Tag: life during wartime

Wobbling into Monday

Monday. Cool and cloudy. Mixed night and slow morning. The cats piled in and did what they could, last night, and finally set their purrboxes on auto so at least they could get some sleep.

I perhaps forgot to mention that one of Hannah Pingree’s workers stopped by yesterday afternoon — Hannah Pingree being the Democrat running for Maine governor. Said worker asked what my outlook was, and kind of sighed and nodded when I said “pessimistic.” We talked very briefly about was I going to vote, and did I want any literature, or perhaps a lawn sign. I mentioned that my house is made of windows, and she nodded, and went on her way.

In-house news includes the fact that the light bulb went out in the refrigerator, and the one-size-fits-all-GE-fridges manual is not being very helpful. I think I’ve found the latch for the light cover, but I haven’t quite worked out how to get it off–it’s either lack of hand strength or lack of the correct latch, and it would be nice to know which. In the meantime, Steve did lay in quite a number of flashlights, so it’s not like I can’t function. On the freezer side, the light still comes on, but the ice maker has truly died the death, so I’ve been making ice by hand and using the handy bin to stockpile it. The cold-making equipment is still doing its thing, so that’s good.

Book club in a couple hours and! I need to make some phone calls, so I’d best do that.

How’s the week starting out at your place?

And we’re gonna sing it anyway

I saw “Hadestown” yesterday afternoon.  Highly, highly recommended.

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So, one of the last things Steve said to me, as events happened to run this time, was, “I still think you could’ve done ‘way better than me.” Which was an odd thing for him to say, “better” being the slippery slope that it is.

Which brings us back to “Hadestown” — yes, I am still nattering on about a show; this one’s going to take a while to settle in, despite I knew how it was going to end.

Someone said they’d seen a production of Hadestown with a different Hermes, which had changed the entire tone of the show, as it would*.

In this production, from the moment Hermes walked on stage, gentle and frail, greeting his people with hugs, smiles, and a kiss, you knew you were in good hands, and, as much as a god can ever do, he was going to tell you the truth. In fact, he does tell the truth, right up front: It’s an old song. It’s a sad song. And we’re gonna sing it anyway.

And, yanno, it’s not the ending that matters, but the miracles that are made along the way.

Someone else asked me how I’d “born up,” which — nobody used to ask me these things. I held it together until about halfway through “Hold My Own” — “I knew you before we met/And I don’t even know you yet.” Which happens to be an exact description of my meeting with Steve.  I’m always happy to see such things affirmed, in real life and in art, and I wish people would believe art more often.** Also? I wouldn’t have changed one line spoken or sung in this play.

All that said — time to find breakfast, and then go to work.

How’s everybody doing today?

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*point in case: I challenge you to listen to “Back in the High Life,” by Steve Winwood, and then by Warren Zevon, or vice-versa, but definitely back to back, for a stern lesson in How The Narrator Makes the story.

**Way back, I used to get letters from people scolding me for perpetuating the myth of love at first sight, a myth which was formed, according to my correspondents, to trap women. And now we apparently have quite a lot of people who wish to reduce love to a capitalist theory, and you have to ask yourself — if it wasn’t true, that love can change the world, even for a little time, why would they be so very afraid?

Anything can happen day

. . . came in on the overnight.

Wednesday. Sunny; snow slowly melting out of the trees.

Slow, even very slow, morning. Sat for an hour or more in the window, with Tali, then Firefly, on my lap, trying to decide if it’s Me or the World. Or, yanno, both.

Discussed the matter with Tali, and decided, yeah, it’s both, and with Firefly’s help deleted all of the newsfeeds that come directly into my mail queue (with the exception of the local news, which I need for things like, how long is my road going to be closed to southbound traffic?). I have apps. If I feel like reading the news, I know where to find them.

I also ordered some tea, to top off dwindling supply.

Today is more ordering/straightening. I’m thinking stirfry for lunch.

How’s everybody doing this morning?  Firefly really wants to know.

 

With fingernails that shine like justice

Thursday. Cloudy and cold. Another Chewy box incoming today (Thank you, Chewy, for breaking the Mega Order up into multiple deliveries). Caution tape with affixed message in place across the front steps.

Slept well. Tali was on bed duty last night, and Tali makes for a definite Presence, pressed up against one’s side. She also has a nice, deep purr. Breakfast will be the second half of the Farmer’s Market Asagio Cheese bagel (Note To Self: STOP buying Maine bagels*. You know they will break your heart. Buy bread. Buy cookies, cake, pie. But not bagels. And if you buy rolls, stop expecting them to be hard, even if they look like hard rolls.), with cheddar cheese melted on top, with a side of grapes. Lunch will be black beans, and leftover pork, and, oh, I dunno? canned tomatoes? and whatever spices seem good. I should have leftovers from whatever that turns out to be, so yay.

Today, she said, boldly. Today! I will finish the WIP. I need to buff, polish, and shine the last two scenes, then I will Print Out the Whole Book, and tomorrow, or maybe Saturday, I’ll do a complete read-through. Barring the discovery of any Catastrophic Holes, which this is why we do the read-through, it will be ready to file a flight plan with the tower.

Once it’s gone, I can fall on my face (REMINDER: place pillow before falling).

What’s happening with you today?
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*Exception to the Rule: Sunrise Bagels, which requires me to get up early and go out to buy them, but that’s a Me Problem, not a Them Problem.

Today’s blog post title brought to you by Cake, “Short Skirt, Long Jacket.”  Yes, again.

The line’s not cut, and the whale’s not gone…

The cats’ Chewy order, which is large and heavy is due today, delivery by FedEx. I have made what preparations I can.

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Wednesday. Sunny, windy and cold. As previously mentioned, I have taped caution tape across the front steps with a sign on it for FedEx, so maybe they’ll put the delivery in the garage this time. Fingers crossed.

Another night full of bad dreams and sleeplessness. This is getting to be a habit. Cats are doing what they can but… Firefly is putting in for backup and I don’t think we can get backup, really.   No, especially not a dog.  I think we’re full up. I also think it would be better if the world weren’t, in some places literally, on fire.

Today’s days plan is to occupy the comfy chair in my office and sketch out the scenes that need to still be written to finish the book.

Granting, it’s not much of a plan, but it is my own.

How’s everybody doing?

Dictated to my phone

Today’s blog post brought to you by “The Wellerman,” which I had forgotten I knew, until it came up on a mix, and I started to sing along…  Here’s Nathan Evans singing it for you.

St. Gertrude’s Day 2026

What went before: Still raining, but not pouring. We are this evening expecting, say the weatherbeans, the following: WIND, FOG, FLOODING. Tomorrow, it will be partly sunny, starting out at around 53F/12C and loosing heat throughout the day, until nosediving into the teens tomorrow night, reaching a high of 33F/.5C on Wednesday.

Ah, March. You tease.

The book club has chosen the April book: Theo of Golden, which ought to be interesting, given that the synopsis annoys the ever-livin’ life outta me. It will be interesting to see if the author can win me over.

The Cook Unity mushroom pot pie was so good I ferreted out a recipe so I can make my own once I’m off deadline. Speaking of which — I am now confident of making my deadline, so, yanno, yay.

Also — I beg pardon to those folks who thought I’d written the poem that is my next embroidery project. Indeed, I Did Not, and it’s something that I know so well that it never occurred to me that other people would not have heard of it. The poem dates back to the 800s, and is written in the margins of a book of reflections and/or prayers. Wikipedia can tell you all about it, and give you the other four stanzas, too. Here’s your link.

And that? Is all I got. Except doing the dishes. That I still need to do.

Everybody have a good evening. Stay safe. And dry.
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Tuesday. Cloudy, damp, and breezy. We have hit the day’s high of 53F/12C as I type, and are headed for 15F/-9C.

Today is St. Gertrude’s Day. Hug your cats.

Today, right about now (7-ish am, Maine time), in fact, is also the sixth anniversary of my arrival at Inland Hospital in Bangor in order to undergo a mascetomy. I was one of the last people admitted to the hospital before it closed in the early days of COVID, and it was a tense couple minutes there at intake before it was decided that Steve could accompany me.

Last night was filled with bad dreams, despite all the cats could bring. I believe this morning may call for coffee.

What’s happening at your place?
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Well. The cats have made a Chewy order. I’m glad Firefly has a trust fund. I’m drinking that cup of coffee and wondering if the concept of ‘breakfast’ is anything I want to entertain at the moment, or if I’ll just make another cup of coffee and go to work.

Life is uncertain…

Tali’s Natal Day

Monday. Warm and rainy. Today is Tali’s 4th birthday. She insisted that we all get dressed up for the occasion and as you see we have done that for her.

Also included in today’s pictures are the long backyard and my new embroidery project — the very first one I have designed myself.

The plan today, as it has been for a number of days, is to write. I am really almost done. I really wish that my brain did not helpfully remember everything I’ve written as garbage that needs to be rewritten 14,000 times.

So far, Cook Unity has been . . . okay. I only had the one unsatisfactory meal. The butternut squash and lentil soup was marvelous, as was the salmon, yesterday. I have Great Hopes for today’s mushroom pot pie.

It occurs to me that my cleverness knows no bounds, as I had booked a Rest Week at Old orchard Beach the week before Memorial Day, which seemed like a good idea at the time. However, I did NOT have a Middle East war on my bingo card, and now I’m wondering if I should cancel because it’s very probable that I’m not going to have enough gas to get there.

Honestly, this timeline.

So! How’s everybody doing?

Tali’s Birthday Photo Album