Tag: the tyranny of food

Drizzly Wednesday

Where are my Maine Coon experts? I have a New Behavior between Tali and Firefly.

In general, I have a very laid back clowder presently looking out for my interests. They’re even more mellow than the previous Trooper-Sprite-Belle Nexus of Purr-er.

Tali and Rook get into wrasslin, and Tali indulges in screaming Death Threats at the top of her lungs, but it’s clearly just hi-jinks.

Tali and Firefly, though, have been, up until last week, maybe?, civilized and casually affectionate. They snuffle each others ears, Tali licks Firefly’s head if it is presented — which is correct, Firefly being not only the eldest, but has Time in Grade.

But lately, as I say, we have this new behavior. Firefly will be next to me on the couch, or cuddling on the bed, and Tali will arrive. Previously, a check-in (nose touching or ear snuffling) would happen, Tali would settle in an unused section of the human, and all would be well.

However! Yes, we’re finally arriving at the point. Firefly has now three times gone over to Tali after I think we’re all settled in, and grabs her by the back of the neck, like she’s a kitten. Tali, understandably, is offended by this, and vacates the premises, whereupon Firefly either takes her place, or comes back to her previous position, and goes to sleep.

So, I obviously don’t want them to be at odds. Can anybody give me insight into this New Behavior?

Spanish Aunts.
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Helpful cat is helping

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So, today’s meal from CookUnity was Mushroom Rice in Butternut Squash. I have no leftovers. Not because it was Amazingly Tasty, though it was OK, but because about half the squash was stringy (Which could be an artifact of its adventure on the road. Or, yanno, not.), and because I hadn’t been expecting, in my “mushroom rice” chunks of walnut bigger than my head.

This is possibly a Just Me problem — I eat walnuts, but I’m not a fan, and IMHO, big hard chunks of anything have no business being present in my lovely, moist mushroom-and-cranberry rice (yes, there were sliced cranberries. Good idea; I’m going to have to try that in my own rice.) The garlicked green beans were perfectly fine.

So, I won’t be ordering this one again. I picked out about half the walnuts, and, as above, quit on the squash about half-way done.

Tomorrow’s meal is defrosting — Dragon Bowl with Grilled Chicken.

All that said — I almost forgot that I have a Zoom class this evening, so I’d best pick my feet up and get some chores done.

I have been editing from the comfy chair in my office today, and all the cats have joined me. Firefly, remains as she was, under the table next to the chair. Tali made several really creative attempts to sit with me in the chair, but just couldn’t make it work, whereupon she retired to Trooper’s box on the edge of my desk. Rook came in so quietly, I didn’t know he was with me, until I got up and found him curled in Sprite’s big fluffy cat ring, where he can keep an eye on me, and still enjoy the warmth coming off of the baseboard heater.

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?

Friday morning 10 a.m.

Friday. Cloudy and sort of snowing. Cold.

Firefly has once again joined me on my lap to celebrate the happy lite and to look out over the long backyard. She even had a taste of my tea. Firefly has previously not liked tea, but Sprite used to demand a drop out of every cup, so it looks like she’s found both Sprite and Belle’s books.

I slept badly, and have been arguing with myself about whether or not I’m going to eat breakfast. I think I finessed that. Macaroni and cheese is breakfast, right?

Today the taxes take top billing, followed by writing my remarks for my talk next month. After that, we’ll see.

How’s everybody holding up?

Dictated to my phone

First Sunday Report

First Sunday of the weekend. Sunny, going to be warmer than yesterday, but not hot.

Trooper wants me to do something, but I haven’t discovered what it is, yet. In the meantime, he’s had his meds, and two goes at breakfast, but it’s apparently not the right breakfast. If he wants pancakes, he’s outta luck. Steve was the pancake person; I’d eat them to keep him company, but making pancakes for myself just isn’t a thing.

In the meantime, my breakfast this morning was Swiss cheese on an English muffin, because we are a Global Village, black grapes, and a handful of mixed nuts. Lunch? Could be anything. By which I mean a salad, because I’m already feeling too lazy to bother.

Firefly is sleeping off yesterday’s festivities in the box on my desk, which happens at the moment to be sun-soaked. Tali is on top of the dresser. Trooper has found a sunspot on the rug and is drowsing, rather than yelling at me, which is a relief, actually, and Rookie is on the rug in the foyer, underneath the open window.

Aside cat box duty and a smol walk, today will be about the WIP, and looking ahead at what needs to get done IRL next week.

What’s your First Sunday of the Weekend look like?

Two tries at taking a good picture of the earrings and moon (the little necklace is a tree-and-dragon)

Every day you get more more yard

What went before ONE: The rose in its new home. I have done many foolish things today and it’s not even 10 am.

What went before TWO: So, while I was outside anyway, putting a rosebush into the ground, I weeded, and cleaned up the mess on the deck, discovering in the process that the pot the rose had been in was broken in the fracas.

When I came back in, after having expended some frustration, I swallowed some muscle relaxants, and iced my back while listening to These Old Shades. After lunch, I took a smol nap, with Firefly’s expert oversight. I sat with the WIP for a bit and actually recorded an idea I had through an app on my phone, and sent! the! transcript! to myself at Gmail. It’s really quite a good transcription. I’m impressed.

We are now nigh on to Coon Cat Happy Hour. Once that’s served up, I’ll have something to eat in order to buffer another dose of muscle relaxants and retire to mine bed with a cup of tea and These Old Shades and hopefully get a good night’s sleep.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Sunday. Cloudy and damp.

I am pleased to report that the rosebush has survived its first night in the front garden. I managed to have some solid sleep on that same overnight, and! have an idea for a scene that should be fun to write. Yes, yes, I know: a novel is not just a string of amusing scenes, but at this point, I’ll take what I’ve got, reminding myself that Salvage Right was a string of amusing scenes, which I then had to patch together with a series of bridges. So, it can be done.

The first load of towels is in the washer.

Breakfast is just about finished with the cooking part — sausage and cheese on a biscuit. Tea is brewed.

. . . and there’s the bell. BRB.

. . .and back. Breakfast was good. Not healthy according to the cancer ladies, but I ate breakfast and that’s a win. I have at least one yam, so lunch is covered; arguably, even a healthy lunch.

I wish to mention here that Rookie the Cookie’s Best Trick Ever is coming when he’s called, and if he cannot come when he’s called, by reason, perhaps, of having gotten himself locked in a closet again, he will call out in answer multiple times, if necessary, until he’s let out, whereupon, he will stand up on his hind legs and demand a cuddle.

This brought to you by Rook got locked into the linen closet while I was changing out the towels, and had no idea he was even in the hall.

My back aches the tiniest bit and I have, out of an Abundance of Caution, taken one more dose of muscle relaxants, and That — fingers crossed — ought to be the end of THAT.

So, I got When the Moon Hits Your Eye out of the library last Tuesday, and I’ve been reading a chapter or two at lunch to distract myself. So far, so good, though I did not expect a retelling of recent current events couched in metaphor. Notice me heroically avoid “whey.”

My quandary is that I’m also reading These Old Shades in audio; I’ve read the first chapter of A Gentleman of Questionable Judgement; and! the first few pages of Stone and Sky, and that’s too many books open, especially for someone who used to be a One Book At A Time reader. Given that I’m also writing a book, that’s a little too much to keep in my head at once, so I’m cutting back, and will finish …Shades and …Moon, then flip a coin — actually, no, I won’t flip a coin, I’ll go back to Stone and Sky, because the arrival of Peter’s entire family, plus representatives of The Folly, with a fox, was too funny to put on hold for long.

All that said! How’s everybody doing? And — bonus question — what are you reading?

Today’s blog post title brought to you by Mr. Tom Petty, assisted by Mr. Eddie Vedder, “The Waiting”

Photo from yesterday afternoon:  Disheveled and Marvelous

Adventures in jewelry

What went before ONE: So that’s scary. I got up to walk around the corner and get something out of the printer, and — one of my earrings fell out.

But that’s not the scary part. I found the earring, but I can’t find the back — yanno, just one of those tiny little silvery lock things? Looked everywhere with my friend Mr. Flashlight, looked inside my shirt, looked, yeah, everywhere, because who knows when it went AWOL and I just hadn’t moved my head sharply enough to dislodge the ring?

Finally wound up vacuuming the whole house, and still no certainty that I found it. It’s not the loss of the backing I’m worried about; it the loose piece of metal on (possibly) the floor with four floor inspectors on-paw.

Argh. Now I get to breathe deeply and try to get back to work.

And I say again — argh.

What went before TWO: Six hundred sixty-one new words today.

Didn’t finish my scene, and also didn’t find the back to my earring. The WIP is now +/-52,400 words and the little piece of silver is on the knees of Bast; I’ve done everything I can.

I hear there’s supposed to be a splendid full moon tonight. Of course, it will be cloudy here in Central Maine. Honestly, you could make a calendar.

Speaking of calendars — one of our needlework members is newly arrived in Central Maine from Arizona and she was remarking on how late it stayed light here. Which — official sunset is 8:30, but it’s not really DARK until 10/10:30. Turns out in Tucson, sunset is at 7:30? In JULY? How is that even a thing? And then I remembered back in 1999, when I had to travel to the San Antonio Worldcon, and I’d gotten up at Maine Rising Time, and — it was still dark out. On account the sun don’t be rising in San Antonio until 6:45, Texas Time, and at home, where we do these things normally, the sun rises at 5 am, but it’s light enough to drive at 4.

So, that’s the news and babbling from hereabouts.

Tomorrow morning, I have errands and an appointment with the chiropractor, where, this being the end of my second two-week adjustment plan, I’m hoping to receive good news. Tomorrow afternoon, I hope to complete today’s scene and maybe start another.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

So. Friday. Cloudy and damp. Once again the call is for rain. We Shall See.

I have been to the grocery, the post office, Reny’s, Day’s, and the chiropractor. I tried to stop at the latte truck, but they weren’t open when I went by at 8:30ish. Probably just as well.

Consultation with the chiropractor has produced a schedule of weekly visits, stretching out to every three weeks. First session of the new schedule being next Friday (unless something goes bad before that). And we’ll see how that goes. Fingers crossed.

Took on a crazy flowered shirt at Reny’s, as well as sox, butter chicken sauce, jasmine rice, and hangers, since I apparently have a hanger-eating gremlin infestation in the laundry room.

At Day’s, I acquired new backs for the earrings that I lost one back to, yesterday. The new ones made a very satisfying CLICK when I shoved them onto the post, so I have some confidence that these will stay where they’re put.

The butter chicken sauce and the jasmine rice will join the last pork chop in the joyous celebration of lunch. Honestly, I don’t know how people can be enthused about eating three times a day, every day, 365 days a year. Hoping that the slight weirdness of today’s lunch will renew a flagging interest in food. I’m trying to stave off the part where I’ll take anything — ice cream! a doughnut! — as long as I’ve eaten something.

Once I finish this dispatch, I will throw a load of shirts in the washer, make (and eat) lunch, then get with writing.

How’s everybody doing today?

. . . I found it all on my own

What went before: Today’s writing was tweaking what I wrote yesterday. Maybe, a net gain of 200 words, when all’s said and done. Tomorrow! A new scene.

Everybody have a good evening; stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Thursday. Cool and damp and said to be fixin’ to rain. Windows open, because? Anybody? Yes? Yes, you there in the orange sleeveless tshirt. Correct! Because cats.

Tuesday night, I got about four hours sleep, mostly due to Trooper needing All The Cuddles, and None of the Cuddles on about a 20 minute rotation. Last night, I collapsed early and was let to sleep for damn near nine hours, and honestly, I could do it again, right now. This not being feasible, I’m taking on caffeine.

Breakfast was tomato and cheese on anadama bread with a side of grapes. Lunch will be fish, because I have once again fallen off the fish wagon. It’s been a real eye-opener, how close Steve watched the menu and made sure of the rotation of various foods.

Among yesterday’s few accomplishments, I ironed my finished project and put it in the embroidery book, and! I chose my new project, which is pictured below.

Today, aside from the making and eating of lunch, and the various duties that attend a cat parent, I do intend to write. That’s is — one good intention at a time.

Who else has good intentions today?

Today’s blog post title brought to you by Stitch

The new project:

Chapter Jigsaw

Business first! This just in from Tantor Audiobooks!

To celebrate Barnburner‘s fifth year as an audiobook, Tantor is knocking 75% off of cover price, which means you can get this fine cozy mystery set in Maine, written by Sharon Lee, narrated by Traci Odom for only $4.00.

The sale ends on July 12.

Please share this news widely. Here’s your special sales link

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What went before: Still playing chapter jigsaw.

I strung my lights. I couldn’t make Plan A, over the bookshelves, work, so we’ve gone with Plan B. Of course. Plan B being over the windows. It will be fine.

Paid the bills and accounted them, and getting ready to pour a glass of wine and sit down with my headset and my tablet and see if I can’t reconcile their sudden differences.

Everybody have a good evening. Stay safe. Stay strong.

I’ll see you tomorrow.

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Friday. Sunny and cooler. Friday the Thirteenth.

Breakfast was half a blueberry muffin, with a side of cottage cheese; tea. The idea that I had no idea what I was going to eat for lunch woke me up, which seems unfair, though, really, it was almost 8.

Went to sleep listening to Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day — the chapter where she Speaks with Tony at the cocktail party, which is — so much fun.

I have a haircut scheduled for 11, so I have to decide if I want to keep my hair at what passes for “long” nowadays, or if I want to chop it all off until it stands up in terror. I will before that time of reckoning refresh the cat’s on-demand bar and perform my other duty to their felineships.

I have a chiropractor’s appointment at 3, and in-between I shall be continuing my solo game of chapter jigsaw, which is necessary because I find Good Solid Blocks of Narrative Here, and then There, and then Over Here, and Then — is boring, flat, and annoying. I’m aware of the complaint of our books that there are too many characters in too many places, doing too much, but — nobody wants a bored author. At least, I don’t want a bored author, so here we are. Chapter jigsaw to mix things up and keep them interesting.

What’re y’all doing today that isn’t boring?

In which dragons rule

What went before ONE: Plot twist! A folder has been opened for me at the Legal Aid for the Elderly. I am promised a call from a lawyer, perhaps today.

It is now cloudy here at the Cat Farm, though we’re not supposed to get rain until this evening. One’s duty to the cats has been dispatched; and I took a small walk. Laundry is being washed. Moving on to checking off Even More things from the to-do list.

What went before TWO: The credit card bill just came in and I had one of those HOLY FREAKING GHU! How much cat food did I BUY? moments.

Scrolling madly down the list —

Breathe, breathe. You bought a washer and dryer, remember? It’s OK, you planned for this…

What went before THREE: Window washer/gutter clean-and-repair guy still here. The sweet potato for lunch was good. The top rack of my dishwasher has decided to get out of alignment. Of course, it’s full of dishes. I manged to finagle it back to where it’s supposed to go, will wash the dishes tonight, empty it tomorrow and try to figure out what’s going on.

In the meantime, I have heard from the lawyer. She needs to speak with a colleague, and will call me back.

I spent an hour watching a comedy/poetry show called Biology with Alok. I’m assuming that I am, as always, late to the party, but if you haven’t seen this video, I … give it a qualified recommend. The poems are difficult, especially the segment about Alok’s grandfather, which is part of a long riff on why love is dangerous.

It seems like part of the intent of the show is to create a balance of high and low. The aside into made up words is hysterical, and I really liked the segments where the subject is straight/straight white people, where Alok is pretending that the audience are unfamiliar with the subculture. Kind of like Peter Grant, who only mentions a person’s race if they’re white.

I also liked the bit where Alok and friends are walking down the street and a guy yells, “GAYS!” “Give me something I can make poetry from, not comedy!” has got to be a classic line.

Anyhoots, for those who may be interested — it’s an hour and I spaced it out into three segments — here’s the link

What went before FOUR: One of my ASL classmates made this for me:

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Business first: Ribbon Dance mass market debuts on the Bookscan Bestseller List of new releases at Number 35!

Friday. Mizzling and chilly. sigh

Breakfast was rice crackers, cream cheese, and the last strawberries. Lunch… Yeah. I’ll think of something.

ASL class was a little chaotic last night; all of us, including the instructor, were one step off of center. Next week is my last week, by reason of Balticon, and I’ll also have to miss two fabric craft meetings. Thus! the price of fame. And of wanting to have a vacation.

Also next week — Monday, in fact — I have an appointment to get my haircut, which I have mixed feelings about. On the one hand, my hair’s grown long enough that, if we just chopped off a few points and got my bangs out of my eyes, I’d let it keep on doing its thing. On the other hand, I ought to at least look respectful. And on the gripping hand — who even looks at old scifi writers?

Is that DAVE BROMBERG on Classic Rewind? Oh. No. Ice Cream Man. Van Halen. That’s actually something of a relief.

Today, she says in a Determined Auctorial Voice, is a Writing Day. That may mean that lunch is solved by takeout.

. . . Back when I was a young writer, newly partnered and feeling completely safe for possibly the first time in my life, I could drop into story space and stay there for — hours and hours; half a day — or night. Sandwiches and glasses of ice tea would magically appear and I’d eat them without ever coming out of my fugue. I wrote several stories, start to finish, that way. Even as a older writer, I could drop into fugue for at least a few hours, knowing I had back-up. Nowadays, I have to keep one ear cocked and one eye open, and I — kinda resent that.

In other news, my dentist wants me to come to an Exclusive Event! An Invisalign Screening! And? If I sign On The Day, I can get $1100 OFF of Invisaligns.

While I’m the first person to agree that my teeth are crooked and have always been crooked, I take leave to doubt that the Invisaligns can be made to fit around the rocks in my mouth. So — recycling bin.

Spectrum Generations — aka the Senior Center(s) — have a newsletter called Wicked Aging. Make of that what you will.

And that’s what I’ve got on a gloomy Friday.

Who has weekend plans?

Oh, the new dragon is making friends.

Don’t you want your daddy to feel all right?

What went before: I forgot to mention earlier that On This Date in 2018, the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory moved from its long-term country location to the city.

So, that’s 1,056 new words, including having to stop for the fun game of Name The Scouts. WIP now more-or-less 31,620 total words.

I have confirmed that Steve named Captain yos’Thadi’s ship at least partially for his high school English teacher — thanks, Shirley!

Quitting now in order to serve Happy Hour in about half and hour, then reviewing ASL homework again.

In the meanwhile, I’ve got some tidying up for the evening to do, including grabbing Tali and brushing her, which is — eh 50/50 chance. She cannot be shamed, and the fact that All The OTHER Cats have been groomed today means nothing to her.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Monday. Sunny and warm, heading for warmer. It was a struggle to get out of bed this morning. Woke up twice, went back to sleep, and was seriously tempted to try for a personal best of three naps before officially getting up.

Breakfast was PB&J on a toasted English muffin, accompanied in part by the Dead’s “Good Lovin'”. I have not one clue about lunch; hate to do a salad again, because, while veggies are Good for Us, boring meals do not fill one with a desire to eat.

So, this morning I was planning on going out to the Agway and foraging for eyelets so I could make my webbing in the laundry room closet. However! I was in Steve’s office, muttering about this plan, and opened the closet door for — I have no idea, really — and a wire shelf that I guess had been leaning against the wall, fell out on me (no worries; it’s not a big shelf). And I stood there like a dummy, staring at it for two long minutes before I picked it up and took it to the laundry room, where I slid it easily into the upper space where Steve’s stacking had failed under unusual stress, and I was going to install rope webbing.

. . .by the way, that thready organ line in the background of “Rebel Yell”? Is worth the whole song, right there.

Anyhoots, problem solved and I don’t have to go out to Agway this morning, but! I do need to go out to get milk, and while I’m at the shopping center, I may do a tour of TJMaxx, just because it’s there.

There are various other items on the to-do list, including getting the trash into the garage in preparation for the Grand March to the curb, tomorrow morning. Calling to reserve a place in a glass-blowing class while I’m at Corning — yes, I decided that I will regret it forever, if I don’t at least TRY to blow glass — gathering up the pieces of that possible chapbook, and registering the washer and dryer. Also, writing. I want to finish the section I started yesterday, which is, for those who are curious, the prologue.

My mailbag has been interesting these last couple days. Today’s question is: Why did I “have” Tekelia go to Visalee with All Those Stops? Boorrrrriiiiiinnnngg.

Short answer: Like it says in the book, Tekelia had to go to Visalee (by the way, I do not advise anyone who values their peace of mind to attempt to “have” Tekelia do anydamnthing) to bring Blays back to Ribbon Dance Village. The reason there were so many stops is that Tekelia is not a superperson — Visalee is a long distance, and refueling was required.

Longer answer: Because not only did Blays need to be fetched, and the fact that Tekelia has limits established, but The Reader had to become familiar with the Counsels to Chaos, and the geography of Colemeno beyond the city, as well as to set up Wildege. I’m actually fairly proud of using that trip to accomplish multiple pieces of work that would be important later on in the book.

Slightly snarky answer: It’s always wise to recall that one person’s too much cake/meetings/trading/accountants/icky-kissy-stuff is another person’s Oh, perfect! Since there is no possible chance that I’m going to please everybody, I aim to please myself.

All righty, then! Who else is out of milk?

Yes, today’s blog title from the Grateful Dead, “Good Lovin‘”

Yesterday’s coworkers: