Tag: Trooper

Down in your sea of pens and feathers

What went before ONE: Back from the vet. Trooper was a Very Good cat, and spoke not one angry word to me on either side of the trip, and purred the whole time the doctor was examining him. He has lost more than the home scale had indicated, and right now the only thing we can do is … guess.

So! We’re guessing that he’s not in pain. We’re guessing that maybe? the steroids helped last time. And we’re guessing that maybe? there’s a low-lying infection that the antibiotic will root out.

Otherwise, he has Fading Old Cat Syndrome.

Thanks to everyone who has made suggestions for food. It’s not that he’s not hungry; it’s that he forgets what food is halfway through eating it. And he absolutely refuses dry food (aka crunchies) which, if he has a tooth infection (and no, neither the vet nor I want to sedate him at this point), the antibiotic will nail it.

In short. We’re doing what we can. And may I say that the medical literature for cats is really … sparse.

Cat census below. Tali’s fan club, and Rook’s, will be interested to see that she takes up considerably less room on top of the supply dresser than he does.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What went before TWO: The chapter-by-chapter is complete. Tomorrow, I map holes and make notes. The WIP is, roughly, half-written. Deadline is April 2026.

Onward.

Trooper ate a whole! can! of Fancy Feast! Which is something like 3.2 ounces, but hey.

Sarah arrives early tomorrow, so I’ll do a little bit of picking up before Happy Hour and my dinner.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Friday. Sunny and cool-so-far. Windows are open.

Sarah messages that a family emergency keeps her from making our date to have her clean this morning. Sigh.

Trooper has had about a can and a half of Fancy Feast; he has not thrown up, and is now sleeping/snoring in the copilot’s chair, so something’s working. Fingers crossed.

Since Sarah will not be coming by, I’ll deploy some vacuum cleaners and throw in a load of laundry (which I was going to do anyway), empty the dishwasher (ditto), and get to work. I need to bake some pork chops, so I’ll be heating up the oven.

Onward.

Trooper as reported is in the copilot’s chair; Tali is on the supply dresser, nose to the open window; Firefly’s gone downstairs, I believe, and Rook is taking advantage of Conditions.

How’s everybody doing this morning?

Today’s blog post title brought to you by Counting Crows, “Rain King.”

Errors and Anniversaries

What went before: So, back home and groceries put away. I saw the doctor, who is not accepting new patients, but was very helpful on the topic for which I had been referred.

Got the car washed, hit the grocery store, which was notable for the things that weren’t on the shelves — rice is decimated again, also cottage cheese and yogurt. Some shelves were empty, most were full, but the variety was down — six rows of salt and vinegar chips by the same company is kind of excessive? I bought some pork chops to make for the freezer, but gave up on trying to figure out chicken between the sizes and the prices. I had a bet with myself that I’d hit three large, and was only two bucks off.

I haven’t been to the post office, so I’ll do that!

After lunch.

How’s Wednesday at your place?

What went before: For someone who isn’t an artist, I have a bunch of crafty things around here. Today, I am grateful for my light box, which I guess nowadays is called a “copy board” on account of it isn’t a box anymore, but a flat sheet of acrylic. And I remain astounded that I should even know what a light box is, but doing layout opens many strange doors.

I finished off the day by going to the post office, 5 Below, and Reny’s. I thought I had managed to purchase three solutions, but only two work. Given the one that didn’t work cost less than $2, I don’t feel too bad about that.

Chatted with Trooper’s doctor on the phone, and as a result, Trooper will be visiting tomorrow morning. Then I have phone calls and? Maybe I can finish up the chapter-by-chapter and even get a spot of writing done. That would be nice.

I think I’ll be going out to the Designing Women craft fair at Longfellow’s in Manchester on Saturday. It’s been all summer and I haven’t been to a craft fair. …Unless you count going to Corning.

It is just coon cat happy hour, so I guess I’d better get with the program.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Thursday. Sunny and cool; a really lovely morning. Heading for the high 70sF, the start of a climb to the mid-80sF, which we’ll see on Saturday.

Up at 6. Fed Trooper his morning gravy, but declined to feed him anything more, because I’d really rather he didn’t throw up in the car.

Breakfast was a cheddar cheese on toasted raisin bread sandwich. Second cup of tea to hand. I need to make a pot of rice today, and I have no idea what lunch will be.

I’ve read the first half of the book club book and started Atonement Sky by Nalini Singh.

Trooper’s due at the vet’s in about an hour, and the rest of the day kind of waits on what we find out there.

Because a couple of people have asked this now, and because I’m puzzled about why this is suddenly a Confusion, let me say this!

I Dare by Sharon Lee and Steve Miller was first published by Meisha Merlin Publishing in February 2002 (which doesn’t seem possible, but let’s not go there right now), in hard cover and trade paper. It was republished as a mass market paperback by Ace Books, in 2003. It was republished by Baen as part of the omnibus trade paper Korval’s Game in 2011. It is being republished by Baen as an “anniversary” trade paper, with a new Author’s Afterword, in December 2025. It’s also been published in two or three ebook iterations.

So, to answer the question as it’s been put — Yes, I Dare was published “a long time ago.” In fact, it was first published 23 years ago. It’s also being reissued this year. Publishers do this. Authors like it, because it means the book is out there for new readers to find.

Baen has previously issued anniversary editions of! Local Custom, Scout’s Progress, Agent of Change, Conflict of Honors, Carpe Diem, Plan B. So this isn’t new territory for them.

Bonus Question: Why did I have to read the page proofs for I DARE, which has, after all, Already Been Published?

Bonus Answer: To find errors/typos. We/I read proofs from Meisha Merlin, Ace, Baen, and this pass I still found typos.

Lesson Learned: Just because a book has been published does not mean it is error-free. Or, as we say in the biz: There’s no such thing as a typo-free book.

And, while we’re doing the Time Warp: Agent of Change was first published in February 1988, when Steve was 37 and I was 35. I will very soon be 73, so — been doing this thing for half my life.

So, that. I should get the car out of the garage so it can warm up in the sun. Trooper has his Standards, after all.

What’s everybody doing today?

Have a picture of Perkin’s Cove this morning, courtesy of Barnacle Billy’s:

Through caverns measureless to man . . .

What went before ONE: And as I think about Annie Lennox and Tina Turner and the other people who were abused by their creative partners . . .

I was so very lucky to have had Steve in my life: he not only supported and contributed to my art, but he stood between me and people who would have abused me because of my art, and because I “think wrong.”

I say this in interviews pretty often, and will continue to say it, because it’s true: I am so very fortunate to have been able to spend most of my life living in, and exploring, a universe of my own making, and being . . . happy in my art.

. . . and I’m so very sorry that not everyone can have that.

Continue in response to a comment regarding the magnitude of loss: I’m going to say this badly, so apologies in advance for being inarticulate. Yes, it’s a debilitating, life-changing loss. But “loss” implies having had something.

So I look at what we had — do I regret having had those things? No.

I look at what we did — do I regret having done those things? Well — no life is perfect, and certainly, as suited to each other as we were, we weren’t perfect. We did stupid stuff; we were not always wise.

But I can’t regret the laughter, the partnership, the places we went and the joy that we shared. I certainly don’t regret the creative life we shared. We never were famous, or rich, or award-winners, but damn I’m proud of our work, our vision, and the sharing of it.

Am I sorry that what I had is gone? Yes. Yes, I am. And as painful as it is to be without the support, partnership, and love that I had, still I would rather that than what I felt when my mother died, which was, “Thank God she’s gone. She can’t ever hurt me again.”

There was a thing we used to say — “Better together than apart.” That was true; we brought out the best in each other. And I have that experience now; it’s part of the warp and weft of who I am.

And I don’t regret that.

What went before: Ack.

So, I made the phone call and snagged an early December appointment, and staged the trash, but I did not do the bookkeeping. Instead, I weeded the garden, because it really is that nice outside.

The boss says it’s OK to bounce the bookkeeping to tomorrow. She’s cool that way…

What went before TWO: SNIPPET:

“Which improbably puts me in mind of why I chanced to come this way,” Shan murmured. “Jen Sin, my dear, Miri wishes to speak with you.”

Jen Sin paused with his wine glass near his lips and looked up into pale blue eyes.

Shan shook his head, Terran-style. “Unlike some others of us, I know the difference between Miri and the delm.”

What went before THREE: And! The word count at the end of this round of WIP Correx is!

Sixty thousand nine hundred and ninety-five words.

I have the files that I pulled, but to preserve Auctorial Sanity, we are not counting those words.

The Weird Word List has been updated. Back ups have been made.

Tomorrow, I start with the Chapter-by-Chapter which will be the definitive map of Where the Holes Are.

Tomorrow, I am also interviewing a potential cleaner, and! It’s needlework night.

Tonight, however, I’m off the clock.

Or, I will be off the clock once I wash the dishes.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Tuesday. Cool and cloudy. Trash and recycling at the curb.

Breakfast was half a blueberry muffin and plain yogurt. Rookie would like his fandom to know that he really likes plain yogurt, and that Tali and Firefly don’t like plain yogurt, because they’re silly, but that’s OK, because that means there’s more yogurt for him.

Trooper, who has a record of enjoying a wee dram of plain yogurt from time to time, was not interested.

Trooper also informed me that the gravy which has been the only thing he would reliably eat for months now — deserved only to be buried. I broke out the just-arrived food chopper and pureed a can of gooshy food, which is, mind you, already gooshy, and he did eat — lap, whatever . . . most of that. He’s also lost a little more than a pound since August 4, according to the home scale.

These things are concerning, to say the least.

Now that the trash is out, Trooper has eaten something, and is napping while the other cats are occupying the windows in the bedroom, I’m going to start building the Chapter-by-Chapter.

I finished reading Stone and Sky last night, and started reading the book club book. For those who have been wondering what I’ve been reading — mostly rereads, and cozies — the list is here

How’s everybody holding up on the second day of the week?

Today’s blog post courtesy of Samuel Taylor Coleridge, a man who knew how to build an earworm.  “Kubla Khan”

Here’s a random Firefly pic as a reward for those who made it to the end of all that:  

My beacon’s been moved under moon and star

What went before ONE: All righty, then! Duty to the cats accomplished; walk walked; vacuuming and mopping done; grapes and cheese had for second breakfast; realized that every word I wrote yesterday is unnecessary, sigh, though the exercise did demonstrate what was necessary. Next up is my lunch, which will be a frozen box, because that’s exactly how ambitious I’m feeling.

I did not put my latest embroidery into my book — won’t fit for one thing. Instead, I sewed it to the hoop and hung it in the bedroom, where I’ll be able to see the Ribbons every day.

People want to know where I got the pattern, answering being “From a friend who was reducing her stash by increasing mine.” But! If you search of “Tales from the Hoop” you will find the Etsy shop from which it was purchased.

Trooper nagged me for food throughout all of the above, and I did serve him, but he’s not actually eating food today, just ordering it.

The weatherbeans that it’s 82F outside and the AQI is 154. We are, yes, on Station Air.

This has been your mid-day check-in.

What went before TWO: I have no idea how many new words I wrote today. Somewhere north of 1,390, but since I had to frog a scene — like I said: no idea.

The WIP entire now weighs in at +/-64,540.

In Other News, the page proofs for the anniversary edition of I Dare (first published by Meisha Merlin in February 2002) have landed and need to be back to the publisher by August 12. It’s printing out even as I type this.

Word production on the WIP may slow somewhat. Also? Reading I Dare at this juncture is going to be Interesting in several ways.

I Dare of course was the seventh book of the seven book series Steve and I had initially intended to write, and is also the book that introduces Theo Waitley.

Good thing I bought ahead on Irish Breakfast Tea.

We have entered the Time-Space Continuum known as Coon Cat Happy Hour, so I’ll be getting up to serve in a minute.

Trooper has begged for food constantly today, and rejects all but bisque. He has eaten three envelopes of bisque, so that’s at least something. I am . . . not quite very worried. Not quite.

And on that note — everybody stay safe.

I’ll see you tomorrow.

What went before THREE: Oh, Skydance’s conditions-of-sale guarantees actually helps me make sense of the farewell monologue from the host of After Midnight, in which she says she had honestly expected that the network would replace the host, not shut down the show. But the show’s executive producer was Stephen Colbert, and the host was a female stand-up comic about whom I know nothing, but that is, honestly, Just Me. She seemed very genuine in her opening remarks, including the thanks to her team and her guests and educating the audience in exactly how much work goes into putting on a show every. single. day. She remarked several times that people had said she was the only person who could have pulled this show off, and that, no, there were many many talented people who could have done it, some of whom she had been certain would be tapped for her replacement. (To be clear: she had decided, after two years, to leave TV and go back to her True Calling, doing live Stand Up, so she tendered her resignation, believing she would be replaced as host.)

It’s an interesting commentary. You can find it on Youtube.

But, Skydance! Skydance, as part of the conditions of sale has sworn to root out those in the former Paramount/CBS organization who are female, disabled, mean or sarcastic to little men with no souls, and abolish wokeness in all its flavors.

And, yanno, that’s not scary at all.

Is it?

Sunday. Sunny, breezy, and not warm yet. My office windows are open for the cats, but I expect I’ll have to go to Station Air mid-morning. We still stand, or, yanno, sit, beneath an Active Air Quality Alert. Apparently a Dark Plume of Particulates is extending itself over the region. Huzzah.

I slept for 7 hours and 44 minutes, it says here. Trooper did not smack me in the face, once. I attribute this miracle to sleeping with the covers pulled over my head, which was made possible by the cpap machine. Finally I find a good side to the damned device.

I’ve been kinda mooching around since I got up, doing the Sunday Slow Rise. It’s been . . . different. Different is good, I’m told.

Breakfast was homemade whole wheat toast, cottage cheese, and grapes. Lunch will be I Have No Idea. I will say that my experiment of meatballs and red sauce over bread the other day proved that this concept, um, needs work. Sadly, I have meatballs and red sauce left over — and absolutely no motivation to eat it.

As mentioned last night, the page proofs for the “anniversary” edition of I DARE (tradepaper, it says here, and I’ve written for confirmation that this is so), have landed. That’s 433 pages and 16 days, which means I need to Absolutely Read 27 pages a day. I’ll try for 50, because that will give me wiggle room, in case the sky falls and I can’t read one day.

Because my office is in Middle of Book Chaos, I’ll be setting the proofreading project up in Steve’s office, which ought to confuse the cats, so that’s worth doing.

So, recapping — Today’s to-do includes one’s duty to the cats, finding something to eat for lunch, proofing 50 pages of I Dare, and, should there be time and brain power, writing new words.

How’s your Sunday treating you?

Today’s blog post title courtesy of Golden Earring, “Twilight Zone.”

For rosebush fans, proof of life:

Peace and particulates

What went before ONE: So, I think this is done. I’ll wait a bit and see if I’m Called to do the rest of the dots in French knots. The instructions say “not necessary.”

EDITED TO ADD: Someone in comments said that the stars that are not graced with a French knot are further away, and that is brilliant, especially since I had been thinking maybe I should do the smaller stars with one strand, to give the field depth. And here the field already has depth. Duh.

What went before TWO: 500ish new words today, bringing the WIP to +/-63,250. Words really seem to pile up faster once you crack 50,000, don’t they?

I am not feeling as well as I would like. I’m thinking overtired, here, so The Plan is to eat my dinner, and hit the bed. If I can’t sleep late, maybe I can sleep early.

Trooper ate the tiny can of gooshy CD that I picked up at the vet’s today, when I went in to pick up his meds (he’s been eating the dry CD forever). I do know better than to buy a case of the stuff, because the next time I offer it, he’ll turn his nose up, but I might want to go out tomorrow and pick up another can or two.

No snippet today, I’m afraid. Maybe tomorrow.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

What went before THREE: The Long Back Yard is very peaceful this morning.

Saturday. Sunny and cool so far, but They Say it will get warmer, later, and! We’re under a Severe Weather Alert due to bad air quality, the villain being particulates. I guess I’ll go on to Station Air in a bit. Right now, the windows in my office are open, and each one has a cat on the sill, observing the day.

I used my Audible credit to buy Devil’s Cub, and went to bed early to listen, and eventually fall asleep. I don’t care as much for this (male) narrator, who seems to think that all women must sound hysterical, which is fine for Fanny, but not at all a good look for Leonie. Still, I did fall asleep, and slept the night through. I woke up at 6, but not because Trooper was smacking me in the face. So that’s already a better day.

Had my first cup of tea on the deck; the second is with me here at the desk. Breakfast, so far, was a slice of cinnamon-raisin toast with cream cheese. I have no idea what I’m eating for lunch, or for the rest of breakfast, actually. Sigh. Who is the Goddess of Food? We need to have a chat.

On today’s to-do is one’s duty to the cats, naturally; signing my ribbon dance embroidery and putting it in the embroidery book; taking an inside walk (ref Bad Air Day); and writing.

I still feel a little … off. I’ll take a page from Steve’s book and blame the air. Given the AQI is 157, that seems to be a reasonable scapegoat.

Firefly has determined which drawer in my office chest of drawers holds the Cat Dancer, and was just trying to open it. I guess I have My Orders.

How’s everybody doing today?

Pic of Rook and Tali, who really have buddied up, snuggling and squabbling like true siblings.

In which connectivity goes down, and up again

What went before: Wrote about 700 words, mostly expanding existing scenes. WIP currently stands at +/-62,500. I need to think about whose POV will be most fun in this next scene. I’m leaning toward Gordy, but Imma sleep on it, because my brain is tired. Along with the rest of me.

I sliced the bread and put it away (except for that one slice that fell face down in the butter, so I ate it instead of wasting it). Cleaned up the chaos of baking.

Trooper managed to work his way through one can of Fancy Feast tuna in gravy over the course of today, and now he’s punching me in the arm and demanding Happy Hour, right now!

Tomorrow morning, I have an appointment with the chiropractor and while I’m out will hit the vet for more probiotic, and the grocery for the essentials: wine, cat gravy, and fruits, plus whatever looks like it will be good in terms of things to eat for a Writing Weekend.

SNIPPET: WARNING: Possible Spoiler for Diviner’s Bow.

“And,” Priscilla’s voice came from unexpectedly near at hand. “Anthora must remember to ask her brother about his own adventures building a lifeline and how he was rescued by his eldest daughter.”

“By Padi!” Anthora exclaimed, and the sullen look was quite gone from her face, replaced by startled glee. “Absolutely, you owe me that story, Shan-brother!”

“I also have an interest,” Val Con murmured. Miri came to his side and slipped an arm around his waist.

“Me, too,” she said.

“And I,” said Ren Zel.

“Everyone shall have the story!” Shan cried over this growing tumult. “However, I insist that we proceed in an orderly manner, dealing with the most important matters first. For instance, my glass is empty. Who is with me for a refill?

Friday. Sunny and going to be hot, for Maine values &c.

Breakfast was scrambled eggs and potatoes with homemade toast and strawberry jam. Lunch may be meatballs in red sauce over bread. With cheese. Need a veggie, there. Or, yanno, not. Red sauce is a veggie, right?

Trooper has already eaten half a (smol) can of seafood feast in gravy with his meds (because I ran out of bisque and he now will not eat the stew, apparently because it has icky inclusions of real food. I need to call the vet and get some more probiotic. I’ve only been getting ten packs at a time, but maybe I should get more? I have no idea, but I’m guessing it will be useful to someone, if we don’t finish it all, here.

Firefly joined Trooper on my lap last night and they had a little cat love fest, which is nice to see. Trooper’s grandkids — well. technically Firefly is his niece, since she came from the same cattery — are very solicitous of him. They stop by to clean his ears and they sleep near him. Yesterday, Rook forgot himself and grabbed onto the back of Trooper’s neck to wrassle, and Tali let go with a roundhouse that knocked Rook right off the bed, then she licked Trooper’s ears and curled up next to him.

As previously advertised, I have an appointment with the chiropractor this morning, then some errands, then I hope to have a productive weekend of writing.

At some point, I’m going to have to get some time — by which I mean a couple of days — where I can focus All My Scant Brain Power on the WIP, to see what I have, which piece goes where and which pieces still need to be written. I really don’t have much time-in-a-chunk right now, because of Trooper’s necessities. OTOH, there are still pieces I know need to be written, so I’m good for the moment.

SPEAKING OF WRITING — I once again remind people not — that’s NOT — to give me “story ideas.” If I need suggestions, I will ask for them. In the meantime, if your unsolicited suggestion happens to hit something I was going to do anyway, but haven’t gotten to yet (not, in most cases “forgotten about”), I will drop that idea. This is because some people are stoopid and evil, and I don’t want a lawsuit at this time in my life, OR to be cut off from the intellectual property that supports my household. Thank you for your attention to this minor but important detail.

So, South Park! I have to tell you I had no idea South Park was still A Thing. Also, Satan needs a better dating app.

One thing about getting up at 6 am? The morning goes on forever. I’ve got time to perform my duty to the cats before I head out to my appointment.

What’re y’all doing today?

Below, coon cat love-in with Trooper and Firefly, and Tali and Trooper in the sun

I had a premonition that I should not go alone

What went before: One thousand two hundred seventy-three new words today, bringing the WIP entire to +/- 61,750.

Trooper has not eaten so very much today, and he several times came to me, crying, but it wasn’t food OR cuddles that he wanted. I tried brushing him (very carefully, with a slicker brush; his fur’s gotten so thin, I’m afraid I’ll scratch him), and he purred. Then he jumped down and fell asleep with all the rest of the cats, in or near one of the open windows.

It’s almost Happy Hour, after which I have another couple things to do, but basically, it’s Quittin’ Time.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

SNIPPET:
Anthora pressed her lips together. Val Con turned to stare at her.

“Hold. Is this what I was scolded most soundly for doing on behalf of my lifemate?”

“Yes,” Anthora said, sounded goaded. “But you had done it stupidly.”

Thursday. Sunny and going to be warmer. Station air is on.

Yep, up at 6 again, though I did successfully repel borders at 4.

Today, we bake bread. The ingredients have been measured and are coming up to room temperature while I eat some vanilla skyr, drink my first cup of tea, and update the internets on the doings here at the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory.

After two “good” days in a row, Trooper again refused his gravy-with-meds. I foresee a long and fretful day, though he’s sleeping in the copilot’s chair right now.

The other cats are about. Firefly is overlooking the front garden and lawn. Rook is hanging out in front of the pantry, in case I open it again. He’s *fascinated* by the Wall that Opens. I’m not sure where Tali’s got to, which probably means she’s in a window, behind the curtains.

I didn’t manage to make either of my phone calls yesterday, and, honestly? It’s not looking good for today, though it occurs to me that I might be able to send an email to one of them. I can manage that.

Sigh. Raise your hand if you hate making phone calls.

What else? Oh. I need to add (at least) one thing to the scene I wrote yesterday, and go back a couple scenes to place Mr. Foreshadow.

Ah. Tali arrives in a burst of skitter-scramble-bam! She’s found a spring to play with. Rookie is now under the standing desk, which is in the UP position, pouting because I didn’t give him /a/n/y /o/f my cup of skyr.

Aside the bread, and my duty to the cats, and that maybe-email, that’s all I have on the list of chores. So, hoping to write another scene this afternoon.

What’re you doing today?

Today’s blog post brought to you by Mr. Glenn Frey, “Smuggler’s Blues”

Last night, I had help getting ready for bed:

Tired writer is tired

What went before ONE: So many kindred Rock Spirits! That’s So Cool.

Trooper has had another half can of “in gravy” — seafood mix, I think — licked up all the gravy and ate about half the food. Yesterday, I would have sworn he was on Death’s door step.

What do I know?

I did clip his claws, so hopefully no more face scratches, though honestly I would prefer not to get smacked by an importunate cat at 6 am at all.

I have placed stickers on the back window of my car, which display my Affiliations. On the left, the Hubble Space Telescope sticker given me by Lauretta Nagel. And on the right, a cat fish sticker — which is to say a cat that has really lovely koi-like fins and tail.

Funny story about that. I had a tshirt from Balticon 37, where Steve and I were Writer GOHs and Sheila and Omar Rayyan were Artist GOHs. The tshirt was of a catfish — aka, a cat with a fish tail, and I loved it so much I wore it out. But before that day came, I was wearing it when we went down to Old Orchard Beach one day, and in the course of our Adventuring stopped at the rest area sort-of across from Eartha. And a Small Child saw my shirt and planted himself in front of me and demanded, “What kind of animal is that?” to which I answered, truthfully, “It’s a catfish,” and passed on. Behind me I could hear his mom — or at least, the adult woman he was with — saying to him, “Never mind. She was telling you a joke.” I didn’t hear if she clued him in to what the joke was, but I kinda hope she did…

What went before TWO:  Getting pounded awake at 6 am is not working out for me long-term. Just got up from a nap. I’m guessing there will be no writing done today.

OTOH, Trooper has eaten two Fancy Feast cans of Whatever in Gravy, and made a start on a third.

Wednesday? I think so. I’m starting to get a little off-footed on what day it is, which is … annoying. Outside the office windows, it’s sunny and cool. Going to be warmer later, but not, yanno, hot.

Breakfast was leftover dhal. Second cup of tea to hand. I have chicken for lunch, and a veggie to be named later.

Yep, up at 6 again. This morning, I got up when Trooper yelled in my ear, figuring he was going to win, anyway, and not wanting us to start the day at odds. He yelled me all the way down the hall to the kitchen, yelled while I mixed his meds into the gravy, and yelled me back to the bathroom, where he was served.

He’s now conked out on the copilot’s chair and my nerves are starting to settle. Trooper has a very effective yell.

Since I was up, I threw a load of laundry in, to sort of prove that I was relevant, and now I’m waiting for my brain to catch up with being awake, because I have a bunch of /t/h/i/n/k/i/n/g creative labor I need to do today.

break for Rook to throw himself into my lap, snorgle my cheek and pat my hair. “There you go, Mom, NOW you’re ready to face the day. An’ if that creative labor gives you any cat sand, you send ’em to ME.” Thanks, Rookie.

ANYhow, I’ll have a shower after I finish my tea, and try to shock the system into wakefulness. And, yanno, there’s always more tea.

I have two phone calls that I really need to make, but I haven’t been able to scrape together the OOMph to get them done. I’m hoping to make at least one of them today.

I need a secretary, or maybe I mean a keeper.

On that topic, sort of, when I was down in Bath a few weeks ago, I passed one of those, um, retirement communities, and I briefly thought that it might be … interesting to live in Bath, so I made a note of the place’s name and when I got home, I filled out internet form for more information, and, I mean —

snort

I don’t want to mock people who are more substantial than I will ever be, but … let’s just say that if I did have an extra five hundred grand laying around to buy a “cottage”? The monthly fees are more than the mortgage payments on this house (which are, yes, low, because Steve insisted we refinance in that bygone day when money was for some reason cheap), but even at the original less cheap rates. And then you have to do the things you do, anyway, like eat, and put gas in the car, and (I think this is not included) pay to keep the lights and the heat turned on.

And, let’s face it, I’m not moving out of this house. For one thing, I don’t want to move, period. For another, the house is put together to remind us — and now me — on any daily walk-through what it is we chose to do with our lives, and how that worked out for us, and there are some days when I really really need that reminder.

Well. My tea is gone, and the laundry needs to be shifted from the washer to the dryer, so I guess it’s time to get shakin’.

What’s going on with y’all?

Cat census:

Stones are the bones of the earth

What went before ONE: Making dhal for (my) lunch.

Trooper resting comfortably in the copilot’s chair. Firefly in the box on the desk. Rookie stretched out on my papers on the desk. Tali resting in Steve’s office.

Apparently, we’ve all had a rough morning and are seeking comfort.

What went before TWO: +/-970 new words today, which means! The WIP has broken 60,000. We may actually be able to do this thing.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Tuesday. Sunny, cool, and pleasant. Trash and recycling are at the curb.

The rose continues to survive in the front garden. I continue to apply chili powder around the base.

Trooper ate a pouch of gravy with meds included, and half of a three ounce can of Fancy Feast Grilled Tuna and Cheddar in gravy. Which is to say! He licked up all of the gravy, but then he actually did eat some of the food.

Trooper is on-deck to get his claws trimmed today, because he scratched my face this morning as he was pounding on me to get up, get up, GET UP AND FEED ME, WOMAN!

I? am very tired.

This morning, I would like to talk about rocks. Rocks have been a lifelong passion. When I was a kid, I read everything I could about rocks. I took a summer class in rocks in elementary school. I picked up rocks to take home and study. I could tell a igneous rock from a sedimentary rock, from a metamorphic rock. I loved agates, and my bucket list included finding garnets in the wild. I kept a Rock Notebook. I would talk for hours about rocks to anybody who made the mistake of asking me what I liked.

I just Loved Me some rocks, OK?

In adulthood, I kept with the picking up of Cool Stones. I would talk to Steve about rocks, mostly because he never learned not to say, “So, tell me about this one. What made you pick it up?”

And for one birthday, he surprised me with a trip into the Maine mountains to a “played out” quarry, where you could fill up a bucket with the broken stones from the discard heaps, then go sit under a tent and sift them, looking for tourmalines.

Best. Birthday. Present. Ever. And I was over 50 at the time.

I still have a lot of the rocks from that trip, even after having given away a box or two. A week or so ago, I decided to put some of the more interesting ones out on the deck on the table and let the rains cleanse them. Many of these rocks have inclusions; many have pits, where iron crystals had formed and then rusted away. A couple are just big chunks of black tourmaline. Some have quartz crystal inclusions, some, I think are garnets, but they might just as well be pink tourmaline. Some of the rocks are slabbed with mica, and, yes, there are tourmaline inclusions in almost every one. Very small tourmalines, mostly black. Black tourmaline is not as valued as the other colors.

[Taking a break to see what Trooper has made of the second half of the can of tuna and cheddar, and? The plate was clean (I put a closed door between him and the kids for this, so he dines in seclusion sometimes; other times, I butle for him.).]

OK, back to rocks. I’ve been checking the rocks on the outside table every morning, turning them and oohing and aahing over each new reveal. This morning, as I was performing this ritual, I noticed that the rains had really cleaned up a rock I particularly liked, and I could see crystals in its pebbly surface. And several of those crystals were green.

This is very exciting. Moreover, the rain has revealed in addition to white quartz crystals, and the green, many, many orange-ish crystals, which had given the piece its “pebbly” affect. This is basically a crystal farm, growing on a granite base.

Happy sigh

Thank you for listening to me talk about rocks.

Today at 11 I’m expecting an arborist, who will tell me now much it’s going to cost to take the scary pine trees at the head of the drive down before the winds knock them down and they hit the house, taking a swath of wires with them. Tonight is needlework. Between now and then, I have my duty to the cats, and I wish to write. And, yes, trim Trooper’s claws — that smack was way too close to my eye.

So! What childhood passion still makes you happy as an adult?

Have some pictures. On the table of rocks, those two black chunks? Those are black tourmaline.

For Trooper’s Fan Club

DISCLAIMER:  This is not an easy read.  If you don’t wish to read about the end-of-life situation of elderly coon cats, and their equally elderly caretaker, please pass on.  I’ll look forward to checking in with you again tomorrow.

Background: My first cat was Archie McGee, who came to me as an orange-and-white kitten some time Pre-Steve — say, the early 1970s. Some years later, when Archie was grown, I met Steve Miller. He had a gray and white cat of Extremely Regal Bearing named Arwen. The combined household eventually acquired a third cat, a brown tabby barn cat named Brandee. Steve and I kept cats together for 47 years. We have nursed sick cats, and assisted failing cats through their last days. And when we were let to know that it was Time, we let them go, with grace and love.

Trooper is 15 years old; 16 in December. He’d been fine until last summer when he began to lose weight. He was still sharp and took an active paw in raising his grandson. He took it … badly when Sprite left us (as did we all), and that was when he began to decline. He’s been steadily losing weight, and getting more and more demanding and more and more forgetful.

The problem here is not that his appetite is not tempted, nor that he is “sick” (all his blood work comes back perfect), but that he forgets food while he’s eating it. He will, in fact, no longer eat crunchy food, though he will eat a few hand-fed crunchy treats, and (sometimes) freeze-dried chicken treats. He will not eat chicken baby food, the first cat I’ve ever had that refused this delicacy. He’s … disinterested in tuna water, and mostly ignores tuna. He will eat Delectables gravy, which is not food, necessarily, but he will lap it up — until he forgets what he’s doing, and then I need to show him the bowl again, push his nose down, and he remembers and finishes. He will eat the so-called “stews,” by which I mean, he will lick up the gravy and ignore the inclusions.

This morning, after having smacked me over and over again to get up and feed him, he looked at his bowl, uncomprehendingly. What was this strange thing? I stirred the gravy and offered again — still no recognition. I took the food up. He started yelling at me to feed him. When I went on making my breakfast, he curled up in his box on the desk. Later, I offered the gravy again. Again — no idea what this is, Mom. I offered freeze-dried chicken and he ate a chunk. Then he figured out the gravy.

According to the vet, Trooper’s problem is dementia. While there are apparently therapies for dogs that somewhat mitigate their symptoms, or at least the attendant anxiety (because Trooper knows there’s Something Wrong), there are none for cats. I don’t know about CBD, but I feel that his vet would have mentioned it, if she thought it would help. She’s not a newbie, either.
I am going on at length with this because while these things have been reported in bits and bobs, as I mention what I do during my day, I have not laid the whole thing out in one place and some folks are coming in late, having not heard the whole story.

I am not asking for advice. I am taking expert advice, and I’m feet on the floor here, in a very fluid situation.

I do thank everyone for your support and concern.

Here’s a picture of Trooper this morning: