Tag: the big cat hunt

The Big Cat Hunt Concludes

So, yesterday, which was Sunday in the Northeast portion of the East Coast of the US, I meandered down to Portsmouth, stopping at Pine Point, Camp Ellis, and thence to Old Orchard Beach, for a leisurely lunch at Lazy Days before getting back on the road to Portsmouth and the Motel 6, there to await the arrival of the Cat Farm’s newest director, at +/- 2am Monday.  All very pleasant, except the part where I dropped my phone and cracked the screen — a personal first.

Snow was predicted.  I mean, let’s be realistic — it’s February in Maine/New Hampshire.  Of course snow is in the forecast.  However, I had determined that I could fit myself  in-between the snow events.  For instance, it was to snow, but lightly, on Sunday night, stopping around 7am.  I didn’t have to give up my room until 11, by which time it was not unreasonable to suppose that the roads would be clear to drive.  I would therefore be back home hours before the next called event, on Monday evening.

I had not bethought myself of the impact of the Sunday night snow on Tali and her escort, driving up from Allentown, PA.

Around 9:30pm on Sunday, I received a text from the escort, telling me that she had pulled off the road because of heavy snow, and reports of several wrecks ahead of her on the interstate.

This was smart and safe.  All hail, the escort!  And, really, I wasn’t going anywhere until the next day at 11am.

So, as it turned out, I took delivery of Tali at +/-9:30am.  The roads were clear, and I was under Stern Orders not to let Tali out of the carrier, so we did the swap in the parking lot, and I headed up a largely deserted I-95 to Maine.

We pulled into the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory around 12:30; I got Tali set up in the Guest Parlor, and we chatted a bit.  She jumped onto my lap of her own volition and stayed for about 35 seconds.  She enthusiastically agreed to be brushed with the slicker brush — which she really needed (no blame; no shame — I’d’ve been losing my hair after the trip she had, which had essentially doubled).

She’s settling in nicely.  She doesn’t like to be picked up — or, at least, she doesn’t like to be picked up yet — but she’s purring non-stop, and giving me whole-body bumps whenever I’m in range.  She does seem — very dainty for a coon cat — and photos don’t do justice to her fur, which is pale orange swirled with white. Her home cattery was calling her “pink,” but I think that’s inaccurate.  “Creamsicle” is closer to the look, for them as don’t want to have to spit out the whole “Red Silver Classic Tabby/White” that’s on her TICA registration.

Trooper followed me into the Guest Parlor, so Tali got to meet him briefly.  He spoke to her at some length.  She didn’t answer, but it seemed that he had managed to calm her somewhat.

Tali is now resting in the Guest Parlor; I’m catching up on various this and thats, and realizing that tomorrow is going to be a Run Around Town sort of day, so it’s a good thing I ordered in Chinese today, and have leftovers.

And that’s the epic.  All’s well that ends well, and like that.

Pictures:

 

The Luck

What went before:  Yesterday was a sandwich:  Early good news, extremely frustrating events until Trooper’s vet appointment, which was neutral (awaiting blood work), then finishing on a high note, when I received notice that Talizea was on the move and I was on for an interception in Portsmouth.

Onward!

Saturday. Snowed overnight; looks to be 2-ish inches on the front steps.

Breakfast was peanut butter and raspberry jelly on a whole wheat English Muffin. Lunch will be — I think there’s still some bean loaf left.

Those of you who’ve been around awhile know that writers are told to Write What You Know. So, when when Steve and I tell you about Korval’s Luck, which every clan member rightly looks upon with wariness and trepidation, believe that we were are speaking from experience*.

Witness this morning, when I opened the cabinet under the bathroom sink to get zippered bag to hold things like my toothbrush and toothpaste into for my upcoming overnight — and discovered that the pipe under the sink was leaking, and had apparently been doing so for some time. But! There was an open-mouthed plastic bag positioned by chance directly under the leak and it was full of water. It would have surely overflowed today, if I hadn’t looked in.

So, now the contents of the undersink are strewn about the bathroom floor. There are some casualties, but nothing irrecoverable. The plumber of course is closed today. OTOH, I have a second bathroom, which I suppose I’ll be sharing with Tali until we can get somebody on the case, after we get home.

This situation is so on-brand that I started to laugh when I found that plastic bag full of water.

So, today’s to-do! Change out the cat fountain, do one’s duty the cats, deal with the stuff that’s strewn, convert the second bathroom to Talizea’s Parlor, pack for a very peculiar overnight away, correspondence. I hope for time to write even 500 words, which looked possible before the under-sink surprise. Now — we’ll see.

I’m told that Tali is bringing All Her Stuff. I’m guessing that means her posters, too, which — there’s not very much room in the second bath to hang stuff. Maybe we can stick them to the mirrors.

Still reading Code Yellow in Gretna Green. Oh. Note to self: Make sure you have the next one on the Kindle before you leave.

That’s it.

So, tell me — what kind of luck do you have?

_________
*Chinese zodiac-wise, Steve was a metal tiger and I am a water dragon, both considered “lucky” signs.

Meet the New Director

The new director is on her way upcoast.  I will be meeting her in New Hampshire, and bringing her the rest of the way into the motherland, where  she’ll be joining KelimCoons Sooper Trooper, KelimCoons Firefly, and Rook Thunderpaws on the staff of the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory.

Who is the new director?

Her Official Name is Rickooncattery Talizea of Kennebec.  She is a red silver tabby/white Maine Coon female, born March 16, 2022.  Previously, she worked in kitten production, and is now moving up to administration.

Some of you will remember Kennebec Mozart, who ruled the Cat Farm from November 2003 until February 2015.  It happens that Mozart had a litter brother named Kennebec Wyatt Chirp of Lakeffect.  Talizea is Wyatt’s many-times great-granddaughter, and Mozart’s grand-grand-&c-niece.

One of Tali’s sons is now the main stud at Kennebec Cattery:  Supreme Grand Champion Tollance Berik Jones.

Tali is a petite cat.  Her hobbies are sitting on laps, chasing the Siamese, playing with her people, and giving cuddles.

Here is a picture of Tali, and a picture of her grand uncle Mozart:

Book planning and Big Cat update

What went before:  Yesterday, as I was staring out the window, my brain informed me that it wanted to write an epistolary Liaden novel.  I pointed out that we couldn’t do that, because we were going back to Catalinc Station and the Action! folks, who — while they can write letters — really prefer not to.

Recommencing with the staring out the window, it — finally, some will say — dawned on me that while Diviner’s Bow and Book the Next are — ahem — “unrelated” novels, there’s a character who is leaving the traders and headed for the Station. And that this character not only knows All The Players — he corresponds with them. And the Action folk do write back to him.

I don’t usually like to think about Structure this early in a project (which may be why my first drafts always end up with everything happening on Tuesday afternoon), and I can’t in fairness to the action players have a book that is only letters, but I can use the letters to frame and illuminate the action.

And that? Sounds like fun, which none of the other things I’ve been slinging at the wall, looking for a conceit that will bear a novel, have done.

Also, the letter structure may give me room to do A Thing I wanted to do and shelved, because I couldn’t figure out how to make it fit into a novel set on the Station.

All that being said, I resolved to Sleep On It, and if it seemed good in the morning, I’d go forward.

Going forward!

Friday. Grey and chilly. ‘beans are calling for a high of 36F/2C, following yesterday’s deep freeze.

Breakfast was leftover fried rice. I don’t have one clue what lunch will be.

Today’s Big Ticket To-Do List item is Trooper’s vet appointment. He’s been … off … with many many complaints, so either I’m providing really subpar service or something’s up. I worry; he’s 15, and he’s outlived both his childhood sweetheart, and their daughter.

Speaking of cats. Negotiations have taken a major step forward. I’m awaiting a call from the escort, and it could — could! — be that the new director will be with us on Monday. This will require some finagling in and around the Greater Portsmouth NH Megalopolis, and thus we await that call from the escort, with deets.

The Hybrid Epistolary Novel still sounds good to the me, so! Next step is to open a file and start writing.

That’s all I’ve got; hours spent staring out the window don’t make for a riveting narrative.

What’s your riveting narrative for the day?

Below, a “memory” offered up by the photo app on the phone.  Sprite and Steve, sharing a moment.

In Which the Poolish Survives the Night

What went before:  I did finish “Core Values” last night — go, me!

I have a bunch of these little so-called Spot thermometers from ThermoWorks, and I put them in various places, trying to find the warmest place to overnight the poolish.  It turns out that the dining room microwave is by far the warmest spot.

Onward.

Sunday. Still dim, but I can see an orange crack in the sky behind the trees.

Got up early to check the poolish, which — Against All Odds — not only survived the night, but was bubbly and stinky, and Just What the Baker Wanted.

Dough is in for the first rise. I’m drinking my first cup of tea and should probably turn my thoughts toward breakfast.

For those following along at home, it turns out that the Heritage Microwave in the dining room is the warmest spot in the kitchen-and-kitchen-adjacent rooms, by a good 2 degrees, so that’s where the poolish overnighted, to what success we have seen.

Aside the baking of bread, today is Tax Paperwork Review, and filing, because I let it stack up again, banking, and other mundane details — and I’ve got to finally deal with the whole stevemillerwrites thing, which I’m still inclined to let go.

I see that we’re starting to play Twenty Questions regarding the new director. I’m not just being playful; I don’t want to jinx anything. Believe me, I’m just as excited as you are. We can all practice Being Patient together.

So, that’s what’s exciting at the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory, this early Sunday morning.

Who else is having an exciting morning?

Cats, Technology, Writing

What went before:  I did not finish the story yesterday.  There were several reasons for this.

Reason One was details necessary to The Great Cat Hunt. I went from no one answering their email to four people answering with varying degrees of “we might be able to make this work.” This required some Examination of My Wants and Preferences, because, no, I could not take them all. We’re still working out travel arrangements for the winning candidate.

Reason Two was that I had realized that I was being Too Damned Timid, and not wishing to get up close and personal with a Bad Thing that certainly had bearing on the character. Also, I needed to clarify the stakes. So, I have to rewrite a couple of scenes, and then write the last scene.

Reason Two-Point-Five is that my keyboard was — lagging. Honest, I was getting two sentences ahead of the words appearing on the screen, which — I can’t tell you how crazy that makes me.

So, I unplugged the keyboard I had been using, and tried to set up the wireless keyboard. Only bluetooth on the computer will not play nice with the wireless keyboard (Message one: Connected! Two Seconds Later, Message two: Disconnected!). I’m very disappointed in this keyboard, and I had such high hopes. For one thing, it’s supposed to light up — which it did at first, but then it stopped and the folks I bought it from want me to do things that I fail to understand in order to MAYbe? get it to work again. And now this thing which essentially means I have a wireless keyboard that has to stay plugged in.

Onward!

Friday. Sunny and already as “warm” as it got yesterday.

Breakfast was a two-parter. I grabbed a banana (I thought it was ripe; it was still — crunchy. Hate me a crunchy banana, but I was committed by that time.), answered a letter, then got dressed. Sit down breakfast was oatmeal with raisins and walnuts. Lunch will be fish.

Today, aside from emptying (and refilling — honestly, who threw a party when I wasn’t looking, and left all the dishes in the sink?) the dishwasher, one’s duty to the cats, on-demand scrubbles, and playtime, will be All About the Story.

I have been pointed to the large, sulky river, where there is an Incoherent Review of Fair Trade that also includes a large swath of a scene from the book, (which I’m willing to guess is exactly 1,000 words) but! that aside? I can’t do anything about it. Despite its delusions to the contrary, I don’t work for the waterway, and they long ago stopped allowing mere writers to ask that troll reviews be removed. Thank you for your understanding.

Pro Tip: If I’m shopping a book and come across an incoherent review, or a review that’s clearly a hatchet job? I skip along to the next review. Works a treat.

Is anybody else having Crazy Times with their FitBit? My watch was charged to 100% before I went to bed last night. This morning, I woke up to a frantic email, demanding that I charge my watch Right Now! I looked — and, yeah, it was down to 6%. When FitBit actually ran the show, the watch perked for a week, and if a power-devouring update was coming down the pipe, they sent a heads-up, so you could plug the watch in. Since Google’s been running the show, it’s like they randomly drain the battery for giggles.

In regard to The Big Cat Hunt, transportation details are under discussion. I am cleared to say that the new director is a Maine Coon.

I finished reading Ties that Bond in Gretna Green, and am still reading Shakespeare: The Man Who Pays The Rent in one-or-two chapter bites.

And that? Is all I’ve got to report.

How’s the end of the week shaping up for you?

She thought of heat; she thought of time

What went before:  I worked on taxes yesterday, which was more challenging than I had expected.  It’s not like Steve did the taxes, after all. But, in a normal year, this is the place where I would have started nagging him to get me those items and expenses that I did not have through doing the general house and business accounting. This would have gone on for . . . a while — there was some math involved in how long he would put me off before he believed that I was serious — and then the info would appear.

It just feels really wrong that I — have all that information in hand. Right now, and can proceed with adding/subtracting and filling in the blanks.

Onward!

Wednesday. Sunlight an orange glow behind the trees -9F/-23C. Weatherbeans calling for a high of 18F/-8C.

I’m evaluating my need to go out today. I don’t need anything from the grocery store that can’t wait until tomorrow, and while I really *do* need a haircut, I’ll not be receiving today. I haven’t been to the post office in almost two weeks, but I’m not expecting anything urgent, and the post office lobby, where the mailboxes are, is toasty warm, comparatively. On the other hand, tomorrow’s high of 25F/-4 isn’t going to be *that* much warmer. And on the gripping hand! I do *have* a Big Coat. Heck, I have TWO Big Coats — Steve’s parka, and my knee-length puffer coat.

It may come down to a coin flip at 10 am.

But, first! Breakfast. Which was! Cottage cheese with a side of muffin. And tea. Lunch will be leftover split pea, lentil, and ham soup. Kettle on for second cup of tea.

Cat search update: Three inquiries written; 1 answer in the negative received.

I feel — well, and am theoretically TNC (Theoretically Not Contagious). Hoping to stay that way.  Though I will be masking when I go out.

If I don’t go out and do errands, then I’ll finish what I can of the taxes with the information in-house, after which it will be the long game of waiting for other people to get their acts together and send me paperwork.

If I do venture out into The Elements to accomplish my errands, then I’ll possibly take the rest of the day off, or maybe see if I can discover that last scene for the story that’s been in progress far too long so I can put it up on Splinter Universe.

. . . one of the things that’s been coming around on the guitar, as the vernacular has it, is the realization that I have wanted to be a writer since I was aware of “wanting to be” something. This predates Steve and cats, and I got to wondering how common that is, that people have known for their whole lives what they “wanted to be.”

So, I’m throwing it out to y’all — when did you (if you did) realize what you “wanted to be”?

Today’s blog post brought to you by Bill Morrissey, “Birches”

Rook joined me for breakfast. Not that he had any of my breakfast; he likes to sit on my lap while I finish my tea, and take a bath, because, yanno, bellies don’t clean themselves.