life after the apocalypse – Page 11

The line’s not cut and the whale’s not gone

Tuesday. Back to not sleeping well. I did fall deeply asleep around 4 am and woke up again at 8. Does it count as sleeping late if you only got 4 hours of sleep?

Breakfast was oatmeal with raisins and a dab of maple syrup. Steve always used to put maple syrup in his oatmeal, but this was a first for me. It was good. And being as I have maple syrup, still, from Steve’s stash, it will be a repeat. Lunch — is hours away.

Trash and recycling are at the curb. Lawn guy is here doing lawn things. Rook and Tali are helping me here at my desk, where I have some stuff that has to be done this morning (bad planning, me). I do believe another cup of Russian Caravan Tea, the new favorite, is in order.

What else? I need to put gas in the car, and get smol bills at the bank, as I’m warned that tips will be needed on the whale watch (the boys in the basement provide a helpful graphic of tucking a five dollar bill under the whale’s belt. Thanks, guys.), and stop at the grocery. I can do all of that except the bank on my way home from needlework, and I can do the bank on my way in. Ta. Da.

I intend to get at least a couple hundred words written today, despite it all, and depending on how long these morning tasks will take me.

Almost done reading Alliance of Equals. I like it. And, as usual, I adore Daav. One does not give the Uncle a coin merely because he asks for it. Indeed. Indeed, one does not.

Also, may I just say — Shan? My ghod, Shan. And to the people said nobody would want books about traders, because traders are boring? Pfft, I say. PFFT!

How’re we all holding up today?

Today’s lyrics from “The Wellerman,” because — a theme. Here’s a link

Then I am the King of the Cats!

Nonsense first. Back when, I collected retellings of “The King of the Cats.” This one came across my FB feed last night. I’m not sure the link will work, but on the off-chance: The King of the Cats
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I’ve been needing a lot of extra therapy sessions lately. Happily, my counselor is flexible:

Monday. Sunny and starting to warm up toward our climactic Unsafe Heat Event, scheduled for Thursday.

Plans for the day include calling the peach ripe, cutting it up and having it for breakfast with cottage cheese. Because I can. After, I’ll go on back to Steve’s office and do some writing.

Yesterday afternoon went pear-shaped. I threw the bedclothes in to wash and the washing machine lost its mind — it entered the spin cycle, and then would start over with a rinse, over and over and over (the water district sent me a message last night that my water use was 2.5X over the average, and I might have a leak). I finally managed to get a half-spin, and dragged the soggy sheets out to the wooden laundry dryer I’d gotten out of the basement and set up on the (sunny at that point) deck, and — long story short; everything worked out, but I always feel like it’s somehow my fault when stoopid technical stuff happens, and that if Steve were here, it wouldn’t have happened.

Which! Is patently wrong, and I can very vividly remember several times when Technology Struck and Steve was standing Right There.

Given the above, I did not attempt to double-string my mobile, but settled down with my ice tea and a book, and then there was the non-thunderstorm, and from there it just all spiraled into an unhappy evening.

Hoping for better today.

I’m about 230 pages into Alliance of Equals, which I recall many people complaining about. So far, I’m finding it much better written than Dragon in Exile, which surprises me, and not at all off-putting. Of course, I don’t mind books that jump around, so long as the author makes clear where we are, and so far the author has done so. Well. Maybe it all falls apart at the end. We’ll see.

And all that said? I’d best get breakfast and start the day.

What’s the weather where you are?

And, for those who are still with me — here’s the rest of the story:

Half-a-Sunday

Sunday. Sunny and warmer than latter days.

This morning’s work was going through Kin Right in search of those errors and fixing them. I herewith report progress: One was not an error, merely the time has not yet arrived. The other two … can be explained, in-world, and therefore are not errors.

The last load of towels is drying and the bedclothes are washing.

I have retired the trade station while Further Thoughts are Thunk.

I believe that I shall, as they say, Take The Rest of the Day Off. Perhaps I shall descend to The Studio and have a go at double-stringing my stars. After that, maybe I’ll make a big glass of iced tea and read a book.

Decadence, thy name is Rolanni.

The cats are distributed thusly — Tali is in the box on the corner of Steve’s desk; Firefly is in her Usual Position at the top of Mount Circular Logic, also in Steve’s office. Both are napping.

Rookie is curled up on top of the cedar chest in my office. He is — surprise! — napping.

They may be on to something.

What are you doing today?

Addendum: Sigh.

<complaint> I am getting Deeply Tired of the folks who are convinced that every piece of writing that’s come out since Steve died is a “wrap up,” or “the final.” We’re not at The Final yet, right? I’ll tell you when.</complaint>

Saturday morning

Saturday, dim and damp. First cup of tea — Russian Caravan, for those keeping track — to hand. Firefly is curled up in the comfy chair here in my office. Breakfast may be another cup of tea at the computer in Steve’s office.

Many thanks to the people who found Uncle Rusko’s given name. I wonder why everybody calls him Rusko? Maybe he doesn’t like Benin.

I last night finished reading Sourdough, which was fine until I got to the (what feels to me to be tacked on, and is probably the reason the writer wrote the book and the conceit that vaults it to brilliance, if only I were Clever Enough, which I so rarely am, and now we know why I write mere space opera) suitcase clone.

I also finished reading Dragon in Exile, which remains rough throughout, which leads me to wonder what was happening in 2014, when it would have been written. Possibly that was one of the years that Steve was in Baltimore on family business. Well. It gets the job done, though I guess I could have wished for a more attentive editor.

So! First cup of tea is gone. I am not feeling the breakfast love, so I do believe I’ll brew a second cup of tea and head for the writing desk.

What’s everybody doing today?

Steve Miller conversing with Ur Sid. Trade Secret book tour 2013. Photo by Christie Meierz.

Tools down

So apparently there’s an app that lets repair people know when you’re sitting down for lunch. Also, Rookie growled at the generator guy. Who is still working, having found a need to install a new battery.

Computers have been taken offline and the lights are out pending the “simulated power outage,” after which I suppose I will sign a paper and then Wander The House resetting all the clocks.
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End of the day. It’s raining. I am Utterly Frazzled. I don’t say I’m at the edge of an…Undesirable Head Space, but I can see it from here, and it ain’t pretty. The cats have pulled in, which is very good of them. Perhaps an early glass of wine, after I finish up here.

Anyhow, that’s 1,260 new words on the day, bringing the WIP entire to +/-16,220.

Tomorrow, I need to make those correx to Kin Right, and also name a couple characters in the current WIP. I’m … kind of impressed that we managed a short story and a book without giving Uncle Rusko a last name. I, mean, I like Rusko; he’s a good man, and he’s good for Tranh. He deserves a last name, amirite?

Before I sign off for the evening, and hoping for a better day tomorrow — have a snippet:
Bry Sen had a black eye.
Mac Gold had a broken arm.

Of puffins, whales, and the futility of doing good

So, yesterday, I finally went and booked myself into a combo whale watch/puffin cruise. That will be next Thursday, and I’m under orders to present myself to Cap’n Fish at crack o’dawn thirty so we can get underway.

Which brings us to — today!

Friday. Raining for a change. Sarah’s due in a couple minutes, and the generator guy is supposed to stop by to do his annual inspection of Station Systems.

Breakfast was cream cheese on toast with a side of cherries. Lunch will be leftover lentil-and-sweet potato stew that I managed to screw up when I was making it (put in twice too many lentils, and no, I’m not really sure how that happened). Still, it can be recovered, and so it shall at lunchtime.

So, the blood pressure med returned an amazing result for, eh? four days? And I’m back into alt. Stress is a remarkable force.

I found just recently that a person of known ill repute is seeking to align with my life’s work in order to make themselves seem legitimate and lovable. Said person has a history of harassing me, and the problem with the current tactic is that the target can’t even talk about it without sounding crazy, which is quite apart from the damage that can’t be blocked. Because the way these things work is that my lustre will not bestow grace, but will in turn be tarnished by this person’s actions.

I’m also in receipt of a contract for an interview, and my first reaction on reading it was “I wouldn’t sign this if it was a contract for a story.” Which, in essence, it is. So, that’s set aside for another reading in a day or two, in case the words rearrange themselves.

Also! I realized last night that I have made two errors — possibly three errors — in Kin Right that I ought to fix if I can, so have written to Baen Traffic with a query. And lucky I am that the book’s scheduled so far out.

Let’s see, what else?

Ah. The birds who nest in the rain gutter have returned, and Rookie is climbing the screen. Rookie being much bigger than he was last year this time, I expect the screen to shortly be in ribbons, so! New screen on the list.

Plans for the day include — writing! At least I know what the next scene is in the WIP, so there is that.

What’s the cat doing at your house, today?

Speaking of cats — yesterday, I had to call in my counselor, who was able to get me settled enough to write. I may be making another call this morning. Thank goodness I can pay her in tummy rubs.

City Livin’

Yesterday, I set up an Impromptu Crow Feeding Station, complete with a plateful of peanuts and a shiny Canadian dime.
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Impromptu Station, Thursday 6:30 am. I suspect squirrels.

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This is a cat whisker; it is five inches long. It was donated either by Firefly or Tali. Rook’s whiskers are black.

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Thursday. Sunny and going to be warm.

The Rule of Three is barely restraining me this morning.

Moving on.

An inspection of Impromptu Station finds that the peanuts are gone, and the dime remains. Having no better ideas at the moment, I have replenished the station, though at this point I’m doubtless just feeding squirrels. I’ve also entertained several requests from house finches for PEANUTS! so I shelled some and scattered them about. Turns out that aggressively shelling peanuts is a good outlet for anger.

And now, having been both put out, and put off schedule, I’m going to go get myself a piece of toast and go to — nope. I’m not. There’s another wasp in the house, so wasp removal first. That’s the third since last night. I wish I knew how they were getting in.

And how’s Thursday at your place?

Got a cobra snake for a necktie

Tuesday. Raining.

The trash ought to be migrated to the curb, but…maybe not. I’ll see how I feel about getting wet after breakfast and a second cup of tea.

In the meantime, I had intended to do Errands today, but have taken the Executive Decision to Do That Tomorrow, ref “rain” above.

So! Amended schedule: oatmeal and blueberries for breakfast. More tea! A couple hours with the WIP, lunch, chores, craft club.

Nothing the matter with that day, is there?

This morning, FB served up a guy who comes up pretty often in my feed lately, who has taken it on himself to “mansplain” women to men, taking the distaff side, and not doing too bad a job of it. This morning’s episode started with a joke, an “overhead conversation” between two women. The first says to her friend, “I don’t understand why you’re single! You’re smart, and funny, you’ve got a good job — what are men thinking?” And the friend says, “Well. I’m overqualified.”

pause for laughter

Social media keeps telling me that there are a lot of hurtin’ guys out there, and I am once again grateful, because the men in my life were largely supportive of me; taught me things (my father taught me how to change a tire; my grandfather taught me how to feed ducks; Jack Robinson, despite bearing seeping internal injuries from The War, taught me how to play cards; Danny-who-owned-the-bar (also wounded, but hiding it better) taught me the Japanese words that meant his guard dogs knew I filed under ‘to be guarded’ and not ‘to be guarded AGAINST.’), and celebrated my victories. Women didn’t like me, but that’s another essay.

Steve thought having a smart, creative, tough partner was all to his benefit, and if there were things he knew that I didn’t, well. He didn’t know everything either, now did he? Neither one of us was The Boss, and God She knows I was never “trad woman” material. Each of us was, as we told eluki on one occasion, half a good pilot. She used that in one of the Hellflower books, exemplary writer that she was.

. . . not really sure where I’m going with this. Random Tuesday Rainy Thoughts, I guess.

So! Good morning! How’s everybody doing today?

Today’s blog title brought to you by Lonesome George Thorogood: “Who do you love?”

Episodic Monday

Foggy Monday morning at the Cat Farm:
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I have a rosebud!

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Monday. The fog’s burned off and the morning is sunny and cool.

I’m a little drifty this morning, for some reason. OTOH, yesterday did have its Moments.

Breakfast et — the last two slices from the loaf, toasted, with cheese, and the last of the cherries. A theme. Bread, I can do something about — all the ingredients are measured out and sitting on the countertop, warming to room temperature. I’ll commence in mixing and kneading and whatnot after I sit with my notes and glower at the screen. Cherries will wait on the morrow.

I’m nearly finished writing the scenes I had, ahem, “plotted” and now I need to sketch in some scenes going forward, so I can go forward.

Why is writing a novel like crossing a stream on stepping stones?

Started reading Dragon in Exile last night, which — the beginning is a little rockier than I recall. Of course, I recall that the first scene I wrote was of the traveler arriving at the front door amidst a light summer snowfall, and taking a moment to decide if it would be better to use the palm plate or pull the bell rope.

And! That’s the bell for the third cup of tea, which shall accompany me back to Steve’s office to assist in the Glowering at Screens.

How’s your Monday starting out?
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Did some glaring, did some editing of what I wrote yesterday, added some new words. WIP currently stands at 13,610 words, more or less.

Bread’s in for the first rise, and I? need to find something to eat.
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And Useful Internet Find of the Day: King Arthur — how much does it weigh?

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Does anyone here trade with crows? I seem to have a family in the big pine tree and we might as well get to know each other.

How do I set up a trade station?

What are the drawbacks?
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Yeah, this’ll do

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OK! By request, this is the recipe for the loaf I made today, and by Gumby, Imma make it again, so this is for me as much as it’s for you. Again, I have taken a “Harvest Grain Bread” recipe from King Arthur and adapted it by (1) decreasing by .5 cups the unbleached flour, (2) increasing by .5 cups the wheat flour, and (3) subbing in 1.25 cups of lukewarm milk for .25 cup of dry milk and 1.25 cups of lukewarm water.

If you want the actual recipe, it’s here

BELOW IS WHAT I DID; reflecting the changes discussed above.

2 cups (240 g) (King Arthur) unbleached bread flour
1 cup (113 g) (King Arthur) golden wheat flour (this is what used to be called white whole wheat flour)
1/2 cup (74 g) (King Arthur) Harvest Grain Blend
1.5 teaspoons (9 g) table salt
2.5 tablespoons (28 g) granulated sugar
2 teaspoons instant yeast
1.25 cups (283 g) lukewarm milk (I used skim, cause that’s what I had)
3 tablespoons (43 g) unsalted butter, softened (OR 3 tablespoons (35 g) vegetable oil

Combine all ingredients and knead (via hand, electric mixer or bread machine) until the dough is smooth, elastic, and satiny.

Put dough into a lightly greased bowl, cover bowl with lightly greased plastic wrap, allow the dough to rise for an hour (or let the bread machine complete its cycle). The dough will be puffy, but it will not have doubled. That’s OK.

Transfer dough to a lightly floured surface, shape a loaf, put it in a lightly greased 9×5 loaf pan, cover the pan with lightly greased plastic wrap, and let the bread rise until the top is about an inch from the top of the pan — between 1 and 1.5 hours.

Preheat the oven to 350F

Bake bread for 35 minutes or until an internal thermometer registers 190F. Take the bread out of the oven, and out of the pan to cool on a rack.

Try not to slice it before it’s cool.

Store leftover bread (yes, there is such a thing), well-wrapped, at room temperature for three days. Freeze for longer storage.

NOTE: The foregoing is canon, but honestly, after the loaf’s cool, I put it in a plastic bag and tuck it in the fridge. If I know I’m gonna be slow on bread use, I sometimes cut the loaf in half, put half in the fridge and half in the freezer.

Sunday, with thunderstorms

So, this rolled in this morning:

Great thunderstorm.

Yesterday, Wunderground had told me to look for “violent” thunderstorms today, but this morning Google wimped out with “rain showers.” I pick my teeth at you, Google.

I am reminded to be So. Very. Thankful. that we managed to afford to put new windows in my office, and that I followed through with the new sliders in Steve’s office. The rain is much nicer when it stays where it belongs and/or when I can open an oblique side window and sit in the comfy chair and have the Rain Experience, and taste the ozone on the wind.

The rain’s slowing down, now, which I guess is just as well. I need to go do my duty to the cats and then find something for lunch.

1,255ish new words today, for those keeping track at home, bringing the WIP entire to five-ish words short of 13,000.
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So that was a little less fun. I noticed a puddle on the kitchen floor in front of the oven, figured I’d spilled something and in the process of reaching for a paper towel, saw a big puddle on top of the (happily glass-topped) stove. Seems the rain came in through the vent. That’s special.
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So the big farmhouse up the street from me apparently has an offer on it, asking price in the neighborhood of $525,000. Because I’m incurably nosey, I took the photo tour on Zillow. It’s in pretty good shape, but, as I said, big, also old; and big, old houses are hard to heat. Sits on about 2.5 acres, 5 bedrooms, 3 baths, gorgeous library with built in shelves and a fireplace, swoopy driveway that must cost a fortune to keep plowed. Possibly — I’m not as up on neighborhood history as I might ought to be, but as the house bears A Name — it was the farmhouse that had been in place before the land was sold for a development, and here I am, and all our neighbors.

On t’other side of me, down a few doors, another single-level house, though not so Interestingly Configured as, and on a slightly larger lot than, the Cat Farm, about 10 years older, newly fixed up by the people who only bought it a couple years ago. Asking price just about twice what we paid for this house, 8 years ago. I hear it’s a seller’s market. That’s news, I guess.

I’m wondering if Amazon warehouse soon to be built very nearby is going to bring housing prices up or down. When the mall went at Owings Mills, house prices skyrocketed, because all the folks who came down from New York with Macy’s saw bargains, and bought two — one to live in and one to rent, pricing the locals (which Steve and I were at the time) outta the market.

Well. That was interesting. Time to change the second cat fountain, and then make some rice to have on-hand. I’m bumping bread-baking to tomorrow.

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So, I finished reading/listening to Necessity’s Child last night. I very much like Necessity’s Child, though finding out that the one thing I thought was Absolutely Rock Solid going in — wasn’t. That said — wow is that a tight book.

I don’t remember much about writing it — except the ending which fought me because, as above, I was insisting on the wrong ending. I do remember that Toni wanted me to give her a … proposal thingy, which I did to the best of my (very) poor ability, and then, as she and I were discussing what I had proposed in email, I Thought of Something that I had overlooked, which altered the direction of the story, and thus the proposal, threw that into the discussion and said, “And, see? Already it’s changing.”

Toni threw up her hands at that point, I think. And, yeah, the story does bear some small relationship to that proposal: The Bedel and the steam tunnels. And I think the school.

Speaking of proposals — trying to get lesson plans into shape for my class in the fall, I am once again confronted with the inherent dishonestly of classes that promise to “teach” worldbuilding or voice or characterization or any other fiddly little bit of craft. The bald truth is that you can’t just teach one piece of writing a story; you’ve got to teach it all, just like you have to write it all. Characters live somewhere — that’s worldbuilding — characters are doing something, hopefully for a reason — that’s plot. Yes, breaking the Fourth Wall is a Bad Thing. Only? Every single first person story written since the Dawn of Forever breaks the Fourth Wall at the very first “I” — because who is that character talking to, exactly? Herself?

Well. It’ll be interesting.

Time to say g’night, folks.

I’ll see you tomorrow.