life’ll kill ya – Page 2 – Sharon Lee, Writer

If there’s a God up in heaven, he has a Silver Thunderbird

So, Thanksgiving.

Went to work early and wrote, eh, 700ish words on the story that woke me up yesterday. Closed that and wrote another 800ish words on the WIP.

Made a fancy dinner — two chicken breasts, stuffing, gravy, asparagus, San Pellegrino Limonata with a splash of Pinot Grigio. I had dessert on hand, but I went back to write some more, at which point, there was a BOOM! that shook the whole house and the windows in their frames. The cats leapt up. I leapt up. Honestly, I thought a tree had hit the house, and ran outside — but all was well. Did a quick tour of the house, including the basement — all was as it should be.

Turned out that a propane tank had exploded in Oakland (Maine) about 5 miles from my house. People on the neighborhood list on Facebook were saying they heard the BOOM! in Winslow, across the river — call it 8 miles away. The house was reduced to flinders and flame, one guy was lifeflighted to Portland. A dog was found in the area, badly burned; people passing by took him to the emergency vet. Fire departments from at least five towns were called in. It’s a right mess, and I’m glad I was no closer than five miles, because it was plenty scary right here.

Tomorrow morning, Sarah’s due to clean. After, I intend to devote myself to My Art for the rest of Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and Monday.

I do still have one burning question to resolve today, which is!

Do I want to have a chicken sandwich for dinner?

Hope everybody had a good day, whether or not it was a holiday.

Thanksgiving Day in pictures

Today’s blog post title brought to you by Marc Cohn, “Silver Thunderbird“

Sorry ’bout that

I didn’t mean to drop off the face of the earth quite so suddenly, and I thank everyone who wrote to check if I was OK, while I was locked out of the blog here.

For the record: I am OK. For values of which include an almost functioning back, but completely non-functional connectivity. The problem is apparently mine own, and is somewhere between my router and the street, which requires The Fidium Guy. Who has a V. Busy Schedule and will not be able to get to me until Tuesday. Yes, even though I work at home. Sigh.

In the meantime, I’ve been flailing around with my phone, trying to mobile-hotspot-it, and — yeah. An adventure.

Yes, I’ll have to figure out an Emergency Protocol, for if this happens again. But not today.

Saturday. November 1. Cloudy, cool, and breezy.

So! The Closers held. It was a near thing, though.

Last night I poured a glass of real wine, and lit the electric candle, since I seem to no longer have any wax candles. Digression: I could have sworn that I had a pack of beeswax tapers, but — the old woman who lives with me may have put them Someplace Else. Or I may have given them away when I was clearing the house in preparation for joining Steve at the New Place.

In any case — glass of nice red, candle. Firefly came up on my lap, which she hardly ever does, and we told the kids stories of those who had gone ahead: of Steve, and Sprite, and Belle, and Trooper; Scrabble — yes, even Archie. It was a peaceful evening, and I slept well, after.

This morning, I found something on my phone called “Extended” and toggled that on. It seems to be helping with connectivity — I’m typing this on my office computer, using the phone as a hotspot, and things are moving along right sprightly. So — fingers crossed that this just isn’t an artifact of nobody else is awake and on their computers yet.

Breakfast was scrambled eggs and toast. Drinking my first cup of tea.

As soon as I’m finished here, I’ll be brewing another cup of tea and putting my attention on the contract that arrived yesterday, hoping to get it back in the snail today.

I also hope to get at least some foiling done. I forgot that this week’s class will be on Wednesday, not Thursday, so there’s no way I’m going to be able to foil all those itsy pieces before class. Last week I missed soldering, so — yeah, I’m really behind.

I ALSO need to go through the desk in this office, create some order and Deal with . . . whatever’s under — waves — All Of This.

I remember back when I was a kid and Catholic — today, November 1, we went to church for All Soul’s Day. And — weird kid, remember — I always thought it was because we were praying a lighted path to guide those who had come out for Halloween back home again. Which, actually, is a lot more gracious than the Catholic Church had ever likely been, but — weird kid, remember.

What did you do, last night?

Tuesday not dictated

Tuesday. Sunny and cool.

Woke up without pain! Two hours later, I do have a tiny ache, which is entirely livable, and I’m shaking bad, but shaking doesn’t hurt. Onward.

Scrambled an egg with onion, garlic, and sweet pepper, and toasted the last bits of homemade bread to top with sour cherry jam for breakfast. Which is the first thing I’ve been able to make and eat in, um, four days. Yes, I do know how to lose five pounds in four days. Not recommended.

Someone had asked if there wasn’t anyone who could help with the food, and, err no. The issue this weekend wasn’t my usual antipathy to actually making food (I could have ordered in, if that had been the case), but that the pain was so bad, I couldn’t eat. I won’t bore you with how difficult it is to convince yourself to eat two spoonfuls of cottage cheese so you can take the Tylenol, but trust me — No Fun.

I’m still doing Tylenol, and may hit the ache with some CBD lotion on my way back to Steve’s office after I finish this note, which is not dictated, but I’m feeling so much better — I can’t tell you.

Embroidery is still off the table for tonight. Ellen has courageously agreed to drive me to the cancer center (and back!) at stupid o’clock tomorrow, which is one less thing to worry about, and a load off my … back. Am I going to stained glass on Thursday? Let’s get through today and tomorrow first.

I did snatch a moment out of a relatively pain-free half-hour yesterday to painter-tape cardboard to the inside of the Problematic Table. Do I think Rookie will try to go through the no-longer-big-enough space between the table bars, and get stuck again? How do I know? He’s a cat. The best I, a mere human, can do is Plan for the Worst.

I think that’s all the news. I have three more Bits to do for the Sekrit Project, and my inbox and physical desktop are a mess.

The Plan is to make myself another cup of tea, go back to Steve’s office, do the Bits, reassess, and see if settling in with a heating pad and a book is my next best move, or I’m up for More Adventure.

What’re your plans for the day?

In case you missed it, the cats declared Selfie Tuesday

Monday evening update

Did some work on the Sekrit Project, checked the post office box, put gas in the car, went to the book club, hit the grocery store, came home and strung lights. Checked the route to the hospital in Rockport, bought next month’s book club book — Remarkably Bright Creatures — my choice, because — octopus.

Tomorrow I drive to the hospital in Rockport (ref “gas/car”) for a nerve conduction test. I don’t think a visit to the hospital to have electricity run through my body counts as a Writer’s Day Off, even if I do get to drive to the coast. I also want to try to get to needlework tomorrow evening, so — I may be scarce, but fear not! This is The Plan.

Wednesday looks like a free day, as does Friday, Thursday is mostly free, except for glass class, which I will try to go early so I can talk to my teacher about various fixups that probably need to be done.

So! How was your day?

Let there be light. Left to right — Steve’s Office, Sharon’s Office, Living room

Eek.

These just in…

And gosh it was nice of the UPS guy to throw both boxes into a puddle AND block the front door, AND fail to put said boxes in plastic, even though it’s raining.

And we end the day on a complete mystery.

I went back to Steve’s office to put the new edition of I Dare on his shelf and in doing so, bumped the cloisonne cardinal he had sitting on the shelf, which fell to the floor OR SO I THOUGHT. I cannot find it, ANYwhere. Hands and knees, flashlights, vacuum cleaner — I have no idea where that bird went. My only hope now is the cats, and the hope there is that they won’t destroy it if they do find it.

Sheesh.

Wine o’clock.

Everybody have a good evening.

’tis a like task we are at

Today’s blog post title from “The Scholar and His Cat”

Thursday. Sunny and breezy.

The house is very quiet, and I’ve caught myself a dozen times looking up with a start, and wondering where Trooper was. This house is arranged so when I’m in the kitchen and turn my head, I can see the copilot’s chair and the section of my desk where the cat napping box is located.

For eight years (in this house), those two properties were occupied in a rotation worked out between themselves. by Sprite, Belle, or Trooper — sometimes two together in a single location. When Belle died, Sprite claimed the copilot’s chair most often, except when she was on duty for Steve. Lately, Trooper has more or less had his choice. The kids sometimes use the box, but the copilot’s chair was Trooper’s.

Seeing both spots empty is . . . yeah.

The house suffered this same feeling of yawning emptiness when Belle left us, and when Spite did. Big cats, with big, big personalities, who had their schedules and took their responsibilities seriously.

Today, following a brief huddle upon discovering that the box had come home, but Grandpa wasn’t in it, the kids have taken to nap spots that are not in my office. Each one has checked in with me at least once, So, that’s good; they know the gig; it’ll just take them a little while to ease into it. Firefly had the benefit of learning from Belle, Sprite, and Trooper — she’s as ready to be Top Cat as it’s possible to be. The other two — they’re good kittens, and I saw Trooper working with them. They’ll be fine.

Kelimcoons Sooper Trooper, December 15, 2009-September 4, 2025. He came on-board at the Lee-Miller Cat Farm and Confusion Factory on June 29, 2013. The final crossing was a sweet easing into sleep. By now, he’s been in Steve’s office at the new place for a good few hours, and is probably starting to ask when’s Happy Hour around here, anyway?

Picture below from October 27, 2013

Video from May 19, 2021

Quiet normal day

What went before ONE: Waiting for the vet to call back.

Yanno what? I think I won’t be going to needlework tonight. I think I’ll just sit here and work on entering corrections into my chapbook, which is both comforting and cerebral.

Trooper is in the box on the corner of my desk, where he can get the sun and the breeze from the open window. Tali is on the cedar chest, where ditto. Firefly is on her towel on top of the dresser in the bedroom, where she can look out the front window, and also take the breeze, and Rookie is napping in the box on the corner of Steve’s desk.

What went before TWO: Only need to amend the back matter in the chapbook, then I can do a test layout, scream in horror, fall on my sword, and go back to the drawing board.

Trooper will be going to the vet on Thursday morning. He did yell for Happy Hour this evening, but gooshy food is too tough to chew, and the gravy is boring.

It’s time.

I think I ate … something for lunch, though I can’t tell you what. Oh, wait. Rice. I’d made a fresh pot of rice. I’ll have to do better about the evening meal, but I think I’ll get the About the Authors fixed up, first, so I can move right on with being horrified by the compilation, tomorrow morning.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Wednesday. Was foggy when I got up. Now cloudy and sullen. Windows are open, though it’s still a bit chilly. Lawn guys are next door, doing their thing.

Didn’t sleep well last night, but that wasn’t exactly unexpected.

Trooper had breakfast in three parts and did manage to work his way through almost an entire 3-ounce can of Fancy Feast pate, with a little end-of-plate help from Firefly.

My breakfast was cottage cheese mixed in with the tiny bit of leftover macaroni salad, which was surprisingly tasty, and black grapes. Second cup of tea brewing. I’ll probably succumb to the siren call of the last cookie pretty soon.

On today’s to-do: one’s daily duty to the cats, and smol walk. Call the hospital, which sent me an “electronic bill” on 8/27, which I forthwith paid electronically. Yesterday in the mail, comes a paper bill for the same amount, and the same services. Ahem. O! MaineGeneral, I, too, would like to be paid twice, thrice, yea! four times, for the same work, but that so rarely happens*. I feel your ambition, MaineGeneral, and I understand it. But try it on somebody else, hey?

Otherwise, I intend to work on the chapbook — front matter! almost forgot! Blurb! eek! — and Trooper is signalling his readiness to get down to cases, by climbing into his box and going to sleep. So, business as usual. That’s good.

I bought a tween-weather coat, courtesy of Land’s End’s sale. It arrived yesterday, and it’s the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen. I mean — it fits. It has outside pockets of sufficient depth for such things as car keys, and cold hands, but it also has . . . what seem to be meant to be inside pockets — quite large pockets; my tablet would fit comfortably — but. While there’s stitching along the bottom of the panel, it’s not attached to the coat — by which I mean, if you put something into these pockets, it will fall out the bottom. So, yeah, I’m thinking I’ll be getting out some thread, and maybe some fabric tape, for belt-and-suspenders, and just make those things usable. Probably not today, but who doesn’t need projects for the future?

Ah. You can see the inside pockets, here

I think that’s all I’ve got this morning.

How’s your day shaping up?

_______
*Actually, that’s a bit of a cheat. As a writer, I do occasionally get paid for the same work multiple times. I can’t, however, think of one occasion when that happened at a day-job.

And suddenly! It’s Tuesday

What went before: Finished correcting the first 40 pages of Civilized Behavior; only 100 more pages left to go.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Tuesday. Sporadically sunny. Warm. Said to be heading for warmer, still, though not hot. Trash and recycling at the curb.

Trooper has had two — three! — tries at breakfast. The third try — after he had rejected the contents of the bowl I was carrying back to the kitchen and he stopped in front of me, made eye contact, and screamed — I put the bowl down in front of him. He stared at it. Rook and Tali came to see what Grandpa was getting that was Special, and he had a couple…eight? licks to kinda spite them, then turned away. Also, that pound I was so pleased he’d gained, all the way back on August 27? He’s lost it with interest, according to today’s weigh-in.

Yeah, contacting the vet is on my list, right after I have a cup of tea on the deck and sort out my thoughts and feelings. I’m remembering talking with Steve, after we let Belle go, and he said, “Y’know? I think Belle was sicker than we knew.”

My breakfast consisted of an oatmeal-raisin-walnut cookie. Probably I should do something a bit more, in a while.

I intend to work on the chapbook today. Needlework group is this evening. And I think that’s all I’ve got.

How’s everybody doing today?

Later that same morning: Sigh. The New England Donor Services, with which organization I have not found myself in charity with since it first brought itself to my attention by calling me at midnight of the day Steve died, to ask me a bunch of intrusive questions and persuade me to donate usable parts to the Greater Good. . .

The New England Donor Services, I say, not only saw fit to send me a medal in Steve’s name (for, yes, after getting up, very calmly in what I now know to have been an Altered State, I looked them up, saw they were legit, thought of what Steve, the author of “Charioteer,” might actually want, and called them back to give permission), for being a “hero” for giving the Gift of Life — and also saw fit to send me a thin volume of tips for survivors, in which such burning questions as “Am I still allowed to wear my wedding ring?” were addressed, and which still from time to time, despite my stated preferences, takes it upon itself to contact me —

Has contacted me again.

They’re having a walk — to repeal death, I guess? No, wait. They need death. Well. — and they’re making a Day of the Dead quilt, and I’m offered the opportunity to “share my loved one’s ‘donation story'”.

I’m pretty sure I’ve previously asked New England Donor Services to never speak to me again, and, yes, I’ve asked them again, just now.

But I really did not need them in my mailbox today.

Here, have a picture of Tali inna bookcase. That’ll make us all feel better:

Second Sunday; First of September

Second Sunday. Sunny and warm.

Trooper making the day more difficult than it strictly needs to be by screaming for food and then not eating. I suspect his tooth is hurting him again, but there’s nothing I can do about that today, and I’m not sure how many shots of antibiotic he’s good for.

Last night, I was restless, so I sorted through some of the sdcards from Steve’s stash, and found an entire card that’s the car camera videos of us taking a drive on April 22 2023. The camera is set up to look out the back window and into the cockpit, so I have about 30 minutes of little 2 minute clips of Steve and me talking to each other as he drives us through Winslow and out to Fairfield. Talk about your mixed blessings…

Today, I got to working on the 2025 chapbook, because I actually came up with a title, that being CIVILIZED BEHAVIOR: Adventures in the Liaden Universe(R) No. 36. I may have found a cover — I have two mocked up and trying to decide if I like the blue-on-blue abstract, or the two little kids sitting together on a swing, staring at the moon in the clouds while birds fly all around.

For those who may be curious, this chapbook largely deals with the Matter of Colemeno, two stories and an outtake from Ribbon Dance. Also, the text of my speech at Balticon, accepting the Heinlein Award. I’ll have to check, but I may now have enough stories to make a sixth Constellation.

I have a bunch of corrections to make in the chapbook manuscript, but first! Second Sunday dinner, which will be a chicken burger onna roll with cheese, some baked beans and macaroni salad. A picnic, hey?

How’s everybody doing today?

Well. In regard to Constellation Six, it looks like I have 98,617 words of short story. If I throw in the Heinlein speech, I’ve got 99,413.

Guess I’ll talk to Madame the Agent…

Yeah, it’s the kids on the swing.

So I finally just got a pack of chains, because the monofilament wasn’t making me happy, and that was before it degraded in the sun.

Ornament, blown glass, made in the Corning Glass Studio, by Sharon Lee.

like a tiger’s great-grandfather

What went before: And that’s the Author’s Afterword for I Dare written. I’ll go through it again tomorrow morning, make whatever changes seem good, and send it in before I get back with the WIP.

The plan for the rest of the evening is to go to bed early, and re-establish my fractured schedule tomorrow. Oh. And do the laundry.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Monday. Ruthlessly bright and already warm. We are under a Heat Advisory, today and tomorrow.

Station air is ON, and all curtains closed.

Breakfast was half a blueberry muffin and plain yogurt. Lunch may be Door Dashed. We’ll see.

First load of laundry is drying; second is in the washer.

I actually slept well last night, which isn’t something we’ve seen for a couple of weeks. I could really use a good run of Actual Sleep, as I walk the Tightrope of Exhaustion.

It comes about that I’m going to have produce the habit of having honey in my tea. There are reasons and they are good ones, however, absent an occasional spoon of honey in peppermint tea (which is AWEsome), I drink my tea as my coffee before it — black. Honey itself is not the problem; Steve left me several three pound bottles of very fine honey from a local apiary (this is aside my baking honey). My problem is that — it’s hard to manipulate a three pound bottle of honey to get a spoonful into a mug, and, also, that honey is — sticky. And it drips.

I have for the moment decanted a small portion of honey into a well-sealed glass jar, which makes it easier to dispense by the spoonful, but I feel I ought to look about me for a method that might be less drippy. Shopping!

Aside the laundry, and one’s duty to the cats, the to-do list includes reading the Author’s Afterword, making such corrections as may be needful and sending it along to Baen. I will devote the day after lunch to my poor, long-suffering WIP, and to staying out of the heat.

What are your plans, today?

Today’s blog post title comes from Pablo Neruda, one of Steve’s favored poets: “Cat’s Dream“

Waverings from magnetic north

Sunday. Sunny and said to be heading for warm.

Yesterday continued off-kilter, and it’s not too much to say that it actually went into a spin. Today I must and, she says determinedly, I will, write the Author’s Afterword for I Dare.

First, though, I need to find breakfast and make a list so that I may dash out to the grocery. I’m almost out of cat food, and that obviously cannot be allowed to stand.

How’s everybody doing?