Tag: writing

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:  

I travel the world and the seven seas

Business first: If you have read a Liaden novel or short story collection, or, heck, a Carousel book or short story collection, please consider leaving a review on the bookselling site of your choice.

Thank you.

What went before ONE: Chores done, including remaking the bed with nice clean sheets, that may help me sleep tonight. I have regretfully had to close the windows, because there is not a breath of air moving outside and it was 85F/29C in my office, which is — too warm.

Wordle has also been solved, so! I guess it’s time to find something to eat for lunch, so I can go to work.

What went before TWO: I cleared off half of the top of the supply dresser, so Rook and Tali can use the side window. Not that any of these cats are spoiled.

What went before THREE: Hey, it’s raining. We really need rain.

I? Am not done inputting the correx, but I’ve come to a picky bit, and I’m tired, so instead of pushing myself to frustration — knocking off now; early-ish to bed, and tomorrow’s a new day.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

What went before FOUR:  I think they’re trying to tell me something:

Monday, and it’s a Beautiful Morning. I have opened every window in this house that opens. Sirius XM popup channel 80s ChillPill is my morning entertainment, currently listening to “Sweet Dreams” from the Eurythmics.

I had a lovely, long sleep, despite which the day started . . . awkwardly.

As has become the habit, I got up and immediately gave Trooper his gravy-and-meds and got dressed while he was chowing down. Came out to the kitchen with the intention of making scrambled eggs with Inclusions, followed by Trooper who was screaming his head off, despite having just eaten. I applied snuggles; that wasn’t it. I offered dry food, which is never it, anymore, but I was starving and really needed to eat. Yelling continued to a point where I actually couldn’t think, and when you can’t think to scramble eggs, you’re in a bad spot.

I put Trooper, and Rook, for company, into the bathroom, closed the door, and went back to the kitchen to make my own breakfast. Got the Inclusions into the frying pan. Reached for the salt grinder, and?

The base fell off. Salt everywhere. I mean, yeah, thank ghu it was salt and not, oh, molasses, but yikes! I finished making breakfast, let Trooper and Rook out of the bathroom, ate breakfast, opened a can of gooshy food for Trooper, who at least licked the gravy, and cleaned up the salt. I don’t have any more coarse salt to pour into the Oxo grinder, and anyhow the Oxo grinder and I need to have A Talk . . . and — sigh. OK, guys, the Eurythmics was great, and Whitney Houston I can tolerate, but I draw the line at Peter Cetera. I guess the 80s were a mixed bag.

Where was I? Oh, Come to Jesus with the Oxo Salt Grinder. I do have a McCormick disposable grinder full of salt, so that’s what I’m playing with now.

Recapping: The salt has been cleaned up, Trooper has had his second breakfast and is in his box on my desk, sleeping. Junior Grade Cats are distributed in various windows. I need to stage the trash, perform my duty to the cats, do the bookkeeping I’ve been avoiding, write a letter, make a call for my annual eye appointment, and then? I can write.

How did your Monday start out?

Today’s blog post title brought to you by the Eurythmics, “Sweet Dreams“

The tyranny of small things

What went before ONE: Duty to the cats performed. Walk walked. Reading of WIP done.

Very pleased to see that it’s nowhere as awful as I of course assumed it would be. Needs work, but who among us does not?

Next steps are adding corrections and moving pages as noted on the hardcopy, making Yet Another Chapter-by-chapter, and then as a reward for the Long Clerical Schlepp, I get to write new words.

Have an appointment for a potential cleaner to come by next Tuesday, take a look around, and give me an estimate, so *that’s* in train.

Right now, I need to do some kitchen-y things, like getting honey into the syrup dispenser, and cutting up the yam for skillet yam-onion-and-garlic. After which, it’s back to work.

The day remains very pleasant, and the windows remain open, which is so very nice. I get tired of Station Air, even though some days it’s for the best . . .

What went before TWO: Summing up: Yesterday afternoon, someone shot a motorcyclist dead on the Roosevelt Trail at the Windham Shopping Center, subsequently taking off in his car.

The Windham police hit the FEMA all-call, which hit Every Cell Phone In Maine, and a bunch in New Hamphire, too, with a godawful shriek, to let us know that there was a shooter on the run, and instructing everybody everywhere to shelter in place, lock doors and windows.

As of 7pm the suspect was reported “located” and the shelter-in-place lifted. The Windham police apologized for hitting the Big Red Button instead of the Smaller Red Button to the right.

What went before THREE: Tools down now, I think, rather than get sucked in to going all night. Tomorrow, I have more (LOL . . . yeah) correx to enter. I’ve already deleted +/-3,000 words, so there’s that.

Coon Cat Happy Hour is up in a few minutes. I will, regretfully, be closing the windows and going on to Station Air before I draw a glass of wine and do a little bit of reading before dinner.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Saturday. Sunny and still cool. Windows are open; Station Air is off.

Trooper has had his gravy, whined for and received a bowl of gooshy food, which he proceeded to ignore.

I? Have already been to and come back from the walk-in clinic, and I was honestly embarrassed to be there. I had gotten an earring stuck in my ear, and since I can’t see the back of my own ear, there we are. Long story short, the post had bent down, and since it wasn’t straight, it couldn’t come back out the hole in my ear. So, now I have a pair of earrings I probably shouldn’t wear, which is kind of too bad because I liked them.

The nurse was extremely good-natured, and told me they see lots of earring problems, which — almost 60 years of wearing earrings and this has never happened to me.

Anyhoots, back home now, tea to hand (breakfast was a Kodiak blueberry breakfast bar on my way to the clinic), and it’s time to get with the WIP.

And how’s Saturday treating you?

“See the fish?”

What went before ONE: M’sieur Rookie critiques the hair taming.

What went before TWO: Just gettin’ done for the day. I am pleased that the WIP has a definite shape. There are holes, but now I can see where they are.

Nothing planned for tomorrow, except sticking with the WIP.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Friday. Sunny and gonna be warm, only it’s not yet, so I’ve opened the windows to get some air moving around the house.

Trooper has had his gravy-and-meds and is currently chowing down on Fancy Feast cod, sole, and shrimp.

My breakfast was a peach cut up into plain yogurt. Kettle’s on for my second mug of tea. Lunch is looking like The Last Yam.

Today is for writing and I’m ready to go in my Childless Cat Lady tshirt.

I do have a letter to write and a phone call to make — oh! Whoever mentioned “Nextdoor”? Thank you! I downloaded it this morning. The feed is a MESS, but I found one post of interest — a cleaner in the area who is accepting clients, so I’ll be calling her.

Otherwise, as previously mentioned — writing, one’s duty to the cats, a short walk, and, oh, how about writing?

Friday brought me a surprise video from Lake Wesserunsett on July 31 2019.  “See the fish?”

What’s Friday bringing to you?

 

Let’s take a knife and cut the world in two

What went before ONE: Man, TJMaxx was like Wonderland this morning! Looking better than it has in a LONG time. I scored a bamboo three-shelf unit to got into the bottom of the closet to hold shoes and the like. This should also make it more obvious when Rookie had invaded the closet, though I’m sure he’ll work out a Stealth Procedure pretty quick.

Also bought a syrup dispenser, which answers my honey dispensing problems — and spare shower curtains, and coasters, and a pair of kitchen shears to replace the pair that rusted.

Honestly, the trip was notable by what I didn‘t buy.

Halloween was everywhere, naturally. Insofar as these things may be, classy Halloween. I had gone into the store feeling v. sad because the former JoAnn’s next door to TJMaxx is going to be one of those ghastly (and not in a good way) Spirit of Halloween stores, but I left TJMaxx feeling — energized.

Retail Therapy for the win.

One of the things I didn’t buy was a sit-up-in-bed and read pillow — you know the ones? They have a chair back and little soft arms, and the whole thing is a pillow? The ones on offer today were covered in fleece, which I suspect may be too much of a good thing. But that got me thinking — who uses one of these to read in bed and how does that work out for you?

Trooper has had the rest of the can of gooshy food I opened for him this morning, and it’s time for me to get my snack and to pack a sandwich to take with me, so I can take my meds on time.

No, the excitement never DOES end.

What went before TWO: Mission(s) accomplished with only one, and very slight, necessity to refrib the chanimeester, so that’s nice. If anyone local-ish wants a signed copy of Diviner’s Bow, there’s one at the Augusta BN.

Trooper demanded that I feed him immediately I returned home, so he’s in the bathroom, chowing down. After he’s finished, I’ll do the clean-the-bathroom thing, and look to start writing after I get home from having my hair cut tomorrow morning.

I note that the outdoor computer-driven machines are faltering under the heat. Took three tries at two different pumps before I could refill the car, and then I couldn’t get a receipt. Nor could I wash the windows, because someone had taken in all the squeegees and all the fluid wells were dry. I grant that this last is not a machine failure, but — grrr.

What went before THREE: I begin to see an error in my Life Plan. No kids = no grandkids. No grandkids = no help with the housework and the weeding.

Of course, people may not put their grandkids to work anymore. I cleaned my grandmother’s house and weeded the garden.

Yeah, I’m gonna have to find somebody to help me out around here, though I am kinda getting frustrated with the whole business of hiring somebody, settling down with them, and they need to move on.

And, no, not an option to move to a smaller place. I hear that some people, when they lose a partner, are driven to get rid of the house, because the memories that have soaked into the walls are just too painful.

I’ve tried on the idea a couple of times, but honestly, I don’t want to move out of this house. It’s a comfort to me, in that it does remind me of who and what we were, and what we’d accomplished, together.

And with that said — I’ll go put the bathroom back together.

. . . the cats, by the way, are of the opinion that I’ve lost my mind. “What’s she doing?” “Why isn’t she sitting down and rattling papers?” No comment on Charmer the robot vac, who has never gotten the respect he probably deserves from the cats.

And I hear Trooper announcing that he has eaten what he pleaseth and must be liberated from the bathroom neeOW!

What went before FOUR: And in other news, I found the earring back I lost a month ago.

What went before FIVE: So, that’s enough fun for one day. The cats get an early Happy Hour, I get an early dinner and a couple hours on the couch to read.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

What went before SIX: So, here’s a story. A Maine Republican, off his own bat, writes to the provinces of Canada fartherest removed from Maine, to . . . tempt them to join the US. In doing so, he attacks the Canadian form of government while promising freedom and respect.

British Columbia is Not Amused, responding in part that the lawmaker’s undated memo “lands more as a manifesto of arrogance.”

My source is the Bangor Daily News, linked, but might be paywalled. Link

This reminds me of All The Lonely Guy-Children who write that they deserve a woman, and then go on to demonstrate such contempt for women that you’ve gotta wonder why they even want one.

Thursday. Cloudy but still warmer than I like.

Trooper has had his meds-in-gravy, and a few mouthfuls of gooshy food.

Had another good night’s sleep, making four in a row. The tired feeling ought to be going away pretty soon now, right? RIGHT?

Breakfast was leftover ginger chicken. Lunch will be salad and something. Fish, I guess.

Haircut coming up in an hour and also I need to remember to stop at CVS for — checks notes — lidocaine patches. Hmm.

Upon my return, I will perform my duty to the cats, and do the banking. After lunch, I will reunite with the WIP.

I’m doing a cost-benefit on a glassworking course that’s being offered through adult ed in the fall. It’s stained glass, which I’ve never done, and God She knows, I need another suncatcher in this room, but, fee and materials, the cost for the class is hitting right at $200.

Still reading Stone and Sky and having a good time. Haven’t heard back from the Corning Museum, but then? I didn’t expect to hear back from the Corning Museum.

What’ve you got on the schedule today?

Today’s blog post title brought to you by Mr. Langston Hughes, “Tired.”  You often see the first four lines quoted, but very rarely the last four.

“I am so tired of waiting.
Aren’t you,
for the world to become good
and beautiful and kind?
Let us take a knife
and cut the world in two—
and see what worms are eating
at the rind.”

this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

Tuesday. ‘nother hot one, so say the weatherbeans. The AQI isn’t perilous, but it’s not pleasant, either.

Second good night of sleep in a row. I could get used to this, though I’m still a bit groggy, which I suppose indicates that the sleep debt has not yet been paid off.

Breakfast was a bialy with the last of the cream cheese and grapes. Second cup of tea to hand. Lunch — who knows. I have frozen dinners, or I could DoorDash — can’t skip, though. The late adventures have dropped me to slightly below my preferred lower weight limit of 160, so — no cheating.

My Big Plans for the day are!

1 Get the trash and recycling to the curb
2 Dispatch one’s duty to the cats
3 Call for a haircut
4 Work on the WIP

There’s needlework, which I missed last week. I’d really like to go this evening. I suppose I’ll see what the day has made of itself, after lunch before I make a decision.

All that said! What are your plans for the day?

Today’s blog post title brought to you by ee cummings, [i carry your heart with me(i carry it in]

Firefly and Rookie planning last night’s entertainment:

like a tiger’s great-grandfather

What went before: And that’s the Author’s Afterword for I Dare written. I’ll go through it again tomorrow morning, make whatever changes seem good, and send it in before I get back with the WIP.

The plan for the rest of the evening is to go to bed early, and re-establish my fractured schedule tomorrow. Oh. And do the laundry.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Monday. Ruthlessly bright and already warm. We are under a Heat Advisory, today and tomorrow.

Station air is ON, and all curtains closed.

Breakfast was half a blueberry muffin and plain yogurt. Lunch may be Door Dashed. We’ll see.

First load of laundry is drying; second is in the washer.

I actually slept well last night, which isn’t something we’ve seen for a couple of weeks. I could really use a good run of Actual Sleep, as I walk the Tightrope of Exhaustion.

It comes about that I’m going to have produce the habit of having honey in my tea. There are reasons and they are good ones, however, absent an occasional spoon of honey in peppermint tea (which is AWEsome), I drink my tea as my coffee before it — black. Honey itself is not the problem; Steve left me several three pound bottles of very fine honey from a local apiary (this is aside my baking honey). My problem is that — it’s hard to manipulate a three pound bottle of honey to get a spoonful into a mug, and, also, that honey is — sticky. And it drips.

I have for the moment decanted a small portion of honey into a well-sealed glass jar, which makes it easier to dispense by the spoonful, but I feel I ought to look about me for a method that might be less drippy. Shopping!

Aside the laundry, and one’s duty to the cats, the to-do list includes reading the Author’s Afterword, making such corrections as may be needful and sending it along to Baen. I will devote the day after lunch to my poor, long-suffering WIP, and to staying out of the heat.

What are your plans, today?

Today’s blog post title comes from Pablo Neruda, one of Steve’s favored poets:  “Cat’s Dream“

Gone shopping

What went before: Read 60 pages of I Dare, which got me to an end of a section. Wrote +/-540 new words in the WIP, which brings it to +/-65,080.

On the proofing front, I am definitely missing some of the places where there ought to be scene breaks marked, and I’m trying to figure out if I have anything around here that will serve as a guide. I’ll look at the Meisha Merlin edition, but that one had, um, many errors. I’m just not sure if spacing was one of them.

Onward.

Rook collaborated with me in an after-lunch nap; he could have gone longer, but I felt the call of duty, and went back to Steve’s office to work. Surprisingly, he fetched Tali and the two of them did the afternoon shift with me.

Trooper ate an envelope of bisque with his meds stirred in; a smol can of gooshy food, in two sessions, a couple of crunchies to keep his grandkid, Tali, company at the food bowl, and for Happy Hour, an envelope of stew and his usual serving of gooshy food.

He seems to be somewhat more alert today, OTOH, I spent most of the day in Steve’s office, and he spent most of the day asleep in my office, so we didn’t see much of each other.

Tomorrow, I believe I’ll take a couple hours off and go to Augusta. Get out of the house for a bit, see people who aren’t cats. There’s a plan.

In the meantime — everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Tuesday. Sunny and cool, but heading for hot.

Woken by Trooper standing on my chest at 6:00. There were three other cats in the bed, all asleep, so I turned on my side, and snuggled Trooper under me, and we all got another half-hour.

Trooper has had (most of) his morning bisque-with-meds.

I have no idea what my breakfast will be, but I have a cup of tea with me here at the desk, so there’s a start.

I will be going out to Augusta today, specifically to Michael’s, Target, and — Lowe’s? There was something I wanted at Lowe’s . . . sigh. It’ll come to me.

I got a little crazy last night just paged through the Meisha Merlin edition of I Dare and found all the scene breaks, some of which are in the page proofs, but not all. Those are now all notated and marked, so I can concentrate on the text.

Speaking of I Dare, the new Baen edition will be a trade paperback and it will drop in December.

What else? Ah. I had asked someone on Etsy to make me a thing, and she said she’d be delighted, so I wrote back and asked how we were going to handle the details, and have heard nothing else. It’s been a couple weeks, so I guess I’d better drop a note.

I’d been having an increasingly harder time listening to Devil’s Cub, which I was attributing to the narrator, so I opened the book to refresh myself, and — no, it’s not the narrator; it’s Vidal, or, rather, the whole cast.

It is permitted to be at the feet of the Divine Georgette and still prefer some of her works over others, and in fact, while I admire These Old Shades as a melant’i play, I believe I read Devil’s Cub once, exactly, and did not care for it.

(These things are matters of taste. For instance, Steve doted on The Toolbooth; which I understood as little as his dislike for Bath Tangle, which I adore.)

Anyway, I set myself to analyzing why it is that I so dislike Devil’s Cub, and I believe it is this.

In These Old Shades, we are told that Alastair is a Very Bad Man, with a Past. He had served in espionage during the late war, giving his gift for ferreting out secrets free range. We are told that he has a history with Comte St. Vier, that perhaps neither man was in what we will call “the right,” and their enmity spans a quarter century.

With the exception of One Thing, we are never shown Alastair doing any of these Very Bad Things, though we are shown that he is very possibly brilliant, and is wearied (as who among us is not) by those who are less brilliant than himself. He is sarcastic and unapproachable, and it would be hard to make a connection with such a man, except we are given, almost immediately, an intermediary between ourselves and this unlikable, perhaps evil, man. Leon, running from abuse, seeking to escape a life that can only end in tragedy, is rescued by the Duke for his own nefarious purposes, and Leon loves the Duke. We, in turn, love Leon, for his wit, his temper, his devotion, and his courage.

The Duke of Avon could ask for no better lens through which to be viewed.

Now, that One Evil Thing — His Grace of Avon sees fit to drive a man to suicide at a public party, but by the time he does this, we want that man to pay — for the evil he has visited upon Leon. It’s a masterpiece of timing, and These Old Shades is a good book and an excellent melant’i play.

Devil’s Cub makes the mistake of showing us Vidal at his worst immediately, and we are given no balancing viewpoint, save his mother’s, who may be excused for loving him, and even she knows he is “very bad,” but — he’s her son.

I’m also irritated because it’s been 24 years since These Old Shades, and Rupert, Alastair’s younger brother, who had shown some promise of growing into a Better Man if not a very intelligent one, is stuck in a permanent boyhood — still running himself off his legs, and needing to apply to Alastair for funds, and much the lesser of Vidal, who does, at least seems to possess a good pair of wits.

Since I’m using the audiobook as a sleep aid, I’ll probably continue, and I may finish reading along side of it, to see if I’m being unjust, and Georgette does manage to put everything right. I do recall thinking that Mary Challoner could have done much better.

. . . and my tea’s gone.

How’s the morning going at your place?

This morning’s blog post title is a vary on the classic sign “Gone Fishin'”

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.