Eagles Over the Kennebec

Tuesday. Suddenly, it's Spring. Trash and recycling patiently awaiting pickup at the curb.

I have been to tithe the Vampyres, who have got New Technology. It had used to be that you entered the lab area, took a number and were, in the fullness of time, Called. Now! You enter your name into a tablet, and it appears on the Big Screen in the waiting area. Occasionally, the Big Screen pings brightly, and a name is shown, with directions underneath. I input my name and sat reading for some time before my name went up in lights and I was directed to Station Number Two for logging in, after which I was returned to the waiting area, this time to wait for a call-code to appear under my name on the screen. I sat down, verified that I had finish reading my book, of which more anon -- and the screen went down.

I swear I had nothing to do with this. All I did was say, so that the receptionist on duty could hear, "Technology! Screen's down." Then, as I had finished my book, I pulled out my phone to check my mail (and the guy next to me, on the assumption that he knew all about my intentions, said, "That won't do you any good." Really?), the receptionist called for Olivia, who appeared to reset the screen, and my name was called to enter the lab.

Blood was drawn, the tech was interested in the symbol on my shirt (Tree-and-Dragon), I made answer, was favored with the information that the tech's granddaughter loves science fiction and went to bookstores and belonged to a book club, and all. I offered a card so her granddaughter could look for our stuff; the asked for several to share with other book loving friends, and we parted on good terms.

I stopped at Washville on my way home and came home richer by a clean car and a subscription, so now I won't have to hassle the card reader at the gate, which I use for an excuse to not wash the car when it's needed. Hopefully, this circumstance, and the fact that Washville is slightly less horrifying in its methods than Golden Nozzle, may help me keep the car better.

So, Duainfey. Yep, there are a couple of tough scenes, but no porn, and the reflective arcs of story are perfectly fine. It is Dark, but, being as that's As Advertised, this is a Feature not a Bug.

I have just finished eating a cookie with a mug of tea, and as soon as I post this missive to the internets, I'll be making rice, which I neglected to do yesterday, and also washing the bedclothes, which likewise didn't happen yesterday. On the bed itself, I think I need to change out the Deep Winter blanket for the waffle-weave, and! I need to write an email, do my duty the cats, find lunch, and eventually wander out to the library to get crafty.

What've you got going today?

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:

Tuesday. Partly cloudy and warm-ish. A good day for a ride, actually.

I'm just back from Bath, having come the Long Way Home, getting the car washed and picking up a Forbidden Sandwich at Subway, this in addition to the peppermint mocha and ricotta-cherry Danish I treated myself to at Cafe Creme after my doctor's appointment, which?

Was a success of its kind. I got my levothyroxine dosage put back to where it's been for the last decade or more, and I was given an A1C test (first time for everything, I guess), and scored a 4.5 of whatever it is they're measuring, which they seemed happy with, and since there was no new medicine attached to whatever it is, I'm happy, too.

Also? No more doctor appointments and only one test on the time map until November. Unless Something Comes Up, which -- fingers crossed.

As mentioned above, I came home via Rte 1 and 27, and was able to honor the Ancient Pact to sing along with "Sloop John B" when it popped up on the radio. I also tried to sing along with "Wild, Wild West," but I really only remembered, "I love her eyes and her wild, wild hair," which I sang with Verve.

I'm now going to tinker with my Remarks, remembering to eat my Forbidden Sandwich and to go to needlework.

What song(s) did you sing along with this morning?

Today's blog post title brought to you by The Beach Boys, "Sloop John B"

So, I woke up at 5:45, and my neck was swollen and sore again and I addressed the universe in a disrespectful manner. Then I took the Command Decision to FTS, got up, got dressed, made a cup and a thermos of tea, took that and a KIND breakfast bar back to Steve's office, woke up his computer and got to work.

I broke for lunch around noon, having written about 800 words -- lunch being a chef's salad from the deli. I ate a little more than half with a serving of soup I'd had in the freezer. Tomorrow, I'll put what's left -- some meat, cheese, tomato and onions -- into scrambled eggs for breakfast, so that's ONE meal figured out for tomorrow.

Returned to Steve's office after lunch and wrote some more. Got tired eventually and quit for the day. Did my duty to the cats. Waiting for the mail to arrive so I can bring in the package that's supposed to be included before the ink freezes, then take a shower and probably collapse.

I should report that I feel somewhat better than I did when I woke up. I did take the combined Motrin, and if the kind of pain I woke up with this morning is what it's keeping at bay -- all honor to it. Also used hot compresses on my neck.

The cats have been hanging in all day, which was! Cloudy and warm. Snow is melting, or at least compacting. I'm really glad I asked the Magnificent Plowguy to sand the driveway. HUGE improvement.

Finished watching The Apothecary Diaries last night. My *goodness*, that was some tight storytelling! Well done, writers.

I can now cancel Crunchyroll. I do, yes, realize, that there's a ton of anime offered there, but the chances of my stumbling upon anything actually worth watching are, um, low. If anybody had a rec that's worth keeping Crunchyroll around for -- by all means speak. My taste, apparently, runs to stuff like AD. Back in the day I liked Fruit Baskets and ... the one with the duck -- ah. Princess Tutu. Writing Anime. If that's not a subgenre, it ought to be.

And the mail's in! And Rook is chasing Tali around my office because it's all her fault. I'm pretty sure I don't want to know what "it" is.

Writing stats: New words written (I think not all of these today, but honestly, what do I know?): +/-2,190. Total words in WIP: +/-124,117.

And that's the beans.

How's everybody holding up?

Earlier today.  Firefly had ennui.

According to the nice doctor at local clinic, I have a "virual something" and can expect to continue to feel like melted ice cream for about seven days.

The coon cats are on the case, but updates will be sporadic.

Thank you for your understanding.

What Went Before: Tuesday

Total WIP +/-118,724. The cats were a great help.

I? Had forgotten there's a Zoom business meeting this afternoon at 2, so I'd better get my chores done and my lunch et.

The driveway, as predicted is a sheet of ice. I've figured out that all I actually have to do is get inside the garage, so I can get in the car. I can stop on my way out (in the car) to needlework, to collect the mail, which is small snowy tramp. It'll work. Ghod, I hate ice.

I did not try to take the trash or the recycling to the curb this morning, ref "ice" above. Maybe next week.

How's everybody doing at midday on Tuesday?
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So, that was exciting. I was getting ready to leave for needlework and!

The garage door was frozen shut. By luck, I had been heating water for tea, and went out and poured the kettle along the inside the door and it opened. Sadly, I did not think of this before I had called my excellent plowguy to see if he had any ideas, and disturbed his evening, but I think I did catch him before he got on his way to my place with rock salt.

I went to needlework, and came back. The car is in the garage, but I don't dare close the door because I have a PT appointment at 7:45 tomorrow morning.

This is why I hate ice. In addition to the whole sliding situation.

The coon cats have had happy hour and I have poured a glass of wine.

Everybody have a good evening. Stay safe.

I'll check in tomorrow.
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Wednesday, sunny and cold.

Back from my early PT appointment, from which I have gained a lot more homework, which I'm supposed to do many times a day. I'm going to have to put a lot of thought into how I'm going to accomplish all this and, yanno, write, read, play, with the cats and all those other extraneous things I do. I obviously don't want to be crippled with back pain, but I'm thinking there's a middle ground here, and I need to find it.

After PT, I treated myself to breakfast at Governor's where, I kid you not, one waitress was handling the whole room, and busing too, until somebody else came on shift. It wasn't over-crowded, but it was busy enough, and this is where it pays to be a long-term employee in a business that thrives on regulars. She knew just about everybody, we all knew her, nobody was in a hurry or on their way to a Big Freakin' Meetin' or anything -- and between us, we made it work.

I stopped by the Post Office, collected the mail, stopped by the crosstown Hannaford, which I'm going to have to visit more often, as they seem to have more of what I'm wanting than the one round the corner, and came home to get one of the bags of Emergency Ice Melt Steve had stashed in the back of the garage onto the sled. I opened it with my trusty shovel, then we all half-skated out to scatter melt-crystals over the driveway.

. . . I'm getting down to the bottom of things that Steve stashed away against need, which is a somewhat melancholy realization, along with the other melancholy realization that I'm going to have to be advertent regarding these things.

Ice melt disposed, I came inside, made myself a cup of hot chocolate and checked on the cats -- who are all in Steve's office, because That's What We Do in the morning.

Excellent cats.

Today, is making 2026 files, which I didn't have the oomph to do earlier, and setting up next year's accounting. I have leftovers for lunch, and a good book to read when I'm done my chores.

How's Wednesday at your place?

Wednesday morning cat census:

You may wish to refer to the photo page for today

OK, so kind of a loss of a day, viewed through the writing lens, but I had expected that.

Seen through the RL lens, I got myself back and forth to the hospital in Brunswick without mishap, saving the wear and tear on my nerves (ref the wear and tear on my nerves, the rock sculpture in the Imaging Lobby probably brought my blood pressure down 50 points. Well played MaineHealth. Well played.), did the hour in the tube without having a panic attack, waited until I was in the car to scream (yes, that's a real thing; I have claustrophobia; remind me to tell you some other time about the first time Steve and I went cross country by train), was reasonable and let my friends do all the heavy work that was only going to hurt my back (which already hurt; they need nicer mattresses on MRI machines), ate my lunch, which was terrific, took time off to read and relax, took down the pictures over the doors to be replaced.

Tomorrow, all I need to do in Steve's office is take down the drapes and use them to cover the Stuff against the Dust of Construction.

Tomorrow will be a writing day. Monday, sometime between 8 and 10am will see the arrival of the Andersen crew to start with the replacing of doors. I have some business stuff to do on Monday, but if I have my way, writing will happen then, too. Tuesday is supposedly the finish of the installation. Not sure if I'll be going to needlework that evening. We Shall See.

In the meantime, the cats keep checking in with me -- is this OK? -- and I really can't blame them. I keep telling them I'll put it back the way it was real quick, but I can tell they don't believe me.

Google wishes me to understand that we will be having rain and snow tonight, but I don't find any evidence that this opinion is based on reality. It will be cold, though. That, we're all agreed upon.

All that said! Everybody have a good evening. Stay safe. I'll check in tomorrow.

Thursday, sunny and cold, but everybody's acting like it's summer, because the temps are in the 30sF as opposed to the mid-teens F.

The plowguy arrived at 7:30 and cleared the drive, and the steps and the turnaround, and the short path from the steps to the side door of the garage and! cleared the berm in front of the garage door. Best. Plowguy. Ever.

Went to P(hysical) T(herapy); got my hairs cut; stopped at the PO; made a smol tour of Dollar Store and Reny's looking for a ball (for PT), and found one at Five Below. Heated up leftover soup for lunch, and have leftovers, because it became a sorta refrigerator soup, since I had a little bit of this, and a little bit of that, and a little bit of that over there . . . Anyhoots, I have leftover soup, some of which will join the other soup in the freezer. I've washed dishes, done my duty to the cats and need to do another couple things before I go out to meet and greet the new town manager.

Before I go dashing off, however, I have a question from the mailbag, to wit!

"when the current book gets too long, why don't you split it in two books?"

And the answer is!

Don't wanna.

Lest I seem surly, I'll unpack that a little.

I have three books left under contract, the book I'm working on and two more*. I know, in broad terms, what the two remaining books are about, and neither one of them is a continuation of the story I'm working on now.

Therefore, the solution to the current story needing more room is to write a longer-than-usual-for-us book. So, that's what I'm doing.

I'll note that we have occasionally, in the past, intended to write only one book and wound up writing two -- Fledgling and Saltation leap to mind, as does Ribbon Dance and Diviner's Bow. Or like that time we intended to write seven books and wound up writing 27 -- and counting.

So, that's the news from the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory for now.

How's everybody doing?
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*Yes, there may be more Liaden books in future. Or, yanno, there may not. My particular understanding with the universe at this point, and always bearing in mind, "Man proposes; God disposes." (aka Man plans; the Universe laughs), is that I will finish the books currently under contract and then I'll See.

Wednesday. Grey and looking cold outside. I have not yet been outside by reason of the plowguy (All Hail, the Plowguy!) came by when I was still  snuggled in bed under a pile of blankets and three coon cats, to plow the drive and clear the steps.

Looking out over the Long Back Yard, it does seem like we might have gotten another couple/four inches after I threw the towel in last night, so the weatherbeans have redeemed themselves. A Long Slllloooowwww Snow.

PT at 8:00, then the grocery. I need gas before I go to Brunswick, but that doesn't have to happen today.

Let the calendar show that today was the First Official Donning of The (short) Snow Boots, and the winter jacket (not to be confused with the Big Coat).

And that's all I got for the moment.

Hope everybody's having a good morning.
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Aaaaand back.

It is now sunny and bright and the snow is melting off of Surfaces, which is all good until it freezes up this evening.

PT was PT -- did a couple laps on the sit-down elliptical (it has a name -- NuStep? -- but it wasn't important and I don't remember it), had tutoring in at-home exercises. I do have an appointment next week, oh! and the week after. So, not so bad with the timing as I had imagined. That's good.

After PT, I went to the grocery store, where I bought more than was on the list, though not a wreath, because really, Hannaford? Those are some flea-bitten wreaths y'all are wantin' the earth for. Instead, I brought the groceries home, put them away, and went over to the Agway in Winslow, and bought a on-clearance wreath, then, since I was out and spacing around anyway, I put gas in the car.

Let the record show that I used the Google Wallet for the first time to pay for my wreath at Agway.

Came home and had a mug of hot chocolate and a cookie (I see cookie-making in the future), which maybe could spoil my lunch, if I had any idea what lunch was gonna be, but since I don't, that's not an issue.

The cats and I will decorate the wreath this evening.

Speaking of cats:

Monday. Bright and cold.

Breakfast was two eggs scrambled with leftover cauliflower and broccoli, with sausage, and a piece of whole wheat toast. A Big breakfast, but it's a biggish morning.

Trash and recycling are in the garage, preparing themselves for tomorrow's journey to the curb. Dishwasher is doing its thing. Cats suspect that Something Is Up.

I'll be getting on the road to the cancer center and my chat with the Survivalist as soon as I finish my second mug of tea. I'll be early, but I don't have Steve's genius for split-second timing, so better early than late.

I'm having a lot of fun with the Thursday Murder Club, and having never seen the show, only read complaints about how it "did not live up" to the books, despite the excellent cast -- I have Some Thoughts About that.

The voice of the book -- aka "the narrator" -- is hysterical and unless the show (again, never seen it) has a voice over telling you what, oh, Ian's thinking, and how he's thinking it, viewers are missing an important facet of the story, and expecting the actors to carry the whole weight themselves isn't really fair.

. . . and that's my second mug empty, so I'm off.

I hope everyone's having a good morning. I'll see you on the flip side.

Back, having gone the long way home -- through Bar Harbor. I had somehow expected the town to be open. I mean, people live on the island. To be fair, some things were open, for instance the Village Green Cafe, where I got my lunch (grilled ham and cheddar on multigrain with blueberry ice tea), but I hadn't expected the relative emptiness.

Also, I had not come dressed for ocean-side chill, so my window shopping was limited. However, I'm glad I did not just go Straight Home like a Good Do-Bee. And, besides, I need to keep in practice with driving longish distances (that was, eh, 220 miles on the day). She said virtuously.

The Survivalist is a dream. We have a yearly check-in plan in place, as well as an agreement that I may call upon her for various things, and reassurance that I had NOT screwed up by wearing my compression gloves when my hands hurt. And I got points for asking a good question.

I believe I have all my Stuff for Thursday in-house (well, except flowers. I forgot flowers. Oh, well.), so that's good. I haven't gotten a wreath, either, because I just can't make myself buy a wreath before Thanksgiving. It's just ... wrong.

The cats inform me that I missed three -- or possibly four -- check-ins today and that they are not disposed to be lenient. I was immediately tasked with rubbing Tali's ears, and scrubbling Rook's belly, and picking up Firefly for an All-Grown-Up Hug. I draw the line, however, at moving Happy Hour up by an hour and a half.

What did y'all do today?

Today's blog post title comes from The Eagles, "Seven Bridges Road," which I can never resist singing along with the acapella parts, though I really ought to always resist singing.