Saturday morning, iced

Saturday, March 7th, 2026 09:00 am
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Saturday. Cloudy and mizzling. It is said by the weatherbeans that the temps will rise unto the mid-40sF by this afternoon. Right now, they are warning of frozen surfaces.

I have a ticket to see Michael Carbonaro this evening, and I suspect I will need to work out a Strategy in re not breaking a leg. Right now, I'm leaning toward going downtown early, finding a parking space Right Near the Arts Center, rather than just parking in the Concourse, and, I dunno, read or find something to eat until showtime.

Meanwhile! At just barely half-eight, I have risen, showered, dressed, treated my printer with olive oil, compiled and printed out a section that needs to be reworked-and-expanded, taken a picture of the Writing Disaster Zone which it afterward occurred to me that I cannot share, because the thing I really wanted to showcase -- aka the 28 x 15 inches pieced together printout which is the Entire Time Map for this novel -- could actually be read by someone with Determination.

Regarding the time map -- Yes, I am breaking out every trick I've ever learned. This is what it is to write with only one brain on the case. I mean, I do tell the cats what's going on and solicit their input, but, yanno, they have their own dreaming to tend.

All that said -- I should go find something that looks like breakfast.

Oh, wait. I heard back from CookUnity, which is very apologetic and free with the discounts and whatnot. They have not, however, answered my Core Question regarding the probable state of my food when it arrives on Monday, having sat in a warehouse, or an off-the-road delivery truck, or whatever for three days.

OTOH, I also gather from CookUnity that am Not Alone in this situation. I'm interested to hear that, down in Civilization, CookUnity maintains its own delivery fleet. That is not so for we who are off-Grid.

I have heard tell of another sort of co-op meal service, which utilizes chefs who are local to the customer, but I haven't actually tracked that down, yet.

Now, I'm going to go find breakfast.

How's everybody doing today?


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

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

How's everybody doing?

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

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

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

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

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

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

I think that's all I've got.

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

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

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

*throws hands in air* *catches them*

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

Exciting times.

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

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

I'm back!

And all of my files are intact!

Cabana boy! Wine!

And a glass!


Anything can happen day

Wednesday, March 4th, 2026 07:43 pm
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What went before: Wednesday. Sunny and cold. Snowed a couple in on the overnight and today the beans are calling for temps near 50F.

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

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

What's everybody doing today?

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

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

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

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

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

Spoiler: It is not.

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

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

Sigh.

Everybody stay safe. I'll check in tomorrow.

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

Sigh.

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

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


Write Like a Girl

Monday, March 2nd, 2026 08:11 pm
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Monday. Full moon shining down through the clerestory window in my office.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stay safe. I'll check in tomorrow.


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

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

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

Sigh.

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

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

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

I'm going to a magic show.

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

Yes, I've seen the news.

How's everybody doing?

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


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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:


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

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

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

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

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

Well.

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

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

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

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

Everybody stay safe.

Tali and Rook, birdwatching


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Sunday.

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

I really need a time-turner.

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

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

Everybody be well. Stay safe.

I'll look in as can.


rolanni: (Default)

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

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

Hopefully this will address the Inclination to Scream.

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

I hope everyone had a delightful Friday the Thirteenth.

Be well. Be safe.

I'll check in as can.


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

That said, we move on to!

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

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

I pause here to mourn simplicity.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But that's for later.

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

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

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

Doesn't that look tidy and fine?

So! Who else is tidy and fine today?

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

And now:

 


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What went before Thursday: So, I bought a stability ball today -- also known as a Giant Yoga Ball -- on suggestion of PT, and by doing so I learned several things.

Thing One. I had to go to Wal*Mart to obtain this item. Now, I haven't been in a Wal*Mart for at least 8 years, and at that time, I was in the Augusta Marketplace store and it was filthy and ill-kept, misfiled, and nerve-wracking to be in -- you know, like all the stores are now. The Waterville store, today, was -- spacious and well-lit, the shelves were stocked appropriately, signage (with a notable exception, which I will share) plentiful and easy to see. The gentleman in the red vest and ID tags who I stopped to ask where I should look for a Giant Yoga Ball told me that I would be going to the back of the store, to the Sports section, and then he used his phone to tell me that Giant Yoga Balls could be found in Aisle I-15.

Thing Two. Being as I had to walk to the furthest corner of the store to find Sports, I did have plentiful opportunity to look about me, and discover those things reported in Thing One. When I got to Sports, however, I found I-14 and I-17, but not Aisle I-15, which would be my luck. I asked a young lady who was stocking shelves, and whose face immediately said she didn't want to have anything to do with me why there was no Aisle I-15, and the young man who was her partner said, "Oh, no, I'll show you," which he did (I-15 is, in the Waterville Wal*Mart, where they file the bicycles), and when I said, "There are no Giant Yoga Balls here," led me to the exact shelf, which is where I learned Thing Three, which is!

You have to inflate the Giant Yoga Ball when you get it home. It comes with a cheap, plastic, manual air squeeze, and it will, conservatively, take me three days to inflate this thing. However! I have the ball in house, and have started on the inflation project, and I'm calling that progress.

I am now needing to get to my backlogged email.

Tomorrow Sarah comes in the morning to do the cleaning, and I believe I will be blocking out the rest of the day, which will give me 4.5 days to concentrate on reading/writing until I'm next needed elsewhere. I may, in fact, make a weekend of it, and order in, so I can keep focused on the WIP, with short breaks to blow up the stability ball.

So! I have what passes for A Plan. I note that this Plan may mean that I will be not much around the Internets. It's OK; I'll be working.
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Friday. Cold and intermittently sunny. Sarah changed her hours to Saturday.

Woke up at 5:30, got up at 6, sat with the Happy Lite, ate breakfast and was reading the WIP before 8. Read 200 pages, did a couple loads of laundry, broke for lunch -- chicken Alfredo from ... I have no idea, actually. Pasta Americana? It was good and I have leftovers, which is also good.

The story is not nearly as terrible as I had feared. In fact, it's pretty good. So that's a relief. I have 68 days until I have to hand it in, and even though I have to Really End It, excise those 9,000 words, and probably write ... two? more fill-out scenes, I should be able to make that deadline.

Beta Readers! If you are still reading, do not despair! My Method is to do my read, then read your comments, once I have the story in my head in its present shape. You are, in a word, Still Relevant -- very much so! -- and I look forward to your notes with anticipation.

The stability ball has been inflated, and the cats are of the opinion that nobody needs a ball that big.

Dead River, after assuring me yesterday that my delivery was scheduled for today -- has not yet delivered. I'm in no danger, but I would very much like to know why it's suddenly become difficult to deliver oil to this address.

I still need to finish my Remarks and choose something(s) to read for my Event on the 21st.

The missing 1099-MISC arrived today, which would be my luck, because I wrote to the issuing party regarding its whereabouts yesterday. I now have to block out the better part of a day to enter everything into the accountant's portal, because the thing is purposefully designed to force you to fill it in All At Once. In former years, when I was working from paper, I would have been filling the forms in as columns were added, and paperwork arrived, and the manifesting of the last 1099 would mean that I filled in one final line, reviewed, and took the whole packet down to Oakland on Monday morning.

Stoopid portal.

What else? The now-called Business Office, formerly Sharon's Office, looks like a bomb hit it again. I used to write and do business in here, and . . . I can't figure out how I did -- oh, no, I do know. By this time in the Proceedings, the manuscript would have taken over the living room, and Steve would be reading it while I did the taxes, and I would have been able to keep up better with the day-to-day paperwork because Steve would have picked up the laundry and the cooking and the dishwashing, because he would rather do those things than the taxes.

deep breath

Nope.  Still Not Preferring this timeline.

Last night, I collapsed into bed earlyish and asked the Boox to read Cuckoo's Egg to me. Now, I have read Cuckoo's Egg manyManyMANY times. It is, in fact, one of my favorite books. I know this story. But listening to it is a Whole Nother Experience. I have not had this particular sensation of . . . newness . . . with the other books -- all old favorites, because I'm still learning -- I've listened to, so that's interesting.

And that I think catches us up. I'm going to take some time to excavate my desk.

Ah.  Today's blog post title brought to you by Rocky and Bullwinkle.


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OK, let's see...

Thursday. Sunny and cold. Feeling much more the thing than yesterday, which -- just let's say that it was a day when you drink peppermint tea and honey because your stomach hurts and that turns out to be a bad idea.

Got in an early four hours with the WIP this morning, and have verified that I'll be removing about 9,000 words. This is not a surprise; I kinda sorta knew I was going to hafta do it, unless I Thought of Something. Which I haven't, so -- into the Pull File they go, and maybe they'll be useful later.

I have a doctor's appointment at 2:30, and need to verify where I'm going. Also, I have emails that I need to answer, and! I need to tell Draft2Digital that, yes, I do want Pinbeam Books to be listed with Bookshop.

Still waiting on that one outstanding 1099-MISC.

I see that the judge overseeing the Anthropic Settlement has extended various deadlines for opting in, out, and sideways, which will likely put back the expected payout schedule, originally projected to begin in August. Granted, I never expected to see any money from this "settlement," but the whole thing's so infuriating that even reading the subject line kicks up the blood pressure.

And FedEx has just arrived to deliver a letter, so it looks like the range for hitting my house really is between 11:15 and noon. Which is actually useful information.

Trying to figure out if I want to try to see John Mellencamp's off-Broadway fine-tuning of his play at Ogunquit in October. I expect if I want to do that, I'll have to reserve a room at Ogunquit realsoonnow. Must lookout prices.

For now, I need to do my duty to the cats, and then heat up the soup I didn't eat yesterday, ref stomachache, and -- oh, yeah, find where the heck I'm supposed to be at 2:30.

How's everybody doing today?


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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.


rolanni: (Default)

The Long Back Yard

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Was hitting the keyboard by 7 am, taking a break now to take trash out ahead of the Winter Weather Event that's rolling in. I think that most of the accumulation will be on the coast, and so does the tree guy, who thinks he'll be by tomorrow to take down my two dead pines and do some tree work for the next door neighbors.

I have a date downtown with friends tomorrow, and I hope we won't be snowed out.

How's everybody doing this morning?
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Cardinal (male, for those who don't see cardinals in their back yards):

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Added about 1,000 words to the WIP this morning. Breaking for lunch. Still hoping to be able to have a Good Enough Draft by the end of the day. Can't type with my fingers crossed, though.

I am somewhat confused by the weather report. Seems like now we may just get a few flakes, which would be OK by me.

Tali tells me that she Very Much Likes pork and sauerkraut. I take leave to doubt this intelligence.

And so the midday report.
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Upcoming Author Event
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That's it. I'm calling this the Good Enough for Rock 'n Roll Draft. It does not properly end; it stops. This is not particularly unusual in our Good Enough for Rock 'n Roll Drafts, and I might as well stop here.

I wrote just over 3,700 words today, bringing this draft to +/-138,880 words. For comparison, Salvage Right was turned in at 132,000 words.

I will, oh, on Wednesday, put out a call for Beta Readers. If you're thinking you'd like to do this, bear in mind that what you will be reading is a draft -- which not only means that it likely has holes in it, but there are without a doubt misspellings, ugly sentences, disreputable punctuation and a shipload of other errors present.

What I'm saying is that beta reading is not for the faint of heart, the short of patience, or, really, the short of time.

This is not, notice, the Formal Call; that will come on Wednesday, when I will also explain what the nitty-gritty of beta reading means to me.

Rookie has been running up and down the hall like a crazy man for the last hour, looking for Happy Hour. Happily, I have Happy Hour right here in my pocket, and realsoonnow, I'll be serving that up.

The weather beans have abandoned the whole snow idea up here in the center of the state for right now. We may, it says here, get an inch on the overnight. Which is, actually, very good news.

Everybody have a good evening. Stay safe.

I'll check in tomorrow.


The Writing Life

Saturday, January 17th, 2026 07:08 pm
rolanni: (Default)

The Long Back Yard:

#

Saturday. Snowing, but lightly. There may be half-an-inch of new stuff on the ground.

Breakfast was cream cheese on toast with a side of grapes. Breaking now for lunch and to bake pork chops, so I can have something to eat tomorrow (today, I'm having the other half of yesterday's sandwich and a bowl of lemon-orzo soup).

Wrote about 1,200 words this morning. Intend to go back after lunch and write some more.

Did PT Homework Part One, and my duty to the cats. Prepped the pork chops that are now in the oven.

The cats are in Steve's office. Tali's feeling feisty today, she threw Rook off of the top of the cat tree, and then took over his box on the desk. He has retired to Scrabble's Basket, which resides on its own stand in the V made by the sliders.

Speaking of sliders, I need to take measurements so I can order in some up-and-down blinds from Blindster. They promise me no-tools installation, so I'm in.

And? I think that's all I've got. I have not looked at the news today, and that seems to be working well, so I'll be continuing there.

What's happening at your house today?

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Tali's new PR photo:

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Saturday evening. Still snowing. Might be an inch out there by now.

Wrote just about 3,100 words today, bringing the total wordcount to +/-135,155. I may actually finish this draft tomorrow, for values thereof.

All cats have had their front claws clipped. Two out of a possible three cats cursed mightily at this indignity and have sworn to File Complaints. Firefly was Stoic, today.

Speaking of Firefly, her fans may recall that she really doesn't "get" the whole spring thing. Tali is a very enthusiastic player. Rook, who really is Scary Smart will chase the spring, and either bring it back to me so I can throw it again, or will guide me to where it's gone, so I can throw it again.

Firefly -- eh. The spring bounces over her head, she shrugs and walks away. It lands at her feet and the only thing she does is sit there. Unless Tali careens into her, whereupon she'll pound Tali in the head.

So -- no chasing the spring for Firefly.

She will, however, barter them. It goes like this: she does understand that the springs have value, and she will occasionally go find one, and then come to me, making her "I caught one!" sound. Which is my cue to? Get out the Cat Dancer or the blue octopus, so she can play in her preferred manner.

What's also interesting is that the other two recognize that she has purchased this time, and, while they'll watch her play (sometimes, they don't even bother to attend her play session), but they won't intrude on it.

And they say cats are dumb.

So! Time for a glass of wine, I think.

Everybody stay safe; have a good night. I'll check in tomorrow.


The writer writes

Thursday, January 15th, 2026 05:23 pm
rolanni: (Default)

The Long Back Yard:

Thursday. Got up at 5:30, because that's when I woke up.

Rained all day. Except for short breaks for PT homework, and eating lunch, doing one's duty the cats, and moving laundry from the washer to the dryer to the bed, I spent all day on Catalinc Station. Wrote about 2,100 words, WIP stands at something more or less like 132,000. And I still haven't gotten to The End.

Speaking of laundry. I was just now sitting on the bed, pairing up my socks, under Rookie's close supervision, when he stood up, grabbed a sock off my lap and headed west with it. I did catch him before he took it down to the cellar.

The spine doctor's office called today to gather information ahead of tomorrow's visit, and I'm feeling encouraged. The person I was talking to actually listened and asked follow-up questions that actually followed up on what I'd said.

So, I'm about done for the day, excepting a look at the email to see if there's anything I have to answer. If not, I'll read for a while, grab a sandwich and a glass of wine and call it day.

Tomorrow's going to be V. Cold at the ocean, but I believe I will time my trip so I have time to swing by the Actual Ocean and breathe in some salt air.

And that? Is all I've got. Writing being boring like it is.

What did y'all do today?

Oh! I am remiss in saying that the heated foot pads are awesome and I don't know how I lived without them.

 


Write the day away

Wednesday, January 14th, 2026 07:12 pm
rolanni: (Default)

The Long Back Yard

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Writing is all about the clothes

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Tali decided to go full paws-on

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So, that was a day. What day? Wednesday!

I slept "late" because I was exhausted from all my carrying-ons yesterday, and beyond that, I can't tell you where the day went. Well. I can actually tell you where the day went, but that would contain spoilers.

In broad terms, it says here that I wrote +/-3800 words today, a figure I take leave to doubt. I'm thinking I probably missed a word count somewhere along the line. I sure of +/-2000, so let's leave it there. The WIP entire now stands at 128,270ish words, and we are at that fun part in the proceedings where the more words you write toward the resolution, the further away the end gets.

Also, I made the mistake of answering the telephone -- I have got to get with Fidium and find out wtF they've done to my landline, someday when I have three hours to sit on hold, which isn't happening this week.

Anyhoot, I answered the phone and as a result of this hasty action, I have an appointment at Neurosurgery and Spine (no, not a law firm) on Friday at 2pm. It would appear that Neurosurgery and Spine is in Scarborough. Maybe I'll go down early and hit up OOB. Oh, wait. I think I know where this place is. Sort of. Which is why the gods in their infinite wisdom gave us GPS.

So! I have tomorrow to write all day, then Friday I'm traveling, then Saturday and Sunday to write.

It's an odd life, but mine own.

How's everybody doing?

Today's blog post title brought to you, sideways, by Van Halen, "Dance the Night Away"


rolanni: (Default)

The Long Back Yard.  For those who don't know why I do this:  The daily picture of the Long Back Yard is what the Long Back Yard looks like when I wake up.  Yesterday's picture was not a photographic or an uploading error.  Thank you.

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Something a little different -- Steve Miller and Sharon Lee signing Plan B at Mr. Paperback in Skowhegan Maine in 1999.

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All righty, then! That was Monday.

1,830ish new words written; the WIP now stands at 127,250ish. I have eight scenes left to write, and I know what they are and I just want to keep on going, but -- why do brains get tired? Definite design flaw. I want a refund. I had used to want a new brain, but I've finally figured out how to (mostly) work with this one.

Tomorrow? There will be no writing. I have A List.

pulls list out of sleeve
AHEM
1 Take trash and recycling to curb
2 7:45 go to PT
3 Go to grocery
3a Stop home and put groceries away
4 Go to Augusta
4a,b,c Run a stack of errands that have piled up since last week
5 Come home
5a Eat something
6 Go to needlework
7 Come home and faceplant

Wednesday through Sunday, however, I got nothing. Fingers crossed that I will be able to type a provisional --end-- by Sunday night.

Re: being tired of a book in progress: Writing a book is an enormous undertaking; a stupidly complex project that takes way too long (NOTE: I do not speak here for the people who write 58 books a year and laugh while they do it. I am not them.). As with any other large, complex project, like, say, building a boat, there are times in the process when you just wanna throw your hammer out the window and walk away. Not because you think what you're building is useless or dreadful (though there are those moments, too), but just because it's taking So. Damned. Long.

Writers have a far different relationship with their books than readers do, starting with the disparity in the time it takes to write a book and the time it takes to read that same book.

And that's Monday at the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory.

How'd everybody's day go?


rolanni: (Default)

The Long Back Yard

The toilet is fixed. Steve Symonds deserves a twenty-five flower parade.

I would like the record to show that I? could never have fixed this myself. A hacksaw was involved.

'nough said.
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Sunday. Cloudy and cooler than it's been tending.

Got up early because that's when I woke up. Oatmeal for breakfast. Chicken breast for lunch if it happens to have thawed. If not, something else.

Wrote, oh? 700 words this morning. Given the timing of breakfast, it's probably not too early to start investigating the idea of lunch. I will do my duty the cats first, in the interests of going back to writing after lunch.

Yes, I am pushing, but I'm at the stage where "almost done!" is driving the writing engine, and, as I may have mentioned once or twice: I'm really tired of this book.

I put up the "Roman" curtain over the window in the front door, and while it's better than what was there, I'm not convinced it's actually what I want for the sliders in Steve's office. If the tie-ups were longer so I could actually adjust the shade to the height of my choosing, which you would think would be the point of this design, I might be convinced. As it is -- meh.

I watched two? three, maybe? episodes of Spy Family last night and it is not for me. May try another title this evening, if I don't faceplant first.

I am aware that I am taking way long with the Agent of Change readalong -- I plead illness. Also, yes, I, too, am reading Conflict of Honors. Things will happen as they happen at this point. Total chaos for the win.

How's everybody doing today?
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Steve Miller, The Empire State Carousel, Fennimore Farm Museum, Cooperstown NY, June 21, 2023.  Photo by Sharon Lee.

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Change of plan, because weather and also brain wants a rest.

So! Wrote just a smidge over 1,000 words today. WIP now at 125,440ish.

You know how you're sick, after you're well again, you have to do all the things you let slide? Yeah, that would be my realization today. If there's eight feet of snow on the ground on Tuesday, I've got to get the trash to the curb, so I went out while it was still warm(ish) to load the toboggan with trash bags and fill up the recycling bin. So, that's ready for Tuesday morning, no matter what.

Also, I missed changing out the cat boxes, ref "sick" above, so that will be my next trick, after which I get a shower, sweats, and ice cream in my blanket fort.

This means I can write tomorrow, and get the trash out before I have to be at PT on Tuesday morning (boy, am I gonna be in trouble with the therapist), with the least possible amount of exertion, and, hopefully, no crazypants.

I'll just say my good-evenings now. Kind of a weird day, but, some days are weird.

Everybody stay safe.


Long day

Saturday, January 10th, 2026 06:29 pm
rolanni: (Default)

What went before:

Saturday. Sunny and warm. Snow is melting apace.

Breakfast was, as planned, the leftovers from yesterday's chef salad scrambled with two eggs, which made for a pretty big meal. Not sure what lunch is. Cheese and crackers? Could be cheese and crackers.

Got to work early despite having to stop and fix the toilet in Steve's bathroom. I should say, mostly fix. It's stopped the constant running, but the float seems to have sprung a leak, so there's still a little water running out of it. I've been resisting calling a plumber, becau$e, but that may be a false economy.

Wrote about 700 words, and taking a break because that last scene reduced me to, um, tears.

It occurred to me that there ought to be heated mats to go under desks, and there are, byerlady! So -- retail therapy FTW -- a mat for Steve's office, a mat for the studio -- a mat for my office? Oh, why not?

After shopping, I'll go back to write some more until lunch time, after which it's track changes, which, with the application of a bit of elbow grease, I may finish today, and wouldn't that be nice?

Also? Despite having been doing nothing for days, the desk in my office is once again overflowing with stuff. I hope the goblins haven't found another way in.

I bought a very nice "beginner" demonstrator pen from JetPens -- it arrived yesterday. My only beef is that it's a cartridge pen, but there's getting to be some days when I oughtn't be left alone with a bottle of ink, so there is that.

I can't really tell you much about this pen, since the packaging is completely in Japanese. I can say it's a Pilot pen, and it's name appears to be kaküno. Writes nice and smooth; very light in the hand. I haven't dropped it yet, so can't report on its durability. Cheap, too. Under $15US. I got the medium nib, because that's the way I roll. If you've been thinking about trying a fountain pen, this might be worth your time to explore.

Thanks to everyone who suggested anime worthy of watching. I remember I was looking for Spy Family the day Steve died... This is not to lay blame or to invoke the Sad, but to say that I had apparently thought we'd enjoy it, and while I have Crunchyroll, I might as well have a look-in.

And, yes, I am talking about trivialities while the world is on fire. The only thing I can do at this point, is what I always do, and be a witness for civilized behavior.

deep breath

How's everybody doing today?
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So, yeah -- cheese and crackers and an orange. That's lunch, innit? Am drinking "figgy pudding" tea from my Christmas teas. I had not been sanguine, going in, but it's quite tasty and delivers the warmth that the rest of the meal lacked.

On the writing front, that's +/- 1,340 new words. WIP stands at +/-124,785.

As soon as I've finished my tea, I will do my duty the cats, then clear a space on my desk so I can track me some changes.

The cats think I ought to take a nap, and they're probably not wrong...
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Toe bean break:


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Yeah, I should've taken a nap. OTOH, the track changes are done and returned, and! I managed to turn off the water running into the toilet, go me.

I had made a comment the other day in my rant about the cost of Sssses and the prevailing wisdom of adding a "third" S to perfectly good words. Sometimes, in fact, the prevailing wisdom only adds one extra S.

Example: Chaos's

That? Is an ugly something or other.

In my day, believe it or don't, when you had a situation where you needed to show that Chaos was being possessive, you indicated that by this: Chaos'

Which looks much better to me than all these random Sssses wriggling all over the page.

All that said? I'm tired, and Rookie is insisting that it's Happy Hour, so it must be time for me to wash the pots 'n pans.

Everybody have a good evening. Stay safe.

I'll check in tomorrow.


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