The Un-Tattooed Lady

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?
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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."

Pursuant to my last post, which has Raised Questions.

Questions Have Been Asked.

A Night in the Lonesome October by Roger Zelazny is for Halloween what an Advent Calendar is for Christmas. The narrative is dated, from October 1 through October 31, save the very first chapter, which is undated, and which introduces Our Narrator, the Watchdog, Snuff. Steve and I would read this chapter on September 30.

NOTE: This book is not a one-night read; it was not MEANT to be a one-night read. It was meant to be read a chapter a day throughout the month of October. I have had people tell me that this is (1) stupid and (2) that they can't start and book and not finish it. To which I say, in the immortal words of Julie Brown: So what? and also -- you're doing the book, the experience, and the author's intention a disservice by gulping it down like a stale piece of cake.

Ahem.

The narrative relates the events leading up to Halloween, in which the characters sort themselves out into two opposing teams -- the Openers, and the Closers. For about half of the book -- until the dying of the moon -- it is impolite to ask one's affiliation.

The action takes place just outside of London. Characters include a mysterious man and his dog; a witch and her cat, a great detective, a notorious doctor, a bat-winged count, and a man who watches the phases of the moon very closely, indeed. Among others.

I recommend this book highly. I recommend that it be read a chapter a night from now until Halloween. Steve and I were first made aware of this book by the late, delightful, and still-lamented Vicki Brown, who sent us a copy back in the late nineties. We read it aloud, taking turns, every October for decades.

Our yearly ritual would start with Steve asking me, Very Seriously, on the morning of September 30, "Do you know where The Book is?" and I would go to the bookshelf, pull it out, and show it to him. He would chose a business card to serve as a bookmark, and The Book would be placed on the Mencken Table in our living room ready for reading the prologue that evening, after we were done with the working part of the day.

We would often flip for who read the first chapter, using an old Ike silver dollar.

This year, I don't have to flip the Ike, and the business card bookmark says, "Steve Miller."

I hope this clears up all the confusion I apparently caused this morning.

Up betimes because there were pony races in the hall, followed by a sound that my sleeping mind identified as "That's not right."

And, indeed, it wasn't right. Steve has a piece of burlap hanging in his office with various convention badges and buttons appended thereto. And Rookie Too-Smart had gotten one of the badges down with its lanyard and had run it down the hall to put by the bed, so I'd be sure to see it, first thing.

Sigh.

What a good boy.

Tea brewing. And look! I have an extra couple hours to write!

And how's Monday starting out for you?
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Supervisors on duty:

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Small break to refill the Yeti with water and confuse the cats.

Not quite as focused on the writing this morning as I have been. I did write +/-865 words, and I intend to go back and at least plot out -- I use this term both loosely and idiosyncratically -- the scenes that are missing. Very few of those, now, which is -- I have no idea how this book is happening, but it's managing to come together, and, yanno -- I'm only the writer. Nobody tells me anything.

I really want to just continue writing today, absent breaks for staging the trash, and doing my duty to the cats, and my brain is telling me I could just call in a veggie burger from Five Guys and that would be efficient, which suggestion is entered as evidence for why I don't trust my brain.

As I said, I wasn't laser-focused this morning. For instance, I bought a slip-proof mat for my keyboard, since Steve's desk is VERY slidey. I also signed up for braiding and storytelling at First Friday, reasoning that, if I have something to actually attend on First Friday, the whole affair will make more sense to me.

The addition of the braiding made me realize that I suddenly have lots going on this week, For Values Of. Tomorrow evening, needlework; Thursday evening, my first stained glass class; Friday evening, the braiding thing; Saturday, Magic Rocks. I should also get (another!) blood test and a back xray. I can do the back xray tomorrow, but I'm a little leery about another blood test, even though this one isn't fasting, and shouldn't require more than one vial.

The above is also an illustration of why I don't take every weekend "off" -- I tend to decide to do things whenever, since writing is, to a certain point at least, malleable.

So, that. And I guess, while I'm up, I might as well perform my duty to the cats and get the trash and recycling into the garage for tomorrow.

So, I see that the Reimagined United States now has autodocs? And special hospitals that are only filled with autodocs -- excuse me -- "Med Beds" (gags), and there's one with my name on it, probably in Solcintra, but, hey, it's the thought...

How's everybody at more or less midday (Eastern US) Monday?

Today's blog post brought to you by John Parr, "St. Elmo's Fire"

What Went Before ONE: So back from the grocery store where I bought too much food. Or possibly I mean I spent too much money on food.

Turkey chili is on the stove, that being: 8 ounces of turkey, which was the last two turkey "burgers" I'd frozen backaways, a can of black beans, drained, an aseptic pack of crushed tomato, a can of diced tomato, two BIG handfuls of spinach, onion, garlic, green pepper, paprika, ginger, Worcestershire sauce, chili, and something called "Tsardust." It's all in Steve's BIG spider with a cover on, and it can perk for Awhile.

A couple days ago, I got my shiny new Pine! Tree! license plates in the mail. They were addressed to Steve Miller, though the car is listed in my name first (Steve insisted that this be so, and at the time I wondered why...). I don't suppose it's a big deal, as long as I keep paying the excise tax and keep it in fighting trim.

Tali was very interested in my chopping and mixing and playing with the stove. She exhausted now, poor child, and sprawled on the supply dresser in the window, asleep.

As I was out and about today, I heard "Pleasant Valley Sunday," courtesy of Phlash Phelps on the 60s channel. Now, I have always thought "Pleasant Valley Sunday" was a bit mean-spirited, especially for the Monkees, but today it really got up my nose. Possibly because I rejoice in my rosebush, and my lawn gets cut, and I'm living in what was, when it was first conceived, a posh, out-of-downtown development. Though I grant this house looks like no other house I've seen.

Anyhow -- an update. Maybe I go throw that load of laundry in the washer while I'm waiting for the ... whatever it is to cook down.

How's everybody doing?

What Went Before TWO: So that was edible, and not over-spiced at all, which I had been afraid I had taken my vengeance too far. I have leftovers, but that's not awful.  I declare a win.

And! A dilemma has opened before me. There's a craft fair practically in my back yard tomorrow. It would be Wrong not to attend, so I'll be goofing off for at least a little while tomorrow.

And As the Sun Goes Down:  Why look. The page proofs for the Diviner's Bow mass market just landed. Due back at Baen on October 14.

To be perfectly honest, I had Totally Lost Track of the fact that there would of course be a mass market edition of Diviner's Bow coming up RSN. Oh! At the end of January, says Amazon.

Well. I just finished a book last night, so I guess I know what I'm reading next.

In other news, I still need to do the dishes, but! I did hang the tube lights in Steve's office; and that should help with the winter time visibility in there. In order to do this, I have to move a picture to a whole 'nother location in the house, which was . . . fairly upsetting. Not as upsetting as the picture falling off the wall, however. Incrementally, we proceed. . .

So! Do the dishes in the sink. Clear the dishwasher of the clean dishes. Print Diviner's Bow (yes, really; I am a Child of Paper). Take a shower. Serve Up Happy Hour, put together a sandwich for the evening meal. Have a glass or two of wine. Read. Go to bed.

Tomorrow, indeed, I will go to the craft fair for a bit, and then I'll come home and do some work. At least the business stuff has been cleared, so I can concentrate writing and writing adjacent tasks.

And on that note -- everybody have a good evening. Stay safe.

I'll see you tomorrow.

Friday. Cloudy and cool for now, but going for the mid-70sF, with sun. Last night the skies opened several times, which the cats did not favor. They all came and sat on top of me and demanded that I make it stop.

Eventually, it did stop, but I did I get credit for deploying my Meteorological Super Powers? I did not.

Breakfast was PB&J on whole wheat English Muffin. Lunch will be something hopefully edible made with the leftover ground turkey.

NOTE TO SELF: Never buy ground turkey again. No, never. It's just ghastly.

Today is a House Day. First up, Grocery. Second, the above Turkey Challenge. Third, vacuums deployed. Fourth, maybe today I can hang the tube of lights in Steve's office, seeing as how Winter is Coming. Maybe I'll throw in a load of laundry, because I can.

I may do some more business catch up, but writing will resume tomorrow.

I want to take a moment to celebrate the "spreader" I purchased at Now You're Cooking in Bath last Friday. I bought it because it was blue and wooden and pretty and fit nicely in my hand, and not because I thought it would be in any way useful.

Backstory: Once upon a time, I used to be able to butter bread, but somewhere down the years I lost that complex ability. I mean, yes, I can get a splotz of butter on a piece of bread and more or less move it around, but any attempt to coat the bread evenly is doomed to failure, or a holed slice, and frustration, either way. This is *especially* poignant when one is trying to make a restorative grilled cheese sandwich (I mean, yes, I could use mayo, and have, but it's Not The Same, and last night I really felt I needed The Real Thing).

So, last night, in pursuit of that grilled cheese sandwich, and coming once again face flat against my shortcoming, I said aloud, as I not infrequently do, "Why won't you just spread?" And then? It came to me in a flash. I had just purchased a "spreader." I fetched it out of the drawer, took a deep breath, and applied it to the butter on the bread.

It. Was. A. Miracle.

The butter went over the bread in a smooth, even coating; the slices remained intact, and -- I cannot praise this implement highly enough, and I will be using it for all of my butter-spreading, henceforth.

Also? The grilled cheese sandwich really did the job. Aside the Cat March Against Downpours, the evening was pleasant and calm.

And that's what passes for adventure around here. What adventures are you having?

Picture of the magic spreader, table knife for comparison:

Also!  Friday morning cat census:

What went before: . . .it is too much; I will sum up. Yesterday, I visited the vampyres, who tithed me two vials, which was enough to make me sick and dizzy for the rest of the day, so nothing of note got done, unless you count new ways to be annoyed with life.

Wednesday. Rainy and chilly.

Especially chilly in Steve's office with the gaping windows that I wish he would have told me about. But, new windows -- actually doors -- are coming, so that was a decision well-made.

For those keeping track at home, I'm feeling much better. OTOH, I've said that before. . .

Breakfast was oatmeal with cranberries. Lunch will be a chicken burger with a side salad. I have a lot of work to do on the business side of things, so this afternoon will be, um, busy. I do not think I will get to the grocery store today. I'm hoping tomorrow afternoon.

This morning, I wrote +/-1,870 new words. I'm starting to worry that this is going to be a very long book. The only length stipulation in our contracts is "at least 100,000 words," so I'm taking that as, "Write 'til it's Done."

Big IRL victory, here! The FedEx guy actually put the Heavy Box o'cat litter in the garage. I mean, it was done in a surly fashion -- dropped directly behind the car and at the very edge of the paving, so I'd be sure to run over it if I hadn't noticed it was there before backing out. However, I did notice it, and used the push broom to scoot it safely further under shelter, and to one side, so all's well and all like that.

The cats have been very attentive. Firefly took a half-shift while Tali and Rook attended me in Steve's office. She accompanied me to the back when I came out to fetch my third cup of tea.

I really don't have much else to offer. Yesterday was awful, and I am very tired of things that shouldn't be a problem suddenly being a problem. *shakes fist at Getting Old*

Even though I installed my wordbook in the place where the native wordbook had been on Steve's computer, LibreOffice is still not accessing them. I mean, it shows me that they're all turned on, but unless I'm typing unusually well, it's just not bothering to cross check. Well. Something else for the to-do list.

How's everybody doing, here at the center of the week?

Hard at work on a rainy day:

What went before: OK, so this is no fun. Apparently, I'm having a reaction to the COVID booster -- the very first such reaction.

I am therefore taking the rest of the day off to curl up in a ball of misery under 45 blankets and three coon cats until my head stops hurting.

The good news is that the New Order allowed me to write 1,120ish new words, and the things I'm not getting done are business stuff that will just have to wait.

Hope everybody's having a good Saturday.

Sunday.  The adventure continues.

As it turns out, I am ... weller. The headache, which was the worst, is no longer with me. Fever's gone. I am chilly, but that just might be because it's chilly today and I haven't turned on the oil heat, so we're running with what the heat pumps and the sun through the window can provide.

OTOH, now I have muscle aches, and was briefly sick enough to my stomach that breakfast was a big cup of ginger and lemon tea with honey. I just went rooting around in the pantry, and it's looking like that will be Progresso Chicken 'n Rice Soup for lunch.

I have written +/- 1,000 words, and cleaned the cat boxes. A walk is not on today's schedule. I do intend to write some more this afternoon, but there are two outstanding pieces of business mail that I have to get outta here, so that will be happening while I'm in the front of the house heating up my can of soup, and taking a break.

How I got 13 hours of sleep: I took a four hour nap, ably assisted by Nurse Rookie Cookie, who gamely declared he was up for four more, if needed. It being 6 pm by the time I arose, half-blind with the stupid headache, I served up Happy Hour a bit early, had a bowl of rice and two Tylenol -- and went back to bed, whereupon I slept for nine hours. I did wake up once or twice, and noted the presence of Tali and Firefly.

So, apparently the tropes are not a gag, and author trading cards are serious business -- this given the absence of an answer to my latest (no harm, no foul; at this point I'D be giving up on myself. Honestly, who is this out-of-touch old writer, anyway?).

The whole trope idea still makes me queasy and murderous, perhaps not quite in that order, but I believe I have engineered a Work Around. (And this is where we once again and reallyREALLY miss Steve, King of the, "Here, let me not do that for you, 'k? This works for me; you go ahead and do what you do." Insert charming smile.)

Into the trope column on the present form will go: honor, wit, true love, space opera. Those're my tropes and I'm sticking with them.

And, honestly, that's about as far as I can bend without breaking something, probably my last stick of patience, and it's more or less what it says on the label: "The Liaden Universe: Where honor, wit, and true love are potent weapons against deceit and trickery."

I will note that this morning's writing session in Steve's office was adorned by Firefly and Rook, with a brief visit from Tali, who doesn't quiet Get It, yet. I am now in my office, attended by Rook and Tali, Firefly at last look was still snugged down in Sprite's former aerie overlooking Steve's desk.

And that's the mixed bag o'news from the Cat Farm.

How's Sunday treating everybody?

Friday. It's an awfully nice day. Sunny and breezy. Warmer up inland where the Confusion Factory is located, than down Bath, where it was Right Cool at that nice little park of theirs. If I could snap my fingers and move this house as it is to Bath, I'd do that.

Yeah.

So, I saw my PCP, who's looking well. I have my COVID shot, so that's taken care of. I will also be traveling up and down Central and Coastal Maine for the next little bit -- acupuncture at Rockport (not really acupuncture, but something to do with needles and reading nerve health and messaging); PT at Augusta; Audiology in this, mine own city. ... I'm not sure where the bloodwork's to be done. I'm hoping Thayer, but I need to check the portal.

We are in pursuit of a Better, Longer Term fix for the back, because it's getting worse, and the poor chiropractor has worn out at least three hammers on me, to no real avail. He no sooner pronounces me Aligned, poor man, then my back goes out again for no reason, and I collapse to the floor, screaming. I mean, something's not right when you hurt your back doing Tai Chi.

While in Bath, I went down to the park, obviously, and enjoyed a chocolate peppermint latte at Cafe Cream. It was wonderful, and now I'm sorry I didn't allow myself a scone or a muffin, but! I found that just sitting in a busy cafe, sipping my latte and not doing much else, was ... oddly restorative. I think it helped that everyone was having a reasonably good time; there were no angry voices, or people being nasty to the folks behind the counter, said folks being Genuinely Interested in you and your order ("Ooh, the Yorkie Latte? (this being the official blackboard name of my drink.) You're gonna love that." And she wasn't wrong.)

After I drank my treat, I went across to Now Your Cooking and toured the premises. I bought a couple of gadgets -- including a hook that will help me open pull-tab cans, which has become an issue -- and a what ought to be a very nice red blend bottle of wine, which I plan on opening this evening, to reward myself for having gotten credibly through the morning.

The car's GPS did this to me the last time I went to Bath, but I didn't remember it soon enough to keep it from freaking me out. When you get off the expressway, there is Only One Way to merge with the state route. The GPS Strongly Disagrees with this, and starts screaming ROUTE RECALCULATING! ROUTE RECALCULATING! like a mad thing, and it really gets your heart racing. As I did the time before, I pulled off into the handy shopping center, whereupon the GPS recovered itself and agreed that I had been on the right road. Next time, I'm going to have to Steel Myself to ignore it.

On the way home, I stopped at the Harvest Moon Deli and bought way too much food -- Tikka Marsala soup, which was good, and I ate it all; a roast beast of burden (they name their sandwiches after classic rock songs at the Harvest Moon) sandwich, which I ate a quarter of one half, the other 3/4s destined for the evening meal, and the remaining half either for tomorrow's breakfast or lunch.

I still have paperwork sorting and portal-visiting to do relative to the medical part of the day, so that's what I'll be doing for the rest of the afternoon, with an eye toward hitting the writing space tomorrow and getting something useful done.

And how was your morning?

Before departure, Whatcha Doin' Moms: