Tag: it’s all about the clothes

Would you find me in the stars?

Business First!

1 Today is the Book Day for the Diviner’s Bow mass market edition! Those who prefer this format may purchase from their favorite vendor, and we here at the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory thank you very much!

2 eARC consumers! A Liaden Universe® Contellation Volume 6 is now available from Baen

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Yesterday’s big event was the arrival of my socks, the culmination of a month-long tour of New England:

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Tuesday. Sunny and cold. Sitting in the comfy chair in my office with the happy light looking out over the long backyard, where Snow Devils are dancing in the Sun.

In my quest for rest, I’ve been going back to bed after I wake up at 5:00 or 6:00 instead of going to work, and sleeping for another hour or so. I did that this morning, so I’m late getting the day going.

Checking the mail, I see that B&H thinks my new tablet will be here tomorrow. That will be exciting.

Aside from the Gala Celebrations for the release of the mass-market edition of Diviner’s Bow, I’ll be cleaning up the piles as I’ve been swearing to do for 3 days and looking at the taxes. I’m probably calling the CPA.

An arduous day.

How’s everybody doing today?

Firefly was helping me keep an eye on the Snow Devils.

Dictated to my phone
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Wow, it got late. I guess you’ll either rest voluntarily or rest will come for you.

For those curious about the alpaca socks — I’m never taking them off again. They are soft, they are warm, they are (bearing in mind that I am a Sock Person and not a Socks are the Devil’s Work Person) — comforting.

They are pricey at full-price, so yay! after-Christmas local shopping for the win.

I need to strip the bed and start a load of laundry — any laundry at this point, and then I’ll get with the piles (yes, yes, I keep saying this). Lunch will be canned salmon, veggie, and rice stirfry, Because I Can.

. . . I think I may need some rock ‘n roll music to motivate me. And a glass of cold tea.

Onward.
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Aaand, I stoopidly corrected my email address with an organization where I was chief babysitter for a while, and now my inbox is … annoying.

. . .

Let’s go with annoying.

The SnowJoe is still charged, so the battery doesn’t have to come out to be charged. Which means I have time to acquire a C-clamp, which I thought I had at least three, but I can’t find them, and the crescent wrench won’t open wide enough, nor the groove pliers, and as the problem is hand-strength, tongs is not my tool. I have to depress a button on each side of the battery while simultaneously pulling the battery off of its prongs. And Joe isn’t heavy enough, even with my foot on him, to serve as a counterweight.

I did not, I’ll note, have this difficulty last year.

Getting old sucks. You heard it here first.

I don’t like to leave the battery in Joe, but I guess that’s gonna hafta be how we go.

Lunch will be now, and I do believe it will include a rum ‘n coke.

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Stirfry turned out great. I used some orange marmalade in my stirfry sauce. Also — no rum ‘n coke. A little while ago, a friend gave me a bottle of Barefoot Boy blueberry wine, which announces on the label that it! is! sweet! It’s also very light — 7.5% — and? if you mix it into Sanpellegrino Limonata? makes a really nice drink.

And I? only have one more pile to bring under my dominion.
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Note to self: Do not listen to “Run away to Mars” ever again.

Still working on beating the last pile into submission.

In reviewing my email from B&H Photography, I note that my tablet is supposed to be reaching me tomorrow through the agency of FedEx, so I’m glad I didn’t put any money on that proposition. The original prediction was that it would be here on Thursday, which is fine. The only thing that makes any of this tricky is that — in B&H’s worldview, anyway — I have to sign for the package, and in order to do that, I need to be home.

I say the above with a certain amount of irony. The last time I remember us being told that someone would have to sign for a package was when we had ordered our Edge phones. I was due at radiation and Steve had been driving me, but I assured him that I could drive myself (which I did, so — not forsworn, and we will skate lightly over the dicey bits) while he waited for the package.

Which! — You’re ahead of me, aren’t you? — The FedEx guy blithely left on the steps, and wandered away without even ringing the bell, which is where I found them when I came home.

. . . I wonder if there’s a horror anthology in FedEx stories?
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In housekeeping news, helpful helpers are helping

Today’s blog post title brought to you by the self-same “Run Away to Mars,” from Talk

Crafty Saturday

Going to the craft fair.

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Swag has been taken on.

Also, I may have a source for Tree-and-Dragon cameos. Which might be of interest.

A word about the swag.  The cobwebby thing is a shapechanger.  I don’t know its actual name.  If you manipulate the wand, you can change the relation of the webs to each other, and if you pick it up and hold it in various positions, you have either a flower or an umbrella, or, if you spin it, you can acquire webs again.  It’s amusing, for some reason.  Also, the pine cone leaning against the mug is made entirely of brown sea glass found on Maine islands, and gathered by the artist.

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So the craft fair. It was fun. I want credit for not coming home with the four foot knitted dragon, or any of the many hand-pets present.

Only a couple people shied away from my mixed media outfit — Steve’s leather vest over a purple mock-neck, utility jeans, and pretty silver jewelry, and one person gets a star because I had gone out to the car to get a bag after my first pass through the fair, and it had gotten warm enough that I didn’t need the vest, so I left it behind, and! when I went past this particular table on the second pass and said, “Hello, again,” she said, “I thought you looked familiar, but you were wearing a leather coat before.”

I am presently making cornbread, because I’ve been wanting cornbread for months and I know better than store-bought, and as soon as that’s done, it will become part of my mid-day meal, which I’m suspecting will be leftover chili. The afternoon will be dedicated to writing, as I have, like, three scenes in my head that are clamoring for attention.

Saw my lovely neighbors outside when I came back, and had a chat. They’re having tree work done, and I told them the story of the four ghostly arborists, so they will be calling their arborist, with whom they have a long standing relationship, and adding my trees to the list, and have him come out to take a look. Then, they screwed down a warped board on my front steps and fixed the screen door.

I have The Best Neighbors.

And! The oven just beeped. Best get the cornbread in.

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I should also give an honorable mention to the person who — and her voice was not exactly steady when she said this, “Your jewelry is very pretty.” Also! Bruce? I think it was Bruce. Who delivered Vitamin Dog with Great Gusto.

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One thousand three hundred eleven new words. Give or take. At some point, I need to get with the master file and see where that gets us in a words-to-story kind of way.

Also read +/- 50 pages of page proofs for Diviner’s Bow mmp.

The cats are at Happy Hour and I am a tired woman. Going out, seeing the neighbors, and spending money is fun, but expensive of energy. Not to mention the other stuff.

Tomorrow, I resume the get up and get writin’ schedule.

Everybody have a good evening. Stay safe.

I’ll see you tomorrow.

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

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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“

Well the cops busted Madame Marie for tellin’ fortunes better’n they do

What went before:  So, a low-key day. I did some This, some That, read, put the finished sampler into the embroidery book, ironed some con clothes. I’m still trying to decide if I’ll wear black-and-grey, or black-and-maroon for Opening Ceremonies, a decision I can put off for a few days yet, as both outfits will be coming with me.

For those who are coming to BaltiCon — I have Interesting News. We have a possible location for the Stuffed Animal Tea, but! We don’t have a time or day. So, at this point, it’s kind of a Heisenberg Tea. More news will be forthcoming, possibly on Wednesday. As soon as I know something firm (bearing in mind that I will be spending a large amount of Wednesday and Thursday driving), I’ll let y’all know.

We’re getting up toward ASL time, and I still need to close the windows.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

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Friday. Dim and damp.

Letters dispatched. Finished reading The Mysterious Marquess, and have pulled The Elusive Earl up for tonight’s reading, unless it turns out to be a Dr. Who night. Zoom call upcoming, and a couple other such things as people are suddenly realizing that I’m going to be away. Laundry needs to be sorted, laptop charged and systems brought up to date

I have more this ‘n that to do, including puzzling out some bits for the book after the current WIP, which may not be Jethri after all, if I’m gonna do mumblemumble with the current WIP, which I think may be Forced, given that I need to at least produce a soft landing, if not a Hard Wrap Up, and there are only three books remaining under contract (Current WIP, WIP After, Jethri Big Finish). And now you know why writers stare out of windows.

I’m slowly remembering the convention traditions — pins, con clothes, tote bag, pens, ribbons, badge jewelry… For those who are coming to the con, I will have with me some “I Met Steve Miller” ribbons, so that those present who had, in fact, met Steve Miller may acknowledge that connection.

The cats are being very snuggly and maybe even a little clingy, which I’m guessing the memo I sent out has hit. If the teleporter worked, I’d bring them with me, but the geezinfluke is still on backorder.

I think that’s most of what’s going on here at the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory.

How’s everybody doing today?

Today’s blog post title courtesy of Mr. Bruce Springsteen, “4th of July, Asbury Park”

After breakfast cat census:

And she could hear the highway breathing

What went before: I have had a Very Trying Afternoon. I had to yell. And then I had to drop everything and rush. And now I’m exhausted, but at least the fix is in. Or may be in. Apparently, I was supposed to have known something by telepathy, and then understand that the reason none of my questions were being answered was because — telepathy.

The pest guy dropped by in the Midst of It All, and while I transcribed/expanded/edited the scene I wrote yesterday, I didn’t get a chance to do anything new or noteworthy and I’m exhausted, did I say? Also, I want to throw things.

On the plus side, the cat’s new stainless steel fountain arrived, and I was able to wash it and set it up. The old gravity waterer is still there, to let the cats know they’re in the right place, but I intend to move it the next time it needs to be refilled.

So. It hasn’t started raining or snowing or whatever yet, that’s tomorrow. Which is another day. Possibly even a better day.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Saturday. Raining; the ‘beans say snow is possible, but only to decorate the grass and make driving interesting.

Breakfast was the last of the little potatoes fried with onion and a chopped up meatball. I made a Tactical Error some time back and bought a bag of meatballs, thinking, “But we would always eat spaghetti!” Which we would, but spaghetti for one is just too sad, so the meatballs have kind of been huddling in the back of the freezer, which is Unfair of Me, so I’m going to just add them to Things, until they’re gone, and! Lesson learned.

Oh, look, there’s snow mixed in the rain now. I hope the ‘beans are happy.

On the Fashionista Front, I am today wearing one of Steve’s toasty warm Carhartt flannel shirts with the usual jeans-of-many-pockets, and! Silver hoops in my ears. It’s been a long, long time since I’ve worn hoops in my ears.

I am hoping today for … quiet. Just — I want to sit in a comfy chair somewhere in this house with a pad of paper and a pen and sketch scenes and throw ideas around, and I really don’t think that’s too much to ask. *glares at universe*

What are your hopes for the day?

Today’s blog title brought to you by The Talking Heads, “And She Was”

Saturday morning cat census, and the Long Back Yard this morning: