What went before: So, proofed about 100 pages today, since I finished writing early, and the WIP had nothing more to say to me. That puts me well ahead of schedule, but honestly, I would be happy to get it done early so I can pick up another one of the writing-adjacent projects waiting in the wings.

I've been having a little problem with the shirt I'm embroidering. There's the unexpected resistance offered by having to stitch through the paper grid and the shirt, even though I deliberately chose a light shirt. Also, the instructions are adamant, that I use a small hoop, and that . . . just isn't working for me. The pattern is peeling up from the fabric and -- just not working. One of my friends at needlework last night asked if I didn't need a bigger hoop and I explained that a small hoop was called for, but the more I thought about it today, the more I really wanted a bigger hoop. So, I've made that adjustment. What I really want is an oval hoop, but I don't have one in-hand, though I do have one on order, now.

Tomorrow evening is my first stained glass class, so that will be exciting. The plan is to write! first!, then see what I can do in the time left before class.

The cats have had Happy Hour, and it's time for me to read the October 1 chapter of A Night in the Lonesome October, and then find a glass of wine and something to eat.

Everybody stay safe. Have a good evening.

I'll check in tomorrow.
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Good morning:

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Writing session:  supervisors on the job:

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Well, let's see.

Thursday. Sunny and seasonally warm.

The blanket I used to cover the rosebush last night was a little icy when I took it off at 8 o'clock. I'm not seeing a call for frost tonight, so that's good. I have to look up this sort of rose and find what they want for winter.

In the meantime, this morning's go at the keyboard netted+/-1,340 new words, bringing the WIP to +/- 88,800, which is kind of a pretty number, actually.

I have done my duty to the cats, and taken a walk. I'm planning on a late lunch because my evening class goes late. Ish.

Sarah confirms that she will be here bright and early tomorrow to clean -- it's been a while, what with having to cancel last time so I could see my doctor in Bath. The house is looking a little wild because my first priority has been to keep up with the writing and writing-adjacent stuff. Housekeeping is 'way down on the list of Other Stuff I feel compelled to accomplish.

I read the October 1 chapter of A Night in the Lonesome October last night, in which we get Insight into Snuff's duties. I'm reading aloud, because it feels Wrong not to, though that will perhaps change. The cats are ... not unamused. Firefly at least remembers this thing.

And I think that's it, aside a snippet. We haven't had a snippet in a while.

How's everybody doing?
* * *
SNIPPET:
Val Con looked to Shan. "I haven't seen this room open since Uncle Er Thom brought that person from the Aeschalees on-board."

"Good gods." Shan stared at him. "I'd forgotten all about that."

"You'd been sent down to secure the trade," Val Con said. "But I was cabin boy and called upon to serve."

"Thus all I have is hearsay. And the rug, of course. Though it did clean up nicely."

"And the trade was preserved," Val Con continued, "and Uncle Er Thom was pronounced a chief of the Aeschaleen."

"That I do remember," Shan said. "Mother would occasionally ask how his second and third wives went on. Which was really too bad of her."

"More cousins?" Miri asked.

"Sadly not," Val Con answered. "He saw the wives each well-set-up in their own establishments with the proceeds from the sale of his chiefhold."

Shan laughed. "Father had his moments, admit it."

What went before: Well, the day didn't go exactly as I had planned. In addition to the chores on the list (The List), I needed to fix the toilet, which I did, go me. Then I sat down to drink my hot chocolate, and Rookie jumped in my lap just as I had put my mug aside and was getting up, and put me to sleep for 45 minutes -- Trooper really worked with this kid -- and then the Sleep Clinic, where I have a Stoopidly Early appointment tomorrow called to let me know that I have to bring in the whole machine tomorrow, not just the SD card (because their card reader's broken, she said. I don't ask questions, any more), and then I remembered that I wanted to buy a more reasonable thing to keep my earrings in, so I went over to Esty and bought myself a birthday present, and ... Oh! Atlas Vet, where I attended the Open House on Saturday, called to tell me I had won a prize in the drawing! Ten percent off my first visit, if that happens within a year. So, yay, I won a prize.

I did write 996 words, not the scene I thought I was going to write, and had notes for and everything, and I'd complain, but it's a good scene, so I may just call this The Book of Good Scenes, said book now weighing in at 70,600ish words.

Tomorrow, as mentioned, Stoopidly Early Appointment, after which I'm going to try to have breakfast at Governor's, because I haven't eaten out in ... a while now, and we mustn't lose the Social Graces. Tomorrow evening is needlework and in-between is chores.

Everybody stay safe; I'll check in tomorrow as can.

Tuesday. Sunny and crisp. Cool enough when I left the house that I wore my new jacket. Didn't need it by the time I left Governors.

Trash and recycling at the curb.

Met a nurse in the elevator up to the sleep center, who informed me that this was a "Groot Day" which -- good to know.

Turns out it's not just the card readers that are down at MEGen, but the whole computer network, system-wide. So my NP was taking notes and writing down stats on a 3x3 yellow pad of sticky notes. I said that they ought to get her a reasonable notebook if she was busted back to pen and paper. They were pathetically pleased that I have the myAir ap, and could show them my stats on my phone (which! triggered a memory of when Steve and I first arrived in Maine and were looking for an apartment; having to go to the bank and change a twenty for quarters, then find a pay phone outside of the Kmart in Waterville, and work our way through the classifieds in the Sentinel. The past isn't only a different country; it's a different planet.)

The happy news is that my numbers were so good that I'm cleared to drive for three years. So that's actually a relief, though I still have to visit the sleep folks annually, to prove that I'm maintaining.

Went to Governor's, had an unhealthy breakfast of sausage gravy on biscuits, scrambled eggs, and homefries, because if you're going to go the low road, you might as well go all the way.

Stopped at the post office on my way home, which I haven't done in a while, then at Uncle Deans to buy some lavender, because I had none.

Home now, having been greeted by three out of a possible three coon cats, all of whom wanted to know where their gravy was; and now I need to get with my correspondence.

Not sure how much writing I'll get done today, since it's a short day. Here's a SNIPPET from yesterday:

"Come here often?"

"As often as my lady allows."

She sighed mournfully, shaking her head. "Married, is it? That's too bad."

"Now, I find it very agreeable."

"Yeah? What's she like, your lady?"

He smiled gently. "She is bold and brilliant; strong and subtle. I reverence and stand in awe of her – even when she is casting for compliments."
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How's Tuesday looking in your piece of the world?

Today's blog post title courtesy of The Eagles, "Seven Bridges Road."

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:
 

What went before: So, it turns out there's a Method to First Friday. It's advertised as "from" 5 (or 5:30; advertising is a little squishy on this point) to 7:30. What that means is that, some bands will be starting to set up around 5:00 and the restaurants will be open, so you should go have something to eat, nice glass of wine, and then, eh, 6/6:30ish, you perambulate around downtown, and then, around 7, you wander down to Head of Falls, where the music will be happening. Music starts at 7:30 and goes to 9/9:30.

Obviously, I did not make it that far, which is too bad because the band was the Atlanta Rhythm Section, which wouldn't have been terrible to listen to. There's a beer garden set up at Head of Falls for the concert and a food truck from The Proper Pig. And I kinda didn't want to be one old woman in a crowd of folks some of whom had had too much beer.

I did revisit the Langlais exhibit and took in the Dark Was the Night and Bright Were the Stars exhibit. I stopped by the reception -- yes, there were cookies and also fruits and cheese and crackers.

I meandered around downtown, and I found out that there's a rock store. Yes, a rock store; it's been there about three months, I'm told. I of course bought a rock (yeah, I know, but, hey! It's flourite, which is an amusing rock, in that it flouresces). I also stopped in Old Soul Supply, Oliver and Friends Bookstore, and Holy Cannoli, where I listened to a folk group for a couple of songs before I moved on, hoping for music in the Green Block, but -- not yet. So, I came home, educated and more or less relaxed for having done something different with my afternoon and early evening.

I have about 15 more pages of I Dare to finish proofing -- which I'll do tomorrow.

For now, the cats have had Happy Hour and I'm going to go pour myself a glass out of the Nice Bottle I opened last night to share with Steve.

And that's the First Friday Report.

Intermission: Oooh, nice echo of the prologue: "I won't hurt him."

And my favorite bit in the whole book, though there are so many good bits:

"My lifemate and my oathsworn are blameless. I claim all."

"Ever more terrifying," Val Con returned, lightly, deliberately, in the Low Tongue. "Pray reveal at once the horrific crimes of which they are innocent."

Saturday. Sunny and predicted to a nice-ish day.

Breakfast was toast and cottage cheese and grapes. Lunch will be something easy. I have choices, including a Door Dash account, if it comes down to desperation.

I did not sleep well last night; doubtless the late few days of High Living are catching up with me.

Today's to-do list includes one's duty to the cats, finishing the proofing of I Dare, swapping out cat fountains, and straightening up the house, which has become slightly shell-shocked, doubtless from the High Living referenced above. It's possible that I'll throw it all over and go back to bed, but not really likely.

My Solid Goal is to get back to the WIP -- remember the WIP? -- on Monday, so those things that must occur in service of that goal, including turning in the correx for I Dare, have to happen this weekend.

Arrived in yesterday's mail is news that the Subaru is included in a class action suit referencing failures in the EyeSight Driver Assistance subroutine. The suit appears to focus on the braking protocols, of which I have no complaint. I had hoped that it would be something to address the Concerning Issue of Eyesight turning itself off in downpours where human eyes are basically useless, and the pilot could really use some help staying on the road and not running into the back of a semi. OTOH, I haven't been to the website yet. That's actually pretty far down on the list.

Also, just at a tangent -- and I've made this argument before, so nothing new here -- if you (universal you) break the law, you must pay the penalty for breaking the law. It does not matter who you are, who your dad is, what political affiliation you hold, if you have fifteen houses or live in a cardboard box in an alley. Break the law, pay the price. That's, like, one of the foundations of our society: that money and influence do not alter the functioning of Law. This is why Justice is blind.

So, my second up of tea is gone, and I guess I'd better get to work.

Who's doing something exciting today?

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

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

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

Everybody stay safe; I'll see you tomorrow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What're you doing today?

Today's blog post brought to you by Mr. Glenn Frey, "Smuggler's Blues"

Last night, I had help getting ready for bed:

SNIPPET:

"We ain't so full up at Jelaza Kazone right at present," she said.

"No." He turned on his heel to gaze at her. "The clan is much reduced, I know. In my day, you could buy cousins in lots of a dozen. Come into the kitchen at any hour, and you would be certain to meet a hand or more of them, eating, drinking, playing, as I said, at cards; reading – and quarreling, naturally. We are a quarrelsome lot. Or were. Perhaps our manners are by necessity better, without numbers to back us."

What went before: Well. It has been an unexpectedly productive day. I haven't quite finished the laundry, though there's still time for that to happen. I fed myself lunch, cleaned up the kitchen, put the clean towels away, did my duty the cats, took a walk, and!

Wrote. I really REALLY like this scene, at +/-780 new words, which leaves the WIP entire a breath short of +/-54,000. Perhaps tomorrow, since I know what the scene after this scene is -- though not exactly after this one, but -- oh, never mind. I'm declaring a victory for the write-what-you-like school of drafting today.

I also need to check in with the smoke detector, which failed to start screaming when I opened the oven to retrieve lunch and a billowing cloud of olive-oil scented smoke emerged. Possibly, it was unset during dusting and needs its button pushed. If it needs a new battery, I will be very cross, since it's supposed to have a 10-year battery onboard.

I discovered when I was folding socks last night that I was missing one, and, as mandated in The Manual, went back to make sure it wasn't still in the dryer, or in the hamper, or on the floor, but could discover no sign of it. Well. I hadn't paid the Portal Tax for a while, so I was ... unhappy, but not distraught. This morning, when I moved the towel hamper to start loading the washer, I found the missing sock behind it. I call Feline Shenanigans. Which is, I admit, better than the Portal Tax.

Anywise. I have to do some desk prep for tomorrow -- new to-do list and whatnot. And eventually, it will be Coon Cat Happy Hour. But, really, I'm done for the day, and well-satisfied with my accomplishments.

Everybody stay safe; I'll see you tomorrow.

Well. Monday, I believe. Cloudy and said to be on and off rainy. I'm up but not at 'em and am drinking a motivational cup of tea while I address the internets.

The rosebush has survived its second night in the garden.

Trooper has had his first snack of the day, the one with the probiotic stirred into it, and is now resting comfortably on the copilot's chair. Firefly is staring at me from the observation table next to the window, possibly attempting to indicate on the Cat Telepathy Channel that she, too, would like a bowl of Delectable gravy. Tali (Wrasslin' Name TaliBOOM) and Rook (Wrasslin' Name Rookie the Cookie) are alternatively wrasslin' and zooming.

The writer, Yr Hmbl Correspondent, is really struggling to keep her eyes open, here.

sips tea

On today's menu -- a haircut! The timing of this blessed event suggests that I'll be stopping at Holy Cannoli to pick up something to take home for lunch, or perhaps I'll opt to eat there, and sit in the window, brooding over Main Street in the Grand Romantical Style. We shall see.

Also on today's task list: one's duty to the cats, playing with the smoke detector (I failed to finish that yesterday, having found the instruction booklet), and trying to figure out why the electric broom (essential to my plan to keep the basement stairs free of dust and fur) doesn't, err, suck. Also, I want to write.

That seems like a full day, right there. Of course, I deliberately maintain a low bar.

I do think that's all the news from this location. I really need to finish my tea and go find pants. And a shirt, too, I suppose. And then I hope to be awake enough to hunt the wily Everything Bagel.

And how are you this morning?

Today's blog post title brought to you by e e cummings "in time of daffodils"

First things first:  This is for the purposes of planning the Friends of Liad Breakfast on Saturday morning of  Balticon at 8:45 am

If you are planning to attend the breakfast (you do not need to be a member of the con to come to breakfast): say "Yes" in comments.

Things you need to know about the Friends of Liad Breakfast:  (1) This is a family gathering to catch up with each other and news. Everybody pays for their own breakfast.  (2) It is not a con event.

Go!

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What went before ONE: Old/new snippet: "Was that too long?" Theo snapped, worry sublimating into temper by a process he understood intimately. "You smashed the rack-and-tile array with a starbar. The doc had to do repairs at the cellular level! You should be dead, except you got lucky."

Lucky. Of course, he had gotten lucky.

What went before TWO: So, lost +/-230 words on the day, bringing the total WIP to 34,440, more or less. And! I have a follow to a new scene that did not appear in Salvage Right, and which will address something that we glossed over in Salvage Right because deadline and if we kept on going we'd have written a 200,000 word book and, just -- no.

There are already /1/0 15 people who say they'll be attending the Saturday morning Friends of Liad breakfast at BaltiCon. Hoping the in-house restaurant is more amenable to reservations than the Boskone hotel, which, the last time Steve and I hosted a FOL breakfast, adamantly refused to take a reservation, and therefore doomed themselves to constantly rearranging the room for two hours, as folks kept arriving.

I am scheduled to be interviewed at 11:30 on Saturday at the con, according to the Less Drafty Schedule, so that's something else to bear in mind.

Trooper was unfortunately messily ill this morning, which means that there will be no Happy Hour this evening. Because explaining to cats that they need to not gorge on gooshy food because it will make them sick isn't exactly an Easy Sell, I think I will be on the couch watching Dr. Who and ignoring the protests of felines whose throats have been cut, rather than trying to read, or write, or do ASL homework.

And that's all I've got on the day.

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Saturday. The 'beans claim it's raining. The weather over the Long Back Yard is mostly sunny and a trifle cool. I've set the Awesome Chair up on the deck.

Breakfast was a ham and cheese sandwich (which finishes the ham, which I am now tired of, so it will be easier -- for a while, anyway -- to resist temptation) and veggie chips. Yes, that does sound like lunch. Actual lunch will be quiche and salad.

Thanks to everyone who pitched in on the name of the movie. Kill Bill it was. Nasty piece of work. Bearing in mind that I also did not think Thelma and Louise was "funny." I think I may have mentioned that I am not the person they make movies for.

Speaking of movies, I watched The Church on Ruby Road, and the difference between now and 1997 is ... wow. The cats all joined me, and we had a lovely viewing. Firefly has already asked that we do it again this evening, so I've got that inked in.

I stayed up a bit late last night, to finish The Teller of Small Fortunes. I also made the executive decision not to finish the book club book. This is slightly awkward, because I'm going to listen to the author read from this book in a week or two. OTOH, there always exists the possibility that I'm reading it wrong -- reading protocols are A Thing, after all -- and that the author's performance will inform me.

Having gone to bed late, I slept late, and woke up to the realization that I need to start Making Lists for my upcoming perambulations, and for my duties to the con. Since I will apparently not be doing itinerant readings, I think I will read Blays and Majel's Excellent Adventure officially, and perhaps carry with me "The Last Train to Clarkesville," in case there's another opportunity to just sit and read for an hour (it's a long story).

This still leaves me with packing (1) the big suitcase full of con stuff and (2) the duffel bag, for my mini-vacay on the way home. I have engaged one of those apartmenty things, with a kitchen, and there's a Wegman's somewhere in Corning which I'll try to hit before I check in. I have my tickets for two days at the museum, and two classes booked -- one at the museum, and one at a studio in-town.

I still need to come to terms with how to get out of Baltimore. I'm thinking that Steve and I left BaltiCon 50 at, like, 4 o'clock in the morning and just shot out the Jones Falls well ahead of rush hour. That may be my best plan.

Today, I intend, mostly, to write. I have a few chores, as per usual, and one's duty to the cats, and I will honor Firefly's request for Moar Dr. Who. Oh, and I have to find something to read. I think I have the most recent Sebastian St. Cyr in the electronic TBR pile, the second Bad Heirs, a couple of cozies, and a Celia Lake to test drive. Yeah, I won't starve.

What's everybody reading today?

Oh. There are four cats in my office.

What Went Before: I returned to the keyboard after serving up Happy Hour. Trooper is calling foul and is trying to get Tali to fill out the form in triplicate to the Committee Cat. Tali is not interested in getting carbon on her toes, so I'm not sure that complaint's going to be filed any time soon.

956-ish new words on the WIP, which brings it a whisper short of 5,000 total words. I'm pleased with the day's progress, and look forward to making more progress, tomorrow.

I would like to report that the portable deadbolts I bought from Amazon really do work well, but I had reckoned without the Resident Void, who can quite easily stand up on his back feet and dork around with the chain -- not a particularly safe situation. Cats, man...

I have received a Very, Very Dangerous Email from Vacassa offering almost-affordable places to stay oceanfront in Old Orchard Beach. I tried to avert my eyes -- well, no, I didn't. I opened the dern thing right up and started clicking. It's a little unnerving to find that I know where most of these places are, including the one in Ocean Park, which is, yes, Just A Walk from the Beach, but it's a Rather Stern Walk.

The 'beans are clinging to this upcoming Weather Event like it's their firstborn child. I'm not going anywhere, myself, and the generator is ready on standby, but I could honestly do without a Weather Event. I'm ready to be done with winter. Witness my explorations at the beach, above.

I think I'd better be done at the desk for the day, before I get into even more Dutch with the coon cats. I do still have to pair socks and clear the dishwasher, and by that time Trooper may have decided to file the report himself.

SNIPPET: "Treachery is always possible," his former master reminded him in memory. "Honor is always possible. It is our task as traders to nurture honor while being alert for treachery."
OR: "Trust in Allah, but tie your camel."

Onward.

Sunday.  Snowed a couple inches on the overnight. Looks to be taking a breather right now, then we're supposed to be treated to more snow and the ever-popular wintry mix.

Breakfast will be scrambled eggs. Lunch will be -- dunno. Maybe leftover stew. Maybe a grilled cheese sandwich. We'll see.

Today's plans include changing out the cat boxes, baking a loaf of bread, writing, and contemplating the precipitation when and how it chooses to fall from the sky. Surely, that's enough for one day.

So! Those who attended -- how's Boskone?

Everybody else -- how's the weekend been treating you?

Today's title brought to you by Bruce Springsteen and Manfred Mann.  Yes I do realize this is a Religious Thing that's just as heat-inducing as Oxford Commas, and How Many Spaces After a Period.  That being so:
"Blinded by the Light," Manfred Mann
"Blinded by the Light," Bruce Springsteen

Sunday morning photo shoot: