everybody talks about the weather – Page 13

Thursday’s child has far to go

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How’s your day starting out?

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

The Writer at Work

What went before: Finished reading “Shout of Honor,” and put it to marinate.

A Question Asked; A Question Answered: The “boys in the basement” (sometimes known as “the back room”) are the committee of rowdies that passes for my muse. They drink a lot of beer, eat a lot of pretzels, watch re-runs of Time Tunnel and I Dream of Jeannie on Youtube, and occasionally kick an idea upstairs where I can find it. Astonishingly often, they’re good ideas. I do occasionally have to cut off their beer to get them to focus, but compared to what some of my colleagues have to do to get their muses to focus, that’s minor.

Another Question Asked, and Answered: Phil Jurus was a silversmith down in Maryland. Steve and I bought our wedding rings from Phil, and probably more silver than we could afford at the time. He created the Runes of Roke Knoll. Our wedding rings are engraved with Mette, the Rune for Courage (Sharon) and Illum, the Rune for Wisdom (Steve).

Onward!

Wednesday. Snowing and cold.

Breakfast was blueberry muffin and cottage cheese. Still drinking my first mug of tea. Lunch will be, um. Oh! Potstickers and fried rice. Sounds good, and I can do that out of stores.

Well, I miscalculated. I thought there’d be a dusting of snow on the overnight and I’d just hang in ’til 10 or so and then go to the grocery store. I am not going to the grocery store today. Looking at the list, there’s nothing I can’t get by without for another day, so tomorrow’s adventures will include the grocery store.

I’m still monkeying around with the Pair accounts Steve left. Having finally gotten inside Pair — there’s not even a directory for stevemillerwrites, so that makes that decision easy. However! There are two other domains that I do need to keep: liadenuniverseCOM/NET, even though they’re not manifesting on the internet. So, some of today will be once again making the part of my brain that used to know this stuff, err, work. Ow.

I also need to do some laundry, mostly because I ran through all of my Extra Special Warm Socks, and man, I’m gonna be wanting those.

(I made the mistake of reading a News Summary. Oh. My. Ghod.)

Back to focusing on the stuff I can do something about. I believe I have a starting point and a conceit for the next book. It is not at all what I thought I’d be doing, but ain’t that always the way.

I may take a little chunk of time to go through my jewelry box and look for pieces that may go into a memory necklace, as a reward for bending my brain into pretzels.

In reading matters, I last night finished Seeing Red in Gretna Green and have moved on to Code Yellow in Gretna Green. I’ve been reading Shakespeare: The Man Who Pays the Rent over lunch, and it’s been an agreeable companion. Also, yesterday, I got sidetracked into re-reading “Time Considered as a Helix of Semi-Precious Stones,” by Samuel R. Delaney. It’s been a decade or so.

So, it’s still snowing. And I need another mug of tea.

What are you focusing on, today?

How it started, and how it’s going. Two pictures of Rook, aka Rookie, Lord High Rookifur, Fool of a Rook, Bananabread… The one on the left is from July 2024; the one on the right was taken this morning.

She thought of heat; she thought of time

What went before: I worked on taxes yesterday, which was more challenging than I had expected. It’s not like Steve did the taxes, after all. But, in a normal year, this is the place where I would have started nagging him to get me those items and expenses that I did not have through doing the general house and business accounting. This would have gone on for . . . a while — there was some math involved in how long he would put me off before he believed that I was serious — and then the info would appear.

It just feels really wrong that I — have all that information in hand. Right now, and can proceed with adding/subtracting and filling in the blanks.

Onward!

Wednesday. Sunlight an orange glow behind the trees -9F/-23C. Weatherbeans calling for a high of 18F/-8C.

I’m evaluating my need to go out today. I don’t need anything from the grocery store that can’t wait until tomorrow, and while I really *do* need a haircut, I’ll not be receiving today. I haven’t been to the post office in almost two weeks, but I’m not expecting anything urgent, and the post office lobby, where the mailboxes are, is toasty warm, comparatively. On the other hand, tomorrow’s high of 25F/-4 isn’t going to be *that* much warmer. And on the gripping hand! I do *have* a Big Coat. Heck, I have TWO Big Coats — Steve’s parka, and my knee-length puffer coat.

It may come down to a coin flip at 10 am.

But, first! Breakfast. Which was! Cottage cheese with a side of muffin. And tea. Lunch will be leftover split pea, lentil, and ham soup. Kettle on for second cup of tea.

Cat search update: Three inquiries written; 1 answer in the negative received.

I feel — well, and am theoretically TNC (Theoretically Not Contagious). Hoping to stay that way. Though I will be masking when I go out.

If I don’t go out and do errands, then I’ll finish what I can of the taxes with the information in-house, after which it will be the long game of waiting for other people to get their acts together and send me paperwork.

If I do venture out into The Elements to accomplish my errands, then I’ll possibly take the rest of the day off, or maybe see if I can discover that last scene for the story that’s been in progress far too long so I can put it up on Splinter Universe.

. . . one of the things that’s been coming around on the guitar, as the vernacular has it, is the realization that I have wanted to be a writer since I was aware of “wanting to be” something. This predates Steve and cats, and I got to wondering how common that is, that people have known for their whole lives what they “wanted to be.”

So, I’m throwing it out to y’all — when did you (if you did) realize what you “wanted to be”?

Today’s blog post brought to you by Bill Morrissey, “Birches”

Rook joined me for breakfast. Not that he had any of my breakfast; he likes to sit on my lap while I finish my tea, and take a bath, because, yanno, bellies don’t clean themselves.

Herding Cats

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

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

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

And that brings us to!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What are your plans for the day?

Pay no attention to the cat behind the curtain

What went before: Yesterday was reading, and noting, and diarying, and playing with cats. I transcribed some handwritten documents from the Revolutionary War for the National Archives — which was interesting, as well as relaxing in its way, and also feels like I’m doing something useful.

Moving on. . .

Monday. Cold and said to be getting colder. Snowed on the overnight, but not the 4-8 inches the ‘beans had called for; there’s maybe 2 inches on the front step.

Breakfast was eggs scrambled with potato, tomato, and onion, toast-and-jelly, and tea. Lunch will be ham and pea soup, starting with a can of split pea soup, and some of one of the little canned hams that Steve laid in — yes, I do have Plans to build on that, and will likely wind up with soup for the freezer. The kettle’s on for second cup of tea.

I’m feeling OK — like I’m just getting over a cold. Looking for the plowguy to come by eventually, because I don’t want to have to shovel snow. I do have to do some laundry today, and I want to look at my notes, and also the short story I was trying to write, to see how far I actually got. I have some phone calls to make, but, as it’s a holiday, maybe tomorrow for the phone calls.

I should also review the accountant’s letter, to remind myself of his deadlines, since I have obviously not been working on the taxes this while.

And that’s it for me.

Over to you.

Gamesmanship

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So, that’s my news.

What’s yours?

Nought’s had, all’s spent, when our desire is got without content

What went before: I felt somewhat better yesterday afternoon, and managed to attack the Mess on my Desk. I also finished the second Gretna Green book, and got sidetracked into Shakespeare: The Man Who Pays the Rent, by Judi Dench and Brendan O’Hea, which is being delightful, restful, and shaking some of the dust out of my brain. I haven’t thought about Shakespeare, to actually, yanno, think about Shakespeare, for decades, and I was never an actor, so not only shaking off the dust, but a new perspective, too.

Onward.

Saturday. Grey and warm(ish). If the weatherbeans are to be believed, we’re in for a spate of crazy weather. Temps in excess of 40F/4C are being called for today, with rain starting this afternoon — which is really unseasonable.

But, wait! We are also under a Winter Storm Watch for Sunday, with a possible fall of 6 inches of heavy, wet, snow. After that, we’ll be in the Deep Freeze for a bit, with highs on Monday around 14F and lows around -4F, warming back up into the 30sF by next weekend.

All winter in a week, and a fine thing it is that I was planning on staying in at least until the antibiotics are gone.

Getting back to the order of the day — breakfast! was a use-em-up meal — the last of the tuna fish, the last of the Dreamberries, and whole wheat toast to keep them company. Lunch will beee……oh. I have veggie burgers. Veggie burger onna whole wheat bun with tomato (but not a slice of cheese, curse you, antibiotics!)

I slept in this morning, in part to make up for the hour of hacking my head off at around 3:30am. I’m feeling significantly better than I did last night, so I can almost forgive the antibiotics for taking my cheese away from me for seven! days!

I have some business to take care of here at the desk this morning, but I’m still on light duty — that seems prudent, given It All. It also means, of course, that I don’t have very much to talk about, so!

What’re you doing today?

Blanket buddies:

The cure for anything is salt water

So, yesterday, I looked at the long-term weather, by which I mean, the weather over the next four days, because this is The Changing Land, and one dare not look too far into the future. My climatic explorations revealed that tomorrow, Sunday, the weather was to be warm(ish) (by which I mean 36F/2C) and sunny(ish). The last snow has long since melted off the roads, and the Long Back Yard is showing more grass than white, so driving wouldn’t be a challenge in any way. And I thought to myself, “Self? You could drive to the ocean. After all, we’ve already applied sweat and tears.”

Saturday. Snowing. And so I am taught what I already knew: Do not plan drives in Maine in the winter.

Breakfast was hummus, naan, grapes. Second cup of tea brewing. I don’t have a clue about lunch. Need to stick my head in the freezer and see what’s there.

I should go out today to put gas in the car and grab some milk. Should’ve filled up the last time but one that I was out and about, but I was already feeling not quite the thing and standing out in the cold breeze while the car gassed up didn’t appeal. So, as a consolation prize, I can stand out in the snow. Which — it seems to have stopped snowing for the moment. Nope, started again.

Finished The House in the Cerulean Sea last night. Someone asked me to discuss my reactions. Honestly, it was — OK. A bit heavy-handed, but I can see why it won awards. There’s a whole population of people out there who need heavy-handed and confuse it with art. I did like the kids, and laughed a couple of times at the dialog. Not a Glowing Review, and I wouldn’t have given it a prize, but I’ve certainly read worse. Shaker of salt: Readers of this review will do well to recall that I found The Martian infuriating, though I am assured by All The People that it’s brilliant.

Still Not Writing. This morning, my brain offered a tentative scene, and I did remember to go laLaLALACANNOTHEARYOU! This is much easier to do when you have a co-conspirator who is more than willing to talk at you for hours on end about Name Your Obscure Science or Engineering Theory, and then demand to know what your favorite Danny Kaye movie is. And why.

Today’s chores include the aforesaid gassing of the motorized chariot, finishing the laundry, nibbling at the taxes some more, doing research, and figuring out what’s for lunch. Oh, and choosing my next book to read. That pretty much amounts to a lazy Saturday.

Is your Saturday lazy or busy?

Today’s blog title brought to you by Isak Dinesen, “The cure for anything is salt water: sweat, tears, or the sea.”

If this goes on…

Thursday. Coolish, cloudy, and intermittently breezy. Hoping that the wind dries all available outside surfaces, else we’ll have a skin of ice on everything as the weather starts its slide back into winter.

Breakfast was eggs scrambled with cheese and salmon, rye toast on the side. Kettle on for the second cup of tea. Lunch…soup and a salad is my best guess at this time.

First load of laundry is in the dryer. I may have one more load to do; will look about me.

I had such fun yesterday staring into space and making notes, that I’ll be devoting a sizeable chunk of today for doing the same. Yesterday’s Great Writing Insight was that Shan is the thread that’s tying several, widely separated, story lines together, so, yanno, I’m glad we found a way to get Shan and trade and all that boring stuff that nobody wants to read about back into over-arc.

Which reminds me. This is your Occasional Reminder that! just because an author writes about A Thing, does not mean she “believes in” That Thing. We may for instance, write about discrimination, or clone armies, faster-than-light drives, or — oh, cake! Do we think it’s All Good? Well — no. Or — not necessarily.

For one thing, stories without challenges for the characters to meet — big challenges, little challenges, doesn’t make that much difference, though I prefer a mix — are boring, for the characters, the writer, and the reader. This is why stories have bad guys, or bad systems, or, I dunno, bad plumbing.

But more importantly, writers write about all kinds of things, as those things catch our attention, and we almost always write in the service of our Prime Directive, which is — anybody?

Yes, you, back there in the penguin hat. I’m sorry — wh– Yes, exactly! Thank you.

IF THIS GOES ON.

If a particular situation here-stated continues unchecked — what can-or-might happen? There’s a story in that, and writers live to tell stories.

If I were feeling argumentative, which, believe it or not, I’m not — I might put forth the notion that the important question here isn’t what the writer “believes in” in a particular story, but what the reader takes from it. Who do you think the good guys are? Do you think protected populations and clone armies are a good idea? How about brainwashing as a way to control people who might be “too creative”? And so on. Granted, people — and I include myself, here — are rarely that insightful, but I think those are worthy questions to hold in reserve for introspective moments.

And, all that said — What’s everybody doing today?

Below, two pictures of Steve from January 1 2024, when he’d come into my office to tune his air guitar. (Copilot’s note: These are not sad pictures; this was not a sad occasion, just every day shenanigans. One of the pics is titled “Stevie ‘Guitar’ Miller” which is a play on something or ‘nother from that Other Steve Miller)

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: