life after the apocalypse – Page 17

Doctor, Doctor, Mister MD

What went before: Yesterday was all errands all day. The cover art for Diviner’s Bow is with the framer, and I should have it back by mid-February. There came up for discussion the always interesting question of which band did the superior version of “Good Lovin'” — the Grateful Dead or the Young Rascals. Facebook is leaning toward the Rascals. I now open the question up to those reading here. Here’s the Dead’s version. Here’s the Rascals’ version.

Onward.

Tuesday. Cloudy and cool. Snowed a tiny bit on the overnight. Trash and recycling at the curb.

Woke up sneezing and hacking, so — no sewing circle for me today. Grr. I did mask everywhere I went yesterday, and a good thing too, I’m thinking.

Breakfast was an English muffin with cream cheese and an orange. I only have two of the little oranges left. *adds to list* Lunch will be … um.

Rookie decided to help me choose my day wear this morning, and as a result got locked in a closet for a few minutes. I called him; he answered; and I let him out. It’s nice to have a cat who answers when he’s called.

Having been let out, he had to go get Grandpa to Show Him, I suppose, but neither one could get the door open again.

So, I guess today is stay at home and poke at things, but not too energetically.

I think my next audiobook will be Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day, another frequent reread for me. I finished reading Midlife in Gretna Green last night. I had a good time with it, and there are six (?) more, I hear.

The backbrain has been providing snips of scenes and various insights for the next book, so Not Writing is paying its dividends. I plan to continue Not Writing today.

What are your plans for the day?

Zooooooooooooooommmmmmmmmmmmmmm

Monday, sunny and cool.

Breakfast was eggs scrambled with sausage and onion, and the last of the silly little corn cakes. Lunch … may be take out.

I have errands, including the long-put-off getting of gas, and foraging. This afternoon, I have an appointment to choose a frame for the Diviner’s Bow art.

And that’s really all I’ve got. I’ll see you on the flipside. Do feel free to talk among yourselves.

Sunny Sunday

Sunday. Sunny 16F/-8C. Said to be headed for a balmy 32F/0C.

Later, there will be the sweeping of the steps and the walking out to get the mail. Right now, there’s a waffle in the toaster oven, and sausages in the pan. A Sunday Breakfast. Lunch may either be chicken or a yam. I leaning toward the yam at the moment, but that could change.

USPS informs me that I will be receiving the proof for the second try for a hardcover Sea Wrack. . . .

Despite having slept late, and the sun pouring into my office, I’m fighting an urge to take a nap. Perhaps another cup of tea is in order.

For those following along at home, my new read is Midlife in Gretna Green by Linzi Day.

Today’s to-do list includes the already discussed sweeping and gathering, and the preparation of lunch. Have some data entry to do, as the last credit card bills detailing 2024 expenditures have landed.

Before all that, I may really take my second cup of tea over to the comfy chair and sit in the sun while I listen to another chapter or two of The Goblin Emperor. I must say that the audiobook experiment is producing … unexpected benefits. I’m finding it remarkably soothing to just sit and let someone read to me. Of course, I know the book very well and the narrator is well-matched to the text.

So, another lazy-ish day here at the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory, and I can’t even been cranky at myself. Really, I’ve earned this.

So, that.

How’s everybody doing?

The cure for anything is salt water

So, yesterday, I looked at the long-term weather, by which I mean, the weather over the next four days, because this is The Changing Land, and one dare not look too far into the future. My climatic explorations revealed that tomorrow, Sunday, the weather was to be warm(ish) (by which I mean 36F/2C) and sunny(ish). The last snow has long since melted off the roads, and the Long Back Yard is showing more grass than white, so driving wouldn’t be a challenge in any way. And I thought to myself, “Self? You could drive to the ocean. After all, we’ve already applied sweat and tears.”

Saturday. Snowing. And so I am taught what I already knew: Do not plan drives in Maine in the winter.

Breakfast was hummus, naan, grapes. Second cup of tea brewing. I don’t have a clue about lunch. Need to stick my head in the freezer and see what’s there.

I should go out today to put gas in the car and grab some milk. Should’ve filled up the last time but one that I was out and about, but I was already feeling not quite the thing and standing out in the cold breeze while the car gassed up didn’t appeal. So, as a consolation prize, I can stand out in the snow. Which — it seems to have stopped snowing for the moment. Nope, started again.

Finished The House in the Cerulean Sea last night. Someone asked me to discuss my reactions. Honestly, it was — OK. A bit heavy-handed, but I can see why it won awards. There’s a whole population of people out there who need heavy-handed and confuse it with art. I did like the kids, and laughed a couple of times at the dialog. Not a Glowing Review, and I wouldn’t have given it a prize, but I’ve certainly read worse. Shaker of salt: Readers of this review will do well to recall that I found The Martian infuriating, though I am assured by All The People that it’s brilliant.

Still Not Writing. This morning, my brain offered a tentative scene, and I did remember to go laLaLALACANNOTHEARYOU! This is much easier to do when you have a co-conspirator who is more than willing to talk at you for hours on end about Name Your Obscure Science or Engineering Theory, and then demand to know what your favorite Danny Kaye movie is. And why.

Today’s chores include the aforesaid gassing of the motorized chariot, finishing the laundry, nibbling at the taxes some more, doing research, and figuring out what’s for lunch. Oh, and choosing my next book to read. That pretty much amounts to a lazy Saturday.

Is your Saturday lazy or busy?

Today’s blog title brought to you by Isak Dinesen, “The cure for anything is salt water: sweat, tears, or the sea.”

In Which the Writer is NOT Writing

What Went Before: Last night, as part of the curriculum of Not Writing, I watched a show on PBS Passport called SAFE HARBORS, which is a tour of 65 Maine lighthouses (I note here that this is not all of the lighthouses in Maine, and also that I’ve been to/seen a surprising number of them). I urge everyone to find this show and watch it (I’m told it’s soon to come to YouTube). It’s not a documentary, there’s no narration, only music and these incredible, incredible views of the lighthouses.

Moving on to!

Friday. Chilly, lots of puffy white clouds moving fast across a mostly blue sky.

Tea brewing. Breakfast will be cottage cheese, corn flat (I’ve forgotten what they’re called — Thomas’ Toaster something. As a substitute for corn bread, it’s not. Next time, I’ll make my own. — and grapes. Lunch — I guess fish and — something.

I see there are as many as half-a-dozen folks admitting to having read Diviner’s Bow — thank you and I hope you had fun. Do remember the spoiler space, and to drop a review at Goodreads or other venue of your choice.

Regarding the spoiler space, I am going to vary. It has been the authors’ policy not to be involved in those discussions, merely releasing messages after a scan for politeness &c. This time, I have a Question Regarding Craft that you, the readers of this particular work, can help me with. So, I’ll be posing my question in the spoiler discussion, and I thank all participants in advance for your patience and your assistance.

Today is another No-I-Am-NOT-Writing Day. This is kind of hardcore, but I’ve got to get my brain back, and the best thing I know to do is Do Other Things. If the weather were more clement, I’d go for a drive, but I think that’s off the table. *looks out window at the wind shaking the crab apple tree* Yeah. Off the table.

What I will be doing is taking down the wreath, which has started to lose needles, and changing out the 2024 moon phase calendar for the 2025. Also, there’s rumors of the June royalties in the bank, so I’ll be doing some cash juggling.

I read an interesting article last night about the Five of Cups, which is typically rendered as a Card of Loss. In traditional decks, the image is of a figure and five cups, three of which are overturned; two remaining upright. The figure is focused on the overturned cups — thus the loss. However, the two unregarded cups, still full, sitting behind the figure, hint that all, perhaps, is *not* lost.

It will surprise no one here to learn that my favorite tarot deck is not a traditional deck, but the Halloween Tarot, which I find both joyful and accessible. In this deck, the suits are Pumpkins (Pentacles), Ghosts (Cups), Bats (Swords), and Imps (Wands).

The Five of Ghosts, then: a central figure, gazing downward, clearly disconcerted or sad; there is a bucket on the ground directly behind him. Around the figure are five ghosts, hovering in a sky with five stars. The ghosts are also disconcerted, following the central figure’s downward gaze. The black cat (which appears in all of the cards in this deck) is in the foreground, looking at the ghosts.

I was at first somewhat alarmed. Playful my deck might be, but it stringently adheres to the Language of the Tarot, and this card varied and not in a good way. It seemed to withhold the promise of those two, unspilled, cups, not only going against the Language, but the spirit of the deck itself.

So, I sat with the card for a while, and it came to me, finally, that one of the ghosts was not focused on the disaster, whatever it was. It was focused on the figure, and its arms were outstretched, as if it would offer comfort. And then, of course, there’s the bucket, sitting quietly — empty or full, but not spilled. The Language remains pure, and the card remains true to itself and the deck.

So, that.

What’s surprised you recently?

Wake-up cat census:

The Return of Winter, Part Three

What went before: Discussions yesterday led to the realization that Diviner’s Bow represents the fastest turnaround from manuscript to eARC that I, personally, have participated in. Bearing in mind that the book was due on November 15, this is the timeline: WIP handed in on October 28, line edits received on November 14, copy edits received on December 8, galleys received on December 23, eARC on-sale January 8.

No wonder I’m tired.

Also! for those who missed yesterday’s exciting announcement, you may now purchase, from Baen.com and only from Baen.com, the Diviner’s Bow eARC. Here’s your link.

As has been our pleasant custom, a private parlor for spoiler discussions has been opened so that those who read the eARC can talk about it without spoiling the story for those readers who prefer to wait for other editions to be published. Here’s the link to the Diviner’s Bow Spoiler Space.

That brings us current, I think, so! Onward to!

Thursday, grey and cold. Snowed a tiny bit on the overnight, enough to give the Long Backyard a Wintry Air.

Breakfast was oatmeal with raisins and walnuts. Second cup of tea brewing. Lunch will be chili.

I’m declaring myself flu-free; 24 hours off of Robitussin, hacking non-present, sneezing ditto, no fever for days.

Today is a No-I-Am-NOT-Writing day. The crazy rush on Diviner’s Bow — where I got the edit letter the day before the book was due — may have broken my brain. Not really. Only a sprain, I’m sure. Still, if this is going to be the New Crazy, I’m going to have to take steps to protect myself, so that I can deliver the books that are still under contract. It might be I’ll need to extend the extension for the next book, because I never did get the downtime (being sick is not downtime) I thought I was gaining after I turned in …Bow.

In any case — today I’ll be catching up around the house, changing out the cat fountains (which should have been done days ago, ref “sick” above, and my cats are saints) maybe watching a documentary about lighthouses if I can track it down again, and other Light non-writing Amusements.

I also need to give some consideration to on-going brain care. I’ve mentioned before that I have a very busy brain. If I don’t keep it occupied — not stressed, occupied — it turns on itself, which is … not optimal. For 46 years, I lived inside a vortex of intellectual and creative stimulation, and as much as that might’ve made other people crazy, it was what kept me functional.

Isn’t Life interesting?

Speaking of Interesting — Who’s finished reading Diviner’s Bow? Show of hands, if you please! *raises three hands*

That’s all I’ve got right now.

Here, have a picture of the back yard. What’s the weather where you are?

Recovering writer is recovering

Wednesday. Sunny and chill.

Breakfast was rice cakes with cream cheese and grapes. Finishing up first cup of tea. Lunch will be leftover quiche.

The bed has been stripped down to the mattress — which Rookie found very exciting. The spread is drying, which will take FORever; blanket and coverlet soon to be washed. Opened the windows briefly to let the good air in and, hopefully, drive the bad air out. I missed a picture of Rook stretched full length in an open window, head high and proud, his fur ruffled by the (icy) breeze, looking every inch a Winter Lord.

I am feeling much much better, obviously, and yes, I am trying to not overdo myself into a relapse. I do note that I’m still hacking and that I’m going to have to send someone out to get me some more Robitussin, which I forgot to put on the grocery list yesterday.

In reading news, I put Lord Julian aside for the moment; he had been such a good friend in illness that it would be wrong in me to thrust him away in a fit of convalescent pique. I read instead last night from The House in the Cerulean Sea.

The plan today is to perform one’s duty to the cats, finish with the washing, reassemble the bed, and work on the short story — which now has a better, and more fitting, title: “Core Values.” I will possibly find it necessary, as I did yesterday, to break in the middle of the day, and listen quietly to a chapter or two of The Goblin Emperor.

A simple, even a modest, plan but mine own.

What are your plans for the day?

Proof of life:

Day 5

Tuesday. Cold and dim.

Slept hard and late. So that‘s good.

I did not gather the trash and recycling yesterday, and am not going to do so this morning. Next week sees a return to Schedule.

Breakfast was muffin, orange, tea. Kettle on for second cup of tea.

Today, I’ll make a grocery order and have it delivered. I suppose I ought to do that earlier, rather than later. I also have a pile of stuff that was put aside for page proofs, which, yanno, I really don’t want to do, not least because they fall into that large category of things that are insipid and pointless to accomplish without Steve on-hand to offer insights, angles of approach, and random snipery.

I *would* like to spend some time with my story, so I may throw adulting to the wind and do that. What’s the point of being an adult if you don’t get to decide when NOT to adult?

I’ve started reading the 6th installment in Lord Julian’s adventures — A Gentleman of Unreliable Honor — and I’m beginning to get a little annoyed with him. This is either an artifact of having read so many in a row, or because I actually am feeling better and therefore more irritable (the author does now and then drop a narrative stitch; nothing major, and no business of mine, really, but I hit one during yesterday’s reading and gritted my teeth).

As reported elsewhere, the cats are at their stations.

. . . and so it goes.

How does it go with you?

Tuesday morning cat census:

Chilly Monday

Monday. Sunny and cold.

Still sick, fever down but sticking around. Robitussin deployed.

Lord Julian is earning his fee, hitting the sick-bed entertainment sweet spot of being an undemanding read with competent characterization, and engaging puzzles.

I need to call the chiropractor and cancel that appointment for today. And I won’t be going to the sewing club tomorrow, though I will be keeping my appointment with the PCP. He wanted to see me for a “mental health” check-up, but he can extend himself to a “flu, progress of” check-up, which will really be more useful for both of us.

I hear the kettle boiling, so I should go deal with that. Also breakfast. I’ll figure something out.

How’s everybody doing this morning?

In which the writer has the flu

What went before: Woke up yesterday feeling extremely awful, and running a stoopid high fever. Took myself to the clinic while I could, and Tests were performed. I’m cleared for COVID, RSV, strep, but! I do have the flu. This, according to the doctor, is what passes for good news, because the flu only lasts “a couple days.” I’m to stay in until the fever breaks, wear a mask if I do go out, and avoid, well, people.

Sunday. Cold and sunny. Predictions are for snow.

Kettle’s on for tea, peppermint and honey. Stirred, not shaken. Breakfast will … likely involve toast. Today will likely be spent in the corner of the couch or in the Command Chair. I wouldn’t say that I’m well (especially since I’m now a sneezy, drippy mess) but I have perhaps turned a corner, because yesterday I was content to just sit and be miserable, and this morning I’m grumpy because I haven’t been *doing* anything.

On the plus side, I have discovered something that’s even *more* boring to talk about than writing.

The cats have been taking this Health Emergency very seriously, piling on all three at once, though I’ll note that the Rookie was left on nursing duty all by himself for a couple hours yesterday. He did very well, initially setting up station in the rocking chair directly across from the couch, later adopting a more paws-on approach, by coming over and sitting on my lap to purr. Boy, that cat has a purr.

So, that’s what’s happening hereabouts today. What’s happening thereabouts?