music – Sharon Lee, Writer

Well, how did I get here?

What went before ONE: Aaaand, back. Home Despot only had part of what I wanted, but I did not go to Augusta. Instead I went to the new Reny’s, which is awesome. I bought a plastic folding table for less than $10, which I can sit out on the deck with my chair and have a place to put my tea or my glass of wine, or even my sandwich. I bought olives and soup, and a pair of summer-weight Carhartt utility jeans. But that’s not the Exciting Part.

The Exciting Part is that Reny’s Heard Me and now has a Reny’s Passport! You have to visit all nineteen Reny’s in Maine, and get your passport stamped at each one, then submit it for a chance at the Grand Prize! They’ll even return your passport after the contest is over.

I got my passport stamped at Waterville today — only 18 more to go!

What went before TWO: And, I now need a Big Umbrella, because the little open-sided tent took two of us to put up — and it wasn’t easy, even with. So! I have something to shop for at the next Reny’s on my list.

What went before THREE: I just spent some time breaking down a few of Winter’s Boxes and getting them into the open recycling bin for delivery to the curb tomorrow. I do not think there is a movie on my schedule this evening. I have an Idea about What Happens Next in the WIP.

Time to fix lunch, eh?

What went before FOUR: Writing consisted of Staring into Space, and trying to figure out how to get lightly through a convoluted piece of business without boring myself to death. I think I’ve got it. Of course, I thought that earlier, too.

And, that? Is the afternoon/early evening report.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Tuesday. Damp, but they say no rain. Trash and recycling, including the boxes I broke down yesterday, are at the curb.

Today’s music is one of my favorites, “Once in a Lifetime,” Talking Heads. One of the two major songs that Agent of Change was written to. There was a mini-commentary from one of the band members before Mr. Hunter put on the music, speaking to why this song was Talking Heads first Number One. Said bandmate’s opinion was it had been the line, “How did I get here?” that sold it to the millions, and he may be right. All I know is that the line that sold it to me, for Val Con, was “My god. What have I done?” And — bonus — the muttering at the end about “and now a twister comes…”

I see the signs of a feline decorating aesthetic on and around my desk. Why, yes, that pen does look better under the adding machine; and the Kleenex box on the floor, angled against the wheels of my chair. Why didn’t I think of this?

Breakfast coming up soon — pb&j on a whole wheat English muffin. I have leftover pork, so I guess that’s lunch in some form.

Today is partially about Moving Things for the Grand Arrival of the Washer and Dryer, tomorrow at an as-yet undetermined time. Also, I want to get some writing done.

I don’t know if it works this way for anybody else, and, indeed, it only works this way for me some of the time — but I have to hit a certain Mass of Narrative before I understand the structure that has to be imposed in order to have All of This, err, make sense. I know they tell you in English/Writing class that structure is one of the first things you determine. Bear in mind that, in class, they also tell you that you have to know the POV’s motivation before writing Word One. Yes, if I roll my eyes any harder they will roll right out of my head, thank you.

So! Breakfast for me, coming right up.

What’s coming right up for you?

Today’s blog title brought to you, naturally, from The Talking Heads, “Once in a Lifetime”

EDITED TO ADD, because someone did ask: The other song Agent of Change was written to is was also from The Talking Heads, and it is, of course, “Life During Wartime,” which is basically the plot of Agent of Change...

Morning Music

What went before ONE: So, one of the joys of writing in Archers Beach was being able to set things not only in a real place (for those coming in late, Archers Beach is built on the map of Old Orchard Beach), but in real time.

For instance, “The Night Don’t Seem So Lonely.” The White Way did burn on the night of the moon landing, and though the fire burned hot and strong and long, they didn’t lose anybody, not even a mule. The firemen did have a bad minute, though, when they sighted the two kids up on top of the Jack ‘n Jill, with the flames licking up all around them. They couldn’t get the trucks close enough to deploy the ladders, so they dragged in the hoses, and they soaked the scaffolding and yelled at the kids to climb down, grabbed ’em when they got close enough and ran with them down to the beach.

A writer reading that piece of history might well ask herself, But, what were they DOING up on top of that ride that night, after the park had closed?

And that’s where stories come from.

What went before TWO: No Actual Words written today, but I have been doing a lot of cleaning up and putting away and … stuff, which says to me that I’m thinking. Tomorrow morning, I need to go to Home Despot, and if they don’t have what I want, I will make the pilgrimage to the Capital City to visit Lowes. If Home Despot does have what I want, then I will perhaps visit the new Reny’s before I come home and see if I’ve worked out enough story stuff to write.

I got desperately lost in the ASL homework today, and had to do some research before I could go back to class. This may have been me, or it may be that Dr. Bill got bored and decided to throw everybody off the pier and see who sinks and who swims.

WHOA!

Ahem. Tali was having the Zoomies. She got up to speed, took to the air at the edge of my office, was in full flight as she passed my shoulder, hit the top of the desk, slid OFF the desk, and zoomed out again. The rest of the cats are sitting in high places. With reason, I see.

On that note — everybody stay safe.

I’ll see you tomorrow.

Monday. Sunny. Not quite as warm as predicted.

Breakfast was Kodiak chocolate chip oatmeal and a cup of Irish Breakfast. Second cup of tea just up — Twinings Focus, which Steve had laid in quite a few boxes, and it’s not gonna drink itself. Lunch is too far away to think about.

Boy, Alan Hunter’s on a roll on Classic Rewind this morning. “Welcome to the Jungle” (not a favorite song, but I love the line, “You can have anything you want, as long as you don’t take it from me“), “Swingtown,” “Betty Lou’s Getting Married,” “Beast of Burden” (one of the many songs Steve and I would sing together, and sit in the car until it was over), “Don’t Let Him Go,” “Midnight Blue,” “New Girl Now…”

Firefly’s in the living room, listening up close and personal, the other three are in my office, helping me type this note.

So, this morning, I need to go to Home Despot, and may also go elsewhere, depending on mood, and if I really want to go to a movie tonight.

Thanks to all who took the time to review recently. MUCH appreciated. If you have been considering leaving a review, but are embarrassed because you’re not Totally Up To Date — reviews on Old Books Count, too! If you love a particular book — review it! Does no harm; may do some good. And I point out that this is not just the case for our/my books. If you loved a book, tell the world! and make a writer’s day.

Before I finish my tea, do my duty to the cats and — ooh, “Heartless” on the radio, now — get on the road, I do wish to note that Cael the Wolf *knows* how to talk to a cat: Cael dropped to one knee, and bowed his head, squinting his eyes in a cat smile. “My lady,” he said softly, “you honor me with your radiant presence.”

Roland, the Headless Thompson Gunner

What went before: 500ish new words, bringing the total WIP to +/-21,750 words.

Knocking off a little early today, mostly because I have correspondence to write and a house to visualize.

Tomorrow, it looks like I’ll be in, unless the weather revises itself again. We have gotten nothing like the pretty bad storm the ‘beans were predicting. So far. It’s supposed to be warm and rain tomorrow, but a lot depends on timing. Right now, it’s looking like Tuesday is my day out, in between Monday’s warm-and-rain, and Wednesday’s — wait for it — snow.

Also tomorrow, I need to bake bread. I bought some harvest grain mix which I’m going to add to the Standard Whole Wheat Loaf to jazz it up a bit. There’s nothing wrong with the Standard Whole Wheat Loaf, mind you; I just prefer something a little chewier.

Tuesday, of course, is Book Day. It may also be a day to take a short drive and test the proposition that using bluetoothing both googlemaps and sirius xm from the phone will result in my having both things, with the map program interrupting the music as necessary. I’ll also see if the car’s map program will speak to me when there’s a CD in play. I would also like to speak to the person who thought that drivers only need a map or music. Must be a non-driver.

In. Any. Case.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Monday. Cloudy and … there’s something weatherly going on outside — frizzling, I guess.

Breakfast was the last waffle with sausage gravy. Waiting for one of my extremely rare cups of coffee to brew. I have a choice of leftovers for lunch.

The dry ingredients for today’s loaf of bread are mixed together, the other ingredients assembled and ready to be added as soon as everything warms up a bit.

Aside the bread, I have a couple of minor tasks to attend to, but today is, one! more! time!, devoted to writing and to ASL homework.

Has anyone here read Alibi by Sharon Shinn? May I have your no-spoiler impressions?

Unless I knock off really early today, or for some reason choose blanket forting, I will not finish the Honey Pot Plot today. But I probably will finish it tomorrow. It’s a spare little trilogy, but I’ve been consistently amused. I am especially amused that the Myth of the Winged Russian has leaked over from RED (now RED One)– and for all I know RED‘s writers got it from somewhere else. The Winged Russian really deserves a place beside Roland The Headless Thompson Gunner. For those who haven’t read it, the first book is Rocky Start, by Jennifer Crusie and Bob Mayer.

I’ve been rotating between reading on the couch in the evening and reading in bed. The cats are trying to work with it, but I get the sense that they prefer reading on the couch, which, after all, has History behind it. Last night was a couch night, and they all four came in to join me. Tali took the top platform of the cat tree, so she could overlook the whole room. Trooper claimed his usual corner of the couch. Firefly snuggled in hard against my hip, and Rook got up on the back of the sofa and put his paw on my shoulder.

And that’s the Monday morning report from the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory.

How’s Monday treating you so far?

Today’s blog title brought to you by Mr. Warren Zevon, “Roland, the Headless Thompson Gunner.”

There’s a hole in the bucket, dear Liza, a hole

What went before: 1,266 new words — not too bad for a woman who thought she was going to sit down in the comfy office chair, open the laptop and — fall asleep.

I b’lieve I will be ordering in a Garmin tracker. The insurance may pay for it, and even if not, the stress of the sporadically working FitBit is — stressful. And it’s something I can do something about.

The insurance bill for the car and the house has landed, so I’ll be writing that check before I use the money for something foolish, like buying a dozen eggs. Couple other pieces of snail that I need to deal with came in, too, though nothing particularly urgent.

Tomorrow, I need to go visit the cardiologist so they can glue one of those heart monitors to my chest for 30 day. Yes, yes; I did do this before. The doctors are bored. Or fishing. It would be nice if they got bored of fishing.

I note that I am Out of Cookies. That was careless of me. OTOH, maybe I’ll make scones tomorrow morning, so I’ll have something nice to eat with my tea when I come home from the cardiologist.

And that? Is all I’ve got.

Until. . .

Tuesday. Glowering and cold at the moment. Beans are calling for a high of 51F/11C. We’ll see.

In the meanwhile, breakfast was homemade wheat bread toast, cream cheese, grapes. As I remarked to Rook, who was sitting on my lap at the time, “These grapes ain’t nothin to write home about, so it’s a good thing we’re already here.’

I’ll take the trash and recycling to the curb as soon as I finish my first cup of tea and find my shoes.

Oven heating for scones.

My arm that received the booster shot hurts. I realize belatedly that it is my left arm. I’m usually more careful than that, but — can’t really get a re-do. And thinking about it — I kind of ache all over, which I ascribe in equal portion to the COVID shot and fifteen trips up and down the cellar stairs in service of getting things to where they needed to be.

After I put the trash out, get the scones in the oven, and do my duty to the cats, I’ll look over what I wrote yesterday, and add in all the names that I had forgotten since the last time I used them.

The cats felt that 5 hours and 10 minutes of not-particularly-restful sleep was enough for me. On the one hand, I would have liked more sleep. On the other, I was having some very anxious dreams, which makes me feel like that guy who complained the food wasn’t very good and the servings were too small.

All that said, I’m angling to go to bed early tonight, given that the Things I have to accomplish are inconveniently timed for fitting in a nap.

It’s good to have A Plan.

How much sleep did you get last night?

____________
Right before he started chewing on my head — that’s head, not hair — Trooper gave me to understand that There Was No Food In the Bowls. As we see here, Trooper was exaggerating slightly:

Oh, today’s blog post title brought to you by Odetta and Harry Belafonte, “There’s a Hole in the Bucket.”

He picks up a bus and he throws it back down

What went before: Lots 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.

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.

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:

They don’t give a damn about any trumpet playing band

What went before: Hired somebody to maintain korval.com, which is an enormous load off my shoulders.

Waiting in my email this morning was a note from NESFA (New England Science Fiction Association); Tony Lewis has left us. Tony and Suford let Steve and me park our car at their house for a week and took us to the train station so we could attend our first convention as Guests of Honor, Silicon, in 1998. Chatting with him and Suford was always a high point at Boskone.

Thursday. Frizzling (freezing drizzle, looks like). Once again the Big Storm wore itself out before it got to us.

Breakfast was PB&J on English muffin. Second cup of tea is brewing. Lunch will be — eh. No, wait. I got spaghetti and meatballs out of the freezer last night. Ta-da! Lunch.

So, I was flattened by the time I’d finished eating the evening meal, so I just took my book and a mug of tea and went to bed, where I was immediately joined by four cats, who immediately went to sleep. I read for a while, then shoved the propping pillow to one side, and joined them. So that was good. Next lesson: I’m going to have to stop thinking that 6:00 is early if I go to sleep at 10.

First up today is sitting by the window, watching the … frizzle frizz … and sketching in some scenes (y’all know that when I say things like “doodling” and “sketching” it means making notes and hand-drafting scenes, not actually doing art? Just wanted to clear that up.) This may actually be the only thing, aside one’s duty to the cats, and feeding myself lunch, that actually gets accomplished today, and if so, sobeit.

So, that’s it for me. Over to you.

Below the requested photos of the classy new cat bowls, provided by a Mystery Friend.

Today’s blog post title comes to you from Dire Straits, “The Sultans of Swing.” Historical note: I was on my way to Steve’s house, and this song “previewed” on the radio, so that almost the first thing I said to Steve after he let me in was, “I just heard this incredible song! Sultans of –” And Steve turned to his record player, picked up an album cover (Steve having been a music reviewer, he got free albums) and handed it to me. “I was just listening to it, when you knocked.” I happened to hear it on the radio this morning during breakfast.

Doctor, Doctor, Mister MD

What went before: Yesterday was all errands all day. The cover art for Diviner’s Bow is with the framer, and I should have it back by mid-February. There came up for discussion the always interesting question of which band did the superior version of “Good Lovin'” — the Grateful Dead or the Young Rascals. Facebook is leaning toward the Rascals. I now open the question up to those reading here. Here’s the Dead’s version. Here’s the Rascals’ version.

Onward.

Tuesday. Cloudy and cool. Snowed a tiny bit on the overnight. Trash and recycling at the curb.

Woke up sneezing and hacking, so — no sewing circle for me today. Grr. I did mask everywhere I went yesterday, and a good thing too, I’m thinking.

Breakfast was an English muffin with cream cheese and an orange. I only have two of the little oranges left. *adds to list* Lunch will be … um.

Rookie decided to help me choose my day wear this morning, and as a result got locked in a closet for a few minutes. I called him; he answered; and I let him out. It’s nice to have a cat who answers when he’s called.

Having been let out, he had to go get Grandpa to Show Him, I suppose, but neither one could get the door open again.

So, I guess today is stay at home and poke at things, but not too energetically.

I think my next audiobook will be Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day, another frequent reread for me. I finished reading Midlife in Gretna Green last night. I had a good time with it, and there are six (?) more, I hear.

The backbrain has been providing snips of scenes and various insights for the next book, so Not Writing is paying its dividends. I plan to continue Not Writing today.

What are your plans for the day?