Tag: life after the apocalypse

Home at last

In breaking news, the Perambulating Package has arrived!

Credit where due, the box was in perfect shape, despite having  traveled ten thousand extra miles, as were the contents.

Today has otherwise been a day of parts. I worked until I couldn’t push through anymore (bearing in mind that the goal is not to make myself sick, but to extend my useful hours), then took a break until the pain eased off, and went back to it..

I have finished reading/proofing the 114 pages of the WIP, ate a kind of wandering breakfast, and a better lunch, plus ice cream with blueberries on top.

I’ve also listened to quite a few chapters of Accepting the Lance, washed the dishes, and done my duty to the cats.

The plan going forward is to read until Coon Cat Happy Hour, have a hardboiled egg sandwich for the evening meal, and go to bed early-ish, hopefully waking up in fit case to write.

Everybody have a good evening. Stay safe.

I’ll check in tomorrow.

What if I’d been the one to say good-bye?

Aaaand. Back pain has returned. We. Are. NOT. Pleased. Currently working on trying to up the efficacy of my superpower by doing what needs to be done, and when there’s a spike, telling myself, “It’s only pain,” and keep on with whatever it is I’m doing. Let it be known that I’m not doing the wire act, and certainly not the trapeze.

The local post office gives me to understand that the Perambulating Package is on the route jeep and scheduled for delivery at my house today.

Yeah.  We’ve heard that before.

A question for the Tech Folk, Internet Domain Division. If someone has registered a domain through a wholesale service and “can make any changes to the domain” that they wish to make, does that not make them the owner of that domain, regardless of if they allow someone else to register the domain with a provider, post content and act in all ways as if that name belonged to them? That the person registering the domain can, in theory, and at any time, evict the person using that nameserver?

Spanish Aunts.

…it seems that standing up is the current correct position insofar as my back is concerned, so I’ll be bringing the pages I have left to read of the WIP to the standing desk for perusal.

I have Tali in position under the standing desk in my office, and Rook in his box on the edge of the big desk, where he can get the breeze from the open windows, it being a nice enough day, so far.

What’s happening with you, today?

Today’s blog post title brought to you by .38 Special, “If I’d been the one.”

Anything can happen day

Wednesday. Sunny. Temp 74F Humidity 74%. Windows are closed.

I? have ordered in breakfast on the theory that I will eat an omelet if all I have to do is open the damned box and get a fork out of the drawer. I’m flailing around for strategies to get myself interested in eating food — and I don’t at this point care if it’s healthy, particularly — and came to remember that I never had any strategies for that particular quirk in a stupid quirky nature. When I was living with Steve, he cooked 90% of the time, and I’d sit at the table to be sociable, even if I didn’t feel like eating, and would have a bit of this or that while we were talking. Yes, Steve was a genius. However, that solution is no longer operative, and I’m a bit at a loss. And before anyone panics — I’m not sick, my stomach doesn’t hurt. I just — don’t want to eat. The urgency is that I cannot allow this to fall into a habit.

Argh.

Moving on to more amusing topics: The perambulating package is now in! South Portland. USPS promises delivery, but we’ve heard that song before.

We had a bunch of thunder and some lightning, but if there were violent thunderstorms in Maine last night, they were someplace else. While I don’t regret the violence — or the possible tornadoes — I do regret the thunderstorm drama.

Today’s Plan is to read the 100+ pages of the WIP, which will not only hopefully hang together as a tale, but provide sufficient hooks to hang the rest of the story on.

Writer math.

break to eat breakfast Which. Was. Good. Remember this, Self? Food tastes good. Sheesh.

A friend posted a meme yesterday about “When I was growing up, we were thrown out onto the street, helmetless, with our bike after breakfast and told to come home before dark.” Which encouraged some conversation including, “What is this “helmet” you speak of?” And that got me to thinking about How Things Change.

For instance. In my life — which, we do have to factor in the determination that we were writers above all else, which did have an enormous bearing on finances — I think that people who have two homes, or a camp, are well-off. The course of my life being such that we could barely afford one house, and were always skating the edge between solvent and me presenting Steve with a fanned hand of bills and saying, “Pick a bill. Pick any bill. The bill that you pick is the bill we won’t be paying this month.”

So, that. And then I think back to — my parents. Who had land in the mountains of Pennsylvania that they intended to build a camp on. They never did because they’d gotten taken in the matter of boundary lines and water, but that aside — they owned property other than their primary residence. My father was a spotwelder at the General Motors factory in Sparrow’s Point, Maryland. My mother was a stay-at-home mom.

Going back a generation, and the reason I’m so “surprisingly” at ease on the water, my father’s parents had a camp on Middle River in Maryland to which they retired every summer. They also had a mini-farm at what was then the edge of the town of Parkville, Maryland. My grandfather was a tailor for a large tailoring house (I often remember the name, but not this morning) in the city. My grandmother was a stay-at-home mom.

Tailor and spotwelder — these are not positions associated with great amounts of wealth. And yet, they were able to buy “extra” properties.

Well. The past is a different country.

Time to go to work.

What was your childhood summer like?

Three goods inna row

Tuesday. Raining half-heartedly. ‘beans are still calling for “near record high” heat, with indexes “near 100,” with bonus Violent Thunderstorms with damaging winds and hail, and perhaps a surprise appearance of a tornado, for the overnight.

Trash and recycling are at the curb.

Slow getting started today, despite a long sleep fully supervised by Coon Cats. Both ladies piled in immediately I had pulled the covers up, and Firefly tucked up against my stomach, which she never does, purring to shake the bed, while Tali made her very solid presence felt at my back. I woke up a couple times and they were still in place. Firefly, apparently noticing the change in my breathing, started purring again in a blatant effort to make me go back to sleep.

It worked.

Rookie seems to have spent a peaceful nightshift in his basket on the edge of Steve’s desk.

Rookie is not drooling this morning–his fur is dry and his eye is bright–and I have called his physician to report this.

I have a note from my physician, agreeing that the arrangements I have made with lisinopril dosing times and lifestyle adjustments have, indeed, produced a more seemly sustained level of BP readings, and has given his permission to stay the course. Which means I get to stick with 10mg rather than leaping into a double dose. So, that’s good.

Once I have dispatched this note to the internets, I will be doing the dishes and performing my duty to the cats.

Unless the fog in my head melts, I foresee a day of chores before heading out to crafting. Which means the house will be straight, and I can concentrate on writing Wed-Thurs-Fri.

That’s also good.

Back pain is at the Ignorable Level–three goods in a row. Not really very interested in eating food, despite the effort I made to have tasty things in-house, so that’s — worrisome, but not particularly novel.

The Perambulating Package is still being “assessed” in Augusta, and nobody’s committing to a delivery date.

And all that said — Onward.

What’s the weather where you are?

And! A picture of Rookie from last evening, post Happy Hour

Monday Evening

So, Rookie is at the vet. I stopped at the food store on the way back and took on supplies. Came home, put said supplies away (It had used to be, in the Beforetimes, when only one of us went to the store, that, when they returned, they would call, “Lucy! I’m home!” and thus gain assistance in the Putting Away, which also served to inform They Who Had Not Shopped what was new in inventory. Hard habit to break).

I have consulted with Firefly in her melant’i as Top Cat, confirming that staffing is reduced, but that I will be away for parts of the day, so the workload balance for those present will still be within the Union guidelines. I also confirmed that she is not required to redraw the Organizational Chart at this time.

Since I was at the store, I bought cookies, that being one of the necessities I was out of, and have performed a Quality Control test consisting of half a cookie (they’re big cookies), and will now proceed with Monday’s chores, of which the first is!

Writing to my physician.
#
Sigh.

Meant to say that the perambulating package is on the truck to be delivered today.

Also meant to say that both Hummer Bars are enjoying good patronage.
#
Home from bookclub. Our next book is Edison’s Eve by Gaby Wood. I have read this before, but it’s been a decade, so I’m looking forward to re-reading. I was Riveted when I first read it.

I have! An appointment for a haircut on Saturday at 9 am.

I have! One very damp and extremely cranky black Maine Coon Teenager, who reportedly sat in the vet’s back room and swore non-stop the entire time he was there, and growled at his vet.

The good news — there’s nothing wrong with his mouth or throat. He has a lot of gas, and theory at this point is that he has — a stomachache. Vet administered an anti-nausea, and I’m to report in tomorrow morning.

It’s hot out.

I should probably get a little something to eat…
#
Who had “sent back to the sorting center” in the Perambulating Package Pool? If it was you, hold onto that ticket!

When last we heard from the package, it was inside my local post office, and this morning it was promised to be delivered by 9 pm.

However! In a shocking turn of events! When the mail arrived, the package was not among the pieces delivered.

I came back into the house, brought up Informed Delivery — and found that the package was on its way to Augusta — South, in other words.

I have spoken with a live human at the local post office, who has the tracking number, my name, and phone number and is going to be “monitoring” this delivery for me.

Whatever that means.

In other news, we’re to the chopping and freezing onions part of the festivities. Rookie came up to my lap on his own and let me dry him off. He’s still drooling but only a very tiny amount, so maybe the anti-nausea was what he needed.
#
We were just having a conversation about home inspections for what was called when we moved to Skowhegan “town housing,” the direct descendant, as I believe I understand the matter, of the “town farm.”

In any case, housing inspections, and the things inspectors might look for — holes in the walls, garbage just lying around, too! much! stuff! imperiling foot traffic, dirty dishes in the sink…

All of which seems reasonable, except — I’m going to need to leave dirty dishes in the sink for the second day in a row — those being yesterday’s dishes — because my back wishes to register a complaint. I will therefore remake the bed, so I can sleep in it tonight, and then retire to a comfy chair with a heating pad, a book, and a glass of iced tea.

And remember to be grateful that I am not in a situation that means I have housing inspectors in my life.
#
Evening wrap-up.

Fans of Rookie will be encouraged to learn that he has stopped drooling, his stomach is soft, and he had sweet words of flattery in his mouth when he came into my lap as I was reading. Apparently, I’m to be rewarded as a Hero for breaking him out of That Place. I was also allowed to comb the random sticky bits out of his mane. He and the girls have just finished a good happy hour and are now taking their ease in Steve’s office.

Back pain is slightly above the Ignorable Level, which is not what we prefer, and I’m kind of tired, so it will likely be an Early Night for This Hoomin.

The Perambulating Package is “processing” at the USPS in Augusta, 20 miles in a southwardly direction.

Tomorrow, I need to organize my reading. I have a little less than 100 pages left to read of Horngard before I may craft a quote that is a little more substantive than “Read this book, it’s good!” I also need to read the WIP to date and start (re)reading Edison’s Eve. Hopefully, I will be able to attend the craft meeting tomorrow evening. Oh. And I need to do the dishes.

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

Monday morning

Monday and sunny and starting to warm up for tomorrow’s run for the Coveted Dangerous Heat Rating.

I have a cup of tea with me here at the desk and in a couple minutes, I’ll be rustling up some oatmeal.

Many thanks to everyone who expressed concern about my back and yesterday’s blackberry removal. Two things about that:

(1) The bush really wasn’t rooted very deeply. I basically poked at it with the shovel (see mile-long thorns), and it fell over. I went back inside, got Steve’s leather gloves, came back out, gave it a very small tug, and it came out that easy. The root was long, but not torn or broken, so it may be that I’ve got it all, which would be very unlike Blackberries I Have Known, so I’ll Keep An Eye Out.

(2) My back is a crapshoot. Or possibly I mean an abuser. This is how it works: Mostly, it hurts. Mostly, because of my Superpower, I can, and do, ignore it. Sometimes a piece of Kryptonite comes along, and pain levels escalate to where I can’t ignore them, whereupon I am Utterly Undone and Complain Incessantly for, eh. Two or three days. The pain then subsides to the Baseline Ignorable Level and I get back down to business. I do try to plan and consider and not overtax my back, but really, nothing placates it, and there’s no observable reason for having one day where everything’s fine, for values thereof, and another day where it hurts my back if I blink. Back pain was Ignorable yesterday afternoon, so — business as usual. Mind, if the blackberry HADN’T fallen over when I poked it with the shovel, I wouldn’t have gone any further, because I’m not completely nuts, evidence aside.

THAT said, on to Important Issues, in fact — Rookie the Cookie. Rookie starting drooling last night, and he’s still doing so this morning. While my two ladies do drool when they’re VERY excited, this is is not at all Rookie’s Thing, and he just seems to be…dripping. I don’t see anything wrong with his mouth, but what do I know. So! Rookie has won a trip to the vet 4:15ish this afternoon, Just To Make Sure.

I have phone calls to make today, and I really do need to pick up some stuff at the grocery (which we, too, called the “food store” in my youth — someone said this yesterday. Also, my grandmother had an “ice box,” and I still default to that, to the bewilderment of Many, and even though I haven’t seen an actual ice box, nor ice man, for … most of my life, actually), so — probably no writing today, which as it happens is just as well, because I had a Thought this morning that I really need to talk over with Steve. Lacking that, I’ve got a lot of thinking to do.

That’s the news from the Cat Farm.

What’s your news?

This just in: Rookie’s physician wishes to have him dropped off by 10, rather than brought in at 4, for Observation.

Guess I’d better find that breakfast I was talking about.

Sunday midday

Sunday. Sunny. It’s going to be warmer than yesterday.

My back does not hurt. No, I misspeak. What I mean to say is that my back only hurts the normal amount and that I can, literally, work with that.

Prudence dictates that I do not go to the Oxford gem show today. I’m sure they’ll do fine without me.

The actual plan for today is to not weed the garden, which really,  really needs it. Maybe I’ll throw in a load of laundry to feel like I’m doing something to alleviate the chaos that is the present state of the house.

I will be writing.

I’m about halfway through EMoon’s Horngard, and having a really fine time with it. You guys are going to love this one!

This morning I received news from the US postal service of interest to us all. The perambulating package left New York yesterday, arrived in New Hampshire, and was drop kicked to — anyone? . . . Yes, you, right here in front . . . In fact — yes. Thank you.

The Southern Maine sorting center, the root cause of all of this unseemly gadding about the Northeast.

USPS informs me that I will have my package tomorrow, Monday, July 13th.

I await developments with interest.

What developments are you awaiting with interest on this fine Sunday morning?

Dictated to my phone. Please excuse voice-os
#
Getting started snippet. This will perhaps be familiar to anyone who has been on, or witnessed, a panel at a con.

“Right,” Tez said. “Meetin’ rules. Hear me out—all the way out, Cousins!—before questions. Question period’s limited to questions, neither captain nor crew is asking for advice or alternate plans. The quicker the questions are put and answered, the quicker we can get back to our beers. Who of you don’t understand what I just said? Put up a hand.”
#
Spent the morning trying to track down this “ruler fractin” Jethri has in his pocket in Steve’s last draft. I have concluded that this was not set up in Fair Trade, and now I get to decide if it’s useful/I want to keep it. If I want to keep it, I have to introduce it, which ought not to be completely impossible, being as Jethri took delivery of a Whole Lotta fractins from Elsvair.

Well.

Research is still writing, but it’s not words, and I want words while I still know (more or less) what I’m doing. Once we leave Sactizzy, things are not nearly so straightforward. What a surprise.

All that to say that I’m taking a break in order to make something that looks like lunch (and, yes, to eat it, not just admire it).  I expect to go back to the WIP this afternoon and write a chapter.

I’m still feeling somewhat off-center, which I guess losing six pounds in three days will do for you. So! Lunch. And maybe even ice cream.

Tomorrow is book club, and I have to reschedule the appointment to get my hair cut, since there was no way I was able to keep Thursday’s appointment. And of course, there’s needlework on Tuesday evening. After that, it looks like I have a good handful of days in a row to actually bear down on the WIP, so I’m really trying to be sure that I have something to bear down on.

I also need to figure out how to take care of the garden I have, which is so low-maintenance I’m embarrassed that it’s a problem. Before my back staged its most recent drama, I had been thinking that I would go out every evening and put in a solid 15 minutes, which, so I reasoned then, wouldn’t challenge either my back or my knees. Too much. I’m going to have to re-evaluate this.

In the meanwhile, if any of my gardeners are still with me, I have a question. A blackberry bush has appeared in that same front garden, which — blackberry bushes are weeds around thisaway. I know the birds eat the berries, and I’m not unwilling to let them have at it, but! Blackberry bushes are also on a mission, as I understand the case, to take over the earth. I wish to avoid the blackberry bush fulfilling its mission in my garden. How do I contain it?

Spanish Aunts.

And! I need to go put the pieces of lunch into one plate, so I can actually eat.

How’s everybody doing so far?

She wants a car with a cupholder armrest

Saturday. Sunny and not going to be quite so hot.

Had a good sleep and a fine dream just before waking. Steve and I had been given the happy news that we were being given a permanent residence and needed to move out of our temporary apartment. We were in the process of this when something I don’t quite understand happened to divert our attention to what was perhaps a police action. However, by the time we had been called to assist in that, we had moved our stuff- we seemed to have a lot less stuff in the new situation- and located our cat, who was on the other side of the parking lot. Steve got the cat inside just as the call for our attention came in.

It was a puzzling dream but not particularly unhappy or fraught.

I woke up soon after and my back didn’t hurt, but that’s changed now. This is getting old.

I’ve sat longer in the window than I meant but I had Firefly’s attention for some time, and since she had quite a lot to say, I figured not to interrupt her.

I’m planning on scrambled eggs for breakfast and then going to write. I thought I was going to Oxford today for the gem show but I think that’s off the table.

For those following the Perambulations of the Package, as of this morning it had made its way from the Rochester NY sorting station to the Northwest Rochester sorting station (which seems to be the wrong direction, but perhaps it’s a matter of “North” trumping “West”), and the United States Post Office disavows any knowledge of when it may arrive… anywhere.

Firefly has cleared my lap, Tali has visited briefly, and also moved on.

My first cup of Russian caravan tea is gone. Sounds to me like I ought to go find breakfast.

How’s everybody doing today? See less
#
So, that’s 1,130ish new words written, bringing the WIP to +/-25,525, finally breaking 25,000 words, something I’d thought I’d see much earlier in the week.

I need to do my duty to the cats and then, I believe I shall, oh. Eat something. And then sit in the window and read my book.
#
I have progress to report!

I ate lunch, for definitions of lunch. I unloaded the dishwasher and put the dishes away! I reloaded the dishwasher from the sink full of dirty dishes! And! I did the dishes that can’t go into the dishwasher.

Now, of course I’m exhausted, but that’s what my book is for.

When I sat down in the comfy chair in Steve’s office, Rookie immediately threw himself into my lap so I guess I’m here for awhile.

Today’s blog post title is from Cake: “Short skirt, long jacket“.  Yes, again.

Diary of a challenging few days

I have, apparently, been having too much fun, and my back decided to take revenge.

Deets below, but first — have some day lilies:

#
Wednesday:
And today’s snippet to live by, from Diviner’s Bow: A contract negotiation between a master trader and a trader. The master trader has just asked if the trader has reviewed the proposed contract and found it sufficient. She replies that she wishes to change one thing.

“You astound me,” [the master trader murmured]. “Expose, I pray, the contract’s deficiency.”

“I found no deficiency. Merely, I wish to amend the initial period to three Standards, rather than six.”

“Six Standards is our usual term,” Shan said, sternly.

Padi opened her eyes wide.

“Is it, indeed?” she asked wonderingly.

Shan laughed. “I taught you that,” he said.
#
Thursday. Sunny and going to be hot.

Yesterday afternoon fell apart in a big way because my back started hurting, and it all went downhill from there.

On top of the pain, or because of the pain, I have had a very dicey stomach and today seems to be more of the same. Sitting in the window right now with Kelly on my lap and a cup of well honeyed ginger tea. Pretty soon I’m going to have to figure out something to eat.

Hope everybody is feeling better than I am. I’ll check in as can.
#
Friday:
Business first: “Kelly” cited in yesterday’s posting to the internets, is actually Tali. Speech to text is not always very smart.

Well. Friday. Sunny, though the weather beans insist that it’s cloudy.

Woke up this morning pain-free! I immediately started making plans more fool I, though I did manage to eat food for breakfast before my back started in again. So win, I guess, and I really do need to eat, before I get to the point where I just don’t bother, a known danger which needs to be avoided at all costs.

To be fair, my back still doesn’t hurt as much right now as it did yesterday, even yesterday evening when I convinced myself to eat an apple tart with ice cream, on the theory that even dessert is better than no food at all.

I had hoped that I would be able to write today and I’m still trying to figure out how to make that happen. On the one hand, it doesn’t do anyone any good to just sit at the desk and stare, so the first assessment should be: Is my brain clear enough to allow me to write? And I guess the first test for that is sitting in the office chair and seeing if it hurts so much that I can’t think.

What fun.

I should report that Tali is very much in favor of the sitting/ lying around doing nothing schedule. She’s been my more or less constant companion in this. The other two have given up in fustration, and I really can’t blame them for that.

I did yesterday finish listening to Neogenesis, and I must report a notable lack of “AI technobabble.” Also? Boy, does a lot happen in that book! It’s a trilogy all by itself.

I’ll be taking a break from Liaden books for the next while to read Hornguard by Elizabeth Moon, which I’m looking forward to.

And now that my teacup is empty and Tali has gotten up to have a wee snack, I guess I’ll go back and see how the desk chair likes me.

I hope everyone is having a lovely Friday.

PS. Apologies in advance for typos (voice-os?) that may appear in the above.
#
Later that same day:  Sat with the manuscript and added about 500 words.

I’ve been alternating ice and heat every hour and a half, I guess, to try to help get my back to normal.

I have eaten lunch!

There are many chores that I should be doing– clearing the dishwasher, reloading it, putting things away and etc. That’ll happen later, by I which I mean–oh, tomorrow, or maybe even Sunday.

For now, I have dared a Tylenol against increasing pain, and hoping it won’t make me sick.

My plans for the afternoon are taking my book to a comfy chair, turning on the heating pad, and reading.

This is even more boring than writing all day. My apologies.
#
This is one of Rook’s whiskers. It is four-and-three-quarters inches long.

#
Sigh. So, I was warned a couple days ago to expect delivery of a package via USnail, which was not delivered and in addition vanished from Informed Delivery.  It showed up in the timeline again today as an expected delivery, so I went to look at it on the Informed Delivery page.

The package under question left Maryland on July 7, and made it all the way to the Southern Maine sorting center, from whence it was sent on to the Essex MA sorting center–which is to say in the Completely Wrong Direction. Essex decided to send the package to Rochester, NY, where it languished for a day or so before this morning hopping on a mail truck going north.

The package is still listed as Going to be Delivered by 9 pm today, which probably means to the local post office, and not my house, but even so.

Even so–it still needs to get through at least one, and probably two, sorting centers in Mass, then the Southern Maine sorting center, which is the center that sent it back to Mass in the first place.

I wonder if I should start a betting pool…
#
And that’s what’s been going on at the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory. Fingers crossed that this will all be History tomorrow.

Busy day doin’ nothin’

So, that was a full day. I am encouraged by Lorie at Glendarragh Farm, who very carefully explained that lavender likes full sun, sandy soil, and a little lime for flavor. Also, on my walk around the farm, I was able to observe for myself that bumblebees love them some lavender. I’m back to thinking planting lavender in the place where the pool used to be, which is still stoopidly sandy. However! I did not buy a lavender plant today. Today I bought: a couple lavender sachets (one of which has found its forever home in the car, a t-shirt (I know, but! purple), a dark chocolate lavender bar, lavender-peppermint soap, a bunch of dried lavender destined to be placed in a vase and put in Steve’s office, lavender lip balm, and lavender hand balm.

. . . I think I was quite conservative, really.

I walked in the gardens, and visited the lavender drying shed, which I would like to live in for the rest of my life. I had several in-depth chats with ZuZu, who is one of those little white dogs that everyone adopts immediately they retire and decide to travel. We talked about cats, ZuZu and I — that cats, yes, do sleep a lot, and that she was just about as big as Rookie — and also the fact that I had been raised by dogs, and that, yes, it was very very interesting and exciting to meet new people. I spoke for myself and ZuZu’s owner translated for her, because — you know this, right? — I am one of those people who will talk to a dog for twenty minutes and never directly speak to the dog’s owner.

Onward!

From Appleton, then, to Lincolnville Beach, where the tide was out and people were doing beach things, and thence to Belfast, where two full-color posters of kittens greet the traveler coming into town from Route One from the South, announcing the availability of Maine! Coon! Kittens! No, I didn’t stop, and because I am an uncharitable person, I take leave to doubt that anyone with Maine! Coon! Kittens! needs to advertise their availability via street-corner posters.

Stopped at Nautilus for lunch on the covered patio, as reported elsewhere. The haddock Reuben was very tasty, though I admit I had some doubts.

After lunch, I went up the hill to the co-op and did some shopping — fresh onions, cherries, three kinds of salads (curried chicken, potato, and pasta pea), local cheese, a bottle of alcohol-free wine, which — I will, as it happens, quite happily drink alcohol-free wine, but it costs the earth, comparatively — a loaf of Borealis rye bread for the freezer, bar shampoo and moisturizer.

After shopping — ice cream! Homemade strawberry from Wild Cow, which I carried back to the public landing and ate while sitting on a bench overlooking the bay.

Then, it was time to come home, which is where I am now, and where I will be staying, rather than drag my weary self to the library.

Things that were missing from my day.

1 Crowds of tourists. It is now after July 4th and I was on Route One. Frequently the only car on Route One. Belfast was a little thin of people for even a off-season Tuesday, never mind a fine July afternoon, and there were … less boats than I had anticipated in the harbor. There was no line at the restaurant during the Prime Hour for lunch. More! There were parking spaces available at the public landing.

2 Seagulls. There were no seagulls at Belfast. None. I’m trying to remember if there were any at Ducktrap — sorry, Lincolnville — and that probably tells the tale right there.

Well. Maybe the Seagull Militia is forming up elsewhere. Maybe that’s where the missing tourists are, too.

Rookie was waiting for me when I came in, and! There was a drinker at the front-garden hummingbird bar. Score!

And there we have my news.

What’s yours?

Lavender!

…with bonus poppies