Tag: health stuff

Snow cats and book drop

Business first:  Tomorrow! CIVILIZED BEHAVIOR: Adventures in the Liaden Universe(R) #36, featuring three short stories set on Colemeno of recent memory, a speech, and an author’s forward will be released tomorrow in ebook from All of the Usual Suspects, and! in trade paper from Amazon.

Wednesday. Trash Day (holiday schedule). Cold and still. It snowed! overnight.

sigh

Breakfast was naan and hummus and grapes. I haven’t had naan or hummus, either, since Forever, but I went to the Other Grocery yesterday (where I got carded*, all 73 years and every silver white hair of me), because I was so tired of the Usual Grocery’s mediocre veggies and fruits, and also because I thought the Other Grocery would be a surer source for turkey fillets.

I was wrong about the turkey fillets, but I may have gone overboard on fresh stuff, and the problematic bottle of wine, and the hummus was right at my eye level as I turned a corner, and they had helpfully staged the naan right with it and — I was doomed. And it made a lovely breakfast, and I regret Nothing.

Today is another Real Life Day — Physical Therapy in a little over an hour, then a visit to the Usual Grocery to get the stuff the Other Grocery doesn’t carry (or, to be fair, that I forgot about yesterday). Then I have some phone calls to make — Fidium again! All three of the — repeaters? — are out, what fun — and then I need to adjust my Anthropic claim on account I have to Prove that Steve is dead.

I hate having to prove this particular equation, though to be fair, I’m not having to do it nearly so often as I had to, last year this time.

Tomorrow is also my last stained glass class, so I hope I’m discovered to be a soldering wizard.

Friday, Sarah will be by in the morning to help the cats clean up, and it looks like after that I’ll have Friday afternoon through Monday morning cleared to write new words.

If I was a smart writer — a point often in dispute — I’d not only work on doing the correx from the six-day sprint, but also sketch in the scenes that need to be written going forward.

I tried to watch TV last night, but had no brain (this is pretty bad, when you don’t even have enough brain left to sit passively and be spoon-fed a story), so I cuddled on the couch with the cats and listened to music until they jumped down for a snack and I went to bed.

So! All that said — how’re y’all doing this morning? Any snow at your place?

Wednesday morning cat census.
_______
*Busted:

Tuesday not dictated

Tuesday. Sunny and cool.

Woke up without pain! Two hours later, I do have a tiny ache, which is entirely livable, and I’m shaking bad, but shaking doesn’t hurt. Onward.

Scrambled an egg with onion, garlic, and sweet pepper, and toasted the last bits of homemade bread to top with sour cherry jam for breakfast. Which is the first thing I’ve been able to make and eat in, um, four days. Yes, I do know how to lose five pounds in four days. Not recommended.

Someone had asked if there wasn’t anyone who could help with the food, and, err no. The issue this weekend wasn’t my usual antipathy to actually making food (I could have ordered in, if that had been the case), but that the pain was so bad, I couldn’t eat. I won’t bore you with how difficult it is to convince yourself to eat two spoonfuls of cottage cheese so you can take the Tylenol, but trust me — No Fun.

I’m still doing Tylenol, and may hit the ache with some CBD lotion on my way back to Steve’s office after I finish this note, which is not dictated, but I’m feeling so much better — I can’t tell you.

Embroidery is still off the table for tonight. Ellen has courageously agreed to drive me to the cancer center (and back!) at stupid o’clock tomorrow, which is one less thing to worry about, and a load off my … back. Am I going to stained glass on Thursday? Let’s get through today and tomorrow first.

I did snatch a moment out of a relatively pain-free half-hour yesterday to painter-tape cardboard to the inside of the Problematic Table. Do I think Rookie will try to go through the no-longer-big-enough space between the table bars, and get stuck again? How do I know? He’s a cat. The best I, a mere human, can do is Plan for the Worst.

I think that’s all the news. I have three more Bits to do for the Sekrit Project, and my inbox and physical desktop are a mess.

The Plan is to make myself another cup of tea, go back to Steve’s office, do the Bits, reassess, and see if settling in with a heating pad and a book is my next best move, or I’m up for More Adventure.

What’re your plans for the day?

In case you missed it, the cats declared Selfie Tuesday

Proof of life and test of technology post

This is a test of the Chromebook voice typing system. We’re having a little bit of a problem, which is to be expected, but I’m pretty sure we can work it out. I did okay last night using my phone’s speech-to-text on Facebook but using the Chromebook this morning is being a little bit of a hassle.

The back pain situation is improving, though less than optimal.  The pain makes it hard to eat, and I’ve kinda been subsisting on toast, breakfast bars and cottage cheese.  I may see if I can get it together to make some tuna after I finish here.  I do need to be safe to drive 130 miles round trip to the cancer center in Brewer on Wednesday at Jupiter clock.

. . .and my electronic friend has rendered ‘stupid o’clock’ as Jupiter clock. Well why not?

The cats did gang up on me and I slept for about 10 hours woken by the noise next door around 9:30 which was the Anderson renewal people coming to put in new windows. I’m guessing that Peter is getting ready to sell.

I’m going to stop the update here i’ve already gotten a little better with the speech to text, but I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to write fiction with it simply because I’m so very bad at talking and the whole process of writing involves thinking and fingers instead of having to run it through the speech centers.

Everybody stay safe.

 

Communique to the Internets

Saturday. Cool and cloudy.

Before we get to the recap, someone — Alma? — had asked how you remove the stabilizer without damaging the embroidery. I had previously used stabilizer, which was impossible to wash out, but! Improvements have been made. The instructions for the stablizier on which the pattern for my embroidered shirt were printed said, “Rinse under a stream of warm water.” So, I took it into the bathroom, turned on the shower and stuck the shirt under the warm water. Somewhat to my surprise, because, I, too had expected A Fight, the stuff just melted away. It took — what? A minute. Then I hung the shirt up and let it drip.

Mind you, it was stupidly difficult to embroider through the stabilizer, which is too bad because apparently the kit-making people have latched onto this as The Answer, and are now sending a bit of linen, a pattern printed on stabilizer, thread, etc. So, the two kits that remain on-hand (both black-cat-themed, what was I thinking?) are both “affix the pattern to the cloth.”

# # #

Feel free to skip from here to the next # # # if you’d rather not hear an elderly lady complain about her old war wounds.

You have been warned.

Yesterday was No Fun At All. I owe Patty Briggs for the timely arrival on my tablet of the chronicle of Asil’s yuletide adventures, which made the day somewhat less bad, but even a beautiful, doomed, ironic man can only do So Much. One does wonder what looms — well, but that would be a spoiler, and we already know what looms.

My back hurt sufficiently that I took the drugs, even though I knew that was probably a Bad Idea, as indeed it was. The drugs make me sick. I know this, but they do also, sometimes, work against the pain. Sadly, yesterday was not one of those days. Tali gave it her All, but even so . . .

At 9:30, I just fell into bed, exhausted, and slept for three solid hours, then off and on in hour-sized chunks. Firefly was on night-watch, and she, too did her All, including smacking Rook off the bed, when he decided that I would feel better if I played. (She did allow him to remain later, when he snuck up and curled against my knee.)

I finally got up sometime after 10:30, took a shower, made myself a mug of peppermint tea and sat down at my desk to write this communique to the internets.

Since the drugs were such a disappointment, I have decided to quit the course. Yes, my back still hurts. A lot. But if this is going to be my life, I guess I’m going to have to learn how to ignore the pain and do what needs to be done though it. You wouldn’t think this would be hard, since I’m pretty good at ignoring various other sorts of pain, but the back pain is my nemesis. So! a project.

Just what I needed.

# # #

My Plan for the day is to find something non-threatening to eat after I’ve finished my nice mug o’peppermint, then go back to Steve’s office and get some writing done.

I have in my in-box two letters from the law firm representing writers in the Antropic settlement, replying to mine of several weeks ago. It looks like I’ll need to get Madame the Agent involved on account of Steve being dead like he is. I’ll look at those again when I’m feeling a little more the Thing.

So, that’s caught us all up. The cats, I believe, are in Steve’s office, and I — am going to make another cup of peppermint tea and a piece of toast, and go join them.

And how’re y’all doing today?

Sunny Friday with embroidery and glasswork

What went before: Finished embroidering my shirt:

Friday. Sunny and coolish.

Slept late because went to bed ditto. Woke up with a backache, because of course I did.

So my glassworking teacher came out and said last night that I had chosen a very difficult design, but that was good, because I could be an Example for the rest of the class. Which I guess is a thing you never outgrow.

Those who have been following along will perhaps recall that I broke the starfish twice while I was cutting it, the second time much less catastrophically than the first. I took what remained of that sheet of glass to class to see if I could be taught better.

The teacher took the glass and the pattern and broke the starfish three times during scoring, all worse than my second attempt, so! keeping my second attempt in the design.

I also learned last night that something that I had subconsciously been depending on — that any errors in scoring could be adjusted in the grinding stage — was … optimism. Apparently, grinding is only for roughing up the edges so the foil will stick, and not a fix for shoddy cutting.

Homework is attaching the foil to all the pieces, which I’ve already forgotten how that’s supposed to go, but that is, after all, why Google gave us Youtube.

I finished reading The Women last night, and am cleansing my palate with Blind Date with a Werewolf before going on to Remarkably Bright Creatures.

I have taken naproxen and baclofen, which is somewhat nerve-wracking, since the last time I had back pain severe enough to hit the drugs I wound up in the ER (because the drugs didn’t work on the pain though they made me plenty sick, and the shot of steroids administered by the clinic kicked my blood pressure into the stratosphere, so not doing that again). So far, neither drugs, nor ice, nor heat seem to be helping, so my next act will be to clean the cat boxes while I can still bend over, and then try to figure out what I can do to keep the pain in the region of “uncomfortable,” the goal being to not wind up, weeping, in the Command Chair.

Standing up and sorta leaning into my desk isn’t actually uncomfortable, so I may work on the Sekrit Project, if I can’t think of anything to do that will actually mitigate the pain. Clearly, wrapping a zillion small pieces of glass in foil is not an option.

Tali has been sitting on me when I sit or lie down, and purring, while Rook takes up a station in the same room. Firefly is off-duty and sleeping in the sunshine in my office.

So! How’s Friday treating you?

Come and take a little walk with me, baby, and tell me —

Q: How many witches does it take to change a lightbulb?
A: Into what?
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Tuesday.

So that wasn’t much fun. The nerve-zapping-via-electrodes was…disconcerting. The insertion of the thin needles was downright upsetting. However! we lucked in that my patience and the number of needles to be inserted came to an end at the same time.

After, I went to Bleeker and Greer, had an early lunch of ham quiche and mocha (yes, yes — indulge me) then came home via Camden, Northport, Belfast.

I’m going to have a snack and get myself in gear to go out to needlework in a couple hours.

Today’s blog post title brought to you by Lonesome George Thorogood, signing Bo Diddley, and coincidentally the song I heard three times today on three different stations. “Who do you love?”

Below, Park Row, in Northport, Maine.

Monday evening update

Did some work on the Sekrit Project, checked the post office box, put gas in the car, went to the book club, hit the grocery store, came home and strung lights. Checked the route to the hospital in Rockport, bought next month’s book club book — Remarkably Bright Creatures — my choice, because — octopus.

Tomorrow I drive to the hospital in Rockport (ref “gas/car”) for a nerve conduction test. I don’t think a visit to the hospital to have electricity run through my body counts as a Writer’s Day Off, even if I do get to drive to the coast. I also want to try to get to needlework tomorrow evening, so — I may be scarce, but fear not! This is The Plan.

Wednesday looks like a free day, as does Friday, Thursday is mostly free, except for glass class, which I will try to go early so I can talk to my teacher about various fixups that probably need to be done.

So! How was your day?

Let there be light.  Left to right — Steve’s Office, Sharon’s Office, Living room

 

 

 

Eek.

These just in…

And gosh it was nice of the UPS guy to throw both boxes into a puddle AND block the front door, AND fail to put said boxes in plastic, even though it’s raining.

 

 

 

And we end the day on a complete mystery.

I went back to Steve’s office to put the new edition of I Dare on his shelf and in doing so, bumped the cloisonne cardinal he had sitting on the shelf, which fell to the floor OR SO I THOUGHT. I cannot find it, ANYwhere. Hands and knees, flashlights, vacuum cleaner — I have no idea where that bird went. My only hope now is the cats, and the hope there is that they won’t destroy it if they do find it.

Sheesh.

Wine o’clock.

Everybody have a good evening.

Gloomy ol’ day with writing and soup

What went before: I think I may have wrassled a working book outta The System. I’ll check again when I get home after needlework.

In the meantime, the hospital decided it had been coy enough and decided to Reveal that it had the orders for the xray of my spine, which — three weeks in the making! — took 15 minutes.

It is, however, done, and I now have tomorrow, most of Thursday, all of Friday to do writing and other needed tasks here at the Confusion Factory. That is, of course, unless I decide that I really have to go to the ocean on Friday. Because a drive to the ocean is always in order.

It is very warm outside in the world. While I was out, I filled up the car and bought nine! dollars! worth of California grapes. I gotta start watching prices closer.

So, I’m checking out for the day.

Y’all stay safe. I’ll see you tomorrow.
#
And the work day commences.  The goal is 1,000 words.  My supervisor is skeptical:

#
Wednesday. Rainy, cool, and gloomy.

Had to frog a scene and rewrite. New material is up for this afternoon. Did a load of wash, because I could.

Taking a break now to make ham and bean soup for lunch — ref rainy, cool, gloomy — and glare at my email.

Got the results of my spine xray and my bloodwork back. I would like to talk to my doctor about what these things mean — remember when you could talk to your doctor on the phone? — but I guess I’ll wait until December.

In slightly better news, I do have a PT appointment in mid-November — in Oakland! (aka 3 miles from my house; 6 mile RT). I was pretty sure I was going to have to drive to Augusta (aka 40 miles RT) for PT, so that was a nice medical surprise. I’m hoping that the therapist and I can put her heads together and get a long-term fix that doesn’t require surgery, because we’re avoiding surgery, we are. With bells on.

The cats have each checked in with me this morning, and Rookie did an hour of supervision at the beginning of the shift, but apparently rewriting is boring.

It looks like, if I’m going to the ocean, Friday is my bet, before next week’s nor’easter. Friday drive to the ocean is therefore inked in for Friday.

So! For those reading along: How ’bout that Bubo? Pretty dern bold, I thought him. Or perhaps I mean foolhardy.

What’s the weather where you are?

We are the keepers of several curses

What went before: One thousand seven hundred and thirty-ish new words, and some plotting. Tomorrow is not looking like a good day to write, and in fact, it may be that Tuesday will simply become a Business Day, since needlework is at 5.

I read 70 pages of proofs, go, me.

I did a little more research into the Braiding thing, and I will not be attending. I had somehow had a picture of people sitting in a circle perhaps, braiding brightly colored string or ribbon or yarn, and telling whatever story arose when it was your turn to tell. It sounded nice, in my head, restful, and intimate.

This is actually not what happens. I mean, there’s a bit where people are encouraged to record their stories. But what they’ll be braiding is hair. And the braids made during the session will be incorporated into a braid sculpture created by the leader of the event, and that? Doesn’t appeal to me at all.

So! I won’t be braiding. I’ll look at the schedule to see if there’s anything else that seems interesting, or maybe, yanno, I’ll just stay home on First Friday. It’s not like I don’t have stuff to do.

It’s dark already, here at 7pm Eastern (US), and I’m really dreading the closing in of the dark. After work — right after Coon Cat Happy Hour — was Us Time for Steve and me. We shared a meal, and wine, played a game — or two — or just read together, catching each other up in comments and in silence. I really, really miss that, and I can’t seem to find anything to fill the empty space that is . . . calm and satisfying. It may get better, once I get at least two of the four writing and writing-adjacent projects out of the way, and can read in the evening again. Right now, I can’t do that, because my day has been filled with too many words already, and my head is ringing with them.

Anyhow.

Everybody have a good evening. Stay safe. I’ll check in tomorrow.

Tuesday. Blue skies, high, puffy white clouds. Chilly it begins and chilly it shall remain.

Trash and recycling have made it to the curb. First cup of tea to hand. I should find something to eat for breakfast. Eh. Tea and free association first.

The first two pair of jeans I put on this morning slipped right off before I could even put anything in the pockets, so I guess 38X34 is no longer a thing. Happily, I have several pairs of 36X34, which are a little loose, but that’s what belts and tuck-in shirts are for.

This morning, after breakfast, another trek to the hospital, for xray and blood draw. Possibly meeting a friend for lunch and a hand-off that’s been months in the making.

Needlework at 5.

Somewhere in-between there, I ought to do business things and read some page proofs. Check.

Today . . . Today is September 30, the day before The Game officially begins. As you are aware, last year I did not play. As you are also aware, the Openers won.

I am this year enlisting on the side of the Closers, and will commence my participation tonight with: “I am a watchdog. My name is Snuff.”

Who’s with me?

Today’s blog post title brought to you by Roger Zelazny, A Night in the Lonesome October, 1993, Avon Books.

Anything Can Happen Day, and it had better NOT

What went before: . . .it is too much; I will sum up. Yesterday, I visited the vampyres, who tithed me two vials, which was enough to make me sick and dizzy for the rest of the day, so nothing of note got done, unless you count new ways to be annoyed with life.

Wednesday. Rainy and chilly.

Especially chilly in Steve’s office with the gaping windows that I wish he would have told me about. But, new windows — actually doors — are coming, so that was a decision well-made.

For those keeping track at home, I’m feeling much better. OTOH, I’ve said that before. . .

Breakfast was oatmeal with cranberries. Lunch will be a chicken burger with a side salad. I have a lot of work to do on the business side of things, so this afternoon will be, um, busy. I do not think I will get to the grocery store today. I’m hoping tomorrow afternoon.

This morning, I wrote +/-1,870 new words. I’m starting to worry that this is going to be a very long book. The only length stipulation in our contracts is “at least 100,000 words,” so I’m taking that as, “Write ’til it’s Done.”

Big IRL victory, here! The FedEx guy actually put the Heavy Box o’cat litter in the garage. I mean, it was done in a surly fashion — dropped directly behind the car and at the very edge of the paving, so I’d be sure to run over it if I hadn’t noticed it was there before backing out. However, I did notice it, and used the push broom to scoot it safely further under shelter, and to one side, so all’s well and all like that.

The cats have been very attentive. Firefly took a half-shift while Tali and Rook attended me in Steve’s office. She accompanied me to the back when I came out to fetch my third cup of tea.

I really don’t have much else to offer. Yesterday was awful, and I am very tired of things that shouldn’t be a problem suddenly being a problem. *shakes fist at Getting Old*

Even though I installed my wordbook in the place where the native wordbook had been on Steve’s computer, LibreOffice is still not accessing them. I mean, it shows me that they’re all turned on, but unless I’m typing unusually well, it’s just not bothering to cross check. Well. Something else for the to-do list.

How’s everybody doing, here at the center of the week?

Hard at work on a rainy day: