chop wood carry water – Sharon Lee, Writer

If wishes were fishes…

What went before: So! Two-thirds packed in clothes. After I finish this letter to the internets, I will finish getting the laptop prepped and packed.

Or — a sort of productive day with intermittent flashes of: I can’t do this/Who thought this was a good idea?/I am going to get so lost/I’m going to forget my speech/and several other variations on We’re All Gonna Die. I wish my brain wouldn’t do this, but if wishes were fishes, we’d all be eatin’ chowdah.

Tomorrow: Early doctor appointment; possibly wash car on the way home; update the prices of books at Amazon; change out the cat fountains; pack the Big Bag with Con Clothes &c. Honestly, I have about ninety bags to take with me, each one embodying A Thought (for instance, I have bottles of distilled water to feed the CPAP machine — in a beverage bag). Perhaps I’ll be able to consolidate some thoughts. If not — ninety bags it is. The Subaru is commodious, or, in the local dialect, “You can fit two men anna boy back there.”

On that note: Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Monday. Dim, cool, and damp.

It took forever at the doctor’s office, which, given that the hospital is closing down around them I guess was to be expected.

I did eat a cheese sandwich before I went, and that turned out to be a good call. Cup of tea brewing and, yes, I do believe I will be having an oatmeal cookie with that. Or two.

Next up is updating the cover prices on those books that are, according to the Wisdom of the River, underpriced.

After that, I’ll swap out the cat fountains, and then I’ll start in packing the Big Bag, and trying to make some order on my desk, so I don’t come home to Compleat Chaos.

Oh. And I need to call the practice in Bath to find out what their preferred format for receiving my health records from Inland might be.

I should also look at the TBR pile on my tablet, to make sure I have enough to read while I’m away, given that I’ll probably finish the Earl this evening.

So, that’s the shape of my day.

What’s the shape of yours?

It pains me to report that Young Rookie Transgressed yesterday evening and pushed Tali off of the cedar chest, Just Because He Could. Tali left, came back with reinforcements and A Chat ensued, which included Staring, Smiting, and Being Utterly Unimpressed with Upstart Voids, no matter how cute.

Sunday clean-up

What went before: So Ron Currie’s presentation at the library was interesting. He spoke and read to a Very Full Room of appreciative readers. He chose to talk about culture, history, what motivated him to write the book, and to set it in Waterville’s South End, which was at the time the book is set, largely French. It was a good talk; I learned things. So! An afternoon well-spent.

Came home to answer some correspondence, and now? I’m kinda beat for some reason, so I believe I will leave the form that arrived in today’s mail for a Sunday activity, perhaps with my second mug of tea — flips through questionnaire. Ah. My second and third mugs of tea.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Sunday. Rainy and cool. Argh.

Breakfast was oatmeal with cranberries and walnuts, second cup of tea in process. Lunch will be a fish sammich with, um — grapes.

First thing on the day’s agenda is Basement Cleanup and Cat Box Change Out. After, I can look forward to a lovely hot shower, a pair of soft old jeans, a sweatshirt, and! A lengthy medical form to fill out. I think I have enough milk to make a mug of hot chocolate, if I really want to get decadent.

I also want to finish getting the laptop updated and the duffel bag with my Corning Adventure Clothes packed (the overnight bag for Cooperstown is all set to go). That will leave the Big Wheeled Convention Bag to be sorted out, and a cooler to pack. I should maybe run the car through the car wash, too, just for fun.

All four cats visited me at the breakfast table, as I sipped my first mug of tea and redecorated Perry Wink’s house in Finch. Perry and the pig will be finishing up their tour of the Rain Forest tomorrow, which is the day the pig becomes an adult. I need to decide which “pet” to bring to adult next, or if I’m just going to grab one of the cats send Perry to New York City.

The “pets” in this game, I just … I got a PILE OF ROCKS for a “pet.” I don’t know who needs to hear this, but a PILE OF ROCKS is not a “pet.” It is either a pile of rocks, a portal to another space/time location, or a conduit for magic. That’s it; those are your choices, and you seek to make any of those into a pet at your very great peril.

Yeah, I gave the rocks back.

So, I’m reading The Elusive Earl and Everyone Here Spoke Sign Language. Everyone… continues to fascinate, but I’m getting a little Impatient with the Earl. I liked The Mysterious Marquess, despite the, um, airiness. The chemistry between Lucian and Penelope, the charm of the family that had worked out how to go on even with the head of the household long absent produced a comfortable feel-good air. I was happy while I was reading it, and that’s all we ask of any book.

The Earl, however — not nearly as charming in the telling; I don’t feel the frisson between the leads. It broods, this book. Also, there seems to be an actual murder, if not several murders, to be balanced. Perhaps it’s Scotland. Macbeth has a lot to answer for.

And — fair being fair — I had somewhat assumed that this book would bestow some well-earned good fortune upon our friend the Heir Finder, and I’m somewhat disappointed to learn that this will probably not be happening, at least in this book. I suppose there are still more heirs to find.

I think that’s all I’ve got for the moment; my tea is gone; the skies have opened, and I? have a basement to clean.

What’re you doing today?

It wasn’t the bullet that laid him to rest, but the low spark of high-heeled boys

What went before: So! 600-odd new words today, bringing the total very drafty WIP to +/-40,200 words.

Quitting to do some ASL review and maybe see how much of my acceptance speech I remember today.

Tomorrow, I have an early(ish) appointment for a haircut, and some errands to run while I’m out and about. Then! I have Endless Phone Calls to make, and then? We’ll see.

So, I’m checking the weather for my various locations starting next week. Cooperstown’s more or less on par with my part of Maine, and Corning’s a tad warmer, but Baltimore? Baltimore, what’s going on with you? It ain’t Summer.

Of course, we here in Central Maine are operating under an Active frost advisory from midnight to 6 am tomorrow. Just in case anybody thought it was Spring.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Well. Monday, eh? Damp and dim and at the moment, chilly.

Waiting for my tea to brew, then there’s a raisin bran muffin with my name on it to be toasted.

It looks like two of my friends have been whatever the FB term is for “hacked” overnight. Both visible in the city. Both women. Of course, you might say.

Sometimes, I think that I’d like to know what goes on in the heads of people who do this kind of crap (ref “hacked” above), so I could understand why they do it. If for nothing else, look at the material I could get for my stories, O! Me of Can’t Write Believable Villains.

But, then, yanno, I think, no. I’ll just sit over here writing overachievers who at least try to be compassionate, if they can’t be kind, and who recognize that none of us go it alone, we all need each other, even the bullies and the billionaires who proclaim themselves Self! Made! Met your mother, mate?

“The comfort of the rich depends upon an abundant supply of the poor.” Thank you, Voltaire.

I think I’d better go find that muffin.

And. A name I didn’t recognize liked my previous post and in the time it took me to click on the name and block it — I had two messages from that same name.

Glam shot:

Haircut achieved, per evidence previously provided. Firefly approves and that’s all the validation I need.

Stopped at Holy Cannoli and bought a slice of lasagna that will easily be two hearty lunches, and a chocolate mint brownie bigger than my head, which will also be eaten across days. In fact, I’ve just eaten a slice, which I washed down with the tea (still hot!) in my Yeti tumbler.

As previously advertised, I have phone calls to make and, to reward myself for phone calling and getting my hair cut, I have reserved a seat at this evening’s free talk-and-film at the Waterville Arts Center. This evening’s movie is The Shape of Water.

Waterville is doing the city-wide clean up, and people are throwing away Perfectly Good Stuff, so I thought, but figured it was Just Me. Turns out not. I chatted with a lady who had rescued several small child amusements from piles on people’s lawns, took them home, washed and disinfected them and, hey, presto! The grandkid wins.

So. Brownie slice consumed — man, that was good — and tea finished.

Time to make my first phone call.

primal scream

Phone calls accomplished. I may not have a copy of my log that the insurance company keeps on me, which is a record of every time I’ve called them, or they called me, and a synopsis of our talk, on account of that is … proprietary?

My first contact was with someone who wanted nothing to do with me and bounced me to another department, which fortunately got me someone who thought her job was solving problems.

Unfortunately, all she could do was research and compile a case, but she had to send me and the information back to the general office, where? I was “helped” to fill out a grievance that I cannot have a copy of, and I should hear “something” in 30 days.

Takeaway: Insurance company does not care if it has a trust issue, because — where else you gonna go?

I’m going to go heat up some of that lasagna for lunch. I do not believe I will be going to the movies tonight, but I may binge Dr. Who.

Today’s very late blog post title brought to you by Mr. Steve Winwood and Traffic, “The Low Spark of High-Heeled Boys”

Adventuring for the faint of heart

Convention Business: The BaltiCon Program is now live. Word is that it’s still being tweaked. I was, for instance, double booked for Saturday evening, and have been moved from the panel discussion of how to make your characters relatable. Here’s the link. Note that you can search the schedule by day, and by person, and you can create your own list of things to do and see.

What went before: So, that’s 636 new words on the day, along with some retrofitting of old words. The WIP Entire now weighs in at +/-39,597 words.
For a book that has quite a large cast of characters, Salvage Right is amazingly tight, and I have to keep going back and refreshing myself on what happened when and to whom, as well as what was left over.

Also, prep for BaltiCon, including the travel details, and speeches, and reservations at Corning — not to mention the stupidity with the insurance company and! something else that landed on my desk today — is all kind of borking my concentration on the story. Well. Maybe I’ll have time to write at the con.

Yeah, who am I kidding?

The rain has stopped and the wind has come up. Word is that tomorrow will be sunny and beautiful.

We’ll see, she said darkly.

In the meantime, everybody stay safe.

I’ll see you tomorrow.

Sunday In Two Parts

ONE
Oh, my gods and goddesses.

Rookie fell out of the bathroom window.

SPOILER: He’s OK; I’m — a little stressed, and so very VERY pleased that he didn’t run away, but just sat in the garden under the window and YELLED. Firefly and Tali came to get me, both looking very worried, and I had heard a cat calling, but thought it was Trooper singing the song of his people downstairs, as is his habit.

But Trooper was on the copilot’s chair. I ran to the bathroom; the screen was awry and I could hear a cat YELLING. I closed the bathroom door, ran outside — and there was Rook, staring up at the window and YELLING. I called him and he came to me, just like the spoiled kid he is, and I picked him up and told him how brave and smart he was, and brought him back into the house, where we both collapsed onto the couch. He’s only just gotten up to grab a snack.

I pushed the screen all the way out, closed and locked the window. I’ll figure out how to put it back in later.

Offerings to Bast are in order.

TWO
Sunday. Sunny and still a little chilly, though warm enough that I opened the bathroom window for the edification of coon cats.

Breakfast was … eggs scrambled with tomato and onion and rice. I guess I ate about half of it before Adventure overtook me. I hate cold eggs. I did finish my toast and jam. Lunch will be chicken tender and mashed potatoes out of a bag and, oh, peas, why not?

I have a letter to write, but mostly I want to write. I really hope that isn’t too much to ask.

I … am still a little shaky, and so glad that Firefly and Tali came to get me instead of following Rook out the window. I might’ve talked Firefly in, but Tali’d be halfway to the mall in Augusta by now. Fans of Trooper will be pleased to hear that he slept through the entire thing.

So! Who’s up for Adventure today?

Picture of Rook after the fall:

In which dragons rule

What went before ONE: Plot twist! A folder has been opened for me at the Legal Aid for the Elderly. I am promised a call from a lawyer, perhaps today.

It is now cloudy here at the Cat Farm, though we’re not supposed to get rain until this evening. One’s duty to the cats has been dispatched; and I took a small walk. Laundry is being washed. Moving on to checking off Even More things from the to-do list.

What went before TWO: The credit card bill just came in and I had one of those HOLY FREAKING GHU! How much cat food did I BUY? moments.

Scrolling madly down the list —

Breathe, breathe. You bought a washer and dryer, remember? It’s OK, you planned for this…

What went before THREE: Window washer/gutter clean-and-repair guy still here. The sweet potato for lunch was good. The top rack of my dishwasher has decided to get out of alignment. Of course, it’s full of dishes. I manged to finagle it back to where it’s supposed to go, will wash the dishes tonight, empty it tomorrow and try to figure out what’s going on.

In the meantime, I have heard from the lawyer. She needs to speak with a colleague, and will call me back.

I spent an hour watching a comedy/poetry show called Biology with Alok. I’m assuming that I am, as always, late to the party, but if you haven’t seen this video, I … give it a qualified recommend. The poems are difficult, especially the segment about Alok’s grandfather, which is part of a long riff on why love is dangerous.

It seems like part of the intent of the show is to create a balance of high and low. The aside into made up words is hysterical, and I really liked the segments where the subject is straight/straight white people, where Alok is pretending that the audience are unfamiliar with the subculture. Kind of like Peter Grant, who only mentions a person’s race if they’re white.

I also liked the bit where Alok and friends are walking down the street and a guy yells, “GAYS!” “Give me something I can make poetry from, not comedy!” has got to be a classic line.

Anyhoots, for those who may be interested — it’s an hour and I spaced it out into three segments — here’s the link

What went before FOUR: One of my ASL classmates made this for me:

Business first: Ribbon Dance mass market debuts on the Bookscan Bestseller List of new releases at Number 35!

Friday. Mizzling and chilly. sigh

Breakfast was rice crackers, cream cheese, and the last strawberries. Lunch… Yeah. I’ll think of something.

ASL class was a little chaotic last night; all of us, including the instructor, were one step off of center. Next week is my last week, by reason of Balticon, and I’ll also have to miss two fabric craft meetings. Thus! the price of fame. And of wanting to have a vacation.

Also next week — Monday, in fact — I have an appointment to get my haircut, which I have mixed feelings about. On the one hand, my hair’s grown long enough that, if we just chopped off a few points and got my bangs out of my eyes, I’d let it keep on doing its thing. On the other hand, I ought to at least look respectful. And on the gripping hand — who even looks at old scifi writers?

Is that DAVE BROMBERG on Classic Rewind? Oh. No. Ice Cream Man. Van Halen. That’s actually something of a relief.

Today, she says in a Determined Auctorial Voice, is a Writing Day. That may mean that lunch is solved by takeout.

. . . Back when I was a young writer, newly partnered and feeling completely safe for possibly the first time in my life, I could drop into story space and stay there for — hours and hours; half a day — or night. Sandwiches and glasses of ice tea would magically appear and I’d eat them without ever coming out of my fugue. I wrote several stories, start to finish, that way. Even as a older writer, I could drop into fugue for at least a few hours, knowing I had back-up. Nowadays, I have to keep one ear cocked and one eye open, and I — kinda resent that.

In other news, my dentist wants me to come to an Exclusive Event! An Invisalign Screening! And? If I sign On The Day, I can get $1100 OFF of Invisaligns.

While I’m the first person to agree that my teeth are crooked and have always been crooked, I take leave to doubt that the Invisaligns can be made to fit around the rocks in my mouth. So — recycling bin.

Spectrum Generations — aka the Senior Center(s) — have a newsletter called Wicked Aging. Make of that what you will.

And that’s what I’ve got on a gloomy Friday.

Who has weekend plans?

Oh, the new dragon is making friends.

Sunshine!

What went before, short form: So, yesterday morning I discovered a new and disturbing discoloration on the back of my calf, about the size of my palm. I spent some time thinking about that, my inclination being to Just Ignore It. Had it be Steve, now, I would have nagged him to go to the clinic, or at least call his doctor, and finally I decided that — in all fairness and in the spirit of While One Stands Both Live — I should do the same for me, so! to the clinic I went.

Examination, measurements, conversation, and ultrasound later — nobody knows what caused the broken blood vessels, but the discoloration is not a sign of a DVT — that’s a blood clot — and that’s really all that interests me. Oh, and the disturbed area may be treated with warm compresses, elevation, and Tylenol.

It was not a very productive day, otherwise. I rewarded myself with ice cream and going to the local Reny’s to buy socks. Because buying socks is always in order.

Thursday. Sunny! Going to be warm(ish), though not so warm as it eventually got to be, yesterday. The windows are open. For now.

Breakfast was oatmeal with cranberries (a fat free food! it says on the package) and walnuts. Lunch with be a sweet potato.

Consumers for Affordable Health Care called me back as I was at breakfast and they too! gave me the number for Legal Aid for the Elderly, which is on my list to call as soon as I have my second cup of tea to fortify me. I can’t wait to hear how they can’t help me, either.

I have more things to do than I have time to accomplish, but I’ll see what I can make happen.

Window wash/gutter cleaning scheduled for noon. ASL at 5:30. Cat bowls have been refreshed.

Rookie came up into my lap after I finished my oatmeal — we have this thing where he visits me after breakfast (and after lunch, if his schedule allow), and this morning, Tali came by, saw the lap was occupied and jumped up anyway. She snuffled Rook’s ears; he snuffled her cheek. She stood there on my knees, a little uncertain, but unwilling to get down — so Rook got down and strolled off to have a bite of cat food. Tali turned around a couple times, bumped my chin with her head, tried to eat the blood pressure cuff while it was doing its thing, then bumped me again and jumped down.

So — progress.

What’s progressing in your vicinity?

Oh — Proof of sunshine, and! How many cats are in this picture?

In which the writer is v. tired

What went before: So, sewing group was fun, though perhaps a little short. I got to meet Carty McFly, a utility cart complete with wheels and enormous googly eyes. The official start time is 5:30 and the library closes at 7, so clean up was happening 6:30ish. However! We had a good group, especially for a first time. Two crocheters, two knitters, one quilter, and yours truly on the needle and hoop.

The cats were trying to get the Northeast Committee Cat on the phone when I got home, but technically Happy Hour was not late. In point of Actual Fact, it was Exactly on Time.

Still raining. And cold. Too cold.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Wednesday. Raining. In case anybody cares, I’m really tired of rain. And? I accept no responsibility; the weather gods are NOT jealous of my lovely new sun chair.

Breakfast was cottage cheese and toast. Waiting for my second cup of tea to brew. Lunch — I bought some chicken tenders which need to be baked and then parceled out into the freezer, so I’m guessing chicken and veggie will do.

I? Am a Very Tired Woman.

I have a Generated Letter from Maximus, which is charged by the Federal Government to make sure that Medicare is Following The Rules. Maximus makes it Very Clear that they are only interested in The Rules. Which means they’re ignoring the substance of my appeal, as Martin’s Point before them. So, I’ll be calling the state insurance bureau today and see about getting an advocate. If there is no advocate, then I guess it’s the papers.

<grumble>Just what I wanted to be doing with my time</grumble>

The gentleman I spoke to about painting my garage is supposed to stop by today and stare at the project under discussion.

I need to renew my library card, which if I’d known, I coulda done that yesterday.

There are three cats sleeping in my office, and one cat on the back of the couch, attempting to influence the flow of random event.

And that’s what’s happening here.

What’s happening there?

The roads must roll

What went before: Still writing, but it will only be a matter of a couple hundred words. Spent most of the day on my reading for BaltiCon. It appears — and things are still in flux, so it might change — that I will be sharing a reading hour with a colleague. My reading was just a smidge under 30 minutes, so I needed to cut it to make sure I don’t go over time. I’ll have to time it again, but I’m pretty sure it’ll be fine.

I’ve also reviewed ASL homework, spent some time with the cats, taken a walk, and eaten lunch. Still need to do dishes.

I’ve read the sample of The Glassmaker: A Novel, by Tracy Chevalier, which was interesting, especially given my own interest in glass. I do have to consider if I want to go on, because…on the one hand, it’s always interesting to see what straight people — by which I mean Mainstream Novelists — do when they decide to use science fiction in their work. OTOH, it’s occasionally more infuriating than interesting, and that’s a fine, fine line to walk. I don’t wish the author ill, but I don’t want to watch the fall (if there is one), either.
Well. It’s not like I don’t have anything else to read at the moment. This one can sit in the wishlist.

So! I’m going to break here to wash dishes and torment Maine Coon Cats, after which it will be time to set up Happy Hour and I can come back to my keyboard and type another couple paragraphs to get me to the end of this minor scene.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll check in tomorrow, but possibly not until the afternoon.

Monday. Sunny and warm.

I’ve been to Charlie’s Subaru, where Skylark the Forester was pronounced ready to travel to Baltimore and back. Tires are good, and have been rotated. Brakes declared “practically new,” all fluids topped off. A picture of the underside of the car was taken, for some reason. The undersides of cars are ugly. However! No rust, nothing broken. Ref “ready to travel.”

I jettisoned the idea of going to Lisa’s for breakfast and shopping at the cool Hannaford at Cony Circle because the entirety of Augusta is being torn up by road crews, and I dared not risk myself trying to cross town. So I went home through Sidney and Oakland, which was fine until I hit Oakland, which is also being destroyed and rebuilt by road crews.

Not hitting Lisa’s meant breakfast was a KIND bar at Charlies, with the tea I had packed in, and cottage cheese when I got home from foraging at the KMD Hannaford.

Lunch will be a premade and now-defrosted chicken breast and butter beans.

I have a phone call to make and some outstanding correspondence to answer. I need to dump the lees of winter out of the car, and also poke around in my sewing box in anticipating of going to the sewing circle at the library tomorrow evening. Otherwise, and aside one’s duty to the cats, I will be trying to concentrate on writing.

Speaking of writing, I did misreport a couple days ago — I thought I’d appended a scene to the master document that I had not yet appended to the master document. So!

As of last night, total wordcount for WIP is +/-37,850. Which isn’t to bad, I guess, and it would be nice if a title suggested itself. Just sayin’.

The cats got up when I came home, and made a case for gooshy food. They have since gone back to their Usual Rounds, disappointed.

And that’s the Start of Monday at the Confusion Factory.

How’s Monday starting out for you?

when the world is puddle-wonderful

What went before: 707 new words today, bringing the WIP total word count to 35,147.

I printed out Blays and Majel’s Excellent Adventure, and will now have to time it.

Trooper is insisting that it is Coon Cat Happy Hour neeOW!, and he is, alas, wrong. I will therefore torment him by straightening up my desk and staring into the abyss of next week, which starts off with a bang! — a 7am appointment at the car dealership to get the Subaru ready for hitting the road. And! I need to remember to take the backway, because the ramp off the expressway to the dealership is closed (again) for repairs.

Sixteen people have committed to the Friends of Liad Breakfast at BaltiCon, which is certainly enough to warrant making a reservation.

It’s started to rain again; apparently, this is expected to continue through tomorrow night.

And Firefly has just come by to remind me about watching Dr. Who tonight…

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Sunday. Raining. I’m chilly, but I don’t think it’s actually chilly. Anyhoot, sweatshirt on, and the dishwasher is doing its thing.

Breakfast was a cup of cottage cheese with a spoon of blueberry/ginger jam stirred in, this being the compromise after I informed myself that “I’ll just skip breakfast” was Not Acceptable. Lunch is easier. I have some tomato soup left over from the other day, into which I shall place a meatball or two and maybe some lentils, and, hey-presto! — rainy day soup.

<aside>I managed last year by riding the wave of Habit. But the wave has struck, and broken, and it’s becoming noticeably harder for me to keep on track. I haven’t lived by myself for nearly 50 years, and I’m finding I’m not very good at it. OTOH, I don’t really want to live with anybody else. Honestly, there’s no pleasing the woman.</aside>

So, last night, we watched Dr. Who. Firefly watched most of the Space Babies from the top of the cat tree, with Tali, but she came down when the bogeyman almost got Eric, and cuddled up with me, so we went on and watched the Music Thief, which I quite liked. (Apologies for not recalling the official titles of these episodes.)

Today, I need to time my (proposed) reading, and do some writing. Also, I need to make rice to have against need; it seems I’ve been eating a lot of rice, somehow, and remember to set the alarm for Omighod so I can be in Augusta (going the back way) by 7 am. I may grab breakfast at Lisa’s, after, and forage on the way home.

Looking out over the Long Back Yard — it’s amazing how quickly the leaves and flowers get on with it, once they’ve decided the time is right. I swear that two weeks ago, I had skeleton trees…

How’s everybody doing today?

Today’s blog post title brought to you by e.e. cummings, “In Just-“

I want to fly like an eagle, to the sea

Friday. Rainy and cool.

Breakfast is rice crackers, cream cheese, applesauce. Waiting for my tea to brew.

I need some things at the grocery. The jury is still out whether I’ll get them in town or in Belfast. There’s a Reny’s in Belfast, which may tip the scales.

So, yesterday was very strange. At one point, I was running a (minor) fever, and I just felt — unwell. I cancelled out of ASL class, which was a bummer, but might as well not give whatever it was — assuming it was giftable — to my classmates.

This morning I feel — OK. No fever. Not so exhausted I can barely drag my tail downstairs to perform one’s duty to the cats.

So, that’s all good.

I have a less-drafty schedule from BaltiCon Programming (The final schedule may happen next week. Maybe.). There is room on Saturday morning for a FOL breakfast at — eh? 8? 8:30? 9? We will not be having a Stuffed Animal Tea, unless I can work something out with either the consuite or the Green Room, so, yanno, watch the skies.

In other news, the WIP now weighs in at 34,667 words, which looks like Holy Smoke! That woman wrote yesterday!, but is mostly cut ‘n pasting/minor reworking from Salvage Right.

This is a matter of +/-3400 words, and will likely be less as soon as I get smart enough to figure out how to further streamline the needed action while providing Necessary Context. In a +\-100,000 word novel, this is Very Small Potatoes. Nonetheless, I anticipate hearing from the folks who howled their heads off, asserting that half of Mouse and Dragon was “nothing but” the ending of Scout’s Progress, and they were thereby Cheated. I suspect that this unhappy anticipation is what has kept me from moving forward on this section, even though I’ve known from the start of the project that it’s going to have to go down this way. I do know that most people will Get It, but I hate getting yelled at in email. Or at all, really.

And! The votes are in! I’ll be foraging in town today.

What else? I’m still kind of reading the book club book, with a chaser of The Teller of Small Fortunes. It’s been slow going because I’ve been so damned tired. I may really try to knock off early this evening and, oh, watch Dr. Who.

Oh, and I need to find someone to paint my garage. Actually, I think I probably need somebody to rebuild my garage, but I’m not sure how that might be made to happen. Well. Research. That’ll be fun.

That appears to be the contents of my head, and my tea’s almost gone.

What’s going on with you, this fine Friday?

Today’s blog post title brought to you by Mr. Steve Miller — the other Steve Miller — who notably wrote this song in 1976, when I’m told that music was Pure and nobody wrote about politics or social action in their books. “Fly Like An Eagle“