life after the apocalypse – Page 44

Poor man’s fertilizer

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

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

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

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

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

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Monday. Cloudy and on the road to snow.

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

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

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

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

So, that.

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

What are your plans for the day?

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

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

The History of The Stuffed Animal Tea

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It started, then, with Lord Black Cat.

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

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

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

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

So, now the cat had a name.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Big wind, tiny void

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

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

Recipe here

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

This of course makes it very easy to type.

Ren Zel and Anthora are an … interesting couple.

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

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

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

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

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

Summing Up: Watch the skies.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Trooper has had his first dose of prednisone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So, that’s what’s happening with me.

What’s happening with you?

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

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

The Day from Heck: A Disaster in Six Parts

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

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

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

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

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

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

grump

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

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

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

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

Somehow, this day has gotten away from me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What do you know?

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

Updates and speeches, oh my

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

. . . onward . . .

Wednesday. Sunny and warm.

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

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

. . . I think she’s done this before.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Talkin’ trash

What went before: It was an intermittently awful afternoon. I blame the rain. Tali and Rook both had a go at lap-sitting, and were a little tentative. Trooper then stepped in to show them How It’s Done, which — may not have made things better.

Writing, by which I mostly mean rewriting, happened. I now know what needs to happen next on all three lines, which is a great relief.

I was also able to find CJ Cherryh’s remarks on the occasion of her receiving the Heinlein Award, and now I have an idea of how long I might be expected to Say Things, which is also a great relief.

Tomorrow, I need to forage, and then there will be more writing.

Tuesday. Cloudy and chilly. Trash day. I’ll cope with moving bags from the garage to the curb after I have finished this letter to the internets.

Trooper woke me up at 5, for reasons yet to be discovered, though he did allow me to curl up around him and go back to sleep for an hour.

Breakfast was toast and cottage cheese, upgraded from None for Me, Thx, and again from, Oh, well, a piece of toast is breakfast. Don’t even start with me about lunch.

I had sorta kinda wistfully thought that I’d drive down to the ocean today, but that ain’t happenin’. I will be foraging, then doing some picking up around the house. Now that I know that 3 minutes of Remarks is acceptable, I can begin drafting mine.

(Apparently nobody else in the world has to draft their Remarks ahead of time — Steve could certainly do that, and when I had him to feed me lines, or be the straight man, I could ad lib — to a degree — and I’d still be shaking like your linden leaf at the end of it. When it’s Just Me, I need to Plan. So, yes, a huge relief to find that I’m not supposed to stand up in front an auditorium full of people for 20 minutes and talk.)

I’m still fine-tuning the Garmin watch, and this morning realized that it had a Secret Life. I have set bed-and-waking-up times from 10:30 to 7:00, and of course this morning I was up well before 7. And when I looked at my watch face it was not the one had chosen, but the face that had come with, which I had vehemently rejected. Apparently that face is its party clothes. In any case, the minute I looked at it — it blushed, the face flickered just exactly like it was pulling a shirt over its head — and became the one I had chosen.

I hope this moment of embarrassment hasn’t set us back, as I’ve been enjoying our association thus far.

I’m still reading The Tomb of Dragons, which I’ll probably finish this evening. I have The Orb of Cairado in my library, and I’m thinking that will be next.

Who else is foraging today?

Shot from a couple days ago. Rookie making sure I’ve eaten all my lunch:

Baby, you want the forgivin’ kind and that’s just not my style

What went before: Everything checked off the to-do list except homework. Which is why homework needs to happen in the morning, and after-lunch is writing time.

We’ll figure it out.

Tomorrow, we are to have rain. I will be staying in. The cats have planned a quiet day of napping in honor of St. Gertrude.

And with all that said, and Coon Cat Happy Hour coming right up!

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

. . .

A blessed St. Gertrude’s day to all.

Monday. Raining. Flooding is in our future, though probably not in my personal future, the river being Way Down THERE. One small patch of snow remains in the Long Back Yard.

Breakfast was rice cakes with cream cheese and the last of the sad, black grapes. First cup of tea is well underway. I have a can of tuna and a can of tomato soup. I believe lunch has been decided.

Today is the Actual Anniversary — five years since my mastectomy. About now On That Day, I would have been getting injected with mercury or some such item, much to Steve’s horror, so I could be placed into a machine that would map my innards, pre-op. I remember the tech administering the shot telling me it would hurt. She wasn’t wrong.

The Garmin watch continues to please, even as it adds to the day’s puzzles. Yesterday, I would have — in fact, I believe I did — tell you that I had a mostly quiet and peaceful day, munching through my to-do list, and writing.

Around 8:00, my watch sent me a very kind message, telling me that I had had a Very Stressful Day, poor dear, and should consider relaxing now.

I’ll be interested to see how this plays out, going forward. It may be that the watch and I have Very Different Takes on Stress.

Today, my choice is either to go back to bed or write, so I believe I will write.

What are your choices today?

Today’s blog title brought to you by Bachman-Turner Overdrive, a Canadian band, for no reason other than the fact that I’m listening to the radio and the DJ just said that he had never thought of the band as Canadian. OHkay. Anyhow, if you need to get moving, as who does not: “Let it Ride.”

Below, a picture of the Hall Blockers Cadets St. Gertrude’s Day project:

Tali’s natal day, clockwork edition

What went before: Well. My watch is updating. I am not accustomed to the watch being my main point of information, so that will be a change. Also, some things that are I guess supposed to be intuitive — aren’t. Like, yanno, putting on the band. I did finally figure it out, but Jeez Louise as somebody once said.

I did get my reading of the WIP done, despite It All. It’s not Terrible, there are some things that are in the wrong place, but since I’m trying to match at least three separate timelines so that everybody can arrive at their meeting at the right times, that’s probably, oh, normal instead of evidence of a Descent into Dementia.

Yanno? When I was twenty, I never worried about a Descent into Dementia. Just sayin’.

I should probably go find some cheese to put on a piece of bread, brew a cup of chamomile tea, and take it and my book with me to bed, hoping for a better day tomorrow, which is!

Tali’s third birthday.

Sunday. Cloudy. Well. I suppose I can concede to the Weatherbeans in this. Foggy. I am led to believe that it will be foggy all day, which I suppose is possible, at the rate that the snow is sublimating. The Long Back Yard is more grass than snow. I was just watching a crow sorting through dead leaves and old grass and fly off with a beakful into the Really Tall Pine Tree, so I’ll guess I’ll have new neighbors.

Breakfast was biscuit with sausage and a slice of cheddar with black grapes. Second cup of tea to hand. Lunch will be — yeah, whatever. Maybe a scone.

As planned, I just put myself and my book into bed at 9, and read while I drank my tea. Firefly and Rook joined me in the bed. Tali took the overlook position at the top of the bookcase. The new watch says I had a “highly restorative” sleep of 7 hours and 40 minutes, with lots of Deep and REM, which have been in short supply lately, and probably why I’ve been feeling so tired.

I must say that I’m enjoying Mr. Harney’s Egyptian Chamomile tea. I’m alternating with the Republic of Tea Chamomile Lemon that a friend sent me, which I’m also enjoying. I’m trying to simplify my life, but I really do think that I’ll order in replacements of both.

I am not dizzy this morning, and I’m counting that a win. I am feeling rather meh (Note to Weatherbeans: Some sunshine would help over here), so, as advised by my new notepad, I made a list, and I do feel (a little) better. On the list is a blankie run, changing out the cat fountains, buying cpap supplies, homework, and writing.

Writing may only be working with the correx/additions I identified yesterday, but that still counts. And! one of the benefits of reading your WIP over (and over and over and…) is that engaging with the story produces more story (i.e. You know what’s missing here? Or, happier: You know what comes next?) I don’t know how writers who just start and flame through to the end of the first draft without ever stopping to read what they’ve already written do it, honestly.

As mentioned previously, today is Tali’s third birthday. She has been celebrating energetically, chasing spring, ball and her kid brother all over the house, so much in motion that I am not at this time able to offer a picture of the Birthday Cat. She did come by and check in with Trooper. He muttered at her, she cleaned his ears, then bolted off to discipline Rook.

The new watch is … interesting. It has a lot more functionality than the FitBit, and is much bigger — despite which, it’s lighter and more comfortable on my wrist. The FitBit and I had never had a warm relationship, even before Google decided to try to force me to buy a Google watch by driving the FitBit insane. By comparison, the Garmin (bear with me, people; we all have to work with the brain we have) is calm and friendly. I’m not used to having so much information on the watch but even so it’s easy to navigate, and I can of course add and subtract the information I want to see. I think I did the right thing.

I’m about halfway through Tomb of the Dragons, and having a good time with it. I had to stop and explain to Firefly that these were not Liaden dragons, because they lived in another book. It’s a hard concept, but I think she got it. At least, she blinked her eyes and went back to sleep.

And that’s it from the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory.

So! Who has sunshine where they are?

Contented Saturday at the Cat Farm

What went before: Thanks to all for the outpouring of positive energy for Trooper. He seems to me to be more relaxed, and we haven’t had an episode of him hitting me in the arm, or sitting by my feet and crying since we got home. So, fingers crossed that we’ve hit on something helpful.

Er — about Catholic school. Y’all have to remember that this was back in — well. does a quick calculation — 1957. People nowadays treat their dogs with more care and gentleness than ’50s kids ever got. IMHO. And Catholic school was worse than how it was on the outside. Also — I was a Repeat Offender. My mother sent me to school early — Not Quite 6, against ALL the advice that she wait until I was Not Quite 7 — I was left-handed, I couldn’t talk straight, I was already in the “retarded class” (the fact that I could read anything that was put in front of me was discounted because — I dunno. Maybe because I read the words in the “right” order proved that I just didn’t care about talking right?)

In any case, no — I wasn’t kidding, and I wasn’t the only kid who got stapled to the bulletin board, or had their knuckles whacked, or — nuns were inventive, let’s just say that. I’m sorry the image disturbed people — it’s just a Thing That Happened, and it was a long time ago.

Thinking about this a little more: It’s one of the Universe’s jokes, I suppose, that I wound up in a career where I was required to sit-or-stand in front of large groups of people and talk. Even though I had a most excellent front man in Steve, I still had to occasionally same something.

Saturday. Gloomy, though not particularly foggy here by the river. Weatherbeans are calling for temps around 50F/10C again.

Breakfast was oatmeal, cranberries, walnuts. Second cup of tea to hand. Soup defrosting for lunch. I’m a little dizzy this morning, and got off to a slow start. Good thing I can do most of what I need to do sitting down.

I hear from Informed Delivery that my watch, originally scheduled for delivery on Monday, will be delivered today! Ahem. By 6:30pm. I take leave to doubt this, and expect I’ll see it on Monday, per the original plan. If you’d like to start a betting pool, please step over to the left side of the room by the plants so you don’t impede the folks who want to get to the drinks, or the books.

In Real Life News, the hospital in Augusta, which will be taking the brunt of patients cut loose from Inland Hospital when it closes, is quietly freaking out. It’s been revealed that they, too, are in financial distress (honestly, they’ve been short of cash, doctors, and beds pretty much since they opened). Fun times.

Today will be Sedentary, given the dizzy thing. I will have to go downstairs to perform my duty to the cats, but that can wait a bit. Hopefully, the dizzy will abate.

We pause here for an Advertisement, a PSA and! and Author’s Plea.

Advertisement: Don Blyly, aka Uncle Hugo’s SF Bookstore, is mailing out signed hardcover copies of Diviner’s Bow as I speak. If you want a signed copy, email him at unclehugoATaolDOTcom. If you ordered Ribbon Dance from Uncle last year, and your credit card information has not changed, tell him that, too, and you can have your book in hand BEFORE the release date.

PSA: Related to the above: If, after you finish reading Diviner’s Bow, you find you want to talk about there, a Spoiler Space has been created for that purpose, here.

AUTHOR’S PLEA: I know it’s early days, and Amazon won’t open its review page until the release date, but please consider reviewing the book after you have read it. Reviews are vital. You may think that a series that’s been around since 1988 and has a devoted fan base wouldn’t need reviews — and you would be wrong. The Liaden books have been around for so long, they’re just part of the general landscape — people take them for granted. (This also happened to us when we went to cons — “Oh, it’s Steve and Sharon. They’re always around.” Until, yanno; they’re not.)

And with all that out of the way — My plan today is the comfy chair in my office: writing, homework, correspondence, aaaand . . . yeah, that’s it. The cats are all in their comfy spots, having enjoyed a mid-morning snack of crunchy salmon treats from Blue Wilderness, and despite the predicted race for Warmth, it’s a little cool in my office, due to lack of insolation.

Anyhoots, we’re pretty much content, if a little sleepy, here at the Cat Farm today.

Who else is having a contented day?