also writing 750-ish new words, bringing the total words thus far to +/-21,260.

I’m done for the day. I may monkey a bit with Steve’s Chromebook, but it will be from the corner of the sofa, and under my comfy blanket.

Sunday. Cloudy and cold, but not precipitating. We are now under a Severe Weather Alert, but the probable accumulation of snow has been scaled back to 2 inches. There’s still ice in the forecast, and ice must never be discounted, but the accumulations there, too, have been reduced.

Woke to find two turkeys making an inspection of The Long Back Yard. It’s been years since I’ve seen turkeys in the yard. . . . and I’ve been living here long enough now that I can say years . . .

Breakfast was three little leftover Chinese sweet potato piergoies, with sour cream, and an orange. Finishing up my first mug of tea. Lunch will be leftover drunken noodles (yes, again).

My plans for the day are to perform my duty to the cats, study ASL, and write new words. Also on the list was getting the kitchen trash bagged up and into the garage before the weather started, but that’s been done.

So WAZE. You tell it where you want to go and it decides on the best way and that’s it? There’s no negotiation, other than the really broad AVOID TOLL ROADS and such like? Because while I will happily take 295 out of Maine, I am allergic to taking 95 around Boston, and would rather head west on smaller roads to gain my overnight in Cooperstown. I know this can be done because I have done it, but ship and pilot had a navigator then, and I do not have the route in my head. There was a reason Steve was our navigator. For instance, I know I can get out of Maine via Routes 2 and 4 and pay my respects to Mount Washington, as I did on my trip to Vermont, but I’m not at all certain of my routes beyond.

At this rate I may have to buy a road atlas.

The generator has just come on for its weekly systems check, and my mug is empty.

Whatcha all doin’ today?

Update: It’s begun snowing

Today’s blog title brought to you by Gaelic Storm, “I’ll tell me ma”

Sunday morning census below:

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.