life after the apocalypse – Page 10

They’re rioting in Africa

Friday. Sun behind the clouds, coolish. Supposed to stay that way.

We here in Central Maine stand, battered, snow shovels in hand, beneath a Winter Storm Watch. Heavy snow with sleet predicted from this evening through tomorrow evening. The danger now, aside slick roads and travel surfaces, is ice coated limbs and wires coming down.

Today may be the day the heart monitor goes back in its box and goes home to Boston. It has been progressively losing its mind, but this morning, it wants to be charged. This despite having been charged all night. I moved it into my office and plugged it into another working plug, and still it cries out for life-giving electricity.

I am so done with this device.

I tried to call the cardiologist’s office, and got the It’s Too Early message, which was bemusing, because I’d slept long and hard, and got up late. And yet? It still lacks a few minutes til 8 am.

Well.

I s’pose I ought to get a kettle on for tea and go find some pants.

How’s your Friday starting out?

Following up.

It’s now very sunny in my office. I chose to put on one of Steve’s nice heavy Carhartt flannel shirts, which may prove to be overkill, but is comfy, anyway.

Breakfast was tomato and swiss cheese sandwich. Second cup of tea by my side. Possibly, I will call in lunch. If I order from Asian Cafe, I’ll have enough leftovers to last the weekend.

I did speak with the cardiologist’s office, and, as I was explaining the problem, the heart monitor decided that it was charged. I did some guided punching of buttons, and the device does seem to be working, for very flexible values of “working,” so I can’t get rid of it quite yet, more’s the pity.

The cardiologist’s receptionist wanted to let me know that they were *there* for me until May 28. I asked her what was going to happen after that, and she said, “Oh! You haven’t heard? The hospital –” No, I said, I had heard that. What I wanted to know was what was going to happen after May 28 when I had no cardiologist. “Oh! Call your PCP.” My PCP, says I, is also attached to the hospital. He’s going to be vanishing, too. “Yes. But he will be able to refer you to other doctors. The hospital is working on a plan, but it’s not solid yet.”

By reports, the hospital knew it was going to have to close two years. And yet! They announce a month ago that they’re closing in June, and it has no plan for its patients, for whom they apparently accept no responsibility. Shame on you, Inland/Northern Light. As for referring to “other doctors,” I believe I mentioned here that the Other Hospital is laying off doctors and staff because they, too, are bleeding $$s.

In view of the upcoming weather, I’m going to call the vet and see if I can get another scant jar of prednisone for Trooper. I’ve taken to mixing it in the gravy food, because he hates the syringe and he’s too strong for me to hold when he’s determined. The old system was that Steve would hold the cat and I would administer the drug, but that’s no longer playable.

So, aside from one’s duty the cats, and going out for meds and more of the cat gravy, my plan is to do ASL homework and write.

That’s it. Yes, it’s a boring plan, but it’s MY plan.

Today’s title brought to you by The Kingston Trio, “The Merry Minuet“

Nobody right til somebody wrong

What went before: Wrote 980 new words this afternoon. Again, they may not be beautiful words, but you can’t fix the words you don’t write.

I am … not in a good frame of mind. I did subscribe to The Atlantic and ill-advisedly looked up our names in the database of stolen works.

Every. Word. either of us has ever written, in every translation has been ripped off. Even if they’re made to “pay,” there’s nothing that can balance this theft. I know I’m only one of a vast number of colleagues who have also had their work vacuumed up to feed the greed of rich men. The number of people who hooked school the day “Stealing is Wrong,” was taught passes belief.

And here I sit, trying to write a book. And I really wonder why.

Thursday, sunny and warm(ish).

Breakfast was hummus, naan, and an orange. Second cup of tea to hand. Lunch is again on its own.

I’ve been up for a while, though late getting to my updates. I had some correspondence that needed to be answered, and some cats that needed to be snuggled. Figured out how to get from end of this scene to the beginning of that scene. Gordy needs to make a choice, here, and while I know what the choice is, he has to actually do the work of reasoning his way to it.

Thus, the difference between authors and characters.

I haven’t seen anything to the contrary, so I’m expecting there’s ASL class this evening. I should do one more review, and I also want to get Gordy to his decision, so I’ll mostly be here at the desk today.

I want to thank everyone who spoke to the value they place on the universe Steve and I worked in for more than 40 years. Your regard means a lot.

However, as I said elsewhere — the core problem with our society is this notion that awarding someone a dollar amount rectifies a wrong. The only people punished by being made to pay an amount of money to “rectify” a wrong are those people who have no money to being with. Rich people laugh, pay the fine, laugh, and continue down their road, having learned nothing, and utterly without remorse.

In the case of the theft of my life’s work, I don’t want money. (I have never been motivated by money. If I had, I wouldn’t have become a writer, even in a world where my work wasn‘t simultaneously considered frivolous and valuable enough to steal.) I want Balance. I want Them, in the words once written by an author, to lose something that means as much to them as those stories mean to me. I want them to hurt, and to cry, and to bear the scars of their wrongdoing forever.

NPC, indeed.

deep breath

Bedtime reading lately has been Very Nice Funerals, by Crusie and Mayer, the second Rocky Start book. I think the third’s one out now. I should look into that.

I note that Tuesday, April 1, is Book Day for Diviner’s Bow, for those of you who preordered from Amazon, BN, &c. I’ll have to find my Book Releasing Clothes.

So! What’s everybody reading that’s fun?

Today’s blog title brought to you by Mr. Eric Clapton: “It’s in the way that you use it”

Cat census below:

Anything Can Happen Day

What went before: OK. 850ish new words written today. The cats are becoming restless, and I typed # to start a new scene with the same characters a little bit down the timeline. Since I know what they’re going to say, that seems like a good place to stop for the day.

I had a Interesting Idea for further along while I was taking my walk. Which of course means checking back in Salvage Right. Again.

Tomorrow, I really do have to hit the grocery, and, while I’m out, I might as well take the empty ink cartridges to Staples and put gas in the car.

I have a quote from the guy who can wash my windows and unclog/repair the rain gutters, so I’ll need to look that over.

Mostly, though, I think I’m done for the day.

For those playing along at home, the Garmin watch thinks today was stressful and I should “take a break for some physical activity” and “find time to relax.” It Suddenly Occurs to me that Garmin thinks “sitting and writing” is stressful (I mean, they’re not wrong…) and that running ten miles is relaxing. Ho, I say. And, also? Ho.

Wednesday. Sunny and going to be warm(ish).

Breakfast was toasted black bread, the last of the potato salad, and an orange. Not in line for the Best Breakfast of 2025, but I ate something. Go, me. Lunch is in the future.

Today, there are errands: Post Office, Staples, Gas, Grocery. I think that’s it. Maybe there will be something that looks good to eat at the grocery store.

There will be writing at some point after I get home, and that?

Is all I got.

Ah, the constant creative high of the Writing Lifestyle.

So! Who’s on an adventure today?

Below, a picture from March 26, 2021. Trooper and Belle, Old Married Cats. (Those who have been with us for awhile will recall that for many years our cats consisted of Scrabble, the Office Manager and Cat of All Work; and a Coon Cat Nuclear Family, consisting of Trooper (the Da), Belle (the Ma), and Sprite (their Kid).

After-snow

What went before: So, there’s six inches of snow on the front step, and it’s still snowing. It did stop for a couple hours, and I thought the Big Storm was a bust, but it started to snow again just as the mailman came past and I trekked out to the curb to get my package, which was, indeed, delivered.

I spoke to Martin’s Point, which allowed me to know that neither 0 nor 45 was the correct number of dollars owed the clinic. That number is 35, which I didn’t even know was a choice. The check has been written, and we’ll hope the clinic is better informed than I am.

I made a few inroads into the next ASL lesson. Tomorrow, I fear I will have to go back and review the previous lesson. Though I did today, for two minutes, watch a conversation between two ASL speakers, and understood what they were saying — by which I mean, I wasn’t translating what they were saying into spoken words — so that gives me some hope for eventual adequacy.

I note that the Other — as in the remaining — Hospital serving this area (in Augusta) is laying off staff, citing financial problems.

The WIP — remember the WIP? — currently weighs in at +/-16,580 words, and at this point we’re not arguing if they’re good words, as long as we’re all heading in the same direction.

I have exchanged emails with the Techs of BaltiCon, and also with Mark Van Name, the toastmaster, and my issues in re the microphone have been revealed and are being addressed, which is a huge relief.

I have one more letter to write, then it’s time to relax. They say.

The Garmin watch and I continue to have very different ideas of what constitutes stress. Again, I would have told you that I had a fairly peaceful day. The watch is urging me to take some downtime after a Very Stressful Day. OTOH, its understanding of how well and how much I’m sleeping is much closer to my understanding of these things, so that’s good. And at some point, I’ll figure out how to tell it that I’m taking a walk. Or perhaps I’m simply not energetic enough for it. At least it counts the steps.

Slightly off-topic — how many folks who read here know who Paul Novak was?

Tuesday. Trash and recycling are at the curb.

I woke up slightly early, knowing that there was shoveling before me so I could get the trash to the curb. I was just pulling on my sweatshirt when the door camera jingled and I looked outside to see that the plowguy had arrived. Six inches of wet snow swept away like it was nothing. All hail the plowguy.

After that, it was easy enough to give the trash bags a ride in the toboggan to the top of the drive. Wheeling the recycling bin was a little tricky, but it got there.

Breakfast was oatmeal with cranberries and walnuts and a cup of Republic of Tea English Breakfast that came as a sample with my order. It’s … better than other English Breakfast teas I’ve sampled, but I’m still preferring the Irish. I think it’s the malt.

I thought I might forage today, but — maybe not. It’s supposed to get warm(ish) later, but I’m not really eager to go out in the slop and the mud.

Mostly, then, I’ll be ASLing and writing. I stripped the bed yesterday, so I can throw the bedclothes in the washer and get (slightly) ahead of the game, so that may be a plan.

A reader query has been received, which I paraphrase: Do I know that the world is falling apart, as I sit here and natter about nothing?

Answer: Yes. Yes, I do.

The cats at the moment are dispersed throughout the house: Rook among the toys in my office; Firefly on top of the bureau in the bedroom; Trooper on the rug between my office and the kitchen; Tali under the dining room table, taking up, I may say, most of available space. They make a compelling case for snuggling under a blanket, but maybe I’ll get the washer loaded, first.

What’s everybody got going today?

I Am Remiss.

I posed a Question last night and have failed to give the answer.

Paul Novak was the man who was, in his own words, “put on this earth to take care of Mae West.”

Mr. Novak was born Chester Ribowsky in Baltimore, Maryland. In WWII, he was a navy gunner. After the war, he took to the stage as “Mr. Baltimore,” a wrestler. Previous to joining Mae West’s nightclub act in the 1950s as part of the chorus line, he became Chester Krauser. Mr. Novak was 32; Ms West was 62.

They remained together until her death in 1980 at the age of 87. Mr. Novak died in 1999, at 76.

Poor man’s fertilizer

What went before: Oh, let’s see. Wrote +/- 800 new words, sketched in another scene, did Yet. Another. Timeline off the end of Salvage Right, and I have to ask, Who thought writing a sequel to Salvage Right was a good idea, because We? Gotta Talk.

Finished the laundry, put the sox away, brushed four out of a possible four coon cats, watched a couple How To Play Nice With Your Microphone tutorials, because I have never in all these years made peace with microphones. I have not done my ASL work, and … yeah, I’m not doing it now.

Coon Cat Happy Hour has happened. I’ll need to refill the bowls with dry food before I go to bed or there will be complaints to the Committeecat.

Tomorrow is Monday, and the weatherbeans are calling for 2-6 inches of snow to fall between 10am and 10pm. In Theory a guy is coming by to look at washing the windows and cleaning the rain gutters, but I’m not holding my breath.

Pretty much, I’m done for the day. Gonna make a sandwich, have a glass of wine and find something to read.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Monday. Cloudy and on the road to snow.

Breakfast was the two steamed chicken buns from the freezer. They made a pretty good breakfast, and the orange was a good chaser for the spice. Second cup of tea is brewing. I’m defrosting a beanloaf to have someway or nother for lunch.

Informed Delivery informs me that a package that the vendor rescheduled delivery for twice is suddenly! and literally Without Warning! out for delivery today. This may be what brought the snow to us.

The morning started with tears. Seattle in 2025 Programming wrote to me yesterday reminding me that I hadn’t filled out my panelist information, and — I took a deep breath and let them know that I would not be attending. SunnyJim wrote back very graciously, and — I wanted to go, dammit. I even have enough Amtrak credit to fund half the trip, but reality suggests that the trip alone would unglue me for days, and it’s not much of a con if you’re huddling in your room (which is another Test I’m not ready to take; hotel reservations for Worldcons have become the stuff of nightmares). Steve would have made all this look easy, but that was Steve’s promise before we even moved in together — “I’ll make it easy for you.” Which, granting various definitions of “easy”, he did. (Cue Paul Novak).

I note, a year out, that this New Order still has some massive bugs.

So, that.

Today, aside from the possible arrival of the guy who needs to look at the windows and the gutters, is projected to be a quiet day of homework, writing, and watching the snow. I think I have enough milk left to make a mug of hot chocolate to sip while looking out the window.

What are your plans for the day?

*Today’s blog title brought to you by the Folk Wisdom that snow is the poor man’s fertilizer. Why? you ask. Because snow brings nitrogen down to earth and revitalizes the soil.

Here’s a picture of Trooper to light your way today.

The History of The Stuffed Animal Tea

What went before: So, I decided to take advantage of the nice day, and drove down to Belfast. There was a surprising amount of traffic — I forgot it was Maine Maple Weekend — and when I say “surprising amount of traffic,” that’s for Maine values of traffic.

The public landing was full when I got there, so I parked in the lot on Prospect Street, and had a walk around town. Bought a meat mallet to replace the mallet Steve got rid of (I don’t remember why, and because when I had to pound the chicken breasts, I used a can, and that didn’t work out well for the can) and a set of measuring spoons at The Good Table, and some jewelry cleaner at Coyote Moon.

I love Coyote Moon; it’s been in Belfast since we first drove into town, and probably longer. This is not the timeline where their clothes fit me, but they also stock a sufficiency of Interesting Other Things, which makes it a fun place to visit.

Had a sandwich and a cup of tea for lunch at the co-op, and bought a bag or Bob’s Red Mill oatmeal, because I’m almost out of oatmeal, and I can’t find Bob’s reliably in the Hannaford. Also bought some dried pineapple rounds which is a treat that I love beyond reason. I was sad to find that they no longer carry the Lundberg black rice, which had (briefly) become a favorite of mine.

This was the first time I’d been in the co-op since they FINISHED finished the make over. It’s now a very handsome, well-lit modern facility that still retains an air of the older space. Very well done. I spent a good bit of time just wandering around, admiring everything. VERY much appreciated are the updated bathrooms. She said prosaically.

The shopkeepers were all happy to see customers and chatty — the proprietor at Yo Mama! showed me pictures on her phone of the snow they had in Belfast yesterday, instead of our torrential rains. I wandered around the Green Store, and the alpaca store (full! sized! plushy! alpaca! in the window (not for sale) and! I managed to resist buying one of the very much smaller ones that were for sale).

So, anyhoot, I’m home again, have eaten a scone, and need to do some minor chores, like emptying the dishwasher and taking the cat litter that was delivered to the garage yesterday downstairs, after which I believe I will — read.

Yeah — a Compleat Writer’s Day Off. How daring.

Sunday. Sunny. Chillier than it was yesterday, as we prepare for tomorrow’s snow.

My subject this morning is The Stuffed Animal Tea and how it came to be.

It started, then, with Lord Black Cat.

Steve and I were at Boskone (which Boskone, you ask? It was during our Very Busy Traveling Years, and was in fact the Boskone where Robert Silverberg came into the dealer’s room during set up, saw me behind the Meisha Merlin table and told me that he hoped I wasn’t going to be selling books. This has been years ago, and I still can’t figure out if he was kidding.). We were in fact in the dealer’s room, talking to a group of people, and Steve was saying that he missed the cats. I happened to look aside, and there, on the table right next to us, was a cat stuffy. I picked it up and brought it over to Steve, who immediately demanded to know where I’d gotten it and if it was for sale. And it turned out that the owner of the table was among our group of idle chatters and she sold it to him on the spot.

Steve arranged his new friend in his camera bag, so the cat could look out, and off we went to the con.

Many people stopped us to admire the cat, which did not yet have a name, and, I confess that we didn’t know we had a particular cat until a fan stopped, eyes on the cat, bowed, and said, “Kuroneko-sama, welcome to Boskone.” (Number Eight Million Twenty-One on the list of Why I Like Fans.)

We were quickly put into possession of several facts: Kuroneko was from a manga called Trigun, and his name roughly translated was Lord Black Cat.

So, now the cat had a name.

We continued our conly rounds and duties, and people stopped us every so often to say hello to the cat, and were introduced, and pretty often said, “I miss my cat/dog/hamster/parrot.” So, we got to asking people if they hadn’t considered bringing a stuffy with them.

This is where it got interesting. Most of the people we spoke to said that they had a stuffy in the room. I started to ask why they didn’t bring their friend with them, and most said something on the order of “Oh, well, they’re shy, and there’s nobody for them to talk to, anyway.”

On the way home, I remember saying to Steve, “You know? It would be really cool if there was an event for the stuffies, so they could meet each other and not just be by themselves in the room.”

Fast-forward a bit and we’re invited to PenguiCon 4.0. And they want us to do an “event.” An event? And Steve said, “Well, what about your idea of the stuffed animals having a party?” So, we told PenguiCon that we would like to host a Teddy Bear Tea.

Now, it happened that the Looney Lab folk were also Guests of Honor and unbeknowst to us, Alison Looney traveled with several bears and hosted Teddy Bear teas at cons. So, our first Stuffed Animal Event was co-hosted.

It was notable for a few things. One was that someone who had gotten married at the con the day before had donated what was left of her wedding cake to the tea. The other was that the Event was held in an open lobby space directly across from a room being used for readings. The Stuffed Animals, I’m not sorry to say, were a little, um, loud, and the acoustics of the space were what you would expect of a hotel lobby. I’m going to say it was John Scalzi, and he will of course amend my memory if it’s wrong, who was reading, sent one of his listeners to find out what was going on. Said listener came out, asked questions, was given a piece of wedding cake, and went back to report that it was a reception.

So, as it is truly said, In Fandom, if A Thing happens once, it’s a Tradition, whenever Steve and I were Writer GOHs, going forward, and if we were asked to host An Event, we said that we would be pleased to host a Stuffed Animal Tea.

It’s been a lovely tradition; so beautiful to see the stuffies bloom as they’re introduced to each other. And it’s also been interesting to see how the various conventions have interpreted the concept of “Tea” — from a panel room with an electric tea pot, some paper cups and tea bags on the back table with the water, to full-out formal teas, with cucumber sandwiches, and scones. In Pittsburgh, our hostess pulled out her mother’s china and tea service and we had homemade cookies and tea cakes. At — I don’t remember where, and I’m sorry for it, there were tots of sherry on offer. At Heliosphere, we had The Works.

Here ends the history lesson. Below, a picture of Lord Black Cat in his camera bag, and from his attendance at the PenguiCon 4.0 tea.

Big wind, tiny void

Big wind tiny void
curls in safety, softly warm
Big wind dies, void sighs
–Haiku off the cuff, Sharon Lee

What went before ONE: And the bread’s out. Not a bad looking loaf, though I got a little carried away with the dusting.

Recipe here

TWO: Big wind blowing. The Teeniest Void Kitten climbed into my lap when it started, and curled up into a knot the size of Rhode Island.

This of course makes it very easy to type.

Ren Zel and Anthora are an … interesting couple.

THREE: What went before: So, I thought I was waiting for a box of bookmarks today, but it turns out that what I was really waiting for was a box full of Ribbon Dance mmps! Coming out on April 29!

In re BaltiCon: People are asking if there will be a Friends of Liad breakfast and/or a Teddy Bear Tea.

The Friends of Liad breakfast, which is not a con event, but a gathering of the clan to share a meal, and to catch up with each other, is definitely possible; the hotel restaurant is able to accommodate a group. I can’t tell you when, because I need to find what my schedule will be.

Teddy Bear Tea: is traditionally a con event, and therefore vulnerable, as all events, to the necessities of the program.

Bottom Line: I don’t have any information to share until I get together with BaltiCon Programming, and their schedule is finalized.

Summing Up: Watch the skies.

Saturday. Sunny and gonna get warm. Monday, say the weatherbeans, it will snow.

Breakfast was naan, hummus, and a mini-orange. Second cup of tea to hand. Lunch is on the knees of Zao Shen.

This morning, I need to change the strip that keeps the heart monitor stuck to my chest. No, I am not happy about this.

After that — we’ll see. Maybe I’ll go for a ride, being as it’s gonna be so warm and all. I haven’t been to Belfast since forever. Maybe get lunch at the coop. That could work.

In other news, and in the spirit of saving the best for last — it comes about that the anniversary edition of I DARE will be published by Baen in December. Here’s the new cover; art by Sam Kennedy.

There’s a black hat caught in a high tree top

What went before ONE: The taxes have come home. I need to rearrange money so I can write some hefty checks and get them in the mail while we still have mailmen in the state.
After I’ve done the rearranging, I do believe I’ll have a scone and a cup of tea.

Trooper has had his first dose of prednisone.

TWO: I have written the hefty checks. I have moved money around, including setting up the quarterly tax reminders. Nerve-wracking work. After I did all that, I went back to Steve’s office, as per protocol and explained what I had done and why, and asked if that agreed with his understanding of how we had agreed to handle the finances.

I didn’t hear an objection, so I guess we’re good to go, and I will be having the extra glass of wine this evening.

Tomorrow, I need to call the insurance and ask them what the heck they’ve decided about the bill from the walk-in clinic that they were going to get right back to me about, given that I now have a nasty-gram from said clinic informing me that my bill is past due.

Other than that, I’ll be baking a loaf of the Russian Black Bread and transcribing/expanding the scenes I wrote out by hand today. A quiet day — knock wood. I could really enjoy a quiet day about now.

Friday. Chilly. Raining like a hootenanny. Apparently this will be our day, except it may rain harder.

Breakfast was tomato and cheddar cheese sandwich. This used up the last two pieces of rosemary bread, which means — yep. Today, I bake.

I’m going to be baking a new loaf for me — Russian Black Bread. Back in the Before Times, when Steve and I were living in Lowergate Court, and were oh-so-very-broke, I used to bake a black bread that was awfully tasty. I long ago lost the recipe, and the only thing I remember is that it called for a cup of Strong Black Coffee and molasses. Today’s recipe calls for espresso powder and cocoa as well as molasses. So, well see how it goes.

In addition to baking a loaf of bread, I need to call the insurance, as previously noted, and I should probably start the laundry, but, honestly? — that may not happen, since I also want to write. Lunch will probably be fish of some kind. Maybe salmon cakes.

So, that’s what’s happening with me.

What’s happening with you?

What happened since: The bread’s in for its first rise.

The Police have graciously provided the title for today’s blog. “King of Pain.”

The Day from Heck: A Disaster in Six Parts

What went before ONE: The korval site…I’m updating pages that were created in 2012, in case there are some people around who think we’re fly-by-night.

…I’m remembering one con runner who told us that when our names would come up for GOH at the meetings for various cons (he was involved in several, as many fans are), the typical reaction was half the room would say, “Whoa! Steve and Sharon! Yeah, we gotta have THEM!” Meanwhile the other half of the room would be looking at each other and saying, “Wait. What? WHO?”)

Which brings me to the very reasonable question of why I’m going to BaltiCon to stand up in front of an auditorium full of people and Say Things, all of which is going to be Rather Stressful.

And the reason is — Granting that Steve and I are lifemates, which I at least believe, the Text says: While one lives, both stand. I wear both of our wedding rings to remind me of that principle. And Steve would have wanted to go to his very first home in SFdom and receive the award in person. He would have been glad and proud, and I’m not the one to deny him — or if you like, his memory — this small joy.

Note that this doesn’t mean that I’m not pleased and proud — I am. But if I had been deciding only for myself, I might have made different choices.

TWO: And I just went downstairs to find water all over the floor. Apparently, the water heater is leaking. Yes, the one that was replaced on Thanksgiving Day in 2022.
. . .waiting for the plumber, and had to cancel my lunch date.

grump

THREE: And the plumber just left. It’s not the hot water tank, it’s the unit between the boiler and the hot water tank and that? Falls into the honor of Dead River, with whom I have a service contract.

Have called. I’m promised that someone will be out today.

FOUR: Dead River guy has replaced the faulty unit, so all I have to do is mop up the water.

In other news, the accountant called. I can pick up my taxes tomorrow. I owe money, which surprises no one, though — filing under “blessings, small” — I’m still taxed at the married-filing-jointly rate this one last time.

Somehow, this day has gotten away from me.

FIVE: So, I remembered that there was a wet/dry vac huddling under a table in the basement, and that speeded things up considerably. I slipped coming down the, um, “stairs” to the basement hatch after I went outside to empty the dirty water, which means that I probably need to find somebody to make me a set of actually usable steps, but other than that, the large puddles are no more and the goblin room, where the hot water heater and all that sort of thing live, is plenty warm enough for evaporation to do its thing.

I did lose a small throw rug, which was Just Saturated, and is probably the reason that the common room wasn’t any wetter than it was.

I’m going to try to write a couple hundred words, but this? Was not the day I had planned.

SIX: Yeah, that twang you heard was my last nerve snapping.

Pause for a couple glasses of wine, some coon cat lap time, reading, and sleep

Thursday. Looks like it rained overnight. cloudy and coolish.

Breakfast is a KIND bar and a cup of tea. There will at least be another cup of tea, if not *several* more cups of tea in my immediate future.

Ashley’s due in this morning, and I have done the picking up. I need to print out some things to take with me back to Steve’s office when she arrives, so I may be able to get some things done, as I wasn’t able to yesterday.

Today, started with two successes in the mail, so I’m *really* hoping for a far different kind of day today.

I have to run out this afternoon to pick up the taxes. And since Trooper, after a brief few hours of respite, has returned to being “not right,” I’ll call the vet for prednisone, and pick that up while I out and about.

Tonight is ASL class. What with It All, I’m still a little rocky on the vocab and if anybody wants me to count higher than ten, we’re going to have to find a piece of paper and a pen.

And that’s all I know about anything at the moment.

What do you know?

Trooper helped me read the sample of The Space Between Worlds last night.

Updates and speeches, oh my

What went before (late morning edition): Have foraged. Came home, put away the perishables, made myself a cup of cocoa, and retired to the Command Chair to finish reading The Tomb of Dragons. I may need to go back to Witness for the Dead and reread all three in one go, but not right now. Right now, I believe I’ll move on to The Orb of Cairado.

I’m presently waiting for prospective lawn guy to show up to view the Long Back Yard and give me a price and a plan.

After that I’ll have lunch and see what I feel like doing.

I note that Informed Delivery tells me I have a personal letter from the SSA unit here in the city. Which isn’t terrifying at all.

Fans of the The Rookie will be pleased to know that he continues to come when he’s called, which is fine by me and convenient for him as well. I inadvertently shut him in the hall closet. A little later, as I was giving out treats, I noticed that there was no Rook present, which is highly unusual. I called out, as one does, “Rook? Where is that Rookie?” heard a loud AaaRW! from the foyer and went to let him out.

What went before (evening edition): So, I got involved in trying to update korval.com, which is one of those tasks that will never end, but I got some stuff brought into this year, and some other stuff brought into the current decade.

I also made a rough start on my acceptance speech, and added a little bit to a scene, so the WIP can’t complain that it’s been ignored.

Prospective lawn guy came, toured the Long Back Yard, and promises to send me a couple of plans with prices.

Tomorrow, I’m meeting a friend for lunch, and I should probably bake a loaf of bread either before or after. I still need to tinker with the directories on korval.com, but that may be all I’m up for.

The letter from the local SSA office that I was worried about was only the annual reminder that I have filed an Advanced Designation of Representation with them, so that was a relief.

Coon cat happy hour happened early so I could finish updating the webpage I was working on, and now it’s time for me to review my homework again (see what happens?), and then segue into the evening.

. . . onward . . .

Wednesday. Sunny and warm.

Breakfast was rice crackers and cream cheese and one of Those Little Oranges. Lunching at Portland Pie Company with a friend. Need to make a pot of rice so I’ll have it on-hand.

Tali and Rook are Working Something Out. The entails a lot of Tali smacking Rook in the head, lashing tails, and face-making. Occasionally, Rook will throw himself at Tali, using his extra weight to knock her over, but that’s not a Winning Strategy. Tali just wraps herself around him, latches into his sides with her front claws and kicks the heck out of him with her hind feet.

. . . I think she’s done this before.

Anyhow, this will either teach Rook Science, or not to mess with Tali. Or possibly both. I haven’t heard any bad words, so I am assuming that this has to do with the Feline Organizational Chart, and the eventual deployment of contractual tasks regarding the care and keeping of the thumbs, whose well-being is necessary to the comfort of cats.

Trooper is lazing in the sun. Firefly was on the back of the sofa, and available to receive pets and soft words of admiration, which were of course forthcoming.

I figured out that one of the reasons I like the Garmin watch is because it’s not … cute. Frequent readers will recall that I have a Limited Capacity for cute, most of which is used up by the birb and his adventures. The Garmin is friendly; it explains itself, but it’s not … huggy. Our relationship is well within my comfort zone.

Last night I read the teaser for Ministry of Time, which was — all right? I mean, if I had had the whole book, I would have kept on reading, but I don’t know that I’m motivated to go out and buy the rest of the story.

And that’s all I’ve got here in my very small and insular corner of the world.

What’s going on in your corner of the world?