He picks up a bus and he throws it back down

What went beforeLots of staring out the window today. Which counts! Only you it doesn’t show up in the word count, which at close of business today is! +/-10,095 words. A milestone. Only 89,905 words left to go.

Sunday. Cloudy. Snowing very lightly at the moment. Temperatures said to be heading for the upper 30sF.

Sat up late last night, talking with Firefly. I was allowed to sleep in until almost 8am.

Breakfast was a waffle with strawberries and cherry syrup, sausage, tea. Tali is currently occupying my lap, and it is Tali’s philosophy that her tail is magnificent and that if she chooses to smack you in the face with it, your only possible reaction is delight.

I have no idea what lunch will be. I have a couple of choices, including a store-bought quiche — which was actually cheaper than buying eggs to make a quiche — so not likely to starve.

This afternoon, I’m to speak with the narrator for Diviner’s Bow, Eileen Stevens, who has narrated many of our books. Diviner’s Bow will be coming out from Audible very close to the publication of the hardcover. I don’t have a DATE date, but the turnaround time is — very ambitious (what is it with this book that demands kamikaze production?).

In and around that, I have some straightening up to do, one’s duty to the cats, and maybe some writing. We’ll see what happens.

What’s on your schedule today?

Today’s title brought to you by one of the songs Steve and I would always turn up the radio for, and then sing along, and which has become strangely topical.  Blue Oyster Cult: “Godzilla.”

After Firefly came home from the vet the other day, Rook tried on her carry box for size.  I think I need to go one up, or actually convince him to walk on the leash.  He’ll wear his jacket all day long, and proudly, but he still doesn’t get the “let’s take a walk,” thing.  He’d rather chew on the leash.

. . . and wine for the woman who made the rain come

What Went Before: 901 new words today, and some rewriting of old words. Active voice, Sharon. Really; it make All the Difference. The total WIP now weighs in at +/-9,300 words, which is … OK.

Saturday. Sunny and already busy.

I Shout! Out! to the kind person who sent me a Penzey’s gift card. I had just been missing a couple things, and debating whether Penzey’s was a necessity or a luxury. Thank you, Mystery Gift Giver. Much appreciated.

I did sleep in a little — let’s hear it for 7:30! — and had a leisurely breakfast of blueberry muffin and brie. Second cup of tea is to hand, and I’m pretty sure there will be a third cup in my future. Lunch will be salad, because the tomato got ahead of me again.

I have a few chores to do, and some paperwork to straighten up. Honestly, where does All! The! Paper! come from? Mostly, though, I’ll be writing.

The sunroom office is full of — sun! And cats are napping everywhere.

I finished reading A Gentleman of Unreliable Honor, and am now giving all of my attention to The Sign of the Dragon.

What’re you reading today?

Today’s title brought to you by Cat Stevens, “Tea for the Tillerman,” because, yeah, I loved that album, back in the day.  Sold it when we sold all our vinyl to make the rent or some such silliness.  Still.  Great album.

Now, I’ve been crying lately, thinking about the world as it is

Friday. Sunny, and chilly.

Breakfast was tea and toast and brie. I haven’t given a thought to lunch yet, but I did have two oatmeal cookies and another mug of tea when we got home from the vet.

Firefly’s annual wellness exam and her three-year distemper shot was first on the calendar this morning. I learned Whole Lot of New Words on the way over, which, thank ghod, is just over two miles from home. I don’t know which of us would have cracked first, if I’d had to drive her in from the Previous Location.

The vet pronounced Firefly a Very Healthy (and of course Surpassingly Beautiful) Maine Coon lady of 4.5 years, and we came home. Firefly was willing to listen to The Boss instead of swearing.

When we got home, she did an immediate sweep to insure that she had been brought to the Right House. I noticed that Tali went up to her, sniffed her nose, and cleaned her between the ears, so *that’s* encouraging.

Yesterday was a quiet day. I wrote, did a few chores, sat in the sun and sipped hot chocolate, did some shopping, played with the cats, read. I’m expecting today to be rather like it, as we ease into the weekend.

What’ve y’all been doing that’s fun?

Here’s a picture of Firefly, just before she was betrayed by one she Esteemed, shoved into a tiny prison, and transported.

Today’s blog title brought to you by Cat Stevens, “Peace Train

And it’s the night people’s job to take the day people’s money

What went before:  Yesterday went from bad to worse, and I took a couple hours out in the afternoon to sip hot chocolate and stare out the window, then watch Rook play with his robot mouse.  This toy had terrified him as a baby kitten, but yesterday, he deliberately knocked it off the shelf where it has been rusticating for months, and tried kicking it up and down the hall, so I turned it on and let it run until the charge failed.  He had a great time with it, and knew immediately to pick it up by its tail and get it into a open run space when it got (as it frequently does) stuck in a corner.

Wednesday. Sunny and cold.

Breakfast was hummus, naan, apple sauce. Something will leap out of the fridge for lunch, I’m sure.

First thing, I need to talk to somebody about a Confusion of Rights, to which I hope they have a definitive answer. Files under Why Writers Drink.

After my phone call, and hopefully armed with Answers, I need to write a letter. Then, I will be going over the damned tax packet *again* and if all looks good will be delivering it to the accountant’s office, and from there to the grocery to take on food and wine.

I got up early (after 7.30 hours of sleep; someone was concerned that I was not getting enough rest with all these early hours. The fact is that getting up early begets going to bed early, and I, a lifelong Night Person, am now apparently a Day Person, something I’m not particularly happy about, but here we are.), and have already written one letter, so progress is progressing.

Way back when the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory was still in its Country Location, I discovered that there’s a Life Limit on how much coffee one person can imbibe, and, what with years of mainlining the stuff, I had hit that limit. That was when I switched to tea, and Steve, after watching in Stark Terror every time I poured boiling water from a saucepan into a mug (and pretty often over the countertop, too), bought me an OXO Stainless Steel Whistling Tea Kettle with a Geniune Cork Covered Handle.

I love the OXO tea kettle, but it, like me, is starting to show its age, and I thought to get another (because, honest, if me pouring boiling water out of saucepan into a mug was scary ten years ago, it’s only gotten worse. Even *I* get short of breath when I do it.). OXO of course, does not make this tea kettle any more, and I wound up with a Mr. Coffee Whistling Tea Kettle, and may I just say? What a piece of junque. I mean, yes, I’m spoiled; we’ve discussed this, and Steve always bought The Best, whether we could afford it or not — but Mr. Coffee has not achieved a 10 year tea kettle.

On the other hand, given the on-gong axe-work against society and human beings, 10 years may not be something I have to worry about.

Below, another photo from last night — you can see that Tali and Firefly have Made An Accommodation — Firefly on *her* side against my hip, and Tali on *her* side, from hip to knee.

It was all very comfortable.

What makes you comfortable, lately?

Today’s title brought to you by Ray Wylie Hubbard, and there’s a story that goes with that.  I remembered the line about the night people’s job being to take the day people’s money, but not the title of the song.  I asked the internet, which served me up “Rabbit” which was not the song I’d been thinking of, but which I like on its own terms.  A little more digging got me the song I was after, “Nighttime.”

Many cat pictures below.  I note that Tali and Firefly are working out the evening reading positions.

Explosions at Midnight

What Went Before:  Yesterday, I wrote 1,147 new words, for a WIP total of +/-7,160. Only 92,840 words left to go.  I also received what I believe in my heart to be the last piece of Official Paperwork needed in order to complete the Tax Packet.

What Went Before, Early Morning Edition:  So we had an explosion last night. I’m not sure what exploded, but there were two consecutive BOOMs, followed by the UPS’s going briefly nuts, some (but not all) of the touch-lamps lighting up, and this morning the clocks are crazy — they got kicked half an hour into the future — the bedroom clock said it was past 7 when I woke up, but the phone said it was 6:45.

Freaked the cats bad. Rook came and snuggled under the covers, which he never does. Tali went to the top of the bookshelf in the bedroom. Firefly and Trooper Investigated. Trooper eventually came back to bed, but Firefly never did. Guess it was her shift.

Kettle’s on for tea.

Two CMP trucks backed up in the drive, and drove back toward KMD. They specifically paused at the transformer across the street, but moved on. I guess they’re walking the lines.

Tuesday. Sunny. Windy. Cold. The trash is in the garage, and the trash can *stay* in the garage.

Breakfast was cottage cheese, toast-and-jelly. Lunch … I ought to bake those three chicken tenders that weren’t sacrificed to the stew, so, path of least resistance — chicken tender and fried potatoes, since I have potatoes left over.

I had been toying with the idea of going to the sewing club, but that was before I was contacted by a colleague who had worked with us on a dozen or more projects — and who hadn’t heard that Steve had died.

For those playing along at home, Thursday will be one year since Steve died. I’m kind of dreading that as if it will be some kind of nightmare Groundhog Day. I am therefore trying to keep busy, and put my brain to other tasks.

Today’s task will be finalizing the taxes, and if there’s day left over after that, more words would be good.

I’ve checked various sources, including the neighborhood group, CMP’s webpage, and the local newspaper, looking for more information in re the Midnight Explosion. A couple of the neighbors heard the booms, one guy saw flashes, but Actual News, we have none. And, yes, clocks getting kicked a half-hour into the future is a new one on me, too.

EDITED TO ADD:  I have been reminded that the power outage would have kicked all the clocks back to 12:00 and that 7:20 is time-elapsed-since-reset.  Sigh.  Need more caffeine.

How’s everybody doing today?

We had a crow conclave in the Long Back Yard yesterday afternoon.

He had a nasty reputation as a cruel dude

What Went Before: Yesterday, I changed out the cat boxes, vacuumed the basement, made bread, and wrote, all against a background of snow, then sleet. The plowguy came by in the late afternoon to plow the accumulation, leaving a skin of snow for the sleet to fall on, rather than taking it down to the asphalt and turning the driveway into an ice skating rink.

I also posted a snippet, which is reproduced below. Before we go there, however — A Word About Snippets: I often snippet from the WIP. I do this to share the joy of the work. In my mind, it’s analogous to my having baked a batch of cookies and offering you one. I am aware (sigh) that some people are … offended by snippets for various reasons that seem Good To Them. If you are one of those folks, and you see SNIPPET in one of my blog posts — skip over that part. You don’t need to write to me to explain how offended you are; I’m fine with not knowing. Both of our blood pressures will thank you.

SNIPPET: He sighed, and tapped the screen, swearing to himself that if it was anything less than news that the twelfth quadrant had disappeared, he would allow it to languish unopened until he had – and froze, staring at what was assuredly one of the rarest items in all the universe.

He had a letter from Theo.

Rarity though it was, he made no move to open it. Such things ought to be treated with respect, if not active alarm.

Monday. Windy and V. cold. Right now, it’s 17F-feels-like-7 (-8C-feels-like-minus-13). Avalanche warning for the White Mountains (in New Hampshire, about 120 miles from the Cat Farm) through Tuesday mid-morning.

Trooper is sitting on my lap helping me write this.

It snowed another inch or two on the overnight. Somebody was kind enough to plow out the berm at the end of the driveway last night. I know it was last night because a fresh-plowed pile would be dirty, and this one is white, so it was snowed upon after it was created. Dunno if the plowguy will be by for the last couple inches; time will tell, and as previously advertised, I’m not going anywhere.

I hereby declare that the trash and recycling will not be going out to the curb tomorrow. I cleared the trash containers in the house Saturday before it started snowing, so we’re all good here.

Breakfast was oatmeal with walnuts and raisins. Second cup of tea to hand. Lunch will definitely be leftover stew.

Last night, I again tried the reading-in-bed thing, eventually joined by Tali, and then Firefly. Rook did a check-in, but it was too early for him to go to bed. Trooper was in the big cat ring, and I don’t blame him for not wanting to leave it — that thing is cozy.

I was not particularly restful after I turned off the light, and even after Trooper joined me. He finally grumped, got down — and about five minutes later came back with Firefly, talking all the way. They both got on the bed, Firefly took up her position on my hip, Trooper on my ankle, and that did the trick. I slept until the late, luxurious hour of 6:15am. Cat magic FTW.

Dishwasher is doing its thing; I have my duty to the cats, a few pieces of correspondence, and some banking on the to-do list, but mostly, I’m free to write. I’m very interested to see where these letters lead us.

Apparently, I’m expecting a UPS delivery, but no mail — oh, wait. It is, in the US, President’s Day. No mail delivery. That’s fine.

How’s Monday treating everybody so far?

Today’s title brought to you by The Eagles, “Life in the Fast Lane

Yesterday’s bread — this is a Pullman loaf, swiped by the US train chefs from the French pain de mie.  Its chief attraction is that it makes a uniform square loaf that’s good for same-sized sandwiches, with very little waste.  Mine is whole wheat; the original is a white bread loaf.

 

And go-kart Mozart was checkin’ out the weather chart

What Went Before: I returned to the keyboard after serving up Happy Hour. Trooper is calling foul and is trying to get Tali to fill out the form in triplicate to the Committee Cat. Tali is not interested in getting carbon on her toes, so I’m not sure that complaint’s going to be filed any time soon.

956-ish new words on the WIP, which brings it a whisper short of 5,000 total words. I’m pleased with the day’s progress, and look forward to making more progress, tomorrow.

I would like to report that the portable deadbolts I bought from Amazon really do work well, but I had reckoned without the Resident Void, who can quite easily stand up on his back feet and dork around with the chain — not a particularly safe situation. Cats, man…

I have received a Very, Very Dangerous Email from Vacassa offering almost-affordable places to stay oceanfront in Old Orchard Beach. I tried to avert my eyes — well, no, I didn’t. I opened the dern thing right up and started clicking. It’s a little unnerving to find that I know where most of these places are, including the one in Ocean Park, which is, yes, Just A Walk from the Beach, but it’s a Rather Stern Walk.

The ‘beans are clinging to this upcoming Weather Event like it’s their firstborn child. I’m not going anywhere, myself, and the generator is ready on standby, but I could honestly do without a Weather Event. I’m ready to be done with winter. Witness my explorations at the beach, above.

I think I’d better be done at the desk for the day, before I get into even more Dutch with the coon cats. I do still have to pair socks and clear the dishwasher, and by that time Trooper may have decided to file the report himself.

SNIPPET: “Treachery is always possible,” his former master reminded him in memory. “Honor is always possible. It is our task as traders to nurture honor while being alert for treachery.”
OR: “Trust in Allah, but tie your camel.”

Onward.

Sunday.  Snowed a couple inches on the overnight. Looks to be taking a breather right now, then we’re supposed to be treated to more snow and the ever-popular wintry mix.

Breakfast will be scrambled eggs. Lunch will be — dunno. Maybe leftover stew. Maybe a grilled cheese sandwich. We’ll see.

Today’s plans include changing out the cat boxes, baking a loaf of bread, writing, and contemplating the precipitation when and how it chooses to fall from the sky. Surely, that’s enough for one day.

So! Those who attended — how’s Boskone?

Everybody else — how’s the weekend been treating you?

Today’s title brought to you by Bruce Springsteen and Manfred Mann.  Yes I do realize this is a Religious Thing that’s just as heat-inducing as Oxford Commas, and How Many Spaces After a Period.  That being so:
Blinded by the Light,” Manfred Mann
Blinded by the Light,” Bruce Springsteen

Sunday morning photo shoot:

In which lunch is uncertain, and the snow is very near

What went before+/-750 new words on the WIP. Yeah, Gordy’s in a pickle. Note to self: Start a Weird Words List.

Saturday. Diffused sunlight; cold: 7F/-14C when I woke up. 10F/-12C as I type this. Weatherbeans are calling for Snowpocalypse, starting late tonight, and continuing through very early Monday morning.

Breakfast was toast with cream cheese and grapes. Finishing up my first mug of tea. Lunch is uncertain. I want stew. I have chicken tenders. Maybe I can make chicken stew? Hmm.

Today is change out the cat fountains day. I should probably get the cat litter into the house before Snowpocalypse, but I’ll let it warm up a little bit (which, trust me, is all it’s going to warm up). I’ll probably throw a load of laundry in, so as not to get behind, and get the desk set up for the mundane parts of next week, but mostly I want to spend some Serious Time with the WIP.

Last night, as I was sitting in my corner of the couch, snuggled under a blanket and reading, Tali jumped up, did some of her frantic-kneading; suddenly stopped, sighed, and chose a spot next to my knee to stretch out and purr quietly to herself. A few minutes later, Firefly jumped up on Her Particular Spot, started to knead, *saw that other cat* and approached. Tali turned her head upside down, Firefly sniffed her nose, then came back to Her Spot and snuggled against my hip. Both girls purred for a bit until they went to sleep, and I returned to my book.

Previous to that, we had a very nice, four-corner cat dance. Rook still needs to learn some game manners, but everybody got a chance to show off their moves.

I saw a few people yesterday wondering if Rook was being an aggressor, trying to take the desk box from Tali. What I think is — Rook’s still a kitten and has no boundaries. He flops on top of Trooper and goes to sleep; he’s not contesting the space, necessarily, merely being comfy and warm. Also, Rook has No Idea how big he is, so crowding Tali out might not have been his strategy. If it was — it didn’t work, because Tali gave not an inch. It’s worth taking a moment here to remember that Tali was previously in kitten production. By policy, she does not take nonsense from upstart kittens.

So! That’s my day planned, pre-snowstorm. What’s the weather where you are?

Today’s blog title courtesy of The Doors, with apologies to Jim Morrison.  “Roadhouse Blues

Below, Rook, helping me get the laundry sorted.  What a worker that kid is.

Go on, take the money and run

What went before: On behalf of the new novel, I got my reading done, and did some planning. Wrote about 600 words. Set up the three-ring binder so I can put all the Shan bits together, all the Jen Sin bits together, and so on, until it’s time to piece them together. If that’s how it’s gonna be, then I might as well be organized about it.  I also received Tali’s updated TICA registration.

Oh, let’s see. Friday/Big Commercial Holiday in the US. Sunny and windy and C-O-L-D.

Before-appointment breakfast was a KIND bar and a cup of tea. Fly-by second breakfast was a carton of vanilla skyr. Water is on to boil the macaroni fated to go under my spaghetti and meatballs that I didn’t eat for lunch yesterday.

I have new sneakers. Holy Hoots! Have you seen the cost of sneakers? Especially the sneakers recommended by your podiatrist? I wish I could say that they’re pretty, but they’re not. I don’t often score pretty shoes, being, as I am, guy-sized, and for some reason Hoka did not see fit to make lavender sneakers in guy-size. They are comfy, so maybe worth the price. And, even though I know that the new card from the insurance company would have paid for them, I forgot that at the Crucial Moment. I’ll learn the ways.

Extra order of cat litter has been delivered to the inside of the garage, and there it can remain until the wind dies down. I have been told that my repaired wireless keyboard has commenced its return journey from Washington State. On my way home from Augusta, where I took on the above-referenced moderately ugly but very comfy sneakers, I stopped at Hannaford for milk (it won’t do to run out of the means to make hot chocolate this weekend), cheese, macaroni, chicken tenders, more Snyder bits because man those things are good, and, err, something else. Ah. Wine. All food groups covered.

After lunch, I hope to get with Gordy as the boys in the basement thanked me for the beer by explaining why it is that Gordy is late, and depending on how that goes, I may watch John Carter, which I do have. I’d been convinced that I’d traded it in.

And that’s my accounting of adventure on the day.

What’ve you guys been doing that’s fun?

BTW, this is what I came home to:

Today’s blog title brought to you by the Steve Miller Band, because I happened to hear it on the radio this morning.  “Take the Money and Run.”