Eagles Over the Kennebec

Wednesday. Grey, damp, and warm.

Today is the day I was to have turned Kin Right in to Baen.

I have a bunch of clerical tasks to finish with today, so that's what will be happening. I also need to chop and freeze onions, figure out if I can freeze lemons, and also sliced deli ham (I went a little nuts at the grocery and bought a fresh-deli pack of black forest ham and another, of baby Swiss, because damn, I miss ham sandwiches). My desire having been somewhat slaked, I realize that I had better freeze what's left and parcel it out later.

Lunch will be a salad, on account I have lettuce, tomato, cooked potatoes, pickled beets, olives, cottage cheese, and I can have tuna, if the whim so takes me. Breakfast was ham and Swiss on whole wheat with mustard. Third mug of tea is brewing.

The cats have relocated themselves to the front of the house, which is where my office is located. No one is actually in my office with me at the moment, but all are within the sound of my keyboard.

I started reading Longeye last night, and have yet to encounter porn. I will backtrack to Duainfey briefly, reminded as I was by the audiobook company that sought out the Fey Books, signed a contract, and then pulled out, giving as their reason, and I quote: "Chapter Thirty-Seven!"

Now, Chapter Thirty-Seven is ... hard. Even very hard. Or, one might say, effective. Not porn, and I contend that no one would have paled, had Our Heroine instead been multiply and terribly wounded in a gun fight, or tied to a post and whipped.

I further note that we apparently have always wanted to talk about Power's drive to subsume and control Art/Soul/Love/Innocence.

What else?

Ah! A book came across my newsfeed -- Falling Forward, which apparently discusses the Myth of Resilience. As someone who still finds herself saying at least once a day, "I can't do this," I'm interested in what this book has to say, and I wonder if anyone here has read it, and what you thought.

I think that's it for the Morning Edition.

Today's blog post title brought to you by Sail North, "Compass."

Here, have a picture of Rookie before he jumped up into my chair in the dining room and went to sleep:

Monday. Cloudy and damp. Bed's been stripped, towels are drying, eggs on to be boiled hard, submitted news of LUC6's imminent publication to MWPA's newsletter. Sea Shanties streaming. Apparently the week's theme is Sea Shanties.

Waiting for a friend to come by and pick up a thing, after which I b'lieve I'll wander out into the day and perform this list of errands.

Many thanks to all (on FB) who weighed in on yesterday's discussions regarding cultural relativity.

I'm a little past the half-way point in Duainfey. Altimere's invention has been proved, and I haven't seen any porn yet. I do see that we were very subtle on the SF underpinings, which is to say, I knew it was a First Contact novel, and Steve knew it was a First Contact novel, but we might've been the only ones. Though one of course must feel for poor Charlie Mason, taken up by the Purity League for building his steam carriage. Also, Points to the authors for that very telling discussion of duty in which Altimere likens his care for Becca to her care for her horse.

What else? Not much. Oh. I'm feeling some sharper today, which tells me that not only is writing a book much more wearing using only one brain, but recovery takes longer. Information, I suppose.

How's everybody holding up?

One of the other things roused up out of muck at the bottom of my brain relative to yesterday's conversation -- there had used to be what were called "racy" or "naughty" novels. The Night Life of the Gods by Thorne Smith is my benchmark "naughty" novel, though Topper will do in a pinch (I adore Topper; I'd read it again, if I wasn't afraid the book will fall apart on me). It seems to me that there are no more "naughty" novels, though I'd be pleased to be proved wrong (titles, anybody?), that we have various kinds of Romances -- sweet, sexy, hot, and so on -- and of course we have porn, but nothing that's just ... bawdily flirtatious.

Someone in yesterday's discussions mentioned Nick and Nora Charles, who were more flirtatious than naughty; they teased each other: elegantly, wittily, playfully, sexually. It was play, and illustrated that they each felt safe in their partnership and with each other.

One of the things that continually startles me, in my Brave New World, is how carefree ("carefree" meaning "free of care") and playful I was able to feel, knowing that I had backup, and genuine affection in my life.

Anyhoots! The eggs are cooling, and I need to get the towels out of the dryer.

Friday. Sunny and warm. All of the windows and the new sliders in Steve's office are open.

I was very sluggard rising from my nest this morning, ate a lettuce, cheese, and tomato sandwich on whole wheat bread for breakfast. Went down to The! Studio! set up my grinder and ground me some glass, though not, I note, ALL the glass. I was a grownup about this, and set a timer for an hour. Sadly, some of my time was used up by having to reset the fuse I blew when I turned the grinder on. Apparently the former workshop, where there was Honest to Ghu equipment still on the benches when we toured, pre-purchase, can't handle two electric radiators, two lights and a grinder. This may be a problem if I need to grind in the winter. We shall see.

After glass, I changed out the cat boxes, vacuumed the basement, took a nice, relaxing shower, and came out to find that FedEx has delivered my tea -- someplace else. The amusing thing about this is that when you got to FedEx and tell them that they misdelivered the package? The advice is to tell the seller. Because the seller had Nothing to do with putting the package on what looks to be a pallet on roller skates someplace that isn't here.

I did write to Upton, in hopes of either my money back, which would be said, as I really actually wanted the tea, or if they can unbend enough to send by an alternate carrier -- UPS and the post office can find this house just fine -- another shipment. We shall see.

Lunch, which I will begin to reheat as soon as I finish this letter to the Internets, will be leftover stir-fry. After, I fully intend to find a chair in a window and finish reading Crystal Dragon. My goodness, does Rool Tiazan have a way with a ley line.

How's everybody doing today?

So, where are we? Ah. Friday. Cloudy and colder than the last couple days. Haircut scheduled for this afternoon; before that, more reading of Kin Right.

Drafted "Melant'i Refresher for Terrans" to go into the front of Kin Right, pointing to the Cast of Characters in the back. Was reminded in so doing about the dog who was our outfielder back when I was eight or so and playing pick-up baseball at the local rec center. We couldn't keep the dog off the field, so we made him The Outfielder. He fielded for both sides instead of batting. Helluva outfielder, that dog.

What else?

Rookie got locked in the bedroom closet, and missed breakfast. He's making up for that now.

I think that's all I've got, really. The Exciting Life of a Writer, ayuh.

What're you doing that's exciting today?
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Tali helping me edit in the Command Chair

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So, Kathy talked me out of a buzz cut. After the new 'do, I walked over to Holy Cannoli and bought two lemon-blueberry ricotta cheese cookies -- one just eaten with a mug of tea, and one for tomorrow. I really ought to learn how to make ricotta cheese cookies. Or, yanno, maybe safer not to.

Rook is sleeping in the copilot's chair at my desk (as different from Steve's desk), while I take my first stab at a list of characters for Kin Right. This? Is going to be An Undertaking.

Next book, I swear -- one character and nothing happens to them.

I have about 100 pages to read in Kin Right, then 200 pages to enter correx into, then finishing up with the cast of characters and so on. The end, as the saying goes, is in sight.

I'm a little less than half-way through Theo of Golden, and the next meeting of the book club is April 20. I did finish reading Balance of Trade, and I'm going to have to take a step back and given some thought to my reading strategy here. If I'm going to be re-issuing the fey books, I'm going to need to read them, so I may have to break off the Liaden read-through for that. In the meantime, books I preordered last year when I foresaw oodles of time to read -- are starting to download.

Whee...

Well. It's good to have things to do, amirite?

New haircut:

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:

Well, then. That was Saturday.

I drafted my Remarks for my library event. I think they may be the wrong Remarks, but you can't revise what you don't write down. Still need to figure out how I'm going to handle the reading/what I'm going to read. I'm torn between several small scenes or one big one. May have to resort to flipping a cantra piece.

Spent part of the day loading the apps I usually use on my phone to my Samsung tablet, where they will be larger, which -- in theory -- will help with this current bout of eyestrain.

I also made a couple more adjustments to the new toy. It did a very credible job of reading several chapters of Getting Rid of Bradley to me last night while I just laid in the dark with ninetyleben pounds of coon cat on me, eyes closed and listening. Rookie, predictably perhaps, has really bonded with Zach.

What else? Oh, Had an email from the owner of Oliver and Company who will be handling the sales table during my event, and it seems we Have A Plan. Always good to have a Plan.

Happy Hour was a touch early tonight, and now the cats have scattered. In solidarity, I have a glass of wine with me here at the computer, and my stomach is informing me that I need to rustle something up for dinner RSN.

Tomorrow starts a Warming Trend, with temps soaring into the mid-twenties and thence into the! thirties! By ghod, it's practically summer!

Speaking of tomorrow, next week is going to be busy. Yes . . . busy.

Tomorrow, now that my knees and hips don't hurt enough for me to notice, I'll change out the cat boxes, only a couple days late.

Monday, first thing, I have a PT appointment. Tuesday morning, I have a haircut scheduled, and needlework in the evening; Wednesday, I need to visit the vampyres, which may be an excuse to have breakfast out; Thursday, I have a podiatry appointment, and I should probably go to the grocery somewhere in all of that. Friday morning Sarah comes by to clean, and in the afternoon, I want to go to the tea at the library. I have a pretty flowered skirt and a top hat, so clearly the sartorial part of the venture is well under control.

Tomorrow, I will also be starting my read of the WIP, so that'll be fun.

And that? Is the state of affairs at the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory.

Tuesday. Sunny and cold. Trash and recycling at the curb. Breakfast was cottage cheese with canned peaches and toast. Reward for getting the trash and recycling to the curb in 2F/-16F, cookie with second cup of tea.

Lunch will likely be the last yam in the larder, which ought to be a song. Looks like I will be hitting the grocery this morning, too. How the errands do pile up.

Eye doctor appointment in an hour. Need to write a couple checks so I can throw them at the post office along with my holiday cards while I'm out in the world.

Finished Tie Me Knot, which brings me to 60 books read this year. In 2024, I read 61 books (including Diviner's Bow TWICE), so I'll probably match last year.

I do believe I will be scheduling a read of the Liaden Universe novels, in publication order, for 2026. I have never read the series straight through, though I've obviously read older books as they came up for reprint, so this will be ... an experience.

How's everybody doing this morning?

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.

Saturday. Cool and cloudy.

Before we get to the recap, someone -- Alma? -- had asked how you remove the stabilizer without damaging the embroidery. I had previously used stabilizer, which was impossible to wash out, but! Improvements have been made. The instructions for the stablizier on which the pattern for my embroidered shirt were printed said, "Rinse under a stream of warm water." So, I took it into the bathroom, turned on the shower and stuck the shirt under the warm water. Somewhat to my surprise, because, I, too had expected A Fight, the stuff just melted away. It took -- what? A minute. Then I hung the shirt up and let it drip.

Mind you, it was stupidly difficult to embroider through the stabilizer, which is too bad because apparently the kit-making people have latched onto this as The Answer, and are now sending a bit of linen, a pattern printed on stabilizer, thread, etc. So, the two kits that remain on-hand (both black-cat-themed, what was I thinking?) are both "affix the pattern to the cloth."

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Feel free to skip from here to the next # # # if you'd rather not hear an elderly lady complain about her old war wounds.

You have been warned.

Yesterday was No Fun At All. I owe Patty Briggs for the timely arrival on my tablet of the chronicle of Asil's yuletide adventures, which made the day somewhat less bad, but even a beautiful, doomed, ironic man can only do So Much. One does wonder what looms -- well, but that would be a spoiler, and we already know what looms.

My back hurt sufficiently that I took the drugs, even though I knew that was probably a Bad Idea, as indeed it was. The drugs make me sick. I know this, but they do also, sometimes, work against the pain. Sadly, yesterday was not one of those days. Tali gave it her All, but even so . . .

At 9:30, I just fell into bed, exhausted, and slept for three solid hours, then off and on in hour-sized chunks. Firefly was on night-watch, and she, too did her All, including smacking Rook off the bed, when he decided that I would feel better if I played. (She did allow him to remain later, when he snuck up and curled against my knee.)

I finally got up sometime after 10:30, took a shower, made myself a mug of peppermint tea and sat down at my desk to write this communique to the internets.

Since the drugs were such a disappointment, I have decided to quit the course. Yes, my back still hurts. A lot. But if this is going to be my life, I guess I'm going to have to learn how to ignore the pain and do what needs to be done though it. You wouldn't think this would be hard, since I'm pretty good at ignoring various other sorts of pain, but the back pain is my nemesis. So! a project.

Just what I needed.

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My Plan for the day is to find something non-threatening to eat after I've finished my nice mug o'peppermint, then go back to Steve's office and get some writing done.

I have in my in-box two letters from the law firm representing writers in the Antropic settlement, replying to mine of several weeks ago. It looks like I'll need to get Madame the Agent involved on account of Steve being dead like he is. I'll look at those again when I'm feeling a little more the Thing.

So, that's caught us all up. The cats, I believe, are in Steve's office, and I -- am going to make another cup of peppermint tea and a piece of toast, and go join them.

And how're y'all doing today?

Did some work on the Sekrit Project, checked the post office box, put gas in the car, went to the book club, hit the grocery store, came home and strung lights. Checked the route to the hospital in Rockport, bought next month's book club book -- Remarkably Bright Creatures -- my choice, because -- octopus.

Tomorrow I drive to the hospital in Rockport (ref "gas/car") for a nerve conduction test. I don't think a visit to the hospital to have electricity run through my body counts as a Writer's Day Off, even if I do get to drive to the coast. I also want to try to get to needlework tomorrow evening, so -- I may be scarce, but fear not! This is The Plan.

Wednesday looks like a free day, as does Friday, Thursday is mostly free, except for glass class, which I will try to go early so I can talk to my teacher about various fixups that probably need to be done.

So! How was your day?

Let there be light.  Left to right -- Steve's Office, Sharon's Office, Living room

Eek.