Tag: the writing life

There’s a black hat caught in a high tree top

What went before ONE: The taxes have come home. I need to rearrange money so I can write some hefty checks and get them in the mail while we still have mailmen in the state.
After I’ve done the rearranging, I do believe I’ll have a scone and a cup of tea.

Trooper has had his first dose of prednisone.

TWO: I have written the hefty checks. I have moved money around, including setting up the quarterly tax reminders. Nerve-wracking work. After I did all that, I went back to Steve’s office, as per protocol and explained what I had done and why, and asked if that agreed with his understanding of how we had agreed to handle the finances.

I didn’t hear an objection, so I guess we’re good to go, and I will be having the extra glass of wine this evening.

Tomorrow, I need to call the insurance and ask them what the heck they’ve decided about the bill from the walk-in clinic that they were going to get right back to me about, given that I now have a nasty-gram from said clinic informing me that my bill is past due.

Other than that, I’ll be baking a loaf of the Russian Black Bread and transcribing/expanding the scenes I wrote out by hand today. A quiet day — knock wood. I could really enjoy a quiet day about now.

Friday. Chilly. Raining like a hootenanny. Apparently this will be our day, except it may rain harder.

Breakfast was tomato and cheddar cheese sandwich. This used up the last two pieces of rosemary bread, which means — yep. Today, I bake.

I’m going to be baking a new loaf for me — Russian Black Bread. Back in the Before Times, when Steve and I were living in Lowergate Court, and were oh-so-very-broke, I used to bake a black bread that was awfully tasty. I long ago lost the recipe, and the only thing I remember is that it called for a cup of Strong Black Coffee and molasses. Today’s recipe calls for espresso powder and cocoa as well as molasses. So, well see how it goes.

In addition to baking a loaf of bread, I need to call the insurance, as previously noted, and I should probably start the laundry, but, honestly? — that may not happen, since I also want to write. Lunch will probably be fish of some kind. Maybe salmon cakes.

So, that’s what’s happening with me.

What’s happening with you?

What happened since: The bread’s in for its first rise.

The Police have graciously provided the title for today’s blog.  “King of Pain.”

Talkin’ trash

What went before: It was an intermittently awful afternoon. I blame the rain. Tali and Rook both had a go at lap-sitting, and were a little tentative. Trooper then stepped in to show them How It’s Done, which — may not have made things better.

Writing, by which I mostly mean rewriting, happened. I now know what needs to happen next on all three lines, which is a great relief.

I was also able to find CJ Cherryh’s remarks on the occasion of her receiving the Heinlein Award, and now I have an idea of how long I might be expected to Say Things, which is also a great relief.

Tomorrow, I need to forage, and then there will be more writing.

Tuesday. Cloudy and chilly. Trash day. I’ll cope with moving bags from the garage to the curb after I have finished this letter to the internets.

Trooper woke me up at 5, for reasons yet to be discovered, though he did allow me to curl up around him and go back to sleep for an hour.

Breakfast was toast and cottage cheese, upgraded from None for Me, Thx, and again from, Oh, well, a piece of toast is breakfast. Don’t even start with me about lunch.

I had sorta kinda wistfully thought that I’d drive down to the ocean today, but that ain’t happenin’. I will be foraging, then doing some picking up around the house. Now that I know that 3 minutes of Remarks is acceptable, I can begin drafting mine.

(Apparently nobody else in the world has to draft their Remarks ahead of time — Steve could certainly do that, and when I had him to feed me lines, or be the straight man, I could ad lib — to a degree — and I’d still be shaking like your linden leaf at the end of it. When it’s Just Me, I need to Plan. So, yes, a huge relief to find that I’m not supposed to stand up in front an auditorium full of people for 20 minutes and talk.)

I’m still fine-tuning the Garmin watch, and this morning realized that it had a Secret Life. I have set bed-and-waking-up times from 10:30 to 7:00, and of course this morning I was up well before 7. And when I looked at my watch face it was not the one had chosen, but the face that had come with, which I had vehemently rejected. Apparently that face is its party clothes. In any case, the minute I looked at it — it blushed, the face flickered just exactly like it was pulling a shirt over its head — and became the one I had chosen.

I hope this moment of embarrassment hasn’t set us back, as I’ve been enjoying our association thus far.

I’m still reading The Tomb of Dragons, which I’ll probably finish this evening. I have The Orb of Cairado in my library, and I’m thinking that will be next.

Who else is foraging today?

Shot from a couple days ago.  Rookie making sure I’ve eaten all my lunch:

Baby, you want the forgivin’ kind and that’s just not my style

What went before: Everything checked off the to-do list except homework. Which is why homework needs to happen in the morning, and after-lunch is writing time.

We’ll figure it out.

Tomorrow, we are to have rain. I will be staying in. The cats have planned a quiet day of napping in honor of St. Gertrude.

And with all that said, and Coon Cat Happy Hour coming right up!

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

. . .

A blessed St. Gertrude’s day to all.

Monday. Raining. Flooding is in our future, though probably not in my personal future, the river being Way Down THERE. One small patch of snow remains in the Long Back Yard.

Breakfast was rice cakes with cream cheese and the last of the sad, black grapes. First cup of tea is well underway. I have a can of tuna and a can of tomato soup. I believe lunch has been decided.

Today is the Actual Anniversary — five years since my mastectomy. About now On That Day, I would have been getting injected with mercury or some such item, much to Steve’s horror, so I could be placed into a machine that would map my innards, pre-op. I remember the tech administering the shot telling me it would hurt. She wasn’t wrong.

The Garmin watch continues to please, even as it adds to the day’s puzzles. Yesterday, I would have — in fact, I believe I did — tell you that I had a mostly quiet and peaceful day, munching through my to-do list, and writing.

Around 8:00, my watch sent me a very kind message, telling me that I had had a Very Stressful Day, poor dear, and should consider relaxing now.

I’ll be interested to see how this plays out, going forward. It may be that the watch and I have Very Different Takes on Stress.

Today, my choice is either to go back to bed or write, so I believe I will write.

What are your choices today?

Today’s blog title brought to you by Bachman-Turner Overdrive, a Canadian band, for no reason other than the fact that I’m listening to the radio and the DJ just said that he had never thought of the band as Canadian. OHkay.  Anyhow, if you need to get moving, as who does not:  “Let it Ride.”

Below, a picture of the Hall Blockers Cadets St. Gertrude’s Day project:

Tali’s natal day, clockwork edition

What went before: Well. My watch is updating. I am not accustomed to the watch being my main point of information, so that will be a change. Also, some things that are I guess supposed to be intuitive — aren’t. Like, yanno, putting on the band. I did finally figure it out, but Jeez Louise as somebody once said.

I did get my reading of the WIP done, despite It All. It’s not Terrible, there are some things that are in the wrong place, but since I’m trying to match at least three separate timelines so that everybody can arrive at their meeting at the right times, that’s probably, oh, normal instead of evidence of a Descent into Dementia.

Yanno? When I was twenty, I never worried about a Descent into Dementia. Just sayin’.

I should probably go find some cheese to put on a piece of bread, brew a cup of chamomile tea, and take it and my book with me to bed, hoping for a better day tomorrow, which is!

Tali’s third birthday.

Sunday. Cloudy. Well. I suppose I can concede to the Weatherbeans in this. Foggy. I am led to believe that it will be foggy all day, which I suppose is possible, at the rate that the snow is sublimating. The Long Back Yard is more grass than snow. I was just watching a crow sorting through dead leaves and old grass and fly off with a beakful into the Really Tall Pine Tree, so I’ll guess I’ll have new neighbors.

Breakfast was biscuit with sausage and a slice of cheddar with black grapes. Second cup of tea to hand. Lunch will be — yeah, whatever. Maybe a scone.

As planned, I just put myself and my book into bed at 9, and read while I drank my tea. Firefly and Rook joined me in the bed. Tali took the overlook position at the top of the bookcase. The new watch says I had a “highly restorative” sleep of 7 hours and 40 minutes, with lots of Deep and REM, which have been in short supply lately, and probably why I’ve been feeling so tired.

I must say that I’m enjoying Mr. Harney’s Egyptian Chamomile tea. I’m alternating with the Republic of Tea Chamomile Lemon that a friend sent me, which I’m also enjoying. I’m trying to simplify my life, but I really do think that I’ll order in replacements of both.

I am not dizzy this morning, and I’m counting that a win. I am feeling rather meh (Note to Weatherbeans: Some sunshine would help over here), so, as advised by my new notepad, I made a list, and I do feel (a little) better. On the list is a blankie run, changing out the cat fountains, buying cpap supplies, homework, and writing.

Writing may only be working with the correx/additions I identified yesterday, but that still counts. And! one of the benefits of reading your WIP over (and over and over and…) is that engaging with the story produces more story (i.e. You know what’s missing here? Or, happier: You know what comes next?) I don’t know how writers who just start and flame through to the end of the first draft without ever stopping to read what they’ve already written do it, honestly.

As mentioned previously, today is Tali’s third birthday. She has been celebrating energetically, chasing spring, ball and her kid brother all over the house, so much in motion that I am not at this time able to offer a picture of the Birthday Cat. She did come by and check in with Trooper. He muttered at her, she cleaned his ears, then bolted off to discipline Rook.

The new watch is … interesting. It has a lot more functionality than the FitBit, and is much bigger — despite which, it’s lighter and more comfortable on my wrist. The FitBit and I had never had a warm relationship, even before Google decided to try to force me to buy a Google watch by driving the FitBit insane. By comparison, the Garmin (bear with me, people; we all have to work with the brain we have) is calm and friendly. I’m not used to having so much information on the watch but even so it’s easy to navigate, and I can of course add and subtract the information I want to see. I think I did the right thing.

I’m about halfway through Tomb of the Dragons, and having a good time with it. I had to stop and explain to Firefly that these were not Liaden dragons, because they lived in another book. It’s a hard concept, but I think she got it. At least, she blinked her eyes and went back to sleep.

And that’s it from the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory.

So! Who has sunshine where they are?

Contented Saturday at the Cat Farm

What went before: Thanks to all for the outpouring of positive energy for Trooper. He seems to me to be more relaxed, and we haven’t had an episode of him hitting me in the arm, or sitting by my feet and crying since we got home. So, fingers crossed that we’ve hit on something helpful.

Er — about Catholic school. Y’all have to remember that this was back in — well. does a quick calculation — 1957. People nowadays treat their dogs with more care and gentleness than ’50s kids ever got. IMHO. And Catholic school was worse than how it was on the outside. Also — I was a Repeat Offender. My mother sent me to school early — Not Quite 6, against ALL the advice that she wait until I was Not Quite 7 — I was left-handed, I couldn’t talk straight, I was already in the “retarded class” (the fact that I could read anything that was put in front of me was discounted because — I dunno. Maybe because I read the words in the “right” order proved that I just didn’t care about talking right?)

In any case, no — I wasn’t kidding, and I wasn’t the only kid who got stapled to the bulletin board, or had their knuckles whacked, or — nuns were inventive, let’s just say that. I’m sorry the image disturbed people — it’s just a Thing That Happened, and it was a long time ago.

Thinking about this a little more: It’s one of the Universe’s jokes, I suppose, that I wound up in a career where I was required to sit-or-stand in front of large groups of people and talk.  Even though I had a most excellent front man in Steve, I still had to occasionally same something.

Saturday. Gloomy, though not particularly foggy here by the river. Weatherbeans are calling for temps around 50F/10C again.

Breakfast was oatmeal, cranberries, walnuts. Second cup of tea to hand. Soup defrosting for lunch. I’m a little dizzy this morning, and got off to a slow start. Good thing I can do most of what I need to do sitting down.

I hear from Informed Delivery that my watch, originally scheduled for delivery on Monday, will be delivered today! Ahem. By 6:30pm. I take leave to doubt this, and expect I’ll see it on Monday, per the original plan. If you’d like to start a betting pool, please step over to the left side of the room by the plants so you don’t impede the folks who want to get to the drinks, or the books.

In Real Life News, the hospital in Augusta, which will be taking the brunt of patients cut loose from Inland Hospital when it closes, is quietly freaking out. It’s been revealed that they, too, are in financial distress (honestly, they’ve been short of cash, doctors, and beds pretty much since they opened). Fun times.

Today will be Sedentary, given the dizzy thing. I will have to go downstairs to perform my duty to the cats, but that can wait a bit. Hopefully, the dizzy will abate.

We pause here for an Advertisement, a PSA and! and Author’s Plea.

Advertisement: Don Blyly, aka Uncle Hugo’s SF Bookstore, is mailing out signed hardcover copies of Diviner’s Bow as I speak. If you want a signed copy, email him at unclehugoATaolDOTcom. If you ordered Ribbon Dance from Uncle last year, and your credit card information has not changed, tell him that, too, and you can have your book in hand BEFORE the release date.

PSA: Related to the above: If, after you finish reading Diviner’s Bow, you find you want to talk about there, a Spoiler Space has been created for that purpose, here.

AUTHOR’S PLEA: I know it’s early days, and Amazon won’t open its review page until the release date, but please consider reviewing the book after you have read it. Reviews are vital. You may think that a series that’s been around since 1988 and has a devoted fan base wouldn’t need reviews — and you would be wrong. The Liaden books have been around for so long, they’re just part of the general landscape — people take them for granted. (This also happened to us when we went to cons — “Oh, it’s Steve and Sharon. They’re always around.” Until, yanno; they’re not.)

And with all that out of the way — My plan today is the comfy chair in my office: writing, homework, correspondence, aaaand . . . yeah, that’s it. The cats are all in their comfy spots, having enjoyed a mid-morning snack of crunchy salmon treats from Blue Wilderness, and despite the predicted race for Warmth, it’s a little cool in my office, due to lack of insolation.

Anyhoots, we’re pretty much content, if a little sleepy, here at the Cat Farm today.

Who else is having a contented day?

In which sleeping well is its own reward

What went before: So, I pulled the trigger on my Garmin watch this afternoon after I came home. After warning me that it could be Several Days before my package would be mailed, I have a shipping notice and the news that I should see my Item by March 17, so Happy Five Years Cancer Free to me.

I sat with the manuscript a bit, but got no new-word-writing done to speak of. Tomorrow, I have “nothing” on the schedule, so I will try to buckle down and actually get some work done.

I have one more thing to get out into the email lanes, then I’m done for the day.

Trooper, alas, has caught on to Spring Forward. He is even now positing that it is Coon Cat Happy Hour, which — it will be Old Time Coon Cat Happy Hour in just 1/2 hour.

That didn’t last long.

Chorus:  Now’s the time to preorder your signed copy of Diviner’s Bow from The Uncle.  Here’s how.

Wednesday. Sunny and cool. The ‘beans are calling for Cooler Than Yesterday.

Breakfast was homemade wheat toast with cream cheese and grapes. My first cup of tea is with me here at the desk.

The loaf of bread is almost gone, so one decision on the day is whether I’m making a new loaf today or defrosting the Extra. Lunch with be chicken patty on a roll with a slice of cheddar — a chickenburger! — and whatever veggies seem good at the time.

I didn’t go to bed last night as early as I had planned (mostly because Tali had actually come to my lap and gone to sleep while I was reading, and I didn’t want to leap right up and disrupt a Milestone), but I did sleep past 7 this morning, so, go me (and Firefly and Rookie who both slept with me), for 8 hours plus of sleep, and I feel much more The Thing today, with a noticeable lack of I ache all over, which is a relief all by itself.

So, the heart monitor is annoying, though not for the reasons you might think. It’s tiny and weighs pretty close to nothing. The phone part of the package runs Hot Pepper (Android 12), which isn’t that many generations back. I think the Pixel 9 in my other pocket runs Vanilla Ice Cream (Android 15).

However, the phone is desperate for attention, and it every so often gets up on its hind legs and triggers the alarm for Poor Skin Contact! Which is my cue to reboot, which mysteriously solves the problem for another three hours or so. Aside that, I do have to be careful about cats who want to sleep on my chest, and also Rookie, who thinks that Thing Two (the spare unit that’s kept on the charging cord on the night table) is some kind of weird cosmic spider that needs Serious Killing.

I have some letters to answer today, including a request for a “good” picture of Steve to be included on the page dedicated to the Steve Miller Memorial Poetry Contest. I have … a few … pictures of Steve, but none from his Performing Poet Period, that having predated my intrusion into his life. We may have to go with a paper plane, if I can find that one.

Other than that, I’m really wanting to do some work today, so maybe I’ll take the spare loaf out of the freezer, after all, in the spirit of limiting distractions.

What are you doing today that’s fun and/or interesting?

Ah.  Paper plane:

Time is for dragonflies and angels

Before we get started, a Shout Out:  Karen Rix Krah, if you are within the sound of my voice, please email me!  Thanking you…

What went before:  Boy, that sweet potato was good. One of the “Japanese” sweet potatoes, with the purplish skin and the white flesh.

I am currently rearranging the drawers in the pantry so I can centralize my baking stuff, and get to it more easily.

When Steve got taken with the need to rearrange things, or clean the house, he would say, “I’m writing — no, really I am.” And it did more often than not turn out that, next day, or that night, he’d be hitting the keyboard.

So, yanno — I’m writing.

Rook came out to the dining room to eat a few crunchies and keep me company. He’s gone back to the jetpak in the living room. Tali and Trooper are in my office with me, and Firefly is spending the day in Steve’s office.

Some Hours Later:  OK, the pantry makes more sense to me now, in re having all the most-used baking things in one accessible drawer instead of some way over my head, some more way down there, and the rest at waist level.

Firefly and Tali were having a game of tag — not sure where Tali is at the moment. Rook is playing with his robot mouse. Trooper is on the co-pilot’s chair with interested ears, trying to figure out What That Kid Is Doing without, yanno, actually getting up and looking.

Sunday

The Early Report: The cats woke me at 6, according to the bedroom clock, which I’ll need to change later. It was of course 7 and probably they’ve done me a favor, but I’m not feeling the love at the moment.

First cup of tea in hand, and I in my robe am sitting in the comfy office chair under a heated blanket, blinking owlishly at the sun rising over the Long Back Yard.

Oof.

Can we just choose one, please?

Later: Sunday. Sunny and chilly. Going to make a sprint for 40F/4C. So say the weatherbeans.

I did sit in the comfy chair, under the heated throw, for an hour, drinking my tea, and staring out the window, which I intend to recommence shortly after I finish writing this dispatch to the internets.

Breakfast was pb&j on an English muffin. Second cup of tea at hand. Lunch will be chicken and veggies. (Though I don’t usually report on the evening meal — last night I had a grilled cheese sandwich and It. Was. Awesome.)

I’ve stripped the bed and have made the Command Decision to retire the flannel sheets for the season. So, that’s A Thing.

And — always aside from one’s duty to the cats, and of course, remaking the bed — that may be all Real Life gets out of me today. I have got to fix this damn’ timing issue, or order in another barrel of handwavium. Or, yanno, both. Can’t have too much handwavium in Da Biz.

How’s everybody feeling today?

Bonus: For the folks wondering if I’ve “grown accustomed.” TED talk from Nora McInerny.  It’s short, and in my admittedly limited experience, accurate.

Today’s blog post title brought to you by the sainted Mr. James Thurber:  The Thirteen Clocks, which, if you haven’t read it — do that.  No, I mean now.

Back on the rocking horse

What Went Before: Tali’s fan club will be pleased to know that she is pronounced “a looker” by her vet, a little lean, but in perfect health. She has received her chip, gotten a pedicure, and had her ears cleaned.

Short story: Tali is still not certain that I have clearance to pick her up all the time, so I was feeling pretty good about having not only picked her up, but carrying her to the box with the bare minimum of wiggling, and into the box itself with only one curse word (from Tali). I latched the gate, and went to start the car.

By the time I got back, Rook had managed to unseat one side of the latch — which wasn’t enough to let her force the gate down, but I’d just like to say, Thank God that kid isn’t polydactyl. And also? He’s gonna be running this town by the time he’s five.

Tali is now home, and sleeping the sleep of the Justly Exhausted under the dining room table.

I am having a cookie, which may become two cookies (spoiler: it did become two cookies), and a cup of tea.

Thursday. Rainy and warm. Foggy as the snow sublimates.

Ashley’s due in an hour or so, and tonight is ASL class.

Breakfast was toasted English muffin with cream cheese and grapes. Lunch will be, um. Chicken. I baked chicken breasts yesterday, but opted for the last of the drunken noodles for my actual lunch. I’m pretty sure you can’t live on drunken noodles, but apparently I’m willing to try.

I straightened up my desk again yesterday afternoon. At least I have the answer to the question, “Why is there so much crap on this desk?” Because, in part, I’m writing a book, so paper accretion is A Thing, but also because I have two insurance cases open.

I did finally retire to the blanket fort, after downloading All Systems Red from Audible. I put on my headphones and closed my eyes. That appears to have been a Good Call.

Tali is swinging back and forth between, “Monster! You put me in the evil box and put the evil box in the car and TOOK ME AWAY.” and, “You brought me home from the evil place where all the ladies cooed over me and told me how beautiful I am. MY HERO!” I suppose she’ll get it sorted in a day or two.

A week ago, I ordered something from Across the Pond, and the Royal Mail has been my best friend ever since. They notified me when my packet was received into their system, when it had boarded the plane, when it landed (though not what it had had for tea), when it entered the tender care of the US postal service, and, this morning, that the packet had been welcomed at my local post office and was on a truck for delivery. If I had expected anything, I would have expected a cessation of correspondence from the Royal Mail once the package entered the care of the USPS, but no–apparently they’re going to see it through to the moment I sign the release. I’ll actually miss their letters.

I shifted all my notes and whatnot back to Steve’s office so Ashley can have a clear field when she arrives.

And that’s my news.

What’s yours?

Yesterday, the younger Directors decided to play Tic-Tac-Toe

Like a bird on a distant mountain

What went before Part One:  Spoke to the hospital billing office, which, predictably, blamed the insurance company.

Spoke to the insurance company, which originally said, “$X? You should owe +$X!” I asked if they would please look at the previous incident of my going to the walk-in clinic a week before to see how much I had been billed for that. She did. The insurance company has Opened A Case. I may, for 30 days at least, ignore the bill. Insurance company will call me when its investigations are complete.

Went out to get the mileage on the car so I can call the dealership.

Part Two:  All of my phone calls are made; all of my reservations are finalized.

As our navigator, Steve of course used to do all the route planning and hotel reservations. Even basing my route on one that he had refined, it’s exhausting.

I am now free to heat up and eat my lunch. After which I will perform my duty to the cats and possibly take a nap.

Part Three: No writing today. I am completely wiped out. Into the blanket fort with me!

Tuesday.  Gloomy and already nearly as warm as it was yesterday. The ‘beans tell us we’re looking at 44F/7C today, and rain.

Trash and recycling are at the curb.

Breakfast was oatmeal with dried cranberries and walnuts. Lunch will be the rest of the chicken pie.

Tali and Rook are chasing each other around the house. Firefly is on the back of the comfy chair in my office, and Trooper is in the copilot’s seat.

I do need to go out this morning to get my meds from the pharmacy. Prolly should get cat food and milk while I’m there. Maybe drive past the car wash. Surely, people won’t be getting their cars washed on a day when it’s going to rain? Heh. Heh.

For those who collect such things, my headshot and short bio are up at the BaltiCon 59 website.

BaltiCon is very organized; I’ve already heard from the Guest Liaison, and this morning have a letter in-queue from the head of programming.

I know it’s early days, but could I see a show of hands — who thinks they’ll be coming to BaltiCon?

raises hand

For today — I have the above-said errands, one’s duty to the cats, answering the programming letter, and writing.

Tali is now standing on my lap and nibbling my fingers — and off she goes.

What’s happening with you today?

Today’s blog title brought to you by The Blue Jays, “I Dreamed Last Night”

 

Don’t forget who’s takin’ you home

What went before: Well. I’ve made a timeline, and notes, and more notes. It looks like I’m going back to Station Day 48 to start, which is further than I thought I’d have to go.

I have an invoice from the plow guy, second of a set, which I need to check against the calendar, and then write a check. I note for interest’s sake, that the bill for February is exactly the same as the previous bill for the entire rest of the winter previous to February. Plowing is billed by the incident, which means it snowed as much in February, the — thank ghod — shortest month of the year, as it snowed in November-December-January, combined.

Tomorrow, I have to call Martin’s Point, because they billed me for an Out-of-Network specialist for going the walk-in clinic, which in theory should cost me nothing. The special part of that bill is that the procedure is listed as “miscellaneous.” Man, I took bookkeeping, be it ever so long ago. “Miscellaneous” is the Kiss of Death. Get it right the first time, why not?

Also tomorrow I have to make the reservations I didn’t make today because I wanted to write. Mind you, I expect that I’ll want to write tomorrow, too, so there’s a false economy.

I need a secretary. And a cook. And a housekeeper. And an assassin. Not necessarily in that order.

It did occur to me today that I could get everything done if I just went back to the desk after Coon Cat Happy Hour, and worked until midnight/1 am, like I used to do in Olden Times, when I would then also get up at 5:30 to go to my day-job.

. . . I suspect that might be a young person’s game . . .

Monday. Sunny and -3F/-19C. My office hasn’t warmed up yet, and I write to you in my Official Winter clothes of flannel shirt and jeans, with a fleece lap blanket.

Breakfast was the last of the Port Salut on toast with grapes. Second of what I fear will be many cups of tea to hand. Lunch will very likely be leftover drunken noodles.

Last night kind of went from bad to worse. I finally gave up on deciding if I was going to eat anything, made chamomile tea in a Yeti cup, took my book and went to bed, where I was speedily joined by Rookie the Cookie, Grandpa Trooper, and Tali (who hasn’t earned a nickname yet). We put on some soft jazz; I drank my tea and read, and finally went to sleep.

I had a dream where I was involved in a music festival/co-op/fund raising kind of … something. I got dragged into being a liaison between one of the bands and the set-up crew, because the guy who was supposed to be doing that work had been sent off on a round of errands and hadn’t come back yet. Things were a little confused, in the way of dreams — and music festivals, and fund raisers — but the original band liaison did finally come back just in time to rescue me as I was trying to explain how the band worked to one of the organizers, which wasn’t making happy listening for the organizer. The original liaison backed me, agreed to nothing with great cheerfulness, and got the organizer out the door, which he locked, then turned to me with a grin.

“I thought I’d find you here,” he said. “Did Angel pay you, or at least give you something to eat? Or did you want something else?”

“I was wondering if I could have the music for the last song in the set,” I said.

“That song? They don’t share that song, they only play it.”

“Well, I wanted to learn to play it,” I said.

He laughed. “Oh! In that case — let’s go find Angel.”

I woke up at 7 with Firefly tucked against my stomach.

Today, I have a cool three million — or at least six — phone calls to make, some letters to answer, my duty to the cats, and to stage the trash for tomorrow, if it ever warms up (the day, not the trash). I don’t actually have to be anywhere until Wednesday afternoon, when Tali has her meet ‘n greet at the vet.

And that’s it for right now.

How’s Monday treating you so far?

Today’s blog post brought to you by The Drifters, “Save the Last Dance for Me“