everybody talks about the weather – Page 15

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:

There will come the soft rains

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

We now move on to . . .

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

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

One has performed one’s duty to the cats.

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

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

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

And, that’s Monday in anticipation.

How’s everybody holding up?

Cat pics below, to enliven the feed.

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

All Systems Green

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

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

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

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

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

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

The tea tastes good this morning.

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

All systems green, I guess.

What’s everybody got going today?

Crystal World

Wednesday. Raining.

Well. That’s a right mess out there, that is. The steps are glassy with ice. I have administered ice melt. The smart money at the moment is on — Rolanni is staying in today. But, yanno; that could change.

. . . and as I type this, the plowguy arrives. I’m not sure he made anything better, but he’s clearly banking on this 55F-and-rain to clear us back down to a clean slate.

The next time I *do* get out, I’ll need to take on clay cat litter, along with more ice melt. And maybe a wreath. I’ve been thinking it would be nice to have an inside wreath, in keeping with Tradition. Not sure I’m up to getting out Steve’s Tree (it being Steve’s Tree, because his mom had made it for him), but I could maybe set out one of the glass trees. I do like some light in the Dark Times.

First cup of tea is brewing. I’m not sure what’s for breakfast, which condition, in the most recent rewriting of Da Rules, means, “oatmeal.” Da Rule Being: “If you can’t decide what’s for breakfast, it’s oatmeal. No skipping breakfast.”

Anyhoot, after breakfast, I will once again Survey the State of the Grounds, and see if I’m going out, or if I’m calling to cancel my hair appointment.

All other planning depending on the State of the Grounds, I guess I’d better get with breakfast, and! Oatmeal it is.

Update: I’ve decided not to risk my neck — or other important body part — on the ice.

Also, I have Suddenly! Realized! that I can buy a new lighted base for the crystal ball that Steve and I gave each other for a wedding present, back in 1980. The old base had long ago succumbed to leaking batteries, and was discarded. The ball has since graced a shelf in the living room.

* * *

For those who don’t take the Evening Edition, as it were, on Facebook, a small catchup:

Yesterday, instead of doing any of the Useful Things I should have done, I worked on my story. I regret nothing.

The guy, and his helper, did come by and installed all five programmable thermostats, which I then programmed. However, I forgot to hit “Run” at the end of the programation, and the house stayed at 69 all night, which was — kinda nice, actually, but not very efficient of fuel. I have today repaired my error, and the heat should get turned down on the overnight, which, yes, means the house will be cool, but this is after all why I have blankets.

. . . and that’s all the news and catchup, too. Now that I have the whole day ahead of me, I believe that I will — write.

Yeah.

Crystal ball, signed by the artist RW Stephanious (?),1980, given by Steve Miller to Sharon Lee, and by Sharon Lee to Steve Miller on the occasion of their marriage, November 6, 1980.

Winter Living

Tuesday. Snowed on the overnight, and the plowguy is somewhere in my future. Yanno what? Trash and recycling can stay right there in the garage and get dealt with next week.

Breakfast was an English muffin with cream cheese, and one of those little oranges — Peelz, they call themselves. Lunch ought to be fish-and-something. I guess We’ll See.

Fingers crossed that the guy who agreed to replace the thermostats can still do that today.

I did a bit of puttering yesterday, baked some cookies, and inventoried winter gear. I have my winter jacket, Steve’s winter jacket; my Big Coat, and Steve’s Big Coat. So — well supplied there. I also have my gloves, Steve’s gloves (which are too big, but will do in a pinch), and various ear muffs, watchcaps, and scarves. And boots. I have two pair of boots — one short and one tall. Anyhoot — that’s winter sorted.

I wrote to Pair Network yesterday regarding the legacy email accounts. A rep has written back this morning with instructions for closing those mailboxes. Anyone who holds a “korval.com” address for either myself or Steve? Delete them from your address book.

Today, I’ll be deleting email accounts, as above, waiting for the electrician and the plow guy, taking down the window screens in my office, which Firefly has decided are *lovely* to hook her claws into, submit information regarding upcoming publications to the Maine Writers emagazine. I would *like* to look at my story, which was just gaining momentum. Word from Baen is that galleys for Diviner’s Bow will be arriving this week, so I have to consider the fact that I’m going to get interrupted again, RSN.

Last night after Coon Cat Happy Hour, I snuggled under my new blanket in a corner of the couch, which rather quickly accreted cats, put on the big, expensive headset Steve bought for me years ago, and listened to The Goblin Emperor. It was . . . really nice to just sit with my eyes closed and do nothing, except listen. I’m not much good at doing nothing, so that was a revelation. …it kind of reminded me when headphones had suddenly arrived on the home music scene, lying on the floor, tethered to the record player, eyes closed, and there was just — music. I s’pose that’s another option in this Brave New World; I’ve been used to playing music through a boom box, or the devices scattered ’round the house. Well.

So, there’s the news, such as it is.

How’s everybody doing?

Cat census and proof of life: