Tag: life after the apocalypse

’tis a like task we are at

Today’s blog post title from “The Scholar and His Cat”

Thursday. Sunny and breezy.

The house is very quiet, and I’ve caught myself a dozen times looking up with a start, and wondering where Trooper was. This house is arranged so when I’m in the kitchen and turn my head, I can see the copilot’s chair and the section of my desk where the cat napping box is located.

For eight years (in this house), those two properties were occupied in a rotation worked out between themselves. by Sprite, Belle, or Trooper — sometimes two together in a single location. When Belle died, Sprite claimed the copilot’s chair most often, except when she was on duty for Steve. Lately, Trooper has more or less had his choice. The kids sometimes use the box, but the copilot’s chair was Trooper’s.

Seeing both spots empty is . . . yeah.

The house suffered this same feeling of yawning emptiness when Belle left us, and when Spite did. Big cats, with big, big personalities, who had their schedules and took their responsibilities seriously.

Today, following a brief huddle upon discovering that the box had come home, but Grandpa wasn’t in it, the kids have taken to nap spots that are not in my office. Each one has checked in with me at least once, So, that’s good; they know the gig; it’ll just take them a little while to ease into it. Firefly had the benefit of learning from Belle, Sprite, and Trooper — she’s as ready to be Top Cat as it’s possible to be. The other two — they’re good kittens, and I saw Trooper working with them. They’ll be fine.

Kelimcoons Sooper Trooper, December 15, 2009-September 4, 2025. He came on-board at the Lee-Miller Cat Farm and Confusion Factory on June 29, 2013. The final crossing was a sweet easing into sleep. By now, he’s been in Steve’s office at the new place for a good few hours, and is probably starting to ask when’s Happy Hour around here, anyway?

Picture below from October 27, 2013

Video from May 19, 2021

The evening report

Well.

I’ve finished putting together Civilized Behavior, including the front matter and the blurb. I haven’t compiled it yet. Weighing whether to make a call for tyop hunters before compiling. Probably the sensible way to go about it. So! Watch the Skies. In, yanno, an easygoing and relaxed sort of way.

A reprint opportunity came in this afternoon, so I did get that story out.

Checked my story cards, the previous Constellations, and pertinent contracts, then wrote to Madame the Agent, asking her to find if Baen might be interested in a sixth Constellation. There is one story still under Exclusivity, but that ends in November, and even if Baen wants another collection, there’s no way it will be out before November.

Trooper did not eat at Happy Hour.

Our appointment with the vet is at 8:15 tomorrow morning. They wanted us early, so it would be as quiet and peaceful as possible.

Referencing the above, I may or may not be around the internets much tomorrow. Thank you for your understanding.

Everybody stay safe.

Cat census from earlier in the day:

Quiet normal day

What went before ONE: Waiting for the vet to call back.

Yanno what? I think I won’t be going to needlework tonight. I think I’ll just sit here and work on entering corrections into my chapbook, which is both comforting and cerebral.

Trooper is in the box on the corner of my desk, where he can get the sun and the breeze from the open window. Tali is on the cedar chest, where ditto. Firefly is on her towel on top of the dresser in the bedroom, where she can look out the front window, and also take the breeze, and Rookie is napping in the box on the corner of Steve’s desk.

What went before TWO: Only need to amend the back matter in the chapbook, then I can do a test layout, scream in horror, fall on my sword, and go back to the drawing board.

Trooper will be going to the vet on Thursday morning. He did yell for Happy Hour this evening, but gooshy food is too tough to chew, and the gravy is boring.

It’s time.

I think I ate … something for lunch, though I can’t tell you what. Oh, wait. Rice. I’d made a fresh pot of rice. I’ll have to do better about the evening meal, but I think I’ll get the About the Authors fixed up, first, so I can move right on with being horrified by the compilation, tomorrow morning.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Wednesday. Was foggy when I got up. Now cloudy and sullen. Windows are open, though it’s still a bit chilly. Lawn guys are next door, doing their thing.

Didn’t sleep well last night, but that wasn’t exactly unexpected.

Trooper had breakfast in three parts and did manage to work his way through almost an entire 3-ounce can of Fancy Feast pate, with a little end-of-plate help from Firefly.

My breakfast was cottage cheese mixed in with the tiny bit of leftover macaroni salad, which was surprisingly tasty, and black grapes. Second cup of tea brewing. I’ll probably succumb to the siren call of the last cookie pretty soon.

On today’s to-do: one’s daily duty to the cats, and smol walk. Call the hospital, which sent me an “electronic bill” on 8/27, which I forthwith paid electronically. Yesterday in the mail, comes a paper bill for the same amount, and the same services. Ahem. O! MaineGeneral, I, too, would like to be paid twice, thrice, yea! four times, for the same work, but that so rarely happens*. I feel your ambition, MaineGeneral, and I understand it. But try it on somebody else, hey?

Otherwise, I intend to work on the chapbook — front matter! almost forgot! Blurb! eek! — and Trooper is signalling his readiness to get down to cases, by climbing into his box and going to sleep. So, business as usual. That’s good.

I bought a tween-weather coat, courtesy of Land’s End’s sale. It arrived yesterday, and it’s the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen. I mean — it fits. It has outside pockets of sufficient depth for such things as car keys, and cold hands, but it also has . . . what seem to be meant to be inside pockets — quite large pockets; my tablet would fit comfortably — but. While there’s stitching along the bottom of the panel, it’s not attached to the coat — by which I mean, if you put something into these pockets, it will fall out the bottom. So, yeah, I’m thinking I’ll be getting out some thread, and maybe some fabric tape, for belt-and-suspenders, and just make those things usable. Probably not today, but who doesn’t need projects for the future?

Ah. You can see the inside pockets, here

I think that’s all I’ve got this morning.

How’s your day shaping up?

_______
*Actually, that’s a bit of a cheat. As a writer, I do occasionally get paid for the same work multiple times. I can’t, however, think of one occasion when that happened at a day-job.

And suddenly! It’s Tuesday

What went before: Finished correcting the first 40 pages of Civilized Behavior; only 100 more pages left to go.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Tuesday. Sporadically sunny. Warm. Said to be heading for warmer, still, though not hot. Trash and recycling at the curb.

Trooper has had two — three! — tries at breakfast. The third try — after he had rejected the contents of the bowl I was carrying back to the kitchen and he stopped in front of me, made eye contact, and screamed — I put the bowl down in front of him. He stared at it. Rook and Tali came to see what Grandpa was getting that was Special, and he had a couple…eight? licks to kinda spite them, then turned away. Also, that pound I was so pleased he’d gained, all the way back on August 27? He’s lost it with interest, according to today’s weigh-in.

Yeah, contacting the vet is on my list, right after I have a cup of tea on the deck and sort out my thoughts and feelings. I’m remembering talking with Steve, after we let Belle go, and he said, “Y’know? I think Belle was sicker than we knew.”

My breakfast consisted of an oatmeal-raisin-walnut cookie. Probably I should do something a bit more, in a while.

I intend to work on the chapbook today. Needlework group is this evening. And I think that’s all I’ve got.

How’s everybody doing today?

Later that same morning: Sigh. The New England Donor Services, with which organization I have not found myself in charity with since it first brought itself to my attention by calling me at midnight of the day Steve died, to ask me a bunch of intrusive questions and persuade me to donate usable parts to the Greater Good. . .

The New England Donor Services, I say, not only saw fit to send me a medal in Steve’s name (for, yes, after getting up, very calmly in what I now know to have been an Altered State, I looked them up, saw they were legit, thought of what Steve, the author of “Charioteer,” might actually want, and called them back to give permission), for being a “hero” for giving the Gift of Life — and also saw fit to send me a thin volume of tips for survivors, in which such burning questions as “Am I still allowed to wear my wedding ring?” were addressed, and which still from time to time, despite my stated preferences, takes it upon itself to contact me —

Has contacted me again.

They’re having a walk — to repeal death, I guess? No, wait. They need death. Well. — and they’re making a Day of the Dead quilt, and I’m offered the opportunity to “share my loved one’s ‘donation story'”.

I’m pretty sure I’ve previously asked New England Donor Services to never speak to me again, and, yes, I’ve asked them again, just now.

But I really did not need them in my mailbox today.

Here, have a picture of Tali inna bookcase.  That’ll make us all feel better:

Second Sunday; First of September

Second Sunday. Sunny and warm.

Trooper making the day more difficult than it strictly needs to be by screaming for food and then not eating. I suspect his tooth is hurting him again, but there’s nothing I can do about that today, and I’m not sure how many shots of antibiotic he’s good for.

Last night, I was restless, so I sorted through some of the sdcards from Steve’s stash, and found an entire card that’s the car camera videos of us taking a drive on April 22 2023. The camera is set up to look out the back window and into the cockpit, so I have about 30 minutes of little 2 minute clips of Steve and me talking to each other as he drives us through Winslow and out to Fairfield. Talk about your mixed blessings…

Today, I got to working on the 2025 chapbook, because I actually came up with a title, that being CIVILIZED BEHAVIOR: Adventures in the Liaden Universe(R) No. 36. I may have found a cover — I have two mocked up and trying to decide if I like the blue-on-blue abstract, or the two little kids sitting together on a swing, staring at the moon in the clouds while birds fly all around.

For those who may be curious, this chapbook largely deals with the Matter of Colemeno, two stories and an outtake from Ribbon Dance. Also, the text of my speech at Balticon, accepting the Heinlein Award. I’ll have to check, but I may now have enough stories to make a sixth Constellation.

I have a bunch of corrections to make in the chapbook manuscript, but first! Second Sunday dinner, which will be a chicken burger onna roll with cheese, some baked beans and macaroni salad. A picnic, hey?

How’s everybody doing today?

#

Well. In regard to Constellation Six, it looks like I have 98,617 words of short story. If I throw in the Heinlein speech, I’ve got 99,413.

Guess I’ll talk to Madame the Agent…

#

Yeah, it’s the kids on the swing.

#

So I finally just got a pack of chains, because the monofilament wasn’t making me happy, and that was before it degraded in the sun.

Ornament, blown glass, made in the Corning Glass Studio, by Sharon Lee.

First Sunday Report

First Sunday of the weekend. Sunny, going to be warmer than yesterday, but not hot.

Trooper wants me to do something, but I haven’t discovered what it is, yet. In the meantime, he’s had his meds, and two goes at breakfast, but it’s apparently not the right breakfast. If he wants pancakes, he’s outta luck. Steve was the pancake person; I’d eat them to keep him company, but making pancakes for myself just isn’t a thing.

In the meantime, my breakfast this morning was Swiss cheese on an English muffin, because we are a Global Village, black grapes, and a handful of mixed nuts. Lunch? Could be anything. By which I mean a salad, because I’m already feeling too lazy to bother.

Firefly is sleeping off yesterday’s festivities in the box on my desk, which happens at the moment to be sun-soaked. Tali is on top of the dresser. Trooper has found a sunspot on the rug and is drowsing, rather than yelling at me, which is a relief, actually, and Rookie is on the rug in the foyer, underneath the open window.

Aside cat box duty and a smol walk, today will be about the WIP, and looking ahead at what needs to get done IRL next week.

What’s your First Sunday of the Weekend look like?

Two tries at taking a good picture of the earrings and moon (the little necklace is a tree-and-dragon)

Firefly’s Fifth Birthday with Rock Show side

Saturday

Opening Ceremonies for Firefly’s fifth birthday consisted of me, and my trusty meter stick, retrieving five springs from beneath the bed!

The Birthday Cat assisted by trying to wrestle the meter stick out of my hands while retrievals were underway.

It was very exciting. So exciting that Birthday Cat and spectators are now having a wee dram of cat food to recruit their strength.

Birthday Cat demonstrating singleton hall blocking technique.

So the rock show is a roaring success and I hope the vendors have a profitable weekend. When I arrived at the site, a little after 10:30 (show opened at 10), the lower parking lot was already full, so I parked up top, which was, eh, about a third full.

The room was very crowded, and I had a good time talking rocks, asking questions, getting confusing answers, and all such things that we do at shows of this nature. In fact, it was a lot of fun right up until the point when I should’ve met up with Steve at our prearranged point, so I could show him all the Very Cool Things I’d seen, and he could ditto, which I guess is never going to stop being A Thing.

I will say that things have gotten much more expensive than the last time I was at that rock show, which will have been a year or two before Steve died.

I did manage to buy a pair of hammered silver earrings, which I guess now that I have holes in my ears again, with be A Thing, and some tiger eye marbles and a piece of rutilated quart, because of course I did.

At this show people were differentiating their rutilated quartz — this piece had tourmaline inclusions, this had gold — which was instructive. There’s also a new way of cutting and polishing fragments of geodes, so that the rock the crystals live in is smooth and shaped to be a kind of holder, like an art piece. Very pretty. No, I did not buy one.

I am … very tired, despite having slept a long time last night, with the window open so I could hear the rain. I’m cooking macaroni and steaming some frozen peas, and that’s looking like lunch. Then I’ll see what else is on the schedule.

Here’s a picture of the astronomically correct moon necklace Steve gave me for my 60th birthday, and the earrings I bought today. I think they’ll make a nice set. Note: the earrings are silver. The gold glow is light from the windows.

 

You really know how to dance

What went before ONE: All righty, then.

Agway run completed. I did not buy plants. Yay, me. I did buy monofilament string — aka fishing line — so I can hang the ball I made at Corning in a sunny window where it belongs, instead of skulking on my bookshelf.

Hit the Hannaford, picked up my prescriptions, bought Fancy Feast Gravy Lover’s Pate, which is the preferred of the moment. Took the returnables to the redemption center. Caused consternation. Gassed up the car, so I don’t have to do it on Saturday. Apparently the Rusty Lantern/Irving at Webb Road isn’t supplying a means for its customers to clean off their windshields anymore, so I’ll be looking for a new gas station. Shame; that one’s really convenient.

What else? Oh, performed one’s duty to the cats, and took a walk.

It is now what time? Yes? Yes, you, right there in front. Ex — yes, say again, please for the guy in the back row who’s asleep?

It’s lunch time!

And then? It’s time to go to work.

poof

What went before TWO: I remember coming in to Albany more than a decade ago from an exceptionally long and fraught train trip which involved the train actually running out of food (long story; bad trip; it was years ago, and man did I learn to hate CSX), and Steve pulled us into the Cracker Barrel because we needed something to eat. I remember looking at the menu, then looking at Steve and saying, “There’s no food here.” “There’s chicken soup,” he said. “We’ll both have chicken soup, then we can go get some real food.” This was the first and only time I was in a Cracker Barrel.

Ah, memories…

Patched up what I wrote yesterday and put it in its rightful place within the WIP, which now weighs just about 65,420 words. Tomorrow, I need to sit down and plot out the next section, even though my brain wants to write the cool! action! scene! over there. I’ve gotta figure out how they got there, first, Brain. Gimme a break, hey?

Anyhow, knocking off early tonight to, yanno, hang away my clothes, write a couple of checks, and see if I can brainstorm not one, but two! titles. Brainstorms are considerably less fun with only one brain, in case that was a question anybody had.

So! Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Friday. Cloudy and cool. Thunderstorms are on the menu.

Last night at bedtime, I made it a point to find Rookie, who often spends the night on the box on Steve’s desk, and carry him with me to the bed, thinking that I would once again introduce this as an option. I put him down, and he lay exactly where and how I’d put him until I’d gotten under the covers, turned out the light, settled on my pillow and drifted off. When I drifted out, about two hours later, he had relocated to my other side, tunneled between my arm and my side, and was snoring. Also, Tali had taken over the prized spot on my ankle. I went back to sleep and woke up at 7, much refreshed.

Today cutting off cat toes is on my menu, and I managed to grab Rook as he was terrorizing his sister. I put him on my lap and began to clip his claws and he was So Good. He made no complaint, or any attempt to play Disappearing Leg, and started to purr when I flipped him over on is back to amputate his back toes. When we were finished, he just — stayed, purring his silly, puffy purr, until Tali walked by and then of course he had to jump down to see what she was doing.

I have finished my first cup of tea. Trooper has had a can of Fancy Feast. Breakfast will be something to do with the peach I bought yesterday, and when I took the stoopid sticky tag off, the skin tore. Lunch will be … something.

Towels are in the washer. In addition to the cutting of cat toes, the to-do list includes one’s duty to the cats, a walk, and plotting.

What’s on your to-do list for Friday?

Today’s blog post brought to you by The Romantics, “What I like about you”

Below, a picture of one of the Agway store cats, and a picture of Tali, who is apparently taking a covert ops course from the Rivers of London foxes.

Sinking in

What went before: Slow getting started, but once I got going, I managed to pull a couple words out of the keyboard.

+/-1050 new words, bringing the WIP to +/-65,200.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Thursday. Sunny and cool. Weatherbeans calling for the higher 70s-in-F this afternoon. At the moment, it’s too cool to open the windows.

This morning, I need to go out to collect an extension of the new prescription, which needs to be Tapered Off, who knew? And also to Agway for a couple of things, including fishing line.

I see, otherwheres, that KJ Charles is being victimized by someone who can’t read reporting to Amazon numerous “errors” in Copper Script (which is good — read it). These are, as it turns out British spelling, British sentence structure, British slang, and in a couple of cases Actual Words that said Arbiter of Error didn’t recognized and couldn’t be arsed to look up.

I grew up reading British novels in their native Britishness, back before US Publishing decreed that Americans were too stupid to accommodate a few extra “u”s and whatnot. Welp, US Publishing has got what it wanted, with a helping of “If I don’t recognize a word, it must be a typo, because I know All The Words.”

My reading of British literature reflects in my own writing, and I have once or twice had to gently inform people that, no, that is an ACTUAL WORD, GET A DAMNED DICTIONARY, WHY NOT? Ahem. And I really despair of us as a people. OTOH, ignorant people are easier to control, and we’re into control, this episode, so there’s a win for the bullies and the cheats.

deep breath

I said upstream that you ought to read Copper Script — that is, of course, if Amazon hasn’t pulled it for having too many errors, because Amazon has been known to do this. And, yanno, Ms Charles doesn’t have anything better to do except go through an already-published book, fixing errors that aren’t wrong, so it can go back into the catalog and start earning again.

I know some folks think they’re dong Good Things by “reporting” errors and typos to Amazon. Trust me — they’re not. As I mentioned, oh, maybe this time last week? There are no perfect books. There are errors and typos in all books. Mostly, they don’t hurt anybody (I’m not talking errors like “half my book is a scifi adventure and the other half is a cookbook” or “my book is 400 blank pages” or things of that nature). Certainly, they’re not worth pulling the creator away from her new project, and pissing her off, too.

I want more books from KJ Charles, and? Abusing authors isn’t the way to get more books.

Really, I ought to start a list.

Anyhow! Having ranted and perhaps educated — Good morning! How’s your day shaping up?

Here, have a picture of Rook inna sink:

I’d rather learn from one bird how to sing

What went before ONE: So, fixed what I wrote yesterday, placed it in the WIP, fixed the chapter-by-chapter, and? That’s probably all the writing-related tasks I’m doing today.

The WIP, still titleless, clocks in at +/-64,160 total words.

What went before TWO: Had a good time at needlework; actually remembered to stop at the grocery before I got home, have served up coon cat happy hour. Need to put away the rest of the groceries, then find something to eat.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Wednesday. Sunny and cool. Windows in my office are open.

Google initially told me that it was going to be “rainy” today. Questioned more closely, it admitted that there was a moderate chance of rain between 4pm and 5pm. Which piece of optimism Wunderground does not support, though it’s teasing me with the possibilities of thunderstorms on Friday. I could use me a good thunderstorm.

Trooper has already eaten a can and a half of gooshy food. Which reminds me that I ought to weigh him.

Breakfast was pb&j on a whole wheat English muffin. Tali came by to sit on my lap and purr while I finished my first cup of tea, so that was pleasant. Lunch has not yet suggested itself.

Today’s to-do includes doing one’s duty to the cats, exploring online/possibly subscription exercise programs (I know this about myself: If I haven’t made a commitment of some kind, I will not Just Exercise out of the abundance of my own good sense.), take a walk, and! writing.

My embroidery project at the moment was supposed to be a shirt I want to embroider, but I haven’t gotten my act in gear to decide what I want to do exactly and position the designs. So, I’ve been working on the little piece of handwork I was taking with me when we traveled. It was “supposed” to be an outline — by which I mean, not filled in — but I had started to fill it in as practice for stitching fur, and for twisting two colors of thread together. Last night, I finished the center. Pic below.

What relaxation project are you working on?

Today’s blog post title once more from ee cummings: “you shall above all things be glad and young”