life after the apocalypse – Page 6

when the world is puddle-wonderful

What went before: 707 new words today, bringing the WIP total word count to 35,147.

I printed out Blays and Majel’s Excellent Adventure, and will now have to time it.

Trooper is insisting that it is Coon Cat Happy Hour neeOW!, and he is, alas, wrong. I will therefore torment him by straightening up my desk and staring into the abyss of next week, which starts off with a bang! — a 7am appointment at the car dealership to get the Subaru ready for hitting the road. And! I need to remember to take the backway, because the ramp off the expressway to the dealership is closed (again) for repairs.

Sixteen people have committed to the Friends of Liad Breakfast at BaltiCon, which is certainly enough to warrant making a reservation.

It’s started to rain again; apparently, this is expected to continue through tomorrow night.

And Firefly has just come by to remind me about watching Dr. Who tonight…

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Sunday. Raining. I’m chilly, but I don’t think it’s actually chilly. Anyhoot, sweatshirt on, and the dishwasher is doing its thing.

Breakfast was a cup of cottage cheese with a spoon of blueberry/ginger jam stirred in, this being the compromise after I informed myself that “I’ll just skip breakfast” was Not Acceptable. Lunch is easier. I have some tomato soup left over from the other day, into which I shall place a meatball or two and maybe some lentils, and, hey-presto! — rainy day soup.

<aside>I managed last year by riding the wave of Habit. But the wave has struck, and broken, and it’s becoming noticeably harder for me to keep on track. I haven’t lived by myself for nearly 50 years, and I’m finding I’m not very good at it. OTOH, I don’t really want to live with anybody else. Honestly, there’s no pleasing the woman.</aside>

So, last night, we watched Dr. Who. Firefly watched most of the Space Babies from the top of the cat tree, with Tali, but she came down when the bogeyman almost got Eric, and cuddled up with me, so we went on and watched the Music Thief, which I quite liked. (Apologies for not recalling the official titles of these episodes.)

Today, I need to time my (proposed) reading, and do some writing. Also, I need to make rice to have against need; it seems I’ve been eating a lot of rice, somehow, and remember to set the alarm for Omighod so I can be in Augusta (going the back way) by 7 am. I may grab breakfast at Lisa’s, after, and forage on the way home.

Looking out over the Long Back Yard — it’s amazing how quickly the leaves and flowers get on with it, once they’ve decided the time is right. I swear that two weeks ago, I had skeleton trees…

How’s everybody doing today?

Today’s blog post title brought to you by e.e. cummings, “In Just-“

In which the writer is not a cinephile

First things first: This is for the purposes of planning the Friends of Liad Breakfast on Saturday morning of Balticon at 8:45 am

If you are planning to attend the breakfast (you do not need to be a member of the con to come to breakfast): say “Yes” in comments.

Things you need to know about the Friends of Liad Breakfast: (1) This is a family gathering to catch up with each other and news. Everybody pays for their own breakfast. (2) It is not a con event.

Go!

What went before ONE: Old/new snippet: “Was that too long?” Theo snapped, worry sublimating into temper by a process he understood intimately. “You smashed the rack-and-tile array with a starbar. The doc had to do repairs at the cellular level! You should be dead, except you got lucky.”

Lucky. Of course, he had gotten lucky.

What went before TWO: So, lost +/-230 words on the day, bringing the total WIP to 34,440, more or less. And! I have a follow to a new scene that did not appear in Salvage Right, and which will address something that we glossed over in Salvage Right because deadline and if we kept on going we’d have written a 200,000 word book and, just — no.

There are already /1/0 15 people who say they’ll be attending the Saturday morning Friends of Liad breakfast at BaltiCon. Hoping the in-house restaurant is more amenable to reservations than the Boskone hotel, which, the last time Steve and I hosted a FOL breakfast, adamantly refused to take a reservation, and therefore doomed themselves to constantly rearranging the room for two hours, as folks kept arriving.

I am scheduled to be interviewed at 11:30 on Saturday at the con, according to the Less Drafty Schedule, so that’s something else to bear in mind.

Trooper was unfortunately messily ill this morning, which means that there will be no Happy Hour this evening. Because explaining to cats that they need to not gorge on gooshy food because it will make them sick isn’t exactly an Easy Sell, I think I will be on the couch watching Dr. Who and ignoring the protests of felines whose throats have been cut, rather than trying to read, or write, or do ASL homework.

And that’s all I’ve got on the day.

Saturday. The ‘beans claim it’s raining. The weather over the Long Back Yard is mostly sunny and a trifle cool. I’ve set the Awesome Chair up on the deck.

Breakfast was a ham and cheese sandwich (which finishes the ham, which I am now tired of, so it will be easier — for a while, anyway — to resist temptation) and veggie chips. Yes, that does sound like lunch. Actual lunch will be quiche and salad.

Thanks to everyone who pitched in on the name of the movie. Kill Bill it was. Nasty piece of work. Bearing in mind that I also did not think Thelma and Louise was “funny.” I think I may have mentioned that I am not the person they make movies for.

Speaking of movies, I watched The Church on Ruby Road, and the difference between now and 1997 is … wow. The cats all joined me, and we had a lovely viewing. Firefly has already asked that we do it again this evening, so I’ve got that inked in.

I stayed up a bit late last night, to finish The Teller of Small Fortunes. I also made the executive decision not to finish the book club book. This is slightly awkward, because I’m going to listen to the author read from this book in a week or two. OTOH, there always exists the possibility that I’m reading it wrong — reading protocols are A Thing, after all — and that the author’s performance will inform me.

Having gone to bed late, I slept late, and woke up to the realization that I need to start Making Lists for my upcoming perambulations, and for my duties to the con. Since I will apparently not be doing itinerant readings, I think I will read Blays and Majel’s Excellent Adventure officially, and perhaps carry with me “The Last Train to Clarkesville,” in case there’s another opportunity to just sit and read for an hour (it’s a long story).

This still leaves me with packing (1) the big suitcase full of con stuff and (2) the duffel bag, for my mini-vacay on the way home. I have engaged one of those apartmenty things, with a kitchen, and there’s a Wegman’s somewhere in Corning which I’ll try to hit before I check in. I have my tickets for two days at the museum, and two classes booked — one at the museum, and one at a studio in-town.

I still need to come to terms with how to get out of Baltimore. I’m thinking that Steve and I left BaltiCon 50 at, like, 4 o’clock in the morning and just shot out the Jones Falls well ahead of rush hour. That may be my best plan.

Today, I intend, mostly, to write. I have a few chores, as per usual, and one’s duty to the cats, and I will honor Firefly’s request for Moar Dr. Who. Oh, and I have to find something to read. I think I have the most recent Sebastian St. Cyr in the electronic TBR pile, the second Bad Heirs, a couple of cozies, and a Celia Lake to test drive. Yeah, I won’t starve.

What’s everybody reading today?

Oh. There are four cats in my office.

I want to fly like an eagle, to the sea

Friday. Rainy and cool.

Breakfast is rice crackers, cream cheese, applesauce. Waiting for my tea to brew.

I need some things at the grocery. The jury is still out whether I’ll get them in town or in Belfast. There’s a Reny’s in Belfast, which may tip the scales.

So, yesterday was very strange. At one point, I was running a (minor) fever, and I just felt — unwell. I cancelled out of ASL class, which was a bummer, but might as well not give whatever it was — assuming it was giftable — to my classmates.

This morning I feel — OK. No fever. Not so exhausted I can barely drag my tail downstairs to perform one’s duty to the cats.

So, that’s all good.

I have a less-drafty schedule from BaltiCon Programming (The final schedule may happen next week. Maybe.). There is room on Saturday morning for a FOL breakfast at — eh? 8? 8:30? 9? We will not be having a Stuffed Animal Tea, unless I can work something out with either the consuite or the Green Room, so, yanno, watch the skies.

In other news, the WIP now weighs in at 34,667 words, which looks like Holy Smoke! That woman wrote yesterday!, but is mostly cut ‘n pasting/minor reworking from Salvage Right.

This is a matter of +/-3400 words, and will likely be less as soon as I get smart enough to figure out how to further streamline the needed action while providing Necessary Context. In a +\-100,000 word novel, this is Very Small Potatoes. Nonetheless, I anticipate hearing from the folks who howled their heads off, asserting that half of Mouse and Dragon was “nothing but” the ending of Scout’s Progress, and they were thereby Cheated. I suspect that this unhappy anticipation is what has kept me from moving forward on this section, even though I’ve known from the start of the project that it’s going to have to go down this way. I do know that most people will Get It, but I hate getting yelled at in email. Or at all, really.

And! The votes are in! I’ll be foraging in town today.

What else? I’m still kind of reading the book club book, with a chaser of The Teller of Small Fortunes. It’s been slow going because I’ve been so damned tired. I may really try to knock off early this evening and, oh, watch Dr. Who.

Oh, and I need to find someone to paint my garage. Actually, I think I probably need somebody to rebuild my garage, but I’m not sure how that might be made to happen. Well. Research. That’ll be fun.

That appears to be the contents of my head, and my tea’s almost gone.

What’s going on with you, this fine Friday?

Today’s blog post title brought to you by Mr. Steve Miller — the other Steve Miller — who notably wrote this song in 1976, when I’m told that music was Pure and nobody wrote about politics or social action in their books. “Fly Like An Eagle“

I wanna find one face that ain’t lookin’ through me

What went before ONE: I put together the new space heater, despite my fingers are still not working properly from yesterday’s abuses, and why don’t they just make screws bigger? But! Magnets are our friends. The assembled device was set to warming the bathroom, which it did with great efficiency and practically no noise. The elder space heater ROARED, so that will be a nice change, too, though I’ll have to be Extra Vigilant to be sure I’ve turned it off.

Am now taking a break for some fig newtons and Trooper lap time before taking the old heater down to the Goblin Room and wrapping it in plastic.

What went before TWO: For those following along at home, the chapbook I’ve been talking about now and again will include: “Neutral Ground,” written in September 2021 as a short story, which we/I then held because … Because. — a chapter pulled from Ribbon Dance, written in July 2023, and “Core Values,” written in February 2025, and posted to Splinter Universe. The stories amount to 27,485 words, and there will definitely need to be Author Commentary, so call it 30,000ish words.

No date yet — much needs to be done, aside from writing the commentary, but I said I’d keep people Informed.

What went before THREE: Rook, the “baby,” weighs 12 lbs, 6 oz.
Trooper, the patriarch, weighs 13 lbs 1 oz.
Firefly weighs 11 lbs, 3 oz.
Tali has declined the opportunity to be weighed at this time.

Since this time last month, Trooper and Firefly have lost minor ounces; Rook has gained minor ounces.

So, that’s actually good news.

What went before THREE-ANNA-HALF: Tali weighs 11 lbs 6 ounces.

What went before FOUR: 662 new words today, bringing the WIP to 33,487. I have signed up for Disney+, figuring Doctor Who will keep me busy until it’s time to pack, and then manifest at BaltiCon.

Still need to do my ASL review, so I guess that’s what I’ll be doing after I lay out Happy Hour.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Here’s a picture of Firefly staying safe, in case you need a role model:

What went before FIVE: I’m to give a speech at Balticon, accepting the Heinlein Award. It’s a short speech, and the current plan is to put it in the back of the chapbook discussed earlier today.

Thursday. Sunny, blue, and still.

Breakfast was eggs scrambled with ham, tomato, onion, the last spoonful of potato salad, and parmesean cheese. Which was quite a lot, actually, so light lunch will be in order. I still have a little bit of chicken salad, so that may be the solution, right there. Tali stopped by as I was finishing up to have her ears massaged:

Things went slightly sideways last night, where I hit a wall — and bounced. I went to bed early, and slept, but I’m still kind of groggy and half-functional, so am planning a half-collapsed day. The comfy chair, a pad of paper, and a pen are looking good, so that’s where you’ll find me until it’s time to go to class.

How’s everybody doing today?

Today’s blog title brought to you by Mr. Bruce Springsteen, “Badlands”

Here’s the official cat census:

All the vampires walkin’ through the valley

Today is Book Day for the mmP edition of Ribbon Dance!

What went before ONE: Yeah, that’s no good. Steve yelled at me for weeding for good reason. Weeding does not pay the bills, OTOH, the garden needs upkeep. I b’lieve I will call the nice young man who installed the present garden and see if he has someone on his crew who may be hired to weed, or if he knows of some such person.

It is gorgeous out there today.

What went before TWO: Have my appointment at Hands On Glass in Corning to make a paperweight (my class at the Corning Museum is to make an ornament), and had a lovely chat with Rodi, the owner. Cat boxes scooped, various minor chores accomplished, and now! lunch, with a side of naproxen and muscle relaxants. At the risk of having too much of a good thing, today’s lunch is a grilled ham and cheese.

After all that, it’s back with the crew of the good ship Chandra Marudas. With a little cooperation from the writing brain, and hoping that the muscle relaxants will jolly along the hands, knee, and back (I’m reminded of Gene Wolfe, who was asked what he did when the writing wasn’t flowing. He promptly said, “When I can’t write, I go out to the garden.” Pause. “And after about ten minutes, I remember that I hate to garden and go back inside to write.”)

And on that note..

What went before THREE: Working late…

1,206 new words, closing out the prologue. Not the best prologue every written, but we can fix that, now. WIP total words +/-32,825.

I am V. Tired and hope that the helpful kitties will let me sleep as long as necessary.

Intermission: A kind friend shared this with me the other day: Dr. Who learns BSL (BSL=British Sign Language ASL=American Sign Language)

Wednesday. Sunny and breezy. A little too breezy at the moment to deploy the Awesome New Chair, which I folded up and stuck in the windless corner of the deck last night. The windows are open in my office even though it’s still a little cool, so I’m currently wearing a sweatshirt that I’ll probably be taking off within the hour.

. . . and I have just learned “power ballad,” thanks to Tommy London, who consistently comes from way back outta my left field, and more often than not leaves me saying, “Do what, now?”

So Power Ballad, according to the internets: “The hard rock power ballad typically expresses love or heartache through its lyrics, shifting into wordless intensity and emotional transcendence with heavy drumming and a distorted electric guitar solo representing the ‘power’ in the power ballad.” Examples are Nilsson’s “Without You” (holding place as the grandfather of the form); “November Rain,” from Guns ‘n Roses; and Tina Turner’s “We don’t need another hero.”

You’re welcome.

Today’s to-do includes changing the bed, including finding a lighter weight blanket. I think we’re out of the wool-and-fleece blanket nights now. I have at least two letters to answer; also one’s duty to the cats, ASL review, writing, and assembling and testing the new Lasko space heater that took the long way to Maine and only just arrived yesterday.

For those who Worry, breakfast was a warm rosemary roll with cream cheese and the last of the grapes. Lunch will be fish and a veggie to be named later.

I haven’t begged for reviews for a couple days now, so! If you’ve read a Lee, Miller, or Lee and Miller title lately, please review it in the venue of your choice. Thank you so much.

Well. What’s the weather at your house today?

Today’s blog post brought to you by Mr. Tom Petty, “Free Fallin‘”

I made a pilgrimage to save the human race

What went before ONE: Back from errands. I purchased many needful things, including 15 ozs of blueberries covered in dark chocolate separated into 15 (now 14 — had to do a Quality Check) little bags, which are going to come in right handy on my upcoming road trip. TripS.

I also got the car washed, checked the po box, bought Trooper’s Sort of catfood at the vet, and hit the grocery for milk, gooshy food, and succumbed to temptation, which is to say, I bought some deli ham so I can have ham-and cheese sandwiches, which I’m not supposed to eat, but! I have rye bread. That’s it. That’s my excuse.

I possibly should have bought one of the fancy new traveling lunch boxes, which would let the drinks stand up (both of those in-house you have to lay the water bottles on their side. However, I have time to consider this and return to the store if it’s found I made an error.

And? It is now suddenly lunch time, and I still don’t know what I’m going to eat. Oh. How about a ham and cheese sandwich?

What went before TWO: That . . . was not what I wanted to see today — or any day, really.

I went outside to look at the front garden and think about weeding strategies and found — a dead kitten.

I’ve committed her to Bast, but — dammit…

What went before THREE: So … no new words today. I have just a few moments ago been informed that I’m doing a podcast this evening at 9:00 my time.

So there’s that.

I did get my tickets to the Corning Glass Museum and scheduled a time to make a blown glass ornament. The other place I want to make glass at — a hot glass paperweight — isn’t open today and they require a phone call. I guess I’ll register the washer and dryer and … find my headphones.

Eep.

What went before THREE: Ready to go cast pods. As you can see, I found my headphones, and it doesn’t matter that I need a haircut.

What went before FOUR: Aaaand back.

The podcast is Blasters and Blades and best guess is that it will air +/-May 30. They’ll let me know when, and then I’ll let you know when.

I had a good time. Trooper helped out on some of the hard questions, and now I’m going to go find a glass of wine.

Tuesday. Sunny, breezy, and pleasant. Trooper insisted that I wake up at 5:00, but I overruled him, since I didn’t get to bed until midnight. Still got up earlier than I wanted.

Breakfast was chicken salad and grapes. Drank my first mug of tea on the deck in the shade of my Awesome! New! Chair!, then cleaned up a pile of leaves that had accumulated in a corner of the deck near Steve’s grill, which is another thing I’ve got to decide what to do about, ’cause I ain’t grilling nothin’. OTOH, I do have extra propane cylinders, and I guess it might be useful in the coming apocalypse.

So, today, I need to make a plan regarding how to weed the garden and, err, do same. It looks like the morning, when the sun is falling thick and rich into my office would be the best time to hit the garden out front. I really need to keep on this so it doesn’t get overgrown again.

NOTE TO SELF: HAT! No, really. HAT.

What else? Writing. Didn’t get any writing done yesterday, which was disappointing. And also calling the other glass studio in Corning. And ASL homework. One’s duty to the cats. The watch wants me to walk, but it’s getting weeds pulled instead. That’s looking like a full day, right there, not to mention I’ll need to eat at least one more meal. Pfui.

What’s everybody doing today that’s fun?

Today’s blog post title brought to you by Modern English, “I Melt with You”

Pics below of aforesaid Awesome chair, and also my breakfast visitor:

Don’t you want your daddy to feel all right?

What went before: I forgot to mention earlier that On This Date in 2018, the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory moved from its long-term country location to the city.

So, that’s 1,056 new words, including having to stop for the fun game of Name The Scouts. WIP now more-or-less 31,620 total words.

I have confirmed that Steve named Captain yos’Thadi’s ship at least partially for his high school English teacher — thanks, Shirley!

Quitting now in order to serve Happy Hour in about half and hour, then reviewing ASL homework again.

In the meanwhile, I’ve got some tidying up for the evening to do, including grabbing Tali and brushing her, which is — eh 50/50 chance. She cannot be shamed, and the fact that All The OTHER Cats have been groomed today means nothing to her.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Monday. Sunny and warm, heading for warmer. It was a struggle to get out of bed this morning. Woke up twice, went back to sleep, and was seriously tempted to try for a personal best of three naps before officially getting up.

Breakfast was PB&J on a toasted English muffin, accompanied in part by the Dead’s “Good Lovin'”. I have not one clue about lunch; hate to do a salad again, because, while veggies are Good for Us, boring meals do not fill one with a desire to eat.

So, this morning I was planning on going out to the Agway and foraging for eyelets so I could make my webbing in the laundry room closet. However! I was in Steve’s office, muttering about this plan, and opened the closet door for — I have no idea, really — and a wire shelf that I guess had been leaning against the wall, fell out on me (no worries; it’s not a big shelf). And I stood there like a dummy, staring at it for two long minutes before I picked it up and took it to the laundry room, where I slid it easily into the upper space where Steve’s stacking had failed under unusual stress, and I was going to install rope webbing.

. . .by the way, that thready organ line in the background of “Rebel Yell”? Is worth the whole song, right there.

Anyhoots, problem solved and I don’t have to go out to Agway this morning, but! I do need to go out to get milk, and while I’m at the shopping center, I may do a tour of TJMaxx, just because it’s there.

There are various other items on the to-do list, including getting the trash into the garage in preparation for the Grand March to the curb, tomorrow morning. Calling to reserve a place in a glass-blowing class while I’m at Corning — yes, I decided that I will regret it forever, if I don’t at least TRY to blow glass — gathering up the pieces of that possible chapbook, and registering the washer and dryer. Also, writing. I want to finish the section I started yesterday, which is, for those who are curious, the prologue.

My mailbag has been interesting these last couple days. Today’s question is: Why did I “have” Tekelia go to Visalee with All Those Stops? Boorrrrriiiiiinnnngg.

Short answer: Like it says in the book, Tekelia had to go to Visalee (by the way, I do not advise anyone who values their peace of mind to attempt to “have” Tekelia do anydamnthing) to bring Blays back to Ribbon Dance Village. The reason there were so many stops is that Tekelia is not a superperson — Visalee is a long distance, and refueling was required.

Longer answer: Because not only did Blays need to be fetched, and the fact that Tekelia has limits established, but The Reader had to become familiar with the Counsels to Chaos, and the geography of Colemeno beyond the city, as well as to set up Wildege. I’m actually fairly proud of using that trip to accomplish multiple pieces of work that would be important later on in the book.

Slightly snarky answer: It’s always wise to recall that one person’s too much cake/meetings/trading/accountants/icky-kissy-stuff is another person’s Oh, perfect! Since there is no possible chance that I’m going to please everybody, I aim to please myself.

All righty, then! Who else is out of milk?

Yes, today’s blog title from the Grateful Dead, “Good Lovin‘”

Yesterday’s coworkers:

. . . and whether pigs have wings

What went before: Sigh.

No fewer than three people have wished me to know that Amazon is holding its Really Big Sale this year during Independent Booksellers Week.

Thank you all for your concern. I am aware that the Large Waterway is scum. I am aware that there is nothing to stop them from having their sale whenever they want to have their sale, even if they’re knowingly playing dirty pool.

However.

Why do writers write? *shrugs* Probably there are as many reasons as there are writers, though I suspect we all share two reasons: We want people to BUY our books and! We want people to READ our books. Note the order of those two items.

Like lesser mortals, writers need money to pay for food, for heat, for rent, for meds, for cat food, and all like that. They therefore put their books on sale everywhere that will pay them a percentage of each sale — big markets, little markets, libraries…wherever.

As a private person, I can deplore a market’s morals. As a writer, am I going to pull my books from said market, so long as they pay me? I am not. Am I a Bad Person, my pool cue as dirty as said market’s table? No. I’m not.

And why is that? Here you go —

I can put my books on sale wherever I please. But I can’t make you buy them from any particular market. Witness the folks who would rather buy books from Enormous River rather than from the Uncle. The point here is not so much author choice (sell books widely; maybe make the rent this month) as it is buyer’s choice (Big Market Bad; I shall buy from a market that is more pleasing to myself).

Asking me to pull my books from a market that accounts for 90+% of my sales is asking me to live outdoors, or starve my cats, and I won’t willingly do either of those things. Buy my books someplace else — your favorite indie bookstore, for an example. You Have the Power!

End of this lecture in Writer Economics 101.

Sunday. Raining and chilly. Steve’s good, heavy, red-and-black flannel shirt is once again pressed into use. This garment has been endlessly useful.

Breakfast was refried grilled veggies with cheese. Lunch will be a salad and soup.

Rook’s tail was following him around and he decided to blame it on Tali, so they’ve been wrasslin’ through three rooms. Firefly is acting as ref. Trooper is visiting Steve in his office.

Did some plotting yesterday. Today I hope for new words.

From the mailbag: Do I have my BaltiCon schedule yet?

Short Answer: Er. No. I received a draft schedule, which was … inadequate … mostly due to the fact that I had not been given a login to the scheduling program, and so couldn’t choose faces. I thought that was straightened out, but I haven’t heard anything else.

Expansion: I would sort of like to have a schedule ahead of arrival, since I like to, oh, prepare. And, also, this is very likely the last time I’ll in-person at a convention, and I also know from the mailbag that there are people who are coming only to see me, or waiting to see the schedule before deciding (which is flattering, but BaltiCon’s a good con; lots more things to do than hang out with an aging, taciturn SciFi writer, so you should definitely come, if you’re thinking about it at all).

In regard to planning ahead, I’m thinking that, if I turn out to be basically on my own, I could wander about the convention doing pop-up readings. My memory of the space isn’t great, but there must be corners, nooks, back tables in the consuite where people could gather and I could read for a bit.

So, here’s the place where you guys can help me out: If you have a favorite scene or story that you would like to hear read aloud, let me know in comments.

Other than all of that — what’s going on with you today?

Today’s blog post from Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland, “The Walrus and the Carpenter.” Yes, I do quote from Alice rather a lot.

Photograph from last night’s special Hall Blocker’s Meeting, in which Hall Blocker Emeritus Kelimcoons Sooper Trooper tutors the club’s youngers in Basic Short Hall Technique.

Writer’s Day Off

Interesting day. I thought I was going to get home and Do Chores, but chores have been bumped to tomorrow morning.

Old Orchard Beach was full of heavy equipment and work crews frantically Getting Stuff Ready, and I was somewhat bummed, because there was no place to put a Subaru Forester even on the sidest of side streets.

I therefore betook myself to Pine Point, where I wandered around, took some pictures, and made notes on That Thought I had the other day. Then, as I was heading back toward OOB, with Camp Ellis in my eye, when I realized that the Pine Point Beach Parking Lot had cars in it.

Now, I have only once before been on the Pine Point Beach, because — (1) it’s for Townies. If you live in Scarborough and have a sticker, you can enjoy the public beach free of charge. If you from Away, lately you can pay a (hefty) fee to park, which never made sense, because (2) parking at OOB had until lately been reasonable.

However, it looked like Mainers Free Season was in force, given the cars in the lot and the fact that the gate was off (not up — OFF), so I pulled in, walked over to the autopay robot, pressed the button that activated it and was greeted by the cheerful information that This Device is Currently Deactivated, which meant that I had my lovely walk on the beach, after all, and got to see the back end of Pine Point Harbor.

After my walk, I went to Camp Ellis, then to Saco, where I shopped at Reny’s (Number Two in my passport booklet), scoring one of the most brilliant things I’ve seen in a while. Some of you will recall that I was looking for a deck umbrella, under which I might lounge and consider the lawn on sunny days. I did not today acquire a deck umbrella, but I *did* acquire a folding chair with its own sun hood. This? Will do. And I don’t have to worry about high winds, or how I’m going be slugging tons of sand from hither to yon, or if the crank will break.

A real score, that chair.

After Saco, I drove down to Wells, stopped at the Borealis store and took on bread, rolls, and lunch (ham and cheddar on olive bread, which was delicious and HUGE, so the second half will be dinner). I walked on Wells Beach — that’s where the previous picture was taken — then went back to town and stopped at Reny’s (Number Three in my passport booklet), where I bought a citronella candle so I can maybe outwit some mosquitos while I’m sitting out under my cool, self-shaded chair, and some twine/rope, but no eyelets, since they had none. Perhaps there are eyelets at the bottom of Steve’s tool box. I shall Conduct a Search. But not today.

After all that — I came home, stopping at Hannaford for a couple more things than I thought I was stopping for.

I came home to a notification from my insurance company saying that they need Fourteen More Days (I’ve already given them 60, mind you) to decide the knotty question of if they can still make me pay for something they told me they would cover. I can see their problem, man. Nine large is a considerable sum of money.

Pictures below, including the clump of daffodils I came home to.

So! How’s everybody doing?

Distant Early Warning

All righty, then!

God, She knows what I did today. Research, that’s it. And laundry. And staring. Can’t write a book without staring, and that’s just a plain fact.

Tomorrow may well be a Writer’s Day Off. I see that high tide at Old Orchard Beach is at 9:54 am, that it’s not supposed to rain there, or here, until after sundown, and! I have nothing except Ashley and ASL on my schedule next week, which in theory means I have All That Time to write.

Ah. Another thing I did today was tune my magic headphones. It’s more than a little lowering to note that I can’t hear four out of ten tones (in each ear) AT ALL. But, no worries! says the magic headphones, we can make the music sound better by adjusting the tones you can hear. I was, I admit, dubious. But dern if it didn’t work — music is brighter, and if I can’t hear what I can’t hear, then I don’t guess I’ll miss it. Or something.

Having washed and dried everything that needed same, and a couple things that didn’t, I give the new appliances high points. I have to negotiate with the dryer a bit in re how dry I need my socks to be, but that’s only learning the proper buttons to push. Also, I was not left a manual for the washer, and I find that I have Questions, so I’ll have to seek that out on the internets tomorrow, or, hey, Saturday.

I am not at all prepared for ASL class this evening, but it’s too late to remedy that particular error, so — I’ll be heading out in twenty minutes or so.

Everybody stay safe.

I’ll check in as can, tomorrow.