Tag: everybody talks about the weather

The untranslated stars

We have traversed the Longest Day and emerged from the Shortest Night.

Winter is coming.

What came before: All righty, then. Coming up on Coon Cat Happy Hour and I will be joining them this evening.

Following is Facebook housekeeping; not applicable to those reading on other platforms.

Thanks to everyone who has explained to me that Boosting = I pay money to FB. That will not be happening. As to FB giving me money, I don’t recall ever handing over anything like a Paypal link or a bank account number to Corporate, so that’s unlikely to happen, as well.

What I believe I will do is crosspost to groups for a week, and then call a vote. Someone made the very valid point that there are people who only want the Official News, and someone else made the equally valid point that it’s easy enough to skip the personal crossposts. Since I don’t want the Official News people to skip over the stuff they want because I’ve taught them my posts are Mere Nattering, the try-it-and-evaluate system seems reasonable.

ENDS Facebook housekeeping

Writing has happened. Yet Another Chapter-by-Chapter has been put together; some old words have been polished and rearranged. I’m really looking forward to getting to a place where new! words! can happen, but we ain’t there yet.

And that’s all there is from the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

#

Saturday. Sunny and heading for +/-80F/27C. The curtains are selectively open in my office, and the heat pump is already at work.

Slept in, because by the time I went to bed last night, I was exhausted. Chapter-by-Chapter is a Very Useful Tool, but it does take a toll on the brain.

Breakfast was oatmeal and tea. Pork chop and baked beans on-deck for lunch.

We here in Central Maine tremble before an Extreme Heat Watch, said Extreme Heat projected for Tuesday, when heat indexes are expected to approach 105F/40C. The weatherbeans are fair dancing in their excitement. They do so love their Wild Weather.

In news unrelated to anything at all, Perry Wink and his bunny sidekick are visiting Vancouver, where it’s presently drizzling and 52F/11C. Perry is planning to attend the Teddy Bear Picnic in St. Andrews Park this afternoon. If you see him, say hi.

I’m currently reading two books. The first is a fascinating research paper recommended by Alex Picard — Everyone Here Spoke Sign Language, by Nora Ellen Groce, a study of hereditary deafness on Martha’s Vineyard. The second book is The Masqueraders by Georgette Heyer, which I’m having read to me by Eleanor Yates.

In viewing news, I watched the first episode of the second season of Ncuti Gatwa’s Dr. Who a couple days ago. P’rhaps I’ll make space to watch the second this weekend. I must say that Mr. Davies spares no one his scorn in the matter of villains. I’m still trying to settle in my own mind if that’s a bug or a feature.

I spent a little bit of time staring at Cap’n Fish’s website yesterday, but the moving parts defeated me, which means I’ll be shelving that for the present, and will therefore have a treat to look forward to in future.

And that? Is all I’ve got. Today is also a writing day, so I’d better get to it.

What’s everybody doing today?

Today’s blog post title courtesy of e e cummings, “Summer Silence.”

Grandpa Trooper Health Report

What went before ONE: So, Trooper’s home, after having had many sorts of tests. Possibly there’s some very tiny bit of fluid in front of his heart. Maybe? Lungs clear; bloodwork magnificent; not dehydrated; not noticeably anxious at the vet’s; just quietly grumpy. He feasted on chicken baby food while he was there, and was given a long-term steroid shot (since I can’t get him to take prednisone from the plunger — he’s (still) big and strong and doesn’t care who he hurts, while management is down the second pair of hands that used to make this a non-issue).

The soft diagnosis is that he’s just sort of melting away from old cat to no cat. Possibly, we have some dementia, but, again, not acute. The steroid shot is because I observed him to be crying less when he was taking the prednisone, and it’s not impossible that he actually has some joint pain, which is making him fretful and weepy, given his age.

So, that’s the Trooper Health Update. I’ll be taking on some baby food when I’m out tomorrow.

What went before TWO: I got some work done today, but not as much as I wanted. However, I am not working late into the night, but knocking off now, as I am of the opinion that having a more or less regular schedule is, ahem, beneficial.

I will have from tomorrow afternoon through Monday afternoon to work, which is a lovely large wodge of time.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Err — what?

Hmm. Facebook may have made an improvement that actually, yanno, Improves Something. They’ve inserted a step between Write and Post, which doesn’t seem convenient, but it looks like it will allow me to share, say, my Morning Check-Ins with All the Liaden Groups, which might be beneficial.

I’ll explore that further tomorrow, too.

G’nite.

#

Friday. Sunny and already as warm as it’s supposed to get on the day, with an Bonus! high wind advisory.

Rookie got locked in the closet this morning. I had no idea he had even been in the room when I opened the door to get my shoes.

Breakfast was cream cheese on rice cakes, with a side of cherries. Kettle’s on for second cup of tea. Lunch may be a salad. Or it may be fish and a side salad. Something like that.

Mid-morning appointment with the chiropractor, and a stop at the grocery before I get home to take on baby food for Grandpa Trooper.

I’ve been trying to figure out a whale/puffin watch expedition, which is of course an ocean voyage. This means you need to leave from the coast, about 50 miles ThatAWay from the Cat Farm. There’s a very well-regarded tour service — Cap’n Fish by name — based in Boothbay — which is your standard “about an hour” by car.

Cap’n Fish has an Extremely Tempting combined puffin/whale cruise which leaves at 1 in the afternoon and is +/- 4 hours on the water, which means we’re docking 5/5:30. It is summer and the light’s with me, so now I need to think about stamina (and my budget; let’s not forget that). Route 27 is a pretty easy drive, but it’ll be, at the earliest, July and God She knows what the Summer People will be getting up to. Assuming we have any Summer People, of course.

Well. Something to noodle on in-between story bits.

In the meantime, I’m looking forward to next Tuesday. I have a date with visiting family to make glass in Belfast in the morning, when it is predicted to be — technical term — Stupid Hot. I’m hoping for a mediation of weather patterns over the weekend, but the ‘beans seem very certain of themselves on this one.

Other than All of That, I am planning a Writing Weekend, and hoping to move the book along in a forwarder direction.

What are your plans for the weekend?

Cat census:

Doctor on Deck

What went before ONE: All righty, then!

In my small, as yet uninvaded by Marines corner of the US, where it is cloudy, cool, and damp, I did go see the chiropractor, which was good, because back pain had continued escalating, until I was forced to sacrifice one of my precious Meloxicams to stem the pain and it was exactly like throwing a snowball at Hell.

I’m not gonna lie: getting smacked with a hammer in precisely the places I hurt most wasn’t fun. OTOH, the relief was damn’ near immediate. I came home, threw down some muscle relaxants, in order to get ahead of the cycle, got an ice pack and laid down in the bed, where I was immediately joined by Rook in what may be his first solo nursing gig. When I woke up, he was still curled against my knee, and I had Firefly and Tali bracketing my hips, so obviously this was considered a Serious Event by the care staff.

I have another appointment with the chiropractor tomorrow afternoon, but the absence of pain is a benediction, as ever.

I’m out for the rest of the day, obviously, but hope to be functional tomorrow.

Everybody stay safe.

Oh! Someone had asked about my neighbor: I’ve seen him round and about, though not to talk to — so I guess he’s Clearing Stuff Out.

‘night

What went before TWO: The names! The names! Obviously, I knew about the Sasanoa, but Upper Hells Gate and Hockomock have somehow eluded me for 35 years…

Cruise the upper Sasanoa River through Upper Hells Gate into serene Hockomock and Montsweag Bays. These tidal channels connect the Sasanoa River, Back River, and Sheepscot Rivers and once served as the primary rout for transportation between coastal communities like Bath, Wiscasset, and Boothbay. Their brackish waters host abundant fish and wildlife and serve as beautiful backdrops for photography opportunities. — Maine Maritime Museum Tours

Tuesday. Mizzling and cool. Trash and recycling are at the curb. It would be nice if it didn’t rain on one Trash Day so I could finish getting the Winter Boxes out of the garage before it’s Winter again.

Breakfast was oatmeal with inclusions. Lunch may well be the leftover pretend chicken parm.

I am sneezing. Happily my back does not hurt this morning, so I may do so with impunity.

Follow up with chiropractor at 3 today; sewing at 5 (or, really, whenever I get there); grocery shopping after. In-between, one’s duty to the cats, and the work of the house. I could, yanno, throw in a load of laundry, if I’m feeling particularly ambitious.

Two of the cruises offered from the Maine Maritime Museum hit the six lighthouses along the Kennebec River, and, Readers, I Am Tempted, because there’s no other way I’m going to be able to view these lights. All I need to do is figure out if I can cope with two to three hours trapped with strangers and their kids on a tour boat, and what I’m going to do about not burning to a crisp.

Last night, the cats and I finished up Season 1 of Ncuti Gatwa’s Dr. Who, and, having now seen the Whole Arc, I applaud Mr. Davies’ storytelling (yes, yes, I know; y’all are experts on Everything Who; allow me my discoveries in their own time). Firefly Did. Not. Approve. of Suketh. She threw herself onto the couch and aggressively snuggled against my side, purring, and occasionally looking up at me. I had to assure her several times that Ruby would Fix It, with help from the Man Person.

Ah. And today marks 300 days of traveling with Perry Wink in Finch. A melancholy celebration in its way, but, hey — any excuse for a party.

The younger staff members are playing tag in the back hall; Trooper is asleep on the co-pilot’s chair.

Have a picture of the rose bush:

My father says that almost the whole world is asleep

What went before ONE: Litter pans changed out, basement vacuumed, shower had, shopping done (Do I need more jeans? No. But I adore the Starfish pull-ons from Lands End, and? They’re On Sale! Besides, I cleaned out the basement.)

Next up — the midday meal — and then back with the WIP.

For the Record, should there actually be a record — it’s raining like heck.

What went before TWO: The afternoon theme. My question is: why am I awake?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What went before THREE: So, I did not finish reading the WIP today. I did realize that what I have needs to be rearranged, now that I have nearly half of a (technical) book written. Tomorrow, I’ll start the rearrangement. Or, I’ll write the scene that’s missing. Or, yanno — both. Or neither.

I note that, for this book, and against Standard Practice, I made what I’m pleased to call An Outline, in service of the fact that I’m operating on half the recommended brain-power for the writing of a Liaden book.

It has served me well this far, but its usefulness will end as I commence rearranging the segments, which is fine, because I have the middle pretty much nailed down, and A Few Ideas about the ending.

In other words, we’re in pretty good shape, over here in It’s Time to Write Your Novel Land.

I did not take a nap today. This may or may not have been An Error, though I did not make the Definite Error of applying caffeine, which leads me to suppose that this will be another Early Night.

The Coon Cats have been suing for Happy Hour since 4:45. Right now, they’re being quiet, perhaps even Too Quiet, but I’m willing to take a lack of noise Right Now for the probability of Chaos later.

I will append the Outline to the end of this communication, for those who have an interest in such things.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Outline for current WIP
VARIABLE
VELOCITY
TIME
CONVERGENCE
DISPLACEMENT
SOLUTION

#

Honest to ghu, people don’t pay attention.

Here’s Charlie Giguere, flying the Pride flag outside the Silver Street Tavern, which he has done for years (I mean Literal Years: I’m pretty sure there’s a picture of Steve and me standing in front of it around here somewhere, and I was wearing a corset, which is an article of clothing I last wore in 2019. But that year the bullies were too interested in shutting down the bookstore), and only now, he’s getting flack. Like it’s all Brand New, and Charlie Just Got Woke.

It’s not that I want a better class of bully, but the stupid does sometimes burn.

In other news, the Maine Grain Association is sponsoring a Bread Walk in Portland and also an After Dark Bread Walk, which makes me both grateful and sad that I don’t live nearer to Portland. On the 26th, though, there’s the Bread Fair at Skowhegan Fairgrounds, and I may try to make that, absent brain-fying heat.

Where was I?

Ah.

Sunday. Bright and warm.

Breakfast was French toast with strawberries. Second cup of tea is brewing. Lunch may be, um. Maybe I can take a premade chicken patty, cook it in tomato sauce, put it over macaroni and pretend it’s Chicken Parmesan. That could work.

Today is a writing day.

That’s it. That’s all I’ve got.

What’ve you got?

This morning’s blog post brought to you by Abney Park, “The Wake“

Rites of Spring

What went before: So, I’ve read 108 out of a possible 197 manuscript pages. Will finish that tomorrow.

Otherwise, a Very Quiet day here at the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory (except Now, because Trooper is yelling for Happy Hour NEOW!). I am for some reason Just Exhausted, so it will be an early night hereabouts.

I watched “Rogue” last night from Dr. Who. The Doctor did look ever-so-tasty in his Regency duds, though I’m going to be very disappointed in him if he doesn’t find the lad.

Hope everyone has had an enjoyable Friday.

Stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

#

Saturday. Cloudy and cooler.

Slept late. Thinking about sleeping some more, but! Today is change-the-cat-boxes day, so — duty first, then nap, if I’m still So Inclined.

It rained last night — a lot — and the ‘beans are calling for more, off and on, during the day.

Tali and Rook did engage me before breakfast in a vigorous game of Spring, which presently goes like this:

1 Rook and Tali Gather Round, looking up at me Expectantly.

2 I Produce a Spring and show it to them.

3 They wriggle.

4 I throw the spring.

5 They chase it at turnpike speeds (Tali runs faster than Rook, but this isn’t an advantage, as she often over-shoots the target).

6 Rook (usually) recovers the spring (if Tali manages to get to it first, he takes it away from her), and brings it back to me, so I can throw it again.

6a If Tali retains the spring, she bats it around until she loses it, then comes back to me, eyes wide, waiting for me to Produce a Spring. However!

6b The game ends when the spring is lost.

7 VARY: Rook hides the spring and then comes back to me, eyes wide. I go find it and throw it again. This Variation has a three-throw limit or ends when 6b is invoked.

So, that’s the news from the Cat Farm. I note that this time last Saturday, I was driving twisty little roads through tidy Vermont towns in the Pouring! Down! Rain! and wondering if it just made more sense to pull over, buy a house, and never drive anywhere again.

What’re y’all doing that’s interesting, today?

Sunday clean-up

What went before: So Ron Currie’s presentation at the library was interesting. He spoke and read to a Very Full Room of appreciative readers. He chose to talk about culture, history, what motivated him to write the book, and to set it in Waterville’s South End, which was at the time the book is set, largely French. It was a good talk; I learned things. So! An afternoon well-spent.

Came home to answer some correspondence, and now? I’m kinda beat for some reason, so I believe I will leave the form that arrived in today’s mail for a Sunday activity, perhaps with my second mug of tea — flips through questionnaire. Ah. My second and third mugs of tea.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Sunday. Rainy and cool. Argh.

Breakfast was oatmeal with cranberries and walnuts, second cup of tea in process. Lunch will be a fish sammich with, um — grapes.

First thing on the day’s agenda is Basement Cleanup and Cat Box Change Out. After, I can look forward to a lovely hot shower, a pair of soft old jeans, a sweatshirt, and! A lengthy medical form to fill out. I think I have enough milk to make a mug of hot chocolate, if I really want to get decadent.

I also want to finish getting the laptop updated and the duffel bag with my Corning Adventure Clothes packed (the overnight bag for Cooperstown is all set to go). That will leave the Big Wheeled Convention Bag to be sorted out, and a cooler to pack. I should maybe run the car through the car wash, too, just for fun.

All four cats visited me at the breakfast table, as I sipped my first mug of tea and redecorated Perry Wink’s house in Finch. Perry and the pig will be finishing up their tour of the Rain Forest tomorrow, which is the day the pig becomes an adult. I need to decide which “pet” to bring to adult next, or if I’m just going to grab one of the cats send Perry to New York City.

The “pets” in this game, I just … I got a PILE OF ROCKS for a “pet.” I don’t know who needs to hear this, but a PILE OF ROCKS is not a “pet.” It is either a pile of rocks, a portal to another space/time location, or a conduit for magic. That’s it; those are your choices, and you seek to make any of those into a pet at your very great peril.

Yeah, I gave the rocks back.

So, I’m reading The Elusive Earl and Everyone Here Spoke Sign Language. Everyone… continues to fascinate, but I’m getting a little Impatient with the Earl. I liked The Mysterious Marquess, despite the, um, airiness. The chemistry between Lucian and Penelope, the charm of the family that had worked out how to go on even with the head of the household long absent produced a comfortable feel-good air. I was happy while I was reading it, and that’s all we ask of any book.

The Earl, however — not nearly as charming in the telling; I don’t feel the frisson between the leads. It broods, this book. Also, there seems to be an actual murder, if not several murders, to be balanced. Perhaps it’s Scotland. Macbeth has a lot to answer for.

And — fair being fair — I had somewhat assumed that this book would bestow some well-earned good fortune upon our friend the Heir Finder, and I’m somewhat disappointed to learn that this will probably not be happening, at least in this book. I suppose there are still more heirs to find.

I think that’s all I’ve got for the moment; my tea is gone; the skies have opened, and I? have a basement to clean.

What’re you doing today?

Damp and Dim for the Win

What went before: Had a lovely and informative chat with Alex Picard, the narrator for the Ribbon Dance audiobook (coming to you in August!). She was kind enough to suggest the title of a nonfiction book about the deaf communities on Martha’s Vineyard, backaways — Everyone here spoke sign language: Heredity deafness on Martha’s Vineyard, by Nora Ellen Groce — I’m on page 6 and already fascinated.

I also remembered that when we were going on a long road trip, Steve used to take on those tuna lunch packs — which just about saved our lives on two separate train trips over the years — when the train was so late, the various on-board provisioners not only ran out of food, they ran out of booze — so I went out and grabbed some of the tuna things, because Murphy is real, and his Law is the great leveler.

Losing Steve really did tear my brain in half. My memory has never been my most robust mental function, and it’s just gone to wood shavings on some stuff. I’m glad I decided to pack slow, because the act of getting things together to go to a convention is kicking Old Habits to the surface. I guess I should also say, if I don’t immediately remember you at the con — it’s me, not you, and the Ghods of Conventions in Their infinite wisdom give us name tags for a reason.

Tomorrow, I’m taking a break in the early afternoon to go to the library and listen to Ron Currie read from The Savage Noble Death of Babs Dionne. Before and after, I’ll continue to do those chores that will make coming home easier, putter at my packing, study the maps/routes. And not freak out. That’s very important. I even wrote it on the to-do list.

Right now, the first 194 pages of the current WIP is printing out, so I’ll have that ready to read and get back into the right headspace.

It got Quite Warm today; tomorrow is supposed to be significantly cooler, though still springlike.

The coon cats have had their Happy Hour, and are each sitting in an open window, admiring the evening breeze (not the bathroom window — they’re using the Considerably Safer crank windows, in my office).

And that’s the news from the Cat Farm.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

#

Saturday. Damp and dim. Which really ought to be the name of my next band. Or — I dunno. Maybe Damp and Dim reported on those Sites that Wu and Fabricant deemed not worth their time? Though if Wu and Fabricant wrote an entry on Star Well…

… and now you know why writers stare out of windows.

All righty, then! Breakfast was sausage patty and cheese on a buttermilk biscuit, with grapes. I Regret Nothing. Second cup of tea to hand. Lunch is in question, because of the timing of the reading at the library. I will not starve, and honestly? This opens up the possibility of ice cream.

Quitting time got a little extended last night due to Shenanigans on the part of Steve’s printer. By the time I was done clearing paper jams, I was, frankly, beat. Firefly put in a Very Clear Request for reading in bed, so we read read The Elusive Earl until I fell asleep.

Speaking of updates from the road! I will of course have my laptop with me, and I’ll be able to update to Facebook, but I won’t be able to update my blog at sharonleewriter, which is where I point people to for daily updates.

The Plan at the moment is to post to Patreon and set access to Public. This would be easiest for me, and I’ll test the proposition today, to see if Public is, indeed, accessible to anyone who wanders by, and if said merry wanderers of the internets may leave comments.

UPDATE: Only PAID members may comment on public posts, says Patreon, which may actually be the best path, as the moderator will be engaging in Other Activities.

So! Who has Plans today?

Damp and Dim cat census:

Speed bonny boat, like a bird on the wing

What went before: And, the first Steve Miller’s death has killed the Liaden Universe®; the latest book is filler: boring, stupid, and includes icky girl stuff¹ commentary has landed. I’m kind of surprised it took this long. And, no, I did not  seek it out.

Closing up shop for the day.  Dr. Who up in 3…2…1…

Everybody stay safe.

¹<fe>Assuredly the first Liaden book ever to include icky girl stuff</fe>

* * *

So. Did he bring her to that desolate Welsh hilltop on purpose?

#

Tuesday. Sunny and already kind of warm, pardoning the slight, cool breeze. The ‘beans are looking for 70F/21C, so I might actually be able to sit out on the deck for a little while this afternoon in Actual Sunshine.

Trash is at the curb, but not recycling, since there’s no recycling pickup this week, those trucks being needed to haul in the junk for the City Cleanup.

Breakfast was — don’t judge me — leftover mashed potatoes with egg, onions, and cheese. Lunch will be a burger and … something. Or, yanno, not.

I have a letter from the hospital that’s closing next week. It appears that I can fill out a form to see if my PCP will accept me into his new practice — in Bath. I’m required to fill the form in and fax it to the practice, which is going to be a challenge. I note that Bath is, eh, an hour away, maybe?

However, in Actual Good News, the Walk-In Clinic is not closing. At least, not yet.

The letter is dense — in layout and in information, so I’ll be reading it again. I also have a bill from the plumber for the Installation Fiasco, and it is less — even much less — than I had feared. So — qualified good news there.

I’ve some other this, that, and t’other things to look after, and tonight is the second meeting of the fiber craft group at the library.

“My life makes perfect sense: drugs and booze, and violence.” Possibly my least favorite Dire Straits song.

Thanks to everyone for the outpouring of love for our writing, and for Diviner’s Bow. I should perhaps have given a paraphrase warning, and I now let the world know that “icky girl stuff” is romance/relationship content. Which, yes, the Liaden Universe® has embraced — cough — from the beginning, and it always  amazes me that people who preface their Disappointed Remarks on our Sudden Wokeness with “I’ve been reading this series from the beginning,” managed to miss this for nearly 40 years. I can only believe that reading is very difficult for them, and I admire their perseverance.

The windows are open — only not the bathroom window, which will have to do penance for a while yet — and the cats are strategically deployed to take advantage of the Smells Of Outdoors.

Do you know where your cats are?

Today’s blog post title comes to you via Dr. Who (“Kiss-Kiss”), “Skye Boat Song,” the linked performance from Celtic Thunder.

Adventuring for the faint of heart

Convention Business: The BaltiCon Program is now live. Word is that it’s still being tweaked. I was, for instance, double booked for Saturday evening, and have been moved from the panel discussion of how to make your characters relatable. Here’s the link. Note that you can search the schedule by day, and by person, and you can create your own list of things to do and see.

#

What went before: So, that’s 636 new words on the day, along with some retrofitting of old words. The WIP Entire now weighs in at +/-39,597 words.
For a book that has quite a large cast of characters, Salvage Right is amazingly tight, and I have to keep going back and refreshing myself on what happened when and to whom, as well as what was left over.

Also, prep for BaltiCon, including the travel details, and speeches, and reservations at Corning — not to mention the stupidity with the insurance company and! something else that landed on my desk today — is all kind of borking my concentration on the story. Well. Maybe I’ll have time to write at the con.

Yeah, who am I kidding?

The rain has stopped and the wind has come up. Word is that tomorrow will be sunny and beautiful.

We’ll see, she said darkly.

In the meantime, everybody stay safe.

I’ll see you tomorrow.

Sunday In Two Parts

ONE
Oh, my gods and goddesses.

Rookie fell out of the bathroom window.

SPOILER: He’s OK; I’m — a little stressed, and so very VERY pleased that he didn’t run away, but just sat in the garden under the window and YELLED. Firefly and Tali came to get me, both looking very worried, and I had heard a cat calling, but thought it was Trooper singing the song of his people downstairs, as is his habit.

But Trooper was on the copilot’s chair. I ran to the bathroom; the screen was awry and I could hear a cat YELLING. I closed the bathroom door, ran outside — and there was Rook, staring up at the window and YELLING. I called him and he came to me, just like the spoiled kid he is, and I picked him up and told him how brave and smart he was, and brought him back into the house, where we both collapsed onto the couch. He’s only just gotten up to grab a snack.

I pushed the screen all the way out, closed and locked the window. I’ll figure out how to put it back in later.

Offerings to Bast are in order.

TWO
Sunday. Sunny and still a little chilly, though warm enough that I opened the bathroom window for the edification of coon cats.

Breakfast was … eggs scrambled with tomato and onion and rice. I guess I ate about half of it before Adventure overtook me. I hate cold eggs. I did finish my toast and jam. Lunch will be chicken tender and mashed potatoes out of a bag and, oh, peas, why not?

I have a letter to write, but mostly I want to write. I really hope that isn’t too much to ask.

I … am still a little shaky, and so glad that Firefly and Tali came to get me instead of following Rook out the window. I might’ve talked Firefly in, but Tali’d be halfway to the mall in Augusta by now. Fans of Trooper will be pleased to hear that he slept through the entire thing.

So! Who’s up for Adventure today?

Picture of Rook after the fall:

I thought that I heard you laughing

What went before: Bookmarks for Balticon just landed!
Today has been a frustrating day. As much as I declared that it would be a writing day — well. It was a writing day.

Unfortunately, it was a writing day where I realized that I had made a wrong turn, and spent hours trying to figure out (1) where I had gone wrong and (2) how to fix it. I briefly considered chucking the entire manuscript into the recycling bin and deleting all the files.

Then I realized that I was dealing with a crew of rogues and scoundrels and that Seignur Veeoni is, to put it as baldly as possible — Seignur Veeoni.

Which in the present case, is a GOOD thing.

So! 265 new words written today, but the way is clear for tomorrow.

I had salmon on a bed of salad greens for lunch, and there’s broccoli cheese soup left over for tomorrow.

The cats have just finished Happy Hour; I have some dishes to wash, and my own evening meal to forage.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

#

Saturday. Why, look; it’s raining.

I’ve taken to setting an alarm for 7am, as a compromise to getting up at 5am because I woke up, and feeling Aggrieved for the rest of the day. If I know I have an alarm set for 7, when I wake up at 5, I say, “Oh, no, you still have two hours to sleep,” and — that works. Psychology, man.

So, this morning when I arose, dewy and pink, from my couch (I know, I know — terrible image, but who am I to contradict a poet?), I was starving. I was in fact So Hungry that my brain immediately said, “You’re too hungry to eat.”

Have I mentioned recently that my brain periodically tries to kill me?

Yeah, so. Breakfast was naan and hummus, and a handful of dried apricots, because it was quick and could pretend to be nutritious. For lunch, there is that bowl of broccoli cheese soup that I ordered yesterday for lunch, but didn’t want after I ate the salad.

Today is — dare I say it? Yes! flaran cha’menthi, and all like that — a writing day. Seignur Veeoni is on deck. This ought to be Fun. For those values of Fun that apply to writers who are actively writing.

I was visited, serially, at breakfast by Rook and by Tali. Firefly stopped by my chair to have her back stroked, which is Firefly’s schtick; and Trooper is already on duty in the copilot’s chair.

So! What’s the weather at your house?

Today’s blog post title brought to you by REM, “Losing my religion“