life after the apocalypse – Page 9

Housekeeping

All the Things have been done, including assisting the flying fish in their endless quest for sugar.

I? Am exhausted and hurting, which is apparently going to be the new normal. I’m trying to figure out a schedule where I can write during the hours when the meds are actually blocking out enough of the pain to allow me to think. This produces a very odd sort of day, in which I eat breakfast, answer correspondence, and do the PT homework, with writing starting around 10:30ish and going through until about 2:00/2:30. At 2:30ish or 3, I eat a meal, let’s call it dinner, and either putter at simple household tasks, as I did today, and/or watch, oh, ballet! from the new, improved pillow fort on the couch, designed to be soft and supportive of my back.

After Coon Cat Happy Hour, I either will or I won’t eat something light (I’ve been tending to “won’t.” Quelle surprise.), and possibly go back to the office, as I did last night, to write for another hour before I make a cup of tea, take the muscle relaxant part of the meds and go to bed around 10ish.

I’m hoping that I’ll be able to get back to a less dog-eared sort of a day, but, as I’m led to understand, the whole back situation can only change by getting worse, and nobody wants that. It may well be that I can get to a point where the present level of pain is ignorable, and I actually consider that the best possible outcome.

What all this means is that updates will become even more erratic than usual. I’m not sure how much entertainment is being derived, but I do know that those who do read the updates prefer consistency. Mea culpa. I, too, prefer consistency.

Alas, entropy appears to be winning.

All that said — yes. Thanks to everyone who has written to tell me that the judge has ruled the Anthropic payout can go forward. Yes, I will likely receive money from this class action suit. No, I will not be paid $3,000 per violated title. This is because there’s a 50/50 split with the publisher of each title, and the chapbooks, for which I would have received the full amount, were ruled not to have been stolen by reason of a technicality. Still, I will, eventually, get some money, as I understand it, and, being as we live in a society founded on capitalism, money is always welcome.

While money, above, is always welcome, I fear that this lawsuit has taught the wrong lesson. Wrong lessons. It has not taught that stealing someone else’s stuff is wrong, for instance; it has only reinforced the toxic notion that everything has a price, and once that price is met, there is no accountability nor shame attached to wrongful action.

Well. The pension fund was just Sitting There.

And on that note — everyone have a good evening. Stay safe. I’ll check in as it’s possible, tomorrow.

Thursday morning with fried potatoes

Some folks are just getting to Ribbon Dance on the TBR pile and are saddened by Steve’s passing.

Thursday. Sunny, breezy and cool(ish). I’m slowly getting breakfast together, after which I will see where I am on pain levels and if I will be able to write or should do some less brain-intensive work until the drugs fully kick in.

On which topic — I anticipate making a housekeeping post a little later today, for those who are interested in such matters.

In the meantime, better finish getting breakfast up — fried potatoes, leftover sausage, onions with a side of cottage cheese.

What’re you having for breakfast?

First time

So, I’ve been seeing clips forever from the Royal Ballet Company’s production of “Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland,” and really enjoyed every one. It occurred to me yesterday that there must be a Whole Ballet streaming Out There Somewhere, so I went looking, finally finding it on Marquee, which I was able to subscribe to through Prime, and get seven! free days. Since “Alice” was leaving the service in 11 days, this seemed like a message from Euterpe, and I signed up.

I watched it last night, with Tali and Rook’s interested support.

Rookie’s Interested Support:

It was? Amazing. The very first ballet I’d ever seen. Since I still have six days, I’m inspired to watch more.

And that? Brings us to!

Wednesday

How doth the little crocodile
Improve his shining tail
And pour the waters of the Nile
From every golden scale.

How cheerfully he seems to grin
How neatly spread his claws
As he welcomes little fishes in
Through gently smiling jaws.
–Lewis Carroll

Someone yesterday had said they’d never read Alice, and my wonder is, how did you manage to avoid it? And what did you make of the metaphors that, in my childhood at least were Everywhere.

I don’t think it was assigned school reading, though we were surely tasked with memorizing poems from the text. I particularly remember a poster of Alice talking with the Caterpillar, Your Viewpoint is looking over the Caterpillar’s shoulder, as he sits tall on his mushroom, hookah at his side, looking down at the girl who has grabbed onto the edges of the mushroom, trying to pull herself up — with a certain amount of success, as her shoes are slightly off the ground. I’m not sure what that poster was telling us to do, though I remember another, of the Cheshire Cat’s head and the word IMAGINE! beneath.

For my Ballet Conscious people — a question. How broad is the vernacular in the Royal Ballet’s “Alice?” I could follow it easily, but I know the story. How lost would I be, do you think, if I attempted a ballet wherein I didn‘t know the story?

. . .though, while I have this seven days of grace, I may well view “Swan Lake,” of which I’ve only seen bits. And, again, I know the story, and the music.

All that said — Frequent auditors of this space will recall that I swore off superhero movies, but last night I broke my word. That woman danced for two hours with only two intervals, which were certainly not long enough to count as “rest.” Eeep.

And now to find something to eat for breakfast.
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And in the realm of We Live in a Random Universe, the judge approving the Anthropic judgement is named Araceli Martinez-Olquin.

Back when I met Steve, he and his friend Drew had just started a business called Araceli Kari. As far as I ever knew, these were coined words meant to be easy to remember and also alien-seeming without being difficult to say. (Araceli Kari’s primary mission was to produce a newspaper — The Starswarm News — which reported from the Alterverse (fiction. Mostly.) and also featured New Science (fact). Steve roped me in to help him write classified ads from said Alterverse, which is where we found out that we could, and willingly did, collaborate.

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I wrote about 550 words, and may get back to it later.

Broke for PT homework and changing the water filter in the fridge, which has only been begging attention from the householder for the last two weeks.

Am trying to build a modified pillow fort on the couch, which may make it … less painful to watch television, and possibly even to write. Or at least be able to read. I really want to finish reading Horngard.

I do need to find something to eat, which is being annoyingly difficult to come to terms with.

I am going to buy a ticket to “Hadestown” — Monday coming. All that remains is to decide which show. If I have to stand at the back, it won’t be the first time.

And I think that’s the news — a little sparse, but some days are like that.

Hope everybody’s having a pleasant Wednesday.

Tuesday morning

I wrote new words. Eleven hundred new words, in fact, bringing the WIP entire to 27,888. So that’s a thing.

Yesterday’s visit to the walk-in clinic was both lowering and interesting. Interesting: The walk-in clinic Does Not Prescribe pain relief medication. They do prescribe muscle relaxants and anti-nausea medication.

The PA sent me to the hospital for an x-ray of my back, just to make sure I hadn’t inadvertently broken something since the last time my back was x-rayed. As I had not broken anything, I was given a prescription for muscle relaxants and anti-nausea medication.

Since one is strongly discouraged from taking T3 and muscle relaxants, I have broken into the (still in date) naproxen left over from last year (because now I have anti-nausea medication, in case naproxen turns ugly), and took the first dose this morning. The muscle relaxants are to be taken at bedtime, and I perhaps have seen a slight lessening of the pain — well. I was able to write new words today, and do all of the PT homework, instead of just the Good Parts, so, yes, muscle relaxants had an effect.

I have also unearthed a crazy little hand massager (a big plastic marble in a holder) that I’ve been running firmly over the hurtin’ bits, and also still with the lidocaine roll-on (yes, I know about lidocaine patches. Have you ever tried to put a goopy, floppy, patch on your own back? Sticks to itself. Sticks to your hands. Sticks to your clothes. To your back? Not so much. And that’s without mentioning the necessity to twist around with an aching, spasming back, trying to get the fool thing in place.)

The clinic’s diagnosis (this is the “lowering” part of the program) is bone spurs, aka “small anterior osteophytes” and “mild mid thoracic spine spondylosis,” which is age-related, degenerative arthritis, and therefore nothing to be done, save what I’ve been doing, and wait for the flare to ease up or I manage to increase my ability to ignore pain.

(Aortic atherosclerosis was also noted, as an aside. This is not New news, and aside from being separate from the reason I was at the clinic, I’m thinking it wasn’t mentioned verbally because the plaque level hasn’t reached the Magic Number yet.)

Onward.

Ellen Richmond is yesterday’s hero. She brought me to the clinic, the hospital, CVS, and picked up the prescriptions. Later in the day, Beth and Steve Symonds stopped by to replenish the cookie supply, which was much appreciated.

I now need to figure out something that looks like lunch, and whether or not I’m going to take a nap, after.

Rookie is clinging like a clingy coon kitten, which–he really is too big to curl up between my cheek and my shoulder, but he’s doing it anyway.

So, there’s my news.

What’s your news?

Short catch-up and apology

Abject apologies for having gone dark.

Short form is that I can’t totally get ahead of the back situation, though I even took the Unprecedented Step of asking the PCP for strong drugs. Which work, to a point. But not, alas, to the point necessary for peace, harmony, and getting any work done.

Tomorrow morning, a kind friend will be taking me to the walk-in clinic (which is absurd on the face of it, the walk-in clinic being about two miles from my house, but — strong drugs. And back spasms.), where it is my very great hope that they will be able to provide something that (1) works to stop the more-or-less constant muscle spasms, and (2) doesn’t have the side effect of making me sick. Though (2) is becoming less desirable as (1) takes on more necessity.

Aside the Constant Complaint Thread that’s been running on Facebook, below is probably the only notable thing I’ve said in three days:

Last night I finished listening to Accepting the Lance, by Sharon Lee and Steve Miller, narrated by Eileen Stevens. May I just say that, while I vividly remember writing the scene where the Agent of Change is taunting Val Con — during this, my first reading of the novel as a novel, I was particularly struck by what the Agent chose to taunt him with.

“Vulnerable…so very vulnerable.” “We have seen it — cut one and the other bleeds. Kill one. Both die.”

In fact, he’s being taunted for having connections. For being human.

Wow.

Epic storytelling, past me-and-us. And truthly truth, as well.

Home at last

In breaking news, the Perambulating Package has arrived!

Credit where due, the box was in perfect shape, despite having traveled ten thousand extra miles, as were the contents.

Today has otherwise been a day of parts. I worked until I couldn’t push through anymore (bearing in mind that the goal is not to make myself sick, but to extend my useful hours), then took a break until the pain eased off, and went back to it..

I have finished reading/proofing the 114 pages of the WIP, ate a kind of wandering breakfast, and a better lunch, plus ice cream with blueberries on top.

I’ve also listened to quite a few chapters of Accepting the Lance, washed the dishes, and done my duty to the cats.

The plan going forward is to read until Coon Cat Happy Hour, have a hardboiled egg sandwich for the evening meal, and go to bed early-ish, hopefully waking up in fit case to write.

Everybody have a good evening. Stay safe.

I’ll check in tomorrow.

What if I’d been the one to say good-bye?

Aaaand. Back pain has returned. We. Are. NOT. Pleased. Currently working on trying to up the efficacy of my superpower by doing what needs to be done, and when there’s a spike, telling myself, “It’s only pain,” and keep on with whatever it is I’m doing. Let it be known that I’m not doing the wire act, and certainly not the trapeze.

The local post office gives me to understand that the Perambulating Package is on the route jeep and scheduled for delivery at my house today.

Yeah. We’ve heard that before.

A question for the Tech Folk, Internet Domain Division. If someone has registered a domain through a wholesale service and “can make any changes to the domain” that they wish to make, does that not make them the owner of that domain, regardless of if they allow someone else to register the domain with a provider, post content and act in all ways as if that name belonged to them? That the person registering the domain can, in theory, and at any time, evict the person using that nameserver?

Spanish Aunts.

…it seems that standing up is the current correct position insofar as my back is concerned, so I’ll be bringing the pages I have left to read of the WIP to the standing desk for perusal.

I have Tali in position under the standing desk in my office, and Rook in his box on the edge of the big desk, where he can get the breeze from the open windows, it being a nice enough day, so far.

What’s happening with you, today?

Today’s blog post title brought to you by .38 Special, “If I’d been the one.”

Anything can happen day

Wednesday. Sunny. Temp 74F Humidity 74%. Windows are closed.

I? have ordered in breakfast on the theory that I will eat an omelet if all I have to do is open the damned box and get a fork out of the drawer. I’m flailing around for strategies to get myself interested in eating food — and I don’t at this point care if it’s healthy, particularly — and came to remember that I never had any strategies for that particular quirk in a stupid quirky nature. When I was living with Steve, he cooked 90% of the time, and I’d sit at the table to be sociable, even if I didn’t feel like eating, and would have a bit of this or that while we were talking. Yes, Steve was a genius. However, that solution is no longer operative, and I’m a bit at a loss. And before anyone panics — I’m not sick, my stomach doesn’t hurt. I just — don’t want to eat. The urgency is that I cannot allow this to fall into a habit.

Argh.

Moving on to more amusing topics: The perambulating package is now in! South Portland. USPS promises delivery, but we’ve heard that song before.

We had a bunch of thunder and some lightning, but if there were violent thunderstorms in Maine last night, they were someplace else. While I don’t regret the violence — or the possible tornadoes — I do regret the thunderstorm drama.

Today’s Plan is to read the 100+ pages of the WIP, which will not only hopefully hang together as a tale, but provide sufficient hooks to hang the rest of the story on.

Writer math.

break to eat breakfast Which. Was. Good. Remember this, Self? Food tastes good. Sheesh.

A friend posted a meme yesterday about “When I was growing up, we were thrown out onto the street, helmetless, with our bike after breakfast and told to come home before dark.” Which encouraged some conversation including, “What is this “helmet” you speak of?” And that got me to thinking about How Things Change.

For instance. In my life — which, we do have to factor in the determination that we were writers above all else, which did have an enormous bearing on finances — I think that people who have two homes, or a camp, are well-off. The course of my life being such that we could barely afford one house, and were always skating the edge between solvent and me presenting Steve with a fanned hand of bills and saying, “Pick a bill. Pick any bill. The bill that you pick is the bill we won’t be paying this month.”

So, that. And then I think back to — my parents. Who had land in the mountains of Pennsylvania that they intended to build a camp on. They never did because they’d gotten taken in the matter of boundary lines and water, but that aside — they owned property other than their primary residence. My father was a spotwelder at the General Motors factory in Sparrow’s Point, Maryland. My mother was a stay-at-home mom.

Going back a generation, and the reason I’m so “surprisingly” at ease on the water, my father’s parents had a camp on Middle River in Maryland to which they retired every summer. They also had a mini-farm at what was then the edge of the town of Parkville, Maryland. My grandfather was a tailor for a large tailoring house (I often remember the name, but not this morning) in the city. My grandmother was a stay-at-home mom.

Tailor and spotwelder — these are not positions associated with great amounts of wealth. And yet, they were able to buy “extra” properties.

Well. The past is a different country.

Time to go to work.

What was your childhood summer like?

Three goods inna row

Tuesday. Raining half-heartedly. ‘beans are still calling for “near record high” heat, with indexes “near 100,” with bonus Violent Thunderstorms with damaging winds and hail, and perhaps a surprise appearance of a tornado, for the overnight.

Trash and recycling are at the curb.

Slow getting started today, despite a long sleep fully supervised by Coon Cats. Both ladies piled in immediately I had pulled the covers up, and Firefly tucked up against my stomach, which she never does, purring to shake the bed, while Tali made her very solid presence felt at my back. I woke up a couple times and they were still in place. Firefly, apparently noticing the change in my breathing, started purring again in a blatant effort to make me go back to sleep.

It worked.

Rookie seems to have spent a peaceful nightshift in his basket on the edge of Steve’s desk.

Rookie is not drooling this morning–his fur is dry and his eye is bright–and I have called his physician to report this.

I have a note from my physician, agreeing that the arrangements I have made with lisinopril dosing times and lifestyle adjustments have, indeed, produced a more seemly sustained level of BP readings, and has given his permission to stay the course. Which means I get to stick with 10mg rather than leaping into a double dose. So, that’s good.

Once I have dispatched this note to the internets, I will be doing the dishes and performing my duty to the cats.

Unless the fog in my head melts, I foresee a day of chores before heading out to crafting. Which means the house will be straight, and I can concentrate on writing Wed-Thurs-Fri.

That’s also good.

Back pain is at the Ignorable Level–three goods in a row. Not really very interested in eating food, despite the effort I made to have tasty things in-house, so that’s — worrisome, but not particularly novel.

The Perambulating Package is still being “assessed” in Augusta, and nobody’s committing to a delivery date.

And all that said — Onward.

What’s the weather where you are?

And! A picture of Rookie from last evening, post Happy Hour

Monday Evening

So, Rookie is at the vet. I stopped at the food store on the way back and took on supplies. Came home, put said supplies away (It had used to be, in the Beforetimes, when only one of us went to the store, that, when they returned, they would call, “Lucy! I’m home!” and thus gain assistance in the Putting Away, which also served to inform They Who Had Not Shopped what was new in inventory. Hard habit to break).

I have consulted with Firefly in her melant’i as Top Cat, confirming that staffing is reduced, but that I will be away for parts of the day, so the workload balance for those present will still be within the Union guidelines. I also confirmed that she is not required to redraw the Organizational Chart at this time.

Since I was at the store, I bought cookies, that being one of the necessities I was out of, and have performed a Quality Control test consisting of half a cookie (they’re big cookies), and will now proceed with Monday’s chores, of which the first is!

Writing to my physician.
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Sigh.

Meant to say that the perambulating package is on the truck to be delivered today.

Also meant to say that both Hummer Bars are enjoying good patronage.
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Home from bookclub. Our next book is Edison’s Eve by Gaby Wood. I have read this before, but it’s been a decade, so I’m looking forward to re-reading. I was Riveted when I first read it.

I have! An appointment for a haircut on Saturday at 9 am.

I have! One very damp and extremely cranky black Maine Coon Teenager, who reportedly sat in the vet’s back room and swore non-stop the entire time he was there, and growled at his vet.

The good news — there’s nothing wrong with his mouth or throat. He has a lot of gas, and theory at this point is that he has — a stomachache. Vet administered an anti-nausea, and I’m to report in tomorrow morning.

It’s hot out.

I should probably get a little something to eat…
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Who had “sent back to the sorting center” in the Perambulating Package Pool? If it was you, hold onto that ticket!

When last we heard from the package, it was inside my local post office, and this morning it was promised to be delivered by 9 pm.

However! In a shocking turn of events! When the mail arrived, the package was not among the pieces delivered.

I came back into the house, brought up Informed Delivery — and found that the package was on its way to Augusta — South, in other words.

I have spoken with a live human at the local post office, who has the tracking number, my name, and phone number and is going to be “monitoring” this delivery for me.

Whatever that means.

In other news, we’re to the chopping and freezing onions part of the festivities. Rookie came up to my lap on his own and let me dry him off. He’s still drooling but only a very tiny amount, so maybe the anti-nausea was what he needed.
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We were just having a conversation about home inspections for what was called when we moved to Skowhegan “town housing,” the direct descendant, as I believe I understand the matter, of the “town farm.”

In any case, housing inspections, and the things inspectors might look for — holes in the walls, garbage just lying around, too! much! stuff! imperiling foot traffic, dirty dishes in the sink…

All of which seems reasonable, except — I’m going to need to leave dirty dishes in the sink for the second day in a row — those being yesterday’s dishes — because my back wishes to register a complaint. I will therefore remake the bed, so I can sleep in it tonight, and then retire to a comfy chair with a heating pad, a book, and a glass of iced tea.

And remember to be grateful that I am not in a situation that means I have housing inspectors in my life.
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Evening wrap-up.

Fans of Rookie will be encouraged to learn that he has stopped drooling, his stomach is soft, and he had sweet words of flattery in his mouth when he came into my lap as I was reading. Apparently, I’m to be rewarded as a Hero for breaking him out of That Place. I was also allowed to comb the random sticky bits out of his mane. He and the girls have just finished a good happy hour and are now taking their ease in Steve’s office.

Back pain is slightly above the Ignorable Level, which is not what we prefer, and I’m kind of tired, so it will likely be an Early Night for This Hoomin.

The Perambulating Package is “processing” at the USPS in Augusta, 20 miles in a southwardly direction.

Tomorrow, I need to organize my reading. I have a little less than 100 pages left to read of Horngard before I may craft a quote that is a little more substantive than “Read this book, it’s good!” I also need to read the WIP to date and start (re)reading Edison’s Eve. Hopefully, I will be able to attend the craft meeting tomorrow evening. Oh. And I need to do the dishes.

Everybody have a good evening. I’ll check in tomorrow.