Tag: writing

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?

In which the squeaky wheel gets the worm

Thursday. Sunny and chill. The cats are sitting in the sliders in Steve’s office, squirrel watching. Am sitting in the comfy chair in my office. Drinking a cup of Darjeeling, I think, (edited to add:  It was Lapsang Souchung) and basking in the happy lite.

I find that I really don’t have much to say this morning. I’m going to go get breakfast and hide inside my story.

How’s everybody doing?

Dictated to my phone
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Worked. Made stirfry for lunch. Scrubbled cats. Have a few things to clean up in the business office, need to wash the pots ‘n pans, and do one’s duty to the cats.

Then I believe I shall go back to Steve’s office and recover the old, ill-tempered GNOME-based system, because COSMIC? Is not ready for prime time. I hate it that stuff gets released when it doesn’t work, and by “doesn’t work” I mean — surely, the primary use of a computer is to handle files? I means, yes, they also do math, and play music, and host games, but these things are also file-based.

I see No Benefit to … anyone … in a computer system that can’t reliably cope with its own files. So — big step back for me, and fingers crossed that the recovery process is fairly seamless.

In other news, not content to nag me to sell my house, now there are people who want to buy my car. Given a new Forester costs on the order of +/-$40grand and I’m being offered +/-$27grand for my current Forester — I don’t see the appeal, aside having a new car, and it happens I ain’t jonesing for a new car right now.

For those keeping score, the snow is melting fast under the sun and (cold) breeze. I had a go at smashing up the ice in the driveway yesterday, which, among other things, is pretty good therapy. However, I will not be so indulging myself today, because I really can’t afford for my back to go out again.

I have not today seen the news, but I don’t suppose we’ve jumped to a better timeline. Call me a pessimist.

I think that’s all I’ve got.

Hope y’all are having a good day.
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I’ve been having a fascinating discussion with System76 Tech Support, who assures me that COSMIC is functional for many of their users, and incorporates all of the things those users depend on, which — it boggles my brain, but I Am Only A Writer, and this thing is barely doing anything that I need and depend on.

Apparently, however, the ability to order one’s own desktop is not a top-tier “feature.” They’re still working on that one and should have it ready by June.

In the meantime, the recovery … didn’t, so I’m kinda stuck. Happily, I am from the Past and still have access to sneaker-net. But it is kinda off-putting that I can’t backup my day’s work to the portable drive (in addition to Dropbox), because while I can see the damned thing in the margin, when I hit Copy Files To — it disappears.

*throws hands in air* *catches them*

Anyhoots. I did work today. Tomorrow morning, Sarah comes to clean, and sometime tomorrow my first delivery from CookUnity will arrive.

Exciting times.

Everybody have a good evening. I’ll see you tomorrow.
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Squeak, squeak, squeak.

Tech Support sent me a restore file, which I flashed to a thumb-drive and booted from and!

I’m back!

And all of my files are intact!

Cabana boy! Wine!

And a glass!

Anything can happen day

What went before: Wednesday. Sunny and cold. Snowed a couple in on the overnight and today the beans are calling for temps near 50F.

My lap is Cat Central at the moment with Tali and Firefly, bumping, purring, prancing, and putting my tea in peril.

The plan for today is to write, write the small breaks for chores and meals. I really really want to get this book done.

What’s everybody doing today?

Dictated with some difficulty to my phone
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Firefly, Queen of the Toys

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I have Done Work. I’m not how much work, because I am now entering the squishy bit of the narrative, where I was just writing stuff down to hit a stopping point.

Tomorrow, I think I need to go back and mumblemumble, which will in theory help me to see the firm ground to the Real The End.

In the meantime, Steve’s computer is upgrading to COSMIC DESKTOP, which is reported less quarrelsome than GNOME. Not that I’ve noticed GNOME being particularly quarrelsome, but I’m not a developer or a programmer, and System 76 does all the quarreling on their side of the transaction before ever it gets to me.

The cats are politely rampaging all over my office, in a gentle attempt to point out that it is Happy Hour.

Spoiler: It is not.

God She knows how we’re going to weather the time change. P’rhaps I’ll lock myself in the basement at 4 pm.

And so glad to hear, as I emerge from a day of staring at words, that congress doesn’t care to stop the little man from burning the earth. So I guess that’s fine, then.

Sigh.

Everybody stay safe. I’ll check in tomorrow.

I hate this timeline.
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Oh, dear. So not a fan of COSMIC, which has sorted my desktop files into a configuration that possibly makes sense to it, but does not make sense to me, and — I can’t reorder them. This is not only Not Cool, but it’s actively upsetting. I need to have the files in a Certain Place that makes sense to me.

Sigh.

Also, I lost my cool wallpaper, which is a shame, but not fatal.

Have written to System76 Support. They’re gonna love me, over at Support.

Write like a girl

Monday. Full moon shining down through the clerestory window in my office.

It has been a long, strange day. I wrote, broke for lunch, and did a few chores, then when back and wrote some more. Ghod this is easier with two brains. Ahem. Having said that, I’m not precisely sure where the day went.

It must have been the Gala Celebrations that put me on the wrong foot.

Now I know that my tax rate has increased from 12% to 21%, and what that means in actual dollar$, I was able to write the check to pay off the installation of the sliding doors in Steve’s office. And there will be no more of that sort of frivolity in my life going forward, ref 21% above.

Tomorrow is All Errands All The Time. Wednesday and Thursday, most of Friday and Saturday, Sunday, and Monday are cleared for writing. Also, I really wish my brain was on my side, rather than the chancy ally it is. Flogging myself into a lather is really counterproductive, but all I can do is work around it.

I am, for those who have not given up on the whole Liaden Read-along, currently reading Scout’s Progress, which, every time I read it, I think “Yanno? This is my favorite Liaden novel.” It, with Local Custom, are of course the two Liaden novels Most Vilified by the Real Man Chapter of Real SF Readers.

Steve got not one, not two, not six, but many letters from chapter members urging him to “take control of his wife,” “clear all that relationship crap out,” and “write ‘real’ stories”. It would have been comical if they hadn’t been so angry.

I’m reminded of … Hawthorne? “That damned mob of scribbling women?” — I’m pretty sure it was Hawthorne. Local Custom and Scout’s Progress are worldbuilding masterpieces, though I say it of my own work. In addition, they are subversive, as all “real” fiction should be, and SF most of all. The characterization is flawless, the dialog is lovely, and — I’m just really proud of them, right?

But because they show the differences between cultures in terms of relationships, and families; in terms of the welfare of a child, and a woman who isn’t safe in her home — they were, as several chapter members who probably had never read one opined — “Mills and Boon garbage.” As well as “a disgrace,” and “not SF at all.”

Well. Rant off, I suppose. I should get something to eat, and a glass of wine seems to be in order.

I hope everyone had a good day. Yes, I’ve seen the news.

Stay safe. I’ll check in tomorrow.

Same as it ever was…

Saturday. The almost-full moon is casting tree-shadows over the snow in the Long Back Yard.

I wrote new words today! And did actual Brain Work on the WIP. And changed the bed, and did a load of laundry, and one’s duty the cats; made lunch and was able to eat it, after.

Yes, we have reached the part of the whole pain thing where — POOF! All gone. Just joking. You may now carry on with your life until I decide to randomly take five freaking days and fill them with pain and despair.

Sigh.

The cats were very happy that I joined them in Steve’s office to work today. It really is the preferred space for serious endeavors, though the comfy chair in my office is, of course, very nice.

I made the Executive Decision to join Cook Unity, and have ordered in four meals, which will be delivered on Friday. This means I am guaranteed to have four (hopefully) good meals to eat, and will take the whole Cooking Angst off of my Angst Plate, which is currently overfull with Deadline Angst. I’m viewing this as a short-term thing to lower the overall anxiety in the household. Since they say I can cancel or put it on hold at my discretion, as soon as the book’s turned in, I’ll be doing that. Yes, I need Staff. Also, probably, a keeper.

Looking forward to next week — we have Rookie’s second birthday on Monday, March 2. All of Tuesday is reserved for errands, with needlework in the evening. Wednesday, Thursday, and most of Friday I am Free to Write, and on Saturday?

I’m going to a magic show.

So, I’m really, yanno, happy, that my back has decided to return to normal.

Yes, I’ve seen the news.

How’s everybody doing?

Oh.  Here’s a picture of Rook helping me make the bed.

The marvel is not how well the bear dances . . .

What went before: Wednesday. Snowing and partly sunny.

Despite the distress it will of course cause his fandom, I am forced to report that Rookie the Cookie is a Schmuck. Or possibly only a Jerk. He’s been knocking stuff off the shelves in the Tech Room — notably, bottles of liquid toner, which apparently make a lovely thud-SMACK sound when they land (honestly, it’s a very distinctive sound; I can recognize a toner bottle hitting the floor from two rooms away). I expect he doesn’t really know that I can’t easily pick the damn’ things up right now, but — aargh. Get a cat, they said, they’ll be fun. Get a Maine Coon Cat, they said. They’re very interested in their people and like to engage.

In other news, despite having felt somewhat better last night, I’m back to Square One (minus the THC) this morning. It occurs to me that I better line up a ride to my appointment at Thayer tomorrow afternoon, which — aargh x 2. I hate bothering people to do stoopid stuff for me.

I’ve written to my PCP regarding pain management — the idea being that, going in the front door with back pain (yes, I’m doing my PT homework) needs to be supported by another approach, because even my therapist said that this will keep happening, only as my core gets stronger, an episode will last … less long. What I want, of course, is The Grail: something that will kill the pain, or get it down to manageable levels, and neither make me sick or fuzz me out, so I can write. And so I’m not a danger to myself or to the cats. That’s important, too. As is eating. It’s ridiculously hard to eat when you’re in pain.

The cats are taking good care of me — well. Firefly and Tali are checking in regularly to administer lap-sits and purr therapy.

Rookie’s knocking shit off the shelves in the Tech Room.

In addition to pain management brainstorm, I arrived at the opinion that I should also figure out ways to work even when I’m feeling this bad. So! I have moved Writing Operations to the comfy chair in my office (which has been Back Pain Central), rigged up the laptop with my favorite keyboard, and brought the WIP, and the portable hard drive here, too. So, hopefully, I’ll be able to continue with fixing stuff that’s already been written, and that this episode of painful nonsense will vacate before I realio, trulio need to start producing New! Copy!

So, that’s the somewhat muddled news from the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory.

How’s everyone doing?
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So, that was no fun at all.

I don’t want to get ahead of myself but I may have gotten around the Horn. Of course, I’m shaky because I haven’t eaten anything for 3 days except peanut butter crackers (Note to self:  Buy peanut butter crackers; the damn things are lifesavers.) to buffer the meds.

I do have a ride lined up for my appointment this afternoon, so that’s good, and my intention is to actually have breakfast and then come back to the comfy chair, do some work on the WIP, and not push things. And eat snacks. What a time to be out of hummus. Bad planning, past me.

Firefly is on my lap and purring.

I’m almost done my Russian Caravan tea Christmas present (Note to self: buy more Russian Caravan tea).

And that’s that’s the fascinating Thursday report from the cat farm and confusion factory.

Dictated to my phone.
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Did some work on the WIP, actually ate food. Steve Symonds gave me a ride to and from the hospital for my test, so that’s taken care of. Managed to get the cat fountains changed out, which has been really bothering me. I’m such a bad cat mom. Talked to the accountant, and — ouch. Not unexpected, but still. Ouch. I’ll pick up the papers on Monday, when — fingers crossed — I hope to be Fully Operational.

In the meantime *whispers* my back is not hurting, which places as a Minor Miracle, and what I really want to do is go curl up (figuratively) and read Local Custom.

May I just say what a great job we did with Local Custom? The gradual unfurling of the leaves of character, the! worldbuilding!, the things that are said so very plainly and yet don’t mean the same thing to the person you’re talking with and — I swoon. No, really.

Damn, I wish I could write like that.

Also? There’s a description — a Very Detailed Description — of a counterchance board. I. Had. No. Idea.

So, anyway, I see the tax stuff, and that I have to Move Monies in order to satisfy the IRS and the State of Maine, but yanno what?

Imma go read.

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

No…really. I will.

Tali collecting overdue ear scrubbles:

Office Closed Tomorrow

Exercises in Futility Number Five Thousand Four Hundred Thirty-Three.

Google Home Assistant: And! I can do more things now. You can ask me complex questions and I’ll be able to answer with help from Gemini!

Me: Hey Google. Why did the AI companies steal my life’s work?

Google Home Assistant: . . .I’m sorry. I don’t understand.

Yeah, me, too, Google. Me, too.

Well.

The WIP currently stands at 129,943 words. I’m still fixing the baby fixes. Once that’s done, I need to write some scenes and put them where they belong. Deadline is April 15.

I have Remarks for my event on Saturday. I have also a Reading.

It is not supposed to snow on Saturday, but it will snow on Friday night.

In the meanwhile, and as much as I haven’t been around this week — tomorrow, February 20, the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory will be closed. Thank you for your understanding.

Everybody stay safe.

Tali and Rook, birdwatching

Upcoming scarcity of Rolanni

Sunday.

No screaming today, though I’m being hard on myself for not getting “enough” done on the WIP. That I’ve rearranged several chapters and rewritten four more is the merest bagatelle.

I really need a time-turner.

This week upcoming has me phoning The Earth tomorrow. Tuesday, I’m wanted in Bath at an Unghodly Early Hour, with needlework in the evening. Firefly visits her vet on Wednesday afternoon. Thursday is blessedly free. Friday morning, Sarah’s scheduled to come in and clean, and it is also the 2nd anniversary of Steve’s death. I’m giving a talk at the library on Saturday afternoon, when it’s supposed to — *checks wunderground* — ah. Downgraded to “snow showers.” Much better.

It is entirely possible that I will not be much around for the balance of this week.

Everybody be well. Stay safe.

I’ll look in as can.

The Friday Report

Sigh. Friday. A semi-productive day, enlivened by random moments of wishing to scream. An Executive Decision has therefore been taken.

Tomorrow is a Writer’s Day Off, even though I feel like I don’t have the luxury of time. I gotta get outta this house, and the Plan is to go to the Inside Farmers Market in Belfast tomorrow, and Have an Outing. I give myself permission to spend money on frivolities. Possibly, I will even eat lunch.

Hopefully this will address the Inclination to Scream.

In the meantime, Rook has convinced Tali that it is too Happy Hour, so I will be making up the bed for the night, and possibly finding something Silly to watch while I have a glass, or two, of wine.

I hope everyone had a delightful Friday the Thirteenth.

Be well. Be safe.

I’ll check in as can.

For Art! and Science!

I . . . have been remiss in updating the blog, for which my apologies.  The last couple days have been not much worth writing about anyway — mostly reading and doing daily chores, with intermittent sadness.

That said, we move on to!

Monday midday already. Sunny and cold. I put paper plates of seeds out on top the snow on the deck. I prolly shouldn’t have done, but I miss seeing the birds. The cats are fascinated and the new sliders in Steve’s office gets them right up close and personal.

I called Dead River this morning, while I was still sitting under the glow of the Happy Lite, and was therefore taught the new method of oil delivery. Back in the Old Days, the oil truck came on — oh, Tuesday. Or possibly every other Tuesday. But, they delivered to a schedule, which they could be expected to keep, to top off the tank. This was … simple. We have now graduated to a more complex system, wherein oil usage for a particular address is calculated, using known data, and when the oil tank at that particular address reaches what ought to be one/third full, an oil delivery is triggered.

I pause here to mourn simplicity.

The helpful office person I spoke with at the crack of dawn this morning explained this to me, though she could not tell me when the delivery would be triggered. We left it that a truck would come by sometime this week to top off my tank, and then I will Observe the System in Real Time, so that I may see for myself how well it works.

Moving on. Yesterday, my back hurt, and my hands hurt, and — let’s just say that I was a hurtin’ person, enough that I was aware that I was hurting. After I finished my work with the WIP, and had written a draft of my Remarks, I decided to field test a gummy. For Science!

I cut a gummy in half (taking it from 10mg of THC to the 5mg  recommended for newbies), which dose is said to make one feel calm and subtly relaxed. It made me feel that I had drunk way too much wine.  Not a pleasant buzz, but rather a “shouldn’t have had that last glass” light-headed-and-unsteady feeling. I mention here that the muscle relaxants and prescribed pain relievers also make me lightheaded and foolish on my feet.

On the plus side, I was feeling no pain. I spent the next while drinking lots of water, and eating snacks and listening to my audiobook, and eventually the “too much” feeling went away, and pretty soon thereafter, I went to bed, and slept very well.

And when I got up this morning, I was still pain-free.

So! Conclusions. Do gummies work for pain relief? Yessir, they do, and they don’t make me sick. Most of the prescribed pain relievers and muscle relaxants really make me sick. Already, I’m ahead of the game. Do gummies work as a muscle relaxant? Seems so, since the pain hasn’t come back today. And let’s not discount that lovely night’s sleep.

Obviously, I’m going to have to be very cautious with them, and I may want to conduct a follow-up experiment with one-quarter of a gummy, to see if I can get relief and! still be able to function.

But that’s for later.

For today, I spent the morning reviewing the WIP and have less than 50 pages left to read. I’ll be doing that after lunch, which will be bean and veggie soup out of the freezer. Unless I decide on something else.

Tomorrow, I will start the day off by opening the tax portal and will hopefully finish filling in the necessary forms before it’s time to go to needlework.

Wednesday morning, first thing, Tali has an appointment with her vet, and when I come home I will begin reviewing beta reader comments, and starting the process of producing a final draft of the WIP.

Doesn’t that look tidy and fine?

So! Who else is tidy and fine today?

Ah.  One of the things I let get past me was the Celebration of Talizea’s Gotcha Day, on February 3.  Here, we have Then:

And now: