Tag: life after the apocalypse

And she could hear the highway breathing

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

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

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

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

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

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

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

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

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

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

What are your hopes for the day?

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

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

 

 

 

The Battle of the Brain

Explanatory note:  As discussed elsewhere, my brain and I have a Complicated Relationship.  When it doesn’t have enough to do, it turns on itself. One of its favorite forms of cruelty is to declare that I could Do Better, accompanied by the assertion that I’m just sitting like a bump on a stump, doing Exactly Nothing.  When this happens, I often resort to making a Done-To List as evidence that I actually am accomplishing things.  Yesterday was one of those days.

What went before:

Done-To List as of 11:25 am

1. Ate breakfast (don’t laugh)
2. PR
3. Blog update
4. Handwrote scene +/- 800 words
5. Moved laptop and working stuff to living room rocking chair (because we are now entering the season when I can’t use my desktop for three hours in the morning on sunny days.)
6. Started and monitoring laundry
7. Answered correspondence
8. Started a Done-To List because my brain is being pissy
12:30pm
9. Scooped cat boxes
10 Took a 10 minute walk around the basement
11 Started the oven for heating fish
12 Wound and set the big regulator clock
13 Ordered a stainless steel cat fountain for the second bathroom, because it suddenly descended upon me like a bolt from the blue that the gravity waterer in there is plastic and will now be some years old.
14 Updated the Done-To List because I’m Just. That. Petty.
2:40 pm
15 Cooked and ate lunch (don’t laugh)
16 Reviewed ASL homework
17 Brought in cat litter from garage
18 Reviewed my Draft Schedule from BaltiCon and wrote emails re same because there seems to be a Misunderstanding
19 Snuggled cats
20 Updated the Done-To List
4:30 pm
21 Finished entering correx in WIP
22 Fetched in the mail
23 Ate a snack
24 Fed Trooper his meds mixed in gravy
25 Fed the Young Fry Blue Wilderness meat treats
26 Updated Done-To List
7:46 pm
27 Went to ASL class
28 Served up Coon Cat Happy Hour
29 Poured glass of wine.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

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Friday. Raining. Said to be changing to snow on the overnight.

Time check: April 11

Breakfast was cottage cheese and grapes. I’m finishing up my first mug of tea. Lunch … I have leftover soup and prolly enough stuff to throw together a salad, so that may be it.

Tali’s Fan Club has not had a report for some while. Tali is taking her time about settling in. She often comes to my lap, but she needs to stand up, instead of settling in. She’s free with her purrs, and occasionally delivers herself of little nips to my fingers, which — I appreciate the thought, but having your fingers nipped while you’re trying to type is … disconcerting at the least. Her Complicated Relationship with Rook continues to develop. I would say he’s her closest friend in the clowder. She and Firefly are cordial, and they both share the couch with me for the evening reading — Firefly against my right hip, and Tali against my left knee — but they don’t see each other out. She defers to Trooper, and I’ve seen her seek him out to wash his ears for him, or to just sit nearby.

We had a Major Breakthrough the other night, when Tali — at last! — seemed to figure out the Red Dot, and joined in the riot of trying to catch the damned thing before it got into the wall vent. She’s previously sat on the edges of the game, a puzzled observer, though she’s an enthusiastic cat dancer (I try to switch out the evening games).

She has gained about a pound in the two months she’s been here, and her daily cat wrasslin’ and back hall races with Rook are keeping her in shape. She’s still not sure I’m allowed to brush her, but we’re making some progress there, as well.

Summing up: Tali is being conservative in her approach but does not seem displeased with her new arrangements.

My first order of business today is to transcribe the scene I wrote out yesterday, after which I shall Cast About Me to see if any other scene catches my eye.

How’s everybody doing?

Below, Tali interrupted by the paparazzi:

Sunny Thursday

BUSINESS FIRST!  Diviner’s Bow by Sharon Lee and Steve Miller, the 27th novel set in the Liaden Universe® of their own devising (ignore Amazon; it doesn’t know how to count) premiers at #13 on the Bookscan new release bestseller list!

We couldn’t have done it without you, so! Give yourselves a hand!

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What went before ONE: The snow is melting nicely, and I’ve sketched in the beginning of a scene, and washed my robe, which may need to get washed again, considering the amount of cat fur still clinging to it. On the other hand, fur is warm amirite?

I was listening to the Spectrum Channel on Sirius, and the host was discussing the new crop of artists who are up for inclusion in the Rock ‘n Roll Hall of Fame, which is one of Sirius’ Big Things. This year INXS is on the list (I mean, why isn’t INXS already in the Hall of Fame?), and the host, who is not someone who goes out of her way to speak ill of people, mentioned that she was pleased with the inclusion of INXS, and then said, “You know, I do try to separate the art from the artist — in my business, you sort of have to — but I don’t think I’ll ever forgive Neil Gallagher of Oasis, for his acceptance speech. You remember the one — Mike Hutchence (of INXS) was giving the award and Gallagher, in his speech said, “Has-beens shouldn’t be giving out [fucking] awards to gonna-bes.” That, said mine host, and she wasn’t wrong, was cruel. It was, in fact, ungracious, and then, she added, “A year later Mike Hutchence was gone, so I hope Neil Gallagher felt good about that. Anyway! Here’s INXS — ”

Wow.

So! I guess I’d better empty the dishwasher and start warming up my soup for lunch.

How’s everybody doing at the half-way mark on the day?

What went before ONE-point-FIVE: Just thinking about the acceptance speech thing, and — I’m going to be giving an acceptance speech in a little over a month.

Mine’s better than Noel Gallagher’s.

Just sayin’.

What went before TWO: I’m not really sure what I got done today. Bits of this and pieces of that.

Got some correx entered — oh. I had to rewrite a scene to make it plain that Val Con’s being sneaky, for those who may have forgotten his core values.

Spent some time looking for something that I never did find. I hate that. And now I need to practice my speech again (trying to do this long enough so that it’s more or less committed to memory by the time I actually have to stand up on a stage and speak), and do some ASL review. I’m of the opinion that the days aren’t long enough, because it can’t be that I’m wasting time. Sigh.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

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Let’s see. Thursday. Sunny and bound for warm. Last class of ASL Session One this evening.

Breakfast was potatoes fried with onions, cottage cheese, and grapes. Lunch will likely be a fish sandwich.

ASL review this morning. There’s a load of laundry washing, because the basket was full and it offendeth me.

I have more correx to input, and some more scenes to draft by hand, so it’s not like I lack for occupation.

So the book I’m reading is The Dreadful Duke, by Grace Burrowes, in which Our Hero is a sculptor. He’s been doing this for a long time, and as he was in the position of having to do art in exchange for money, he has worked long hours and demanded much of himself. When the story opens, the second thing we are told about the man is that his hands hurt. And this remains an undercurrent of the story, that one’s art may be beloved, but it will in the end break you.

This brought to you by, my hands hurt.

What’s everybody doing today that’s fun?

Below:  The Long Back Yard, this morning; obligatory cat pics

You can make or break; you can win or lose

Notice:  Today’s blog post is picture-heavy.  Some days are like that, Mrs. Miller.

What went before ONE:  So, here in Maine, where it’s snowing, the US Government has pulled the funds that pay for school lunches in Maine, because there are trans students in school sports, and! it has just pulled correctional funding because there’s a trans prisoner in a women’s prison.

This, according to the US Government’s Speaker to Animals in the service of “protecting women.”

What fun.

What went before TWO: This of course makes it very easy to type…

What went before THREE: Snowing harder. Hands still hurt.

1260 new words today, and that’s the end of the new scene.

Trooper is yelling his head off, which is going to get tiresome RSN, and won’t make Happy Hour happen faster. It’s just — clocks, man. SO disobliging.

I was able to schedule a mammogram at Thayer in September, and therefore cancelled the one at Sebasticook. There were a couple of confusing points, such as — Where do you want the report sent. Which, given my PCP has gone or will shortly go, poof! was a puzzler. I finally recalled to mind my surgeon at the cancer center, so that’s who will receive the report. The other one was — Have your records sent over to us. Oh, yeah, sure. How? Oh, just call their file room, they do this all the time. Uh-huh.

I ended up calling the women’s health department, explaining what I was told and they were able to send the electronic files on while I was on the phone with them.

I also signed a service agreement, which will take care of my lawn mowing and the upcoming winter’s snow removal.

So, yanno — progress made on several fronts. Go, me.

Speaking of progress — I did wash the sheets, but now I have to fold them. So, I guess I’ll do that, and let Trooper yell out here all by his onesie.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Wednesday. Sunny and cold. About 2.5 inches of snow on the front step; trees coated with white. Ref pic below.

The Weatherbeans are calling for sun and 40F/4C today and warmer tomorrow. Already, the snow’s falling off the trees. Friday should be quite pleasant. Saturday and Sunday, you ask? Mixed snow and rain. What else?

Given Conditions, today will be more writing, lucky characters; also ASL homework. I should also Scrutinize my travel arrangements, and nail down an appointment in Corning to make some glass.

Breakfast was cream cheese on rice crackers, with a side of grapes; second mug of tea to hand. Lunch will be soup and salad, because I’m lazy.

On the Fashionista Front, the pearl studs worked out well yesterday, so I may put in the sapphire studs today. They’ll look nice with my green-and-black-check flannel shirt.

It appears that the morning wrassle-and-scream session is now a Tradition for Rook and Tali. They have at it mightily for, oh, six minutes? Then Rook rolls over and shows his belly, Tali licks his head and they go off to their morning nap spots. Cats, man. They passeth understanding.

Oh, another thing to do today. I’ll be attending AlbaCon remotely, if I can figure out how to tell Zambia that.

. . . and that’s really all I’ve got. As a spectator sport, writing is even more boring than chess. No, I misspeak. Chess isn’t boring at all, to an informed onlooker. So I’ve been told. Golf, then. Writing is more boring than golf. There’s a tshirt.

What are you doing today that’s boring?

Here, have a picture of Trooper the Wise. And Grumpy. Can’t forget Grumpy.

Today’s blog title brought to you courtesy of Mr. Glenn Fry, “The Heat is On.”

She could kill you with the wink of an eye

What Went Before ONE: So there I was in Five Below, wandering about and wondering, among other things, who would WANT Stitch headphones, when — my phone rang. I looked at the caller ID and it said Sebasticook Hospital.

On the off-chance that someone I knew was actually in the hospital and needed me to do something for them, I answered.

My mammogram, previously scheduled for September 12 at the hospital around the corner from my house? The hospital which is closing in May? Said mammogram has been rescheduled for the same time at — Sebasticook Hospital. In Pittsfield. 30ish miles away.

I hate this timeline.

Also — lunchtime.

What Went Before TWO: A mixed afternoon.

I have determined that the Subaru’s navcomp operates while I am playing a CD in the single-disk CD player.

I have determined that I can play Sirius XM from my phone to the car’s speakers via bluetooth and the navcomp will speak to me.

I have determined that I can bluetooth navigation from phone to the Subaru, but Sirius XM will not play from the car when I do so.

I have determined that I can bluetooth both Sirius XM and navigation from the phone through the Subaru’s speakers and both will work; which is to say, the music will play and when the navigator needs to speak, it simply yells over the music.

I have determined that there are no (zero, zip, zilch, NO) copies of Diviner’s Bow at the Augusta Maine Barnes and Noble. The lady on the customer service desk put in an order for three when I asked her to do so, but she allowed as Corporate might not “let them” have the books, ref previous “timeline, this one, hate it.”

I’m going to get a cup of hot chocolate, then I’ll unbox my bread slicer, which was delivered while I gamboled about Central Maine.

What Went Before THREE: Preliminary bread guide report.

I washed it, put it together and cut the last of the loaf using it. It made one straight thinner slice, and one slice slightly thicker, but I stress here that we were using the end of a loaf that had already been abused by my lack of skill.

I will likely be making a new loaf tomorrow, and will update my report then.

So far — it goes together like a dream. I don’t see any splinters and the crumb catcher is kinda cool.

What Went Before FOUR: So, I determined that I would use Steve’s old phone as a navigation/music device in the car. Which is a sensible use of resources, and preserves the charge on my phone in case of need.

So, I opened his phone, and then freaked out, because I was going to have to delete things, and what if he came home and wanted his phone and I’d gone and repurposed it?

Yeah, I know. But it’s a hard habit to break. For most of my life, he’s always come home again.

Happy ending — I can keep the apps, right? But they don’t have to be littering the front screen. I can just leave Sirius and Google Maps there where I can get at them.

And I do believe that’s quitting time. Tomorrow, we make bread — and new words.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

#

Tuesday. Grey and cool. Rain and snow on the menu, say the Weatherbeans. Trash and recycling are at the curb.

There will be no bread baking today, as my hands are not up to it. (Yes, I have a Kitchen Aid. The Kitchen Aid does not put itself together, measure ingredients, or shape the loaf. Or for that matter, put the loaf in the oven.) This is why we have the spare loaves in the freezer, and today I will make a withdrawal. As the spares are already sliced, the updated review of the bread slicing guide will be delayed until the next baking.

On Bad Hands Days, the hands are reserved for writing, and for one’s duty to the cats, so that’s my schedule for the day.

Breakfast was almond butter and cherry jelly on a whole wheat English Muffin. There’s leftover homemade stirfry for lunch.

I have here before me yesterday’s installment from the New Yorker cartoon calendar, which features a man and a woman on a desert island, and the woman is saying to the man, “I wouldn’t mind being rescued now that I’ve finally grown my bangs out.”

I was wandering around the house taking the cat census. Rook was under the ledge of my standing desk, so I sat down to take his picture, whereupon he stepped across and took over my lap.

What are your companion animals doing today?

Today’s blog title brought to you by Sweet, “Ballroom Blitz.”  NOTE:  If you are now or have ever been a fire marshal, do not watch this video.

Cat census:

Earrings and old photos

What went before: Entered a bunch of correx into the WIP today, which gets me to a place where I need to write a scene, tomorrow.

I need to go out tomorrow because I? ran out of cat treats, because, yes, I am a Bad Cat Mom. And also? Because it’s going to snow on Tuesday.

Winter? We gotta talk.

Otherwise, I need to find something to eat, and then go curl up on the couch and read for a bit.

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Monday. Cloudy and chilly.

Breakfast was rice cakes and cream cheese with pineapple juice. Finishing up my first cup of tea. Lunch will depend on what looks good when I go to the grocery store.

This morning I have errands, and banking, and staging the trash for tomorrow; ASL review; at least inputting some correx, if I don’t have enough spoons to write that scene. Also, I’m behind on my correspondence.

Slept a good long while, though I have the impression I woke up every hour to look at the clock. Finally truly woke up, but feeling very tired. Which really seems unfair.

The old silver studs earrings wore well yesterday and overnight. I took them out to shower, and this morning put in the pearl studs on their surgical steel posts. Sometime realsoonow, I’ll get to the sapphire studs, but they’re rather heavier and I’m trying to be — what’s that word? — prudent.

I once again thank everyone who left a review of Diviner’s Bow for your generosity. And I again remind everyone else, as is my duty, to please leave a review as you have time. And a special note for the folks who are rereading the previous two books to prep — reviews of old books count, too, and! the Ribbon Dance mmp is coming our RSN, so new reviews there are good, too.

And that’s all I’ve got, really. Given my general state of fuzziness, I should probably warm the kettle for a second cup of tea before I get on the road, but, yanno — mere details.

What’s Monday like at your place?

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From the Department of Old Photos

This fell into my lap, so to speak, when I was looking for something else.

BaltiCon 15 would have been in 1981. The young lady in the picture would therefore have been…28. The shirt is a patterned satin, white on white, the skirt is white. The sash is red. The funny thing sticking out of her head is a red scarf, which — I don’t know why it was there. Must’ve been a reason. And those glasses weighed A TON.  Photo by Steve Miller.

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OK, somebody wanted a pic of Young Steve. The back of the photo says “BaltiCon 1979,” which would make that BaltiCon 13. Steve was 28; I was 26.

Photo possibly by jan howard finder. We had been talking to him in this space. (Longer History: Steve and I were arriving at the con separately, and had arranged to meet “at registration,” as one does. I was dawdling alone, and jan had just asked me (1) my name (2) if I would like to do the con with him. I told him I was waiting for Steve Miller, who arrived just then, whereupon jan said, “Here’s the lucky man now.” So, yes, entirely possible, jan took this picture.)

In which the harpoons are removed

Sunday. Raining, coolish.

Breakfast was salmon cake on multigrain whole wheat bread and the last orange. Lunch will be the chicken breast from the freezer, likely stir fried with rice and veggies.

Yesterday was a V. Quiet Day here at the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory. It did not snow, but it did kind of grumble and sleet and grumble some more, so a good day to be in the office comfy chair with a manuscript and cats scattered about, napping. I wrote 750ish new words yesterday, and I think I have the timeline going forward straight in my head at least, which where we need to start to keep in straight in your heads.

I took the hole-making titanium studs out of my ears yesterday — yes, three days early! Call me a rebel. This was a Rather Difficult Operation. For a minute or two there I thought they were going to be For Always. I did finally get them out, discovering that they’re nothing but little peace-bonded harpoons, which I will not be putting back in my ears, TYVM. I replaced the harpoons with my old and comfortable sterling silver studs, and in a couple days — or, who knows? this afternoon — I’ll put in a pair of “real” earrings and see how that feels.

I bought a new space heater for the bathroom. The ancient of same, circa 2005, will be swathed in plastic and go downstairs with the tower fans, against need.

I also bought a bread slicing guide, since I’m not getting any better at slicing straight pieces off the loaf. This one is notable for being made out of bamboo rather than plastic, has guides for two sizes of slice — East Coast Sandwich and Texas — and has a crumb catcher built in. I’m looking forward its arrival.

The Long Back Yard is Once! Again! snow free, and the snowdrops have doubled their numbers.

I slept short and bad Friday night, so was in bed early last night with my mug of chamomile tea, my book, and three cats — Firefly, who is really getting the hang of this reading in bed thing; Tali, who seems to think she remembers something like this, somewhere else; and Trooper, who clocked out by my knee and wasn’t heard from again. Rook obviously had first shift of night watch. This morning, he was solidly asleep against my back when I woke up.

Today, I’m back with the manuscript, and ASL homework. Dr. Bill at lifeprint.com delivers our homework and you, too, can watch his videos and learn Sign, does something that I really like. He reviews the lesson with an assistant drawn from the off-camera class, but he also hams it up, introduces words that are not in the lesson in his answers, and gives you the feeling of being immersed. The first two lessons, he stuck pretty close to the syllabus, but by lesson four, he’s apparently decided if we’ve stuck it this long, he can pick up the pace.

I will finish my re-read of Night’s Master … probably over lunch. Next book up is another Grace Burrowes, speaking of whiplash — the first in the Bad Heirs series, because I’m a sucker for a Bad Pun.

You are now All Caught Up.

What’s up with you guys?

Sunday morning cat census.

The red basket that Rook’s tucked into has a History.  Ten years ago, it was manuscript basket on my desk at the Cat Farm’s previous, country, location.  Sprite took it over as a cat basket.  Trooper then claimed it — the conflict that decided his precedence is what gave it that Interesting Bend.  I bought another box, ceding the first to cats, but then there were two boxes, so Belle claimed that one…Anyhoots when we moved, Steve took the red basket, put a towel in it, and announced it an Official Cat Place.  It was used by all of the cats while Steve was still working at his desk.  Rook now uses it, and sometimes Trooper.

There’ll be laughing, singing, and music swinging

Friday. Sun trying to break through the clouds. I’ve been up for a while, but the day’s starting slow. In Garmin-speak, yesterday was very stressful and though I slept well, it was insufficient to renew my body battery.

Whatever.

Breakfast was rice-and-quinoa cakes with cream cheese and the penultimate orange. The name of my next band will be Penultimate Orange. Lunch will be … prolly a leftover salmon cake sandwich with whatever veggies come to hand when I open the freezer.

So! Diviner’s Bow — is it “bow” as in archery, or “bow” as in Liadens are always bowing? Here’s the history, one! more! time!

Because the Padi arc is basically an internal trilogy, I/we decided to give the titles a sequence, to, yanno, Clue People In? Thus we have: Trader’s LEAP, Ribbon DANCE, Diviner’s BOW.

I know, I know — too opaque. I’m reminded of That Time Steve wanted to title a novel Writ of Replevin, and Toni said, “Err. No.”

This afternoon, I have an interview with Griffin Barber for the Baen Free Radio Hour. Which means I have to find my invitation email. Which is why I’m on my third mug of tea. I had Soft Plans to go to First Friday downtown this evening, so I’ll see where I am when we get there.

Last night’s ASL class was short a few people and we kinda flew through the lesson, and had time for side excursions. It was fun. I haven’t yet paid my money for the follow-on course. I will have to miss the last lesson by reason of BaltiCon, but I’ll be able to attend the rest.

What else?

Honestly? I think that’s it.

Who has Friday night plans?

Today’s blog post title brought to you by Messers Jagger and Bowie, riffing off of Martha and the Vandellas’ 1964 hit, “Dancing in the Street“

Physician, have you nothing to ease the pain of living?

What went before: So, Northern Light Hospital in Waterville is trying to refer all its patients to Maine General. I know this because the office of a Maine General Spine Surgeon called me to tell me that I had been referred by someone I’d never heard of for neck pain. In the course of sorting that out, I actually spoke with someone at my PCP’s office, and she did confirm that, not only the hospital, but ALL the clinics, and specialty offices attached to the hospital (with the exception of the continuing care facility on the hospital’s campus) are closing down dead on May 27. This means, among other things that I will be driving 120 miles, round trip, to see a PCP, if one can be found at Eastern Maine Medical. Inland will also happily fix me up with Reddington Fairview, in Skowhegan, which is chronically overworked, or, oh MDI Hospital, which is very nice, but — it’s on Mount Desert Island.

The FAQ on the We’re Abandoning You Page (it’s not called that; it’s called The Transition Page), chirpily informs us that making sure any on-going prescriptions are up-to-date is very important, because the hospital realizes that it may “take some time” for people to find a new PCP.

The hospital also acknowledges that one of the several reasons it’s shutting down is because of staff shortages, so one wonders where the hell they think the people its abandoning are going to find doctors, since a bunch of them are BEING FIRED, and probably moving out of state.

What a freaking mess.

Well.

I guess I’d better make some lunch, hey?

Some time later: Got some reading of the WIP done. Will do more tomorrow while Ashley is here, and I’ve pulled back to Steve’s office to give her room to wield her equipment.

One of the Afternoon Thoughts was that Steve’s cardiologist is going down with the hospital, and that I was glad Steve didn’t have to stress through that. Of course, he’s also my cardiologist, but that seems much less of a *particular* blow. I’ll miss my PCP more. That Thought led to the subsequent thoughts, that I’m glad Steve is missing, oh, yanno, the dissolution of Democracy, and the general demise of the world. I kinda wish I could miss it, too, but — I told the characters I’d do this book for them.

In other news, Trooper is telling me that it’s Coon Cat Happy Hour and he’s pretty nearly right, so I’d better go see if I have enough plates and cocktail napkins, and little paper umbrellas.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Thursday. It’s…raining, and the temps are just above freezing. Supposed high temps for the day in the upper 40sF.

I had taken all the cat toys up from the living room floor and piled them up on top of the ball racer, and put the pile on the sofa so Ashley’s vacuum has a free run. Rook has cleared all the toys off of the ball racer and is playing with it. So, there, Mom! Oh, and now the girls are interested. Photomentary at eleven.

Again! I thank everyone who has left a review for Diviner’s Bow. Keep ’em coming! Also? You guys read hella fast.

Breakfast was sausage gravy on whole wheat/multigrain toast. Kettle’s on for my second mug of tea. Lunch will be — eh. I’ll check the freezer and see if I have any soup. If today’s weather has a Theme, soup is what it’s good for.

Ashley texted that she might be a little late, which, given the weather, is prudent. I’m here until 5:00 anyhoot.

I? Am never going to learn how to count in ASL. Or maybe I mean to say that I’ll never learn how to count fast in ASL. Which is OK. I mean, I don’t particularly count fast in English. I count slightly faster in Spanish, because it became music for me somewhere along the line, and more about matching cadences than counting. Also, it’s my contention that you don’t need to count in sign. If somebody asks you how many kids you have, and you have three, you pat three invisible heads. If somebody asks how many cats you have, you make the sign for “cat” until you’re done.

As soon as I dispatch this letter, I’ll be pulling my work back to Steve’s office, where I’ve activated the heat pump, so it ought to be nice and toasty.

How’s everybody doing today?

Today’s blog title is brought to you by The Star Fox by Poul Anderson.  I attribute the quote to Cynbe ru Taren, but it’s been at least 60 years since I’ve read The Star Fox, so I could be wrong.  Great quote, though.