out and about – Page 2 – Sharon Lee, Writer

Accomplishments accomplished

And back from Wal*Mart, where I’m becoming a regular, and Washville, where ditto.

Bought the cats ping-pong balls, a scraper, 3M sticky tabs, rubbing alcohol, popcorn (it’s been, um, years since I had popcorn), puzzle stickem sheets, fusing material for an embroidery project, and some gel pens, because gel pens travel easier in a pocket or purse than an ink pen.

Came home and used the scraper, alcohol, and sticky tabs to re-affix the dashcam to the windshield. It decided to fall off while I was at the ocean, happily before I put the car in gear, and has refused all attempts to restick it. I’m not entirely sure that the sticky tabs I bought are up to Conditions, but! we can only try.

The cats greeted me at the door and are now hanging around the desk — apparently somebody put out the rumor that I would feed them when I got home, rather than after got home.

Maybe I’ll apply stickem to the back of my puzzle until it actually is time for Happy Hour. There’s a plan.

Everybody stay safe. I’ll check in tomorrow.

A Day at the Museum, OR Ain’t dead yet

So, I did well, today.

… I don’t say — or feel — that very often, so maybe a repeat is in order.

I Did Well Today.

I was betrayed slightly by the internet, which had led me to believe that the Free Street Parking Lot was (1) convenient to the art museum, which it may have been in Portland terms, but I don’t have that vernacular, and (2) easy to use. That? Was An Untruth. When you enter the garage (note: garage, not lot), you’re given the choice of inserting a credit card (I was unprepared; credit card in back pocket) or taking a ticket. I took a ticket, which I have done many times before in my life, if not in this location, only — this ticket says: TEXT TO PAY, and gives a phone number.

I freak. On the other hand, I was already in the damned garage, so I managed to back-burner the freak out, to be revisited after I had toured the museum.

The Conveniently Located Museum.

So, I used the axe murderer’s elevator to get from the 5th level to Free Street, and queued up my phone so it could lead me to the museum.

Only, the phone had lost its mind, and wanted to send me in a nice circle, which even I knew better than, also, I kept assuring myself that my goal was “conveniently located.”

I wandered for a bit, the phone sporadically sending me even crazier messages — No, I did not want to go to the Boston Museum of Art — and I was about to give up on the whole scary deal, when I saw, just ahead, two middle-aged couples having what sounded like an agreeable and normal conversation. I approached, said “Excuse me,” and asked if they knew where the art museum was. One of the men gave me very kind and concise instructions — “You’re good, really. Just keep on up the hill on this side, Don’t cross the Big Street, and you literally can’t miss it.”

And he was right.

The Portland Museum of Art is a very nice little city museum, and a pleasant way to spend three-ish hours of a too-hot-even-at-the-beach day. My brain tried to engage me in dithering about the car, but I managed to concentrate on the art, and had a lovely time.

I even got to be That Patron.

I was watching a documentary done by a photographer who was discussing the reasons for altering a photograph. In this case, he had taken a picture of autumn-red trees, then deepened the reds and limned the trees with gold, evoking Autumn, The Season on Fire. And the reason he did this — mind you, what he’s saying is also running along the bottom of the screen, so I’m reading, because — words! — and he said that he had taken this artistic decision because he wanted to bring attention to the fact that woodlands in Maine are so often — he said “razed” and the word on the screen was “raised” — a classic case of two words that sound alike and mean the exact opposite of each other — in order to create farms. (This is an interesting mirror to something a forest ranger said to me, years ago, that the forests of Maine are a graveyard of farms; that you can walk twenty miles in, and literally trip over a stone wall.)

Back to the museum and the subtitles.

I explained the problem re “razed”/”raised” to floor security, who sent me down to the desk. The person there had me write a note to the Curators, and attached my card to it.

I do hope they fix this. Otherwise, people who depend on the captions are going to have a very odd idea of where farms come from.

Ate lunch at the museum cafeteria, bought some cards, and left just as the entire graduating class of Wherever descended en masse.

Walked down Free Street, took the axe murderer’s elevator to the 5th level, got in car, called the other number on the ticket and explained to the young man who answered where I was and that I was old and had no idea how to text money anywhere. He was very kind and patient, and it turned out that, if I showed my ticket to the scanner at the exit kiosk, it would let me pay with a credit card. Also, he reassured me, there was a panic button right on that kiosk, so if something went wrong, I should just push it to be reconnected to him, and he’d be pleased to help me out.

I didn’t have to hit the panic button, and home I came, stopping for chocolate raspberry ice cream on the way.

One of the exhibits at the museum was called Precious, which talked about the difference between “fine” art and the common sort of everyday, and useful art that people make — marbles, jewelry, glassware, pottery. It’s a topic of some interest to me, as I contemplate my lifetime collection of … Things. I had cried for 20 minutes one day when I realized that nobody was gong to love that jar full of glass marbles I’d collected over 60 years, and they’d end up in a dumpster.

Anyhow, visitors to the Precious room are challenged to pick a piece of art from the exhibit that spoke to them and write a poem. I chose People Like Us and here is my poem:

People like us
hold small treasures
against large fears.

The grape escape

Business First: Draft2Digital this evening has let me know that The Fey Duology is available from Kobo.

. . . and, indeed, it is listed here

No, I have no idea what’s going on
#
Today, in my capacity as General Factotum and Cat Mom, I have retrieved from under the bed and the bureau, thirteen springs and one floofy pink ball.

I went to Marden’s and purchased half-a-yard of material that I hope will form the basis of a future embroidery project. I also topped off the gas tank, and stopped at Hannaford for a smol run of supplies — wherein lies a tale.

One of the things in my smol run of groceries was a plastic cup of grapes, so-called KidSnaks. As I was putting my stuff on to the conveyor at the cashier’s station, the cup of grapes staged a Thrilling EScape, darting from the cart to the floor, where the cup exploded and grapes went everywhere.

Surprisingly enough, I did not swear. But I did say, “Well, there’s a tragedy,” as I creakily began to bend over to gather up the carnage.

And the guy behind me said, “I’ll pick those up for you, ma’am.” And so he did, putting all the escapees back into the cup, and standing up to hand it to me. “If that’s the only thing goes wrong today, we’re both lucky!” he said.

I thanked him and waved him ahead of me, since he only had two beers and a pizza, and I was discommoded. Besides, who am I to stand between a helpful person and their well-earned treat?

When it was my turn with the cashier, I explained what happened, and she told me that I didn’t want those grapes, took the cup out of my hand, and dispatched “Ben,” to “go get this lady another cup of grapes, please.” And so it was done.

I have not got any reading of Trade Lanes done today, so that will be tomorrow’s task. Right now, since I’m finished retrieving springs, I’m going to go make the bed.

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

Monday with car chase and cookies

Business first! KDP has helpfully removed The Fey Duology from “SF-First Contact,” lest readers be “confused.” Gee, thanks, KDP.

Also, as of two seconds ago, the Amazon pre-orders for The Fey Duology stands at 173, which means I need to start shouting.

Obligatory Shouting Starts Here: The Fey Duology, Dark Fantasy by Sharon Lee & Steve Miller is available for preorder now from Amazon, Apple, and Smashwords!

Parenthetical: If you preordered from Kobo, best look to see if your order’s been canceled.

Baen will be releasing the ebook edition on June 1, which is the day that Amazon promises to release the paper edition.

Shouting ends here.

Thanks to everyone for your patience. I really did not expect this to be so hard.
#
So, having decided to do all my morning business across town, since I had to go to the Post Office, thereby avoiding the stolen car, the high speed chase down KMD, and all the rest of that, I wound up in Wal*mart. Second time this year. My excuse was that I wanted cheap flipflops/beach sandals/watershoes. Which I found. I also found a new sloped scratcher for the spot in my office dedicated to such things, because the triangular scratcher that Steve had bought for that space has had an enormous hole excavated in it, which Firefly has been protesting by using my rug as a scratcher.

While I was there, I bought cookies and cheese and bread, which takes care of the foodstuffs I absolutely need to get me through this week.

If I get really ambitious, I can fill out my ballot and drop it off at City Hall when I go out for the book club.

Well. Let’s see what happens.

How’s everybody doing this morning?
#
Note: I filled out my ballot and dropped it off at City Hall.
#
Let’s finish up the day with! A test!

What is your favorite story* collected in Liaden Universe® Constellation, Volume 6, and!

Why?

Yes, an Essay Test.

Go!
____
*The stories included in Volume 6 are: “Standing Orders,” “Gadreel’s Folly,” “The Last Train to Clarkesville,” “Wise Child,” “Songs of the Fathers,” “From Every Storm a Rainbow,” “Our Lady of Benevolence,” “Chimera,” “Neutral Ground,” “Mother’s Love,” “Core Values.”

I set a course for winds of fortune

Monday. Dim, damp, and cooler than the temperature on the thermometer would leave you to believe.

Car service concluded. I had forgotten that I had a Free oil change and tire rotation on the books as an apology for last year’s narrowly-averted tragedy. I was also verbally apologized to several times for that mistake, and the tech not only asserted that he had tightened the oil cap correctly, but he demonstrated that this was so to the manager.

While I was in the Big City, I retired several errands, and! as a Special Bonus, I have a gift of homemade lasagna for lunch.

I’m home now (and will be unless I Get A Call, which I don’t expect) and have eaten the last cookie. Why does this keep happening? WHO IS EATING MY COOKIES?

Ahem.

While I was driving to and fro, I heard a clip from an interview with a member of Kansas, who was describing the first time the band played “Wayward Son.” One comment made me laugh out loud: “We all loved that song. We loved it so much we never thought it would be a hit single!”

Spoken like an artist.

Now that I am home, and absent a phone call, I’m going to take another whack at getting The Fey Duology up for preorder.

How’s Monday morning treating everybody?

Today’s blog post title brought to you by Kansas, “Carry On Wayward Son“

Social Saturday

Saturday. Rainy and cool.

Just back from the TJ Maxx members party. I’m old enough to remember going with my Flapper Grandmother (as distinct from my Church Grandmother) to the big department store galas in downtown Baltimore.

This? Was not that. For the Big Department Stores (for students of history, that would have been: Hecht Company, Hochchild Kohn, Hutzler’s, and Stewart’s, with Hecht’s being the Lesser and Hochchild’s being the Greater. My personal favorite was Stewart’s. But I digress.)

For the Big Department Store events, I say, one Dressed. Not in evening wear, but in what my grandmother styled as Afternoon Clothes. For me at that time, it was the pickiest, scratchiest dress in my closet, white anklets, and the good patent leather shoes. For my grandmother, the Season had to be taken into account, but I remember her most often in a flowered frock, with matching hat, purse, and shoes. I’ve never seen a woman before or since who loved a flowered frock quite so much.

There was a catered tea, and fashion shows, and cooking demonstrations, and nicely dressed sales people pleased to Direct You, or even take you to this or that visiting expert — it was quite lovely. Almost worth the scratchy dress.

TJ Maxx’s event was not that, though I noted several members dressed in suits. I was in grey jeans, a nice purple fleece pullover, and the hard black shoes, because — raining.

I did get a Free Gift — an insulated lunch bag which will actually be useful. I did not win a door prize. The group was friendly; I was given a quick rundown on what I could expect from the person ahead of me in the line to sign up for the drawing, which was both useful and very kind of her.

I went with the expectation of not buying anything, but! This morning, I discovered that the refrigerator (the sole appliance that came with the house that is still (fingers crossed) functioning) has stopped making ice cubes. So I did need ice cube trays, and I bought a great pair of Oxo ice cube trays with slide-on lids, so I can stack them on a shelf.

It’s a matter for the philosophers, if I actually needed the bath towel, the illustrated guide to the Victorian Language of the Flowers (which replaces one that I had, but apparently gave away), the coloring book, or the embroidery kit (embroider and assemble a canvas bag! How can anybody resist that?). I can, however, make a good case for the dryer vent brush, the sink stones, and the adjustable chair sliders. Oh, and the hairbrush. One does, after all, need to groom oneself.

All of the above, in fact, demonstrate the danger of this particular event — there were so few of us in the store, I felt no pressure to rush or to get out of peoples’ way. I could just moon about in my preferred style, Stare at Stuff, pick it up, establish a relationship with it, and part friends. (It comes to me that the Mooning About Thing is why I love to visit museums, though of course, I’m not allowed to touch stuff.)

So, in sum — a nice hourish outing. I’m home, have greeted the cats, put my purchases away and eaten a cookie. I’m now free to do what seems good to me until 2ish, when I expect a contractor to arrive.

How’s your Saturday starting out?

Dressed to shop:

P.S. The Big Question on Facebook was “What are sink stones?” These are sink stones. They are not the actual sink stones I bought, because — TJ Maxx, but they’re of the family.

The music make her want to be the story

Important Stuff First: I saw Firefly’s tail at Full Upward Extension last night. This morning, she’s preferring half-mast, which may mean it’s hurting her still. I can give her the pain meds at noon, and will be doing so. She did come to snuggle with me when I thought I was going to get up this morning, so we stayed in bed a little longer, talking about how scary That Whole Thing was and how was she feeling now, and articles I’d read about dogs who’d broken their tails and had to get them amputated before there was Serious Damage gone to their spines, and how I’d been really, really scared that she’d gotten cancer wrapped around her spine like her Aunt Sprite, and — well. We promised each other not to do this again.

A little later, she joined me for our sitting-in-the-sunlight session.

Yesterday afternoon, I made an appointment to walk an alpaca at Northern Solstice Farm in a couple weeks. There will be a meet ‘n greet with the alpaca who agreed to walk with me that day, who will already have donned halter and lead, then an approximately 30 minute stroll either around the farm, or, if conditions aren’t too squishy, on a trail through the woods. Now I remember why I have hiking boots. I’m really looking forward to this, and glad I didn’t let myself talk myself out of it.

Other than that, and actually related to the alpaca walk, I’m trying to unfold myself — which is to say, to find the way back out of my head after the Intense Concentration required to finish Kin Right on time and correctly. Steve would have had us out and about, walking up and down the world, breathing the air, taking photographs, eating out, and striking up conversations with strangers chance-met on beaches, in train stations, or in stores.

I . . . am not that ambitious, left to myself, and the timing’s a little unfortunate, as I find it’s Easter weekend (how did that happen?). So, unfolding will take the shape of puttering around, straightening up, making hummus, blowing the dust off of my poor, abandoned glass project, maybe finding another movie/tv show to lightly binge, and planning a ride for next Wednesday or Thursday, when the weather is expected to be warmer and sunny.

The secret of writing is that you can’t write all the time. So — aside an infodump, and blog posts, no Writing here at the Confusion Factory for the next bit.

Reading, though . . . I’ve finished reading Balance of Trade, and also Theo of Golden. I’m about half-way through Seeking Persephone, and after that? Crystal Soldier. Speaking of literary whiplash.

And I think that catches us up.

Here’s a picture of Firefly, from this morning’s sunshine session:

Today’s blog post title brought to you by Dire Straits, “Skateaway“

Tuesday and the adventures thereto

Tuesday. Sunny, already warm and heading for the 70sF. They say.

Trash and recycling are at the curb. Breakfast has been et.

Slept well last night. The cats all piled on top of me, set purr boxes on HIGH, pushed the personal gravity fields to the top and — it worked. Eight hours and change, and I feel much more human.

My second cup of tea is brewing. Once I’ve dealt with that, I’ll be doing errands, including getting gas, while there’s any left to get, and a Staples run — very likely my last at our in-city store, which will be closing next month. What else — ah, the usual: grocery, bank, post office, goodwill, CVS. Home for lunch and possibly catching up the filing before I leave again for the library and needleworking.

What’s everybody doing today?

I did try this morning to get a picture of all four of us, but Firefly refused to be photographed until she had gotten her eyes done properly, which means you guys get two pictures of three.

#
LOCAL PEEPS OF THE FLANNEL SHIRT WEARING INCLINATION: I just bought two flannel shirts at Reny’s for $5/each, and the Word is that they’re being “put away” today. So, if you’re wanting to stock up on flannel — get thee to Reny’s, like, now.

Obviously, I’m home again. Not only that, I accomplished almost all of my errands (I did not manage to buy two things, not for lack of trying, but for lack of Stuff Being In Stock).

I bought notebooks, legal pads and folders at Staples. Mind you, I don’t need any more notebooks or legal pads, but — sale. Also — new notebooks.

Did my Smol grocery shop at the Elm Plaza Hannaford, not wishing to brave the KMD Hannaford, where the freezers and cold keepers were out for most of the weekend.

The oven is heating for my Very! First! CookUnity Experience, which is apparently … Mediterranean Chicken Shawarma Bowl with Mint-Tahini sauce.

Many thanks to everyone who admired my new haircut. I must, however report, that it was only wet hair dragged back into a ponytail. This is what it looks like, after I’ve been running around all morning. And, yes, I do need a haircut, but — not today.

#
Report on my very first Cook Unity meal, Mediterranean Chicken Shawarma Bowl with Mint-Tahini sauce, and a crazy little side salad, made with pickles, cherry tomatoes, and something yellow and dense, in cubes (edited to add: I am informed that these were pickled turnips). I love cultures that treat pickles like a food, rather than an afterthought. Just by the way.

The main course was good, but a little more than I’m accustomed to eating for lunch, which is my big meal of the day. I’ll have the rest of it tonight, but this could be an unexpected downside to having a meal service. Or, not, if I routinely get two meals out of one.

Anyhow, no complaints of the food, for Meal One.

Onward.
#
So, I just learned a whole new way to be rude. I forgot to go to the bank when I was out earlier (this is what happens when you don’t Write It Down), so I went out after lunch. And as the teller was counting out my twenties for me, I saw one that was taped together, and another, that Ought To Have Been taped together. So, when she was done counting, I pulled those two bills and asked for replacements.

Her: You saw those?

Me: (Not in the OutLoud voice: Obviously.) Yes, I watch when people count money out. Old Habit.

Her: You want different bills?

Me: Yes. I don’t want my money to fall apart before I spend it.

Her: Replaces the twenties. Sighs heavily.

Me: Thank you. Leaves. Sighs heavily.

#
Finished my latest project

Timely notes

Where were we?

Ah. Sunday. Time Change Day. I Ignored All The Advice, and went to bed late last night, because magic show, and slept past the new-normal waking time of 6 am by the Old Clock to 7 am OC, putting me well behind Everything.

For Calibration Purposes, it is as I write this sentence 9:21 am New Clock.

May I just say that it’s a good thing I don’t have to leave the house tomorrow. Or today.

Weather is currently cloudy, drizzly, and warm. I’m hoping today will be the coup for the ice field at the bottom of my front steps. I need to do something about that, though Exactly What escapes my imagination at the moment — it forms every year and it’s a death trap, getting deathier and trappier the older I get.

Last night’s magic show was enjoyable. I did meet the magician very briefly as he toured the house before-show, in his melant’i as “stage manager”. I had somehow failed to understand that I had a seat in the Very First Row, odd-side. I was in sort-of the middle, with a family of three sitting to my left and filling out the row.

The “stage manager” stopped by, hunkered down in front of our “group” of four, and asked us for our help. It seemed that a big part of Michael’s show was telepathy-based, including calling cards that people were thinking of. The Ace of Spades, according to the “stage manager” had been coming up in people’s thoughts just way too often, and our help was solicited in thinking about other cards.

He then pulled out a deck of cards, fanned them and offered them to me. “Pull a card, look at it, but don’t show it to anybody — put it inside the folds of your brain and just really think about it hard. Then give the card back to me. OK? OK!”

I chose a card (the ten of spades; I believe my prohibition against sharing that information expired at the end of the show), assured the “stage manager” that I had it firm in my mind, and he repeated the exercise with the people to my left. Then he left, telling us most earnestly to think hard about our card.

I mention here, because I noticed it, that those were very thin, slick cards.

When the magician came on-stage, and after a brief smoke, he called the daughter of the family to my left to think about her card. He then drew it on a pad of paper. The three of diamonds! Ta-Da!

And we were off.

A good time was, I believe, had by all, and I eventually wandered my way home to resuscitate my cats, who had all expired of hunger in my absence.

Today, I write, and do laundry. In fact, the first load is drying, and the second is washing. I wish I could say the same about the WIP.

I’m drinking my first of what I believe will be many cups of tea on the day, and I really ought to find something to eat.

How’s everybody doing today?

Saturday morning, iced

Saturday. Cloudy and mizzling. It is said by the weatherbeans that the temps will rise unto the mid-40sF by this afternoon. Right now, they are warning of frozen surfaces.

I have a ticket to see Michael Carbonaro this evening, and I suspect I will need to work out a Strategy in re not breaking a leg. Right now, I’m leaning toward going downtown early, finding a parking space Right Near the Arts Center, rather than just parking in the Concourse, and, I dunno, read or find something to eat until showtime.

Meanwhile! At just barely half-eight, I have risen, showered, dressed, treated my printer with olive oil, compiled and printed out a section that needs to be reworked-and-expanded, taken a picture of the Writing Disaster Zone which it afterward occurred to me that I cannot share, because the thing I really wanted to showcase — aka the 28 x 15 inches pieced together printout which is the Entire Time Map for this novel — could actually be read by someone with Determination.

Regarding the time map — Yes, I am breaking out every trick I’ve ever learned. This is what it is to write with only one brain on the case. I mean, I do tell the cats what’s going on and solicit their input, but, yanno, they have their own dreaming to tend.

All that said — I should go find something that looks like breakfast.

Oh, wait. I heard back from CookUnity, which is very apologetic and free with the discounts and whatnot. They have not, however, answered my Core Question regarding the probable state of my food when it arrives on Monday, having sat in a warehouse, or an off-the-road delivery truck, or whatever for three days.

OTOH, I also gather from CookUnity that am Not Alone in this situation. I’m interested to hear that, down in Civilization, CookUnity maintains its own delivery fleet. That is not so for we who are off-Grid.

I have heard tell of another sort of co-op meal service, which utilizes chefs who are local to the customer, but I haven’t actually tracked that down, yet.

Now, I’m going to go find breakfast.

How’s everybody doing today?