Reading

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I'll find out, when I get there

Friday early in the morning: Ducking in real quick to answer the morning's most frequent questions.

The name of the character is Zigfrid, and she has a problem. What a surprise.

The caricatures of Steve and me hanging on the wall in one of the photos I posted yesterday are by Howard Taylor, creator of Schlock Mercenary. They were done at Denvention, the 66th World Science Fiction Convention, in Denver.

In that same photo, Rookie is not scared or angry. His tail is always like that.

And! Not a question, but an observation. I've been listening to Black Cats (soft) Jazz on Youtube, and like it very much. The cats don't seem to like jazz, but I'm hoping it'll grow on them, acknowledging that jazz is, like a Certain Professor, an Acquired Taste. Steve, for instance, loved him some blues, gypsy jazz, and fusion, most of which does not work for me.

All that said -- onward! I'll check back in, post-flu-shot.

Friday, post-flu-shot: Well. That was . . . an adventure.

An adventure, yes.

So, while I was getting my flu shot, I asked the nice young pharmacist when I could get reboosted on the COVID vaccine, the last booster I had being March. He kind of looked at the ceiling and said, kind of apologetic, "Well, see, the CDC isn't making recommendations any more." "Yes," I said, "but aside that." Weeeelllll, aside that, they don't have, that is, they just can't give, or well, actually -- I need a prescription from my doctor stating that it is "medically necessary. "Otherwise," said the pharmacist, "I'd give you one today. It's been six months. I'm sorry; it's really inconvenient."

Well, no. I mean, yes, it is inconvenient, but they're going to kill people. Already have killed people. And are So. Very. Proud. of Themselves.

I HATE this timeline.

I did some grocery shopping after getting my shot, and STILL there was no candied ginger on the shelf, so after I finished my business with Uncle Hannaford, I went down to Uncle Dean's, and had my choice of several bags on the shelf. Which is why we need a natural market in town.

I'm home now, and everything put away. Next up is sitting down with some ice on my back and reading a chapter of my book, then! Lunch, and then?

To work.

Today's blog post title from Tom Petty, "Learning to Fly."

Cat pics and embroidery project The Next:

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Egg rolls and embroidery

Wow. Thanks to everyone who sent birthday greetings. I can't possibly answer each of you individually. Your wishes mean a great deal.

I had a pleasant, low-key kind of a day. In the morning, I sat in the comfy chair in my office in the sun and finished my embroidery project. I caught up with the character who refused to tell me her name and learned quite a lot about her, which of course meant that I had to rewrite a couple more scenes, but that's OK! This is still the working draft; nothing is written in stone. Or even indelible ink.

I had stir-fried noodles and chicken, with egg rolls for lunch. I still have noodles left over, so that's good.

The cats have been hanging with each other a lot today, largely congregating in Steve's office. I'm assuming they're doing some group work, and I let them have at it. Rook came by a couple times to check in, and Firefly and I did have a long chat about how being Boss Cat doesn't mean she has to go it alone. I don't know all the stuff that Trooper knew, because how could I? But I do know some stuff and have a lot of experience, so she's not completely without backup. She seemed to feel better after our talk.

Tomorrow morning, I have a flu shot scheduled. By chance the pharmacy is in the grocery store, so I'll be doing some shopping while I'm there. Then, I hope to come home and write some more.

Below are a few pics from the day, including the finished embroidery project.

Everybody stay safe; I'll check in at some point tomorrow.

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Closing Time, Wednesday

The lunchtime report: So, I did go back to the webform and threw in a non-inclusive bunch of titles, so the lawyers can have my contact information (thanks Judy Tarr!). First, and last on the day, load of laundry done; duty to the cats accomplished, walk taken.

Lunch will be baked chicken breast -- I bought six last time at the grocery, so I'm baking three and have put three in the freezer -- peas, and bread.

Have made minor tweaks and twitches at the WIP Itself, and brain has been chewing on other aspects while I do other things. I like it when I have mindless things that have to be accomplished (which would make you think I like dusting, and you would be wrong), so my brain can keep on cooking. When I had day-jobs, I used to love those big stupid collating jobs where you had to use a conference table to lay out all the pages and then just around and around and around, picking up a page at each stack until you got the end and put the collated pages down, and started back around the table. Ghod, I got a lot of writing done that way.

I currently have three coon cats in my office, and Trooper's absence is palpable, even though, were he here, he'd be asleep in his box.

The windows are open now, the sun having come out and warmed things up nicely.

After lunch -- more writing. Whee!

The evening report: Trooper "came home" a few minutes ago. His box is back with the others. I hope I don't have to add to that collection for a long, long time. In fact, I'd rather not add to it all.

Today's work produced about 800 new words. I had to straighten out a couple of kinks in already-written scenes, in particular writing someone out of a scene that takes place before they actually arrive. For the next scene, I need to do some prep, such as researching the particulars of Scout Commander yos'Phelium's Field Judgment on the matter of independent logics, which will take me to Coon Cat Happy Hour, so we'll just call the WIP's wordage as of today at +/-71,390.

Tomorrow is my birthday, as has been the case for the 72 years previous to this one. Since it is a day of mourning and reliving horrific events for a vast number of people, I will, as has become my habit, be limiting my presence online. For those who are curious about what I'll be doing to celebrate my 73rd birthday; I will be writing. Maybe I'll get wild and crazy and order in Chinese.

Everybody stay safe.

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Destination, Bangor Maine

What went before: Sat with the WIP for a bit, added some words. Dissatisfied with the name of a new character, which isn't the name they gave me -- which is to say, they gave no name -- but I felt like I had to call them something. So! I may be wrong about that. I'll look again tomorrow, and if I'm still unhappy and they haven't forked over, I'll just do without for now.

Vividly I remember the pitched battle I fought with Rool Tiazan's lady, me demanding a name; she informing me that hell would freeze over and Satan down with pneumonia before that would happen. I threatened to call her Bubbles. She laughed. And? She won. Tough cookie, Rool Tiazan's lady. I don't think this one is of that caliber -- because, let's face it, who is? Certainly not me -- so it may be that I'll be worthy of knowing their name after we've worked together for a couple chapters.

Scheduled a flu shot for Friday. They had openings for Thursday, but I draw the line at getting a vaccine on my birthday.

Need to do a couple more things before I go off to ply my needle.

Everybody stay safe; I'll see you tomorrow.

Wednesday. Foggy and chill. I had to ask the heat pump in my office to provide heat to take the nip off.

Slept for almost 9 hours again. This seems to be an Emerging Theme -- short sleep for however long it takes me to get so tired I'm staggering, then 9 hours of sleep, lather-rinse-repeat. I'm not a fan, but at this point I guess I'll take what I can get.

The cat bowls have been refreshed, and the cats have each graciously taken a small mouthful, to indicate that they have noted and approve of this attention to their comfort.

Breakfast was a peach with a side of cottage cheese, and now I'm having a cookie for dessert, because what's the point of making cookies if you don't eat them? Lunch is a puzzler, but we'll get there.

The big news in the world of writers and AI, which SFWA tried to get my attention for a couple days ago, but it took a friend writing to me to get me to look at my part of the thing again. . .

The Big News, I say, is that the Anthropic class action suit has moved to Another Level. The motion on the table includes up to a $3000 payment for each work scraped and used to "teach" the AI engines, and a guarantee to wipe their databases.

Though I fully expect this to be whittled down by lawyers to "arrogant non-apology and we'll only use our databases for good as defined by our stockholders," it does mean that I now have to become a specific member of the class -- which means filing the titles of the scraped works that belong to me, via a webform, with the Attorneys on the side of Writers.

For fun, I went through the Atlantic Database of Stolen Properties (this is not its official name; just a little pet name I've given it) last night and! There are about 200 titles for Sharon Lee, and Sharon Lee and Steve Miller. Some of them are not us -- not many. Some are duplicates -- surprisingly few -- though perhaps a few more, since so much of our stuff has been reissued in multiple editions.

The lawyers' webform. Have I mentioned that it is very Slow?

Yeah. I wrote to the firm, asking if perhaps, given the sheer number of titles involved, I might be allowed to submit One Long List with all titles, ISBNs, publication date(s), and whatnot. Otherwise, it's going to take, conservatively, 50 years to enter, and even with two of us on-board and able, it would have been a lot.

In other news, I have a load of laundry drying. I need to get the clean dishes out of the dishwasher, and do my duty to the cats, but aside that, and ignoring the To-Do List, what I really want to do is write, so I'm thinking I'll be doing -- wow. Every fire engine, battlewagon, and ambulance in town has just gone charging past the house. That's exciting. . .

And now? It's quiet. . . .too quiet.

Well.

What are you ignoring on the to-do list today?

Today's blog title brought to you by Mr. Roger Miller, "King of the Road."

Cat Census:

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There is moonlight and moss in the trees

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

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

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

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

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

Trash and recycling at the curb.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Come here often?"

"As often as my lady allows."

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

"Now, I find it very agreeable."

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

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

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

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Weavin' time in a tapestry

Business first: I regret to announce that I will not (NOT) after all be attending AlbaCon as a virtual panelist. My apologies.

What went before: All righty, then.

I have a filthy headache.

I have no idea how many words I wrote today. The WIP now stands at +/-69,570. FWIW.

Coon cats have had their happy hour. I need to do two things of a mundane nature, and then I'm done for the day.

Everybody stay safe.

I'll see you tomorrow.

Monday. Up well before the alarm clock. The windows are soaked on the outside, and the sky, what I can see of it, is grey.
First cup of tea just brewed and sitting here with me at the keyboard.

September 8.

September used to seem like a non-stop party when I was growing up, and also delivered a salutary lesson in the art of budgeting. My maternal grandmother, my mother, me, and my younger sister all have birthdays in September.

I am the last one standing.

Perhaps someday I'll talk about growing up as a left-handed, wrong-brained Virgo in a house full of Virgos. But today is not that day.

Yesterday ... was not the best day ever. I fed myself and the cats, did needful chores, got some writing done, and achieved several difficult clarities -- so, yanno, not a loss, but I've had better days.

I do want to talk a little about memory, because that was interesting to me, during yesterday's alarums and excursions.

Yesterday morning, I had an email that told me that I need to use a wired internet connection in order to participate in a thing. I totally drew a blank. Got up, fed the cats, made myself a cup of tea, wandered into the bedroom to open the window for Firefly, came back to the screen -- nope, still no clue. Wrote back, said I didn't know what that meant, got what I considered to be a non-useful answer, and negotiated a secondary outcome.

Some time later, having been doing and thinking about something completely else, I thought "ethernet cable." And I got up to look at the back of my desktop, and located the plug.

Ethernet cable. Right.

This still seemed to me to be something for In-House Tech Support, which is no longer In-House, but for fun, I walked the route from my desk to the modem in the Tech Room, visualizing blue cable stretching across my office floor, into the dining room, through the cat dishes, around the cat fountain, around the corner, through the door of the Tech Room, across the printer, and myself climbing on a stool to plug the cable into the modem at the top of the utility shelf.

This really seemed like a recipe for a broken neck, if the cats didn't think of anything more amusing -- and I was probably wrong, anyway. Surely it hadn't been meant that I cobweb my house and put my life at risk via cable, and In-House Tech Support would have known what to do.

I? Went back to what I had been doing and at the next break opened the office briefly to announce that I would not be attending AlbaCon this year due to Technical Differences. A useful discussion blossomed on my wall, and as that was going on, memories started to float up, honestly, like tiles in a Magic Eight ball -- I remembered Steve wiring the old house with ethernet cable -- a process that involved stapling things to the basement ceiling, holes being drilled in floors, cable being run over doorways, and a lot of swearing. I remembered him setting up Circular Logic (The Largest Computer Bulletin Board in Central Maine!), I remembered getting the first cable modem from mint.net and what a mixed blessing that had been . . .

And that continued throughout the rest of the day and into the evening. Just little tiles of memory floating to the surface -- "Oh," I'd think; "I'd forgotten that" -- though obviously I hadn't.

In fact, an overflow of tiles is what woke me up beforetime. I'll write about that, for myself.

Now, I have a lousy memory for Real Life, and I'm a slow thinker; I need time to decide (which the world had never given me, but Steve always did). This process of rising tiles is new and novel. I'm guessing by this time in my life, there's a warehouse full of the things, somewhere, filed according to their own peculiar rules. And I wonder if there's a way to access them in an orderly fashion.

So! That's what I'm thinking about on Monday morning.

What are you thinking about?

Today's blog post brought to you by Mr. Paul Simon as interpreted by The Bangles, "Hazy Shade of Winter."

Tali found an open window:

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life after the apocalypse

Office closed today

Feel free to talk among yourselves.

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Cats and Steve; Snippet and Photos

SNIPPET: "Another good point," Miri said. "You won't get much singing out of Delm Korval. A right stuck-in-the-slush, like we say on my homeworld."

Jen Sin sneezed.

Miri looked at him, head tilted. "Ain't sickening, are you, Cousin?"

What went before ONE: Rook had been ... puzzled, I felt, but taking his lead from Firefly.

Until I just now came home without Trooper, and there was no big brown cat waiting for me to open the door so he could Report, dammit!

We both just had a (damp on my part) cuddle.

No, kid, this is not the way things were.

What went before TWO: And that's it for today. My brain just went "splotz." One thousand one hundred seventeen new words written. Cookies need to be put away, windows need to be closed, and Coon Cat Happy Hour needs to be served up.

Everybody have a good evening. Stay safe; I'll check in tomorrow.

Saturday, damp and dim. Going to be warmer than the last couple of days, say the 'beans, and won't that be a treat.

Slept for dern near 10 hours, straight through, and feel much more the thing this morning. I may even go to the opening of the after-hours vet studio.

Drinking my first cup of tea here at the keyboard. Breakfast will be a salad, on account I have salad stuff to use up.

Junior staff is actively looking for Trooper this morning. Rook registered a Formal Complaint, asserting that his contract specified a grandpa on-site. In fact, his contract lists the cats on-site when he arrived, notes that cats are known for moving on, and staff may change for a variety of reasons, list appended, but not inclusive. I pointed this out to him; he's now talking it over with Tali.

In Steve's office, among many other pictures, there are three of Steve, in a kind of a corner grouping. I will post the pictures below. One is of Steve before I knew him, holding a copy of a magazine he edited in college. One is of Steve a few months before I met him, taken by his lady friend at the time. The last is of Steve a few years ago, taken by his long-time partner.

Now, Steve had been married previously, to his high-school sweetheart. I have met her, not to say that I know her; she's a smart, skilled, and interesting woman; well-traveled, and articulate. You'd like her. I do.

What I don't like, particularly, is the young man with the magazine. Every time I look at that picture, which, given its location, is daily, I think, "Boy, am I glad you aren't the Steve I met. It would have never worked."

This is of course the Steve his sweetheart knew, married, and eventually left. And I confess that I've been guilty in the past of wondering how she could have left him. Murdered him, yeah; I'd've totally gotten that. But left him? When he was so smart, so creative, so ambitious, affectionate and protective; who had determination, and plans, and presence, and -- who leaves that?

This morning as I sighed at the young man with the magazine and told the old guy leaning against the sign that I missed him -- it finally and just now occurred to me that the things I saw as features were to his ex-wife bugs. It takes a lot of energy to keep up with all that ... chaos, and a certain amount of adamantine in the nervous system to (sometimes) stand against quite so much willfulness, and quite so many plans. I didn't always make a stand when I perhaps should have done. And -- fair is fair -- I sometimes got my way, when, perhaps, I shouldn't have done.

So, my tea is gone, and I still need to put together my salad. Thank you all for listening to that.

What revelation(s) have you had recently?

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Friday morning, with rain

Friday. Rainy and sticky.

Did not sleep well. What a surprise. The kids have twigged to the change of order, or at least the absence of the rock that was Grandpa. I've been Queried several times, starting with Tali pointing out to me that the prime spot tucked up against my right side in the bed that Trooper reserved for himself and no other was . . . empty. She was nervous, and licked her nose several times, but she did make the report.

I'm informed by Second in Command Firefly that the next step is a call to the Northeast Committee Cat, which will of course come to naught. I filled out The Form at the vet's yesterday, and they do an upload to NEFU Headquarters every night. I understand that Firefly needs to make sure The Protocols are followed exactly, and I'm impressed that she's taking resolute action.

To those who are concerned -- Yes, Trooper is being cremated as himself and will some time next week come home in a cedar box that will seem much too small, to take his place on the shelf next to Scrabble, and Belle, and Sprite, and Steve.

In other news, breakfast was PB&J onna whole wheat English muffin. Lunch will probably be something I pick up at the store.

Sarah is due in to clean in a couple minutes, and I? Need to straighten up my desk and find my WIP notes from the other day. I may have a title. May. I'm not crazy about it, but it does fit. I've made a note and will check back in a week or two to see if it's grown on me.

How's everybody doing today?

Picture of Trooper from October 18, 2016. I wasn't feeling well and had retired to the couch, to color. This is Trooper telling me that I've colored enough and needed to take a nap.

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books read in 2025

Books read in 2025

46 Outcrossing, Celia Lake (Mysterious Charm #1) (e)
45 Outfoxing Fate, Zoe Chant/Murphy Lawless (Virtue Shifters)(e)
44 Atonement Sky, Nalini Singh (Psy-Changeling Trinity #9) (e)
43 Stone and Sky, Ben Aaronovitch (Rivers of London #10) (e)
42 Regency Buck, Georgette Heyer (re-re-re-&c-read)
41 I Dare, Sharon Lee and Steve Miller (Liaden Universe #7) (page proofs)
40 To Hive and to Hold, Amy Crook (The Future of Magic #1) (e)
39 These Old Shades, Georgette Heyer, narrated by Sarah Nichols (re-re-re-&c-read, 1st time audio)
38 Faking it (Dempsey Family #2), Jennifer Crusie, narrated by Aasne Vigesaa (re-re-re-&c-read, 1st time audio)
37 Copper Script, K.J. Charles (e)
36 The Masqueraders, Georgette Heyer, narrated by Eleanor Yates (re-re-re-&c-read; 1st time audio)
35 Everyone Here Spoke Sign Language: Hereditary Deafness on Martha's Vineyard, Nora Ellen Groce (e)
34 Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day, Winifred Watson, narrated by Frances McDormand (re-re-re-&c-read; 1st time audio)
33 The Wings upon Her Back, Samantha Mills (e)
32 Death on the Green (Dublin Driver #2), Catie Murphy (e)
31 The Elusive Earl (Bad Heir Days #3), Grace Burrowes (e)
30 The Mysterious Marquess (Bad Heir Days #2), Grace Burrowes (e)
29 Who Will Remember (Sebastian St. Cyr #20), C.S. Harris (e)
28 The Teller of Small Fortunes, Julie Leong (e)
27 Check and Mate, Ali Hazelwood (e)
26 The Dangerous Duke (Bad Heir Days #1), Grace Burrowes (e)
25 Night's Master (Flat Earth #1) (re-read), Tanith Lee (e)
24 The Honey Pot Plot (Rocky Start #3), Jennifer Crusie and Bob Mayer (e)
23 Very Nice Funerals (Rocky Start #2), Jennifer Crusie and Bob Mayer (e)
22 The Orb of Cairado, Katherine Addison (e)
21 The Tomb of Dragons, (The Cemeteries of Amalo Trilogy, Book 3), Katherine Addison (e)
20 A Gentleman of Sinister Schemes (Lord Julian #8), Grace Burrowes (e)
19 The Thirteen Clocks (re-re-re-&c read), James Thurber (e)
18 A Gentleman Under the Mistletoe (Lord Julian #7), Grace Burrowes (e)
17 All Conditions Red (Murderbot Diaries #1) (re-re-re-&c read) (audio 1st time)
16 Destiny's Way (Doomed Earth #2), Jack Campbell (e)
15 The Sign of the Dragon, Mary Soon Lee
14 A Gentleman of Unreliable Honor (Lord Julian #6), Grace Burrowes (e)
13 Market Forces in Gretna Green (#7 Midlife Recorder), Linzi Day (e)
12 Shakespeare: The Man Who Pays the Rent, Judi Dench with Brendan O'Hea (e)
11 Code Yellow in Gretna Green (#6 Midlife Recorder), Linzi Day (e)
10 Seeing Red in Gretna Green (#5 Midlife Recorder), Linzi Day (e)
9 House Party in Gretna Green (#4 Midlife Recorder), Linzi Day (e)*
8    Ties that Bond in Gretna Green (#3 Midlife Recorder), Linzi Day (e)
7    Painting the Blues in Gretna Green (#2 Midlife Recorder), Linzi Day (e)
6 Midlife in Gretna Green (#1 Midlife Recorder), Linzi Day (e)
5    The Goblin Emperor, Katherine Addison (Author), Kyle McCarley (Narrator) re-re-re&c-read (audio)
4    The House in the Cerulean Sea, TJ Klune (e)
3    A Gentleman in Search of a Wife (Lord Julian #5) Grace Burrowes (e)
2    A Gentleman in Pursuit of the Truth (Lord Julian #4) Grace Burrowes (e)
1    A Gentleman in Challenging Circumstances (Lord Julian #3) Grace Burrowes (e)

_____
*Note: The list has been corrected. I did not realize that the Gretna Green novella was part of the main path, rather than a pleasant discursion, and my numbering was off. All fixed now.

Entry tags:

'tis a like task we are at

Today's blog post title from "The Scholar and His Cat"

Thursday. Sunny and breezy.

The house is very quiet, and I've caught myself a dozen times looking up with a start, and wondering where Trooper was. This house is arranged so when I'm in the kitchen and turn my head, I can see the copilot's chair and the section of my desk where the cat napping box is located.

For eight years (in this house), those two properties were occupied in a rotation worked out between themselves. by Sprite, Belle, or Trooper -- sometimes two together in a single location. When Belle died, Sprite claimed the copilot's chair most often, except when she was on duty for Steve. Lately, Trooper has more or less had his choice. The kids sometimes use the box, but the copilot's chair was Trooper's.

Seeing both spots empty is . . . yeah.

The house suffered this same feeling of yawning emptiness when Belle left us, and when Spite did. Big cats, with big, big personalities, who had their schedules and took their responsibilities seriously.

Today, following a brief huddle upon discovering that the box had come home, but Grandpa wasn't in it, the kids have taken to nap spots that are not in my office. Each one has checked in with me at least once, So, that's good; they know the gig; it'll just take them a little while to ease into it. Firefly had the benefit of learning from Belle, Sprite, and Trooper -- she's as ready to be Top Cat as it's possible to be. The other two -- they're good kittens, and I saw Trooper working with them. They'll be fine.

Kelimcoons Sooper Trooper, December 15, 2009-September 4, 2025. He came on-board at the Lee-Miller Cat Farm and Confusion Factory on June 29, 2013. The final crossing was a sweet easing into sleep. By now, he's been in Steve's office at the new place for a good few hours, and is probably starting to ask when's Happy Hour around here, anyway?

Picture below from October 27, 2013

Video, for those who care to view it, from May 19, 2021

Entry tags:

The evening report

Well.

I've finished putting together Civilized Behavior, including the front matter and the blurb. I haven't compiled it yet. Weighing whether to make a call for tyop hunters before compiling. Probably the sensible way to go about it. So! Watch the Skies. In, yanno, an easygoing and relaxed sort of way.

A reprint opportunity came in this afternoon, so I did get that story out.

Checked my story cards, the previous Constellations, and pertinent contracts, then wrote to Madame the Agent, asking her to find if Baen might be interested in a sixth Constellation. There is one story still under Exclusivity, but that ends in November, and even if Baen wants another collection, there's no way it will be out before November.

Trooper did not eat at Happy Hour.

Our appointment with the vet is at 8:15 tomorrow morning. They wanted us early, so it would be as quiet and peaceful as possible.

Referencing the above, I may or may not be around the internets much tomorrow. Thank you for your understanding.

Everybody stay safe.

Cat census from earlier in the day:

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Quiet, normal day

What went before ONE: Waiting for the vet to call back.

Yanno what? I think I won't be going to needlework tonight. I think I'll just sit here and work on entering corrections into my chapbook, which is both comforting and cerebral.

Trooper is in the box on the corner of my desk, where he can get the sun and the breeze from the open window. Tali is on the cedar chest, where ditto. Firefly is on her towel on top of the dresser in the bedroom, where she can look out the front window, and also take the breeze, and Rookie is napping in the box on the corner of Steve's desk.

What went before TWO: Only need to amend the back matter in the chapbook, then I can do a test layout, scream in horror, fall on my sword, and go back to the drawing board.

Trooper will be going to the vet on Thursday morning. He did yell for Happy Hour this evening, but gooshy food is too tough to chew, and the gravy is boring.

It's time.

I think I ate ... something for lunch, though I can't tell you what. Oh, wait. Rice. I'd made a fresh pot of rice. I'll have to do better about the evening meal, but I think I'll get the About the Authors fixed up, first, so I can move right on with being horrified by the compilation, tomorrow morning.

Everybody stay safe; I'll see you tomorrow.

Wednesday. Was foggy when I got up. Now cloudy and sullen. Windows are open, though it's still a bit chilly. Lawn guys are next door, doing their thing.

Didn't sleep well last night, but that wasn't exactly unexpected.

Trooper had breakfast in three parts and did manage to work his way through almost an entire 3-ounce can of Fancy Feast pate, with a little end-of-plate help from Firefly.

My breakfast was cottage cheese mixed in with the tiny bit of leftover macaroni salad, which was surprisingly tasty, and black grapes. Second cup of tea brewing. I'll probably succumb to the siren call of the last cookie pretty soon.

On today's to-do: one's daily duty to the cats, and smol walk. Call the hospital, which sent me an "electronic bill" on 8/27, which I forthwith paid electronically. Yesterday in the mail, comes a paper bill for the same amount, and the same services. Ahem. O! MaineGeneral, I, too, would like to be paid twice, thrice, yea! four times, for the same work, but that so rarely happens*. I feel your ambition, MaineGeneral, and I understand it. But try it on somebody else, hey?

Otherwise, I intend to work on the chapbook -- front matter! almost forgot! Blurb! eek! -- and Trooper is signalling his readiness to get down to cases, by climbing into his box and going to sleep. So, business as usual. That's good.

I bought a tween-weather coat, courtesy of Land's End's sale. It arrived yesterday, and it's the weirdest thing I've ever seen. I mean -- it fits. It has outside pockets of sufficient depth for such things as car keys, and cold hands, but it also has . . . what seem to be meant to be inside pockets -- quite large pockets; my tablet would fit comfortably -- but. While there's stitching along the bottom of the panel, it's not attached to the coat -- by which I mean, if you put something into these pockets, it will fall out the bottom. So, yeah, I'm thinking I'll be getting out some thread, and maybe some fabric tape, for belt-and-suspenders, and just make those things usable. Probably not today, but who doesn't need projects for the future?

Ah. You can see the inside pockets, here

I think that's all I've got this morning.

How's your day shaping up?

_______
*Actually, that's a bit of a cheat. As a writer, I do occasionally get paid for the same work multiple times. I can't, however, think of one occasion when that happened at a day-job.

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And suddenly! It's Tuesday

What went before: Finished correcting the first 40 pages of Civilized Behavior; only 100 more pages left to go.

Everybody stay safe; I'll see you tomorrow.

Tuesday. Sporadically sunny. Warm. Said to be heading for warmer, still, though not hot. Trash and recycling at the curb.

Trooper has had two -- three! -- tries at breakfast. The third try -- after he had rejected the contents of the bowl I was carrying back to the kitchen and he stopped in front of me, made eye contact, and screamed -- I put the bowl down in front of him. He stared at it. Rook and Tali came to see what Grandpa was getting that was Special, and he had a couple...eight? licks to kinda spite them, then turned away. Also, that pound I was so pleased he'd gained, all the way back on August 27? He's lost it with interest, according to today's weigh-in.

Yeah, contacting the vet is on my list, right after I have a cup of tea on the deck and sort out my thoughts and feelings. I'm remembering talking with Steve, after we let Belle go, and he said, "Y'know? I think Belle was sicker than we knew."

My breakfast consisted of an oatmeal-raisin-walnut cookie. Probably I should do something a bit more, in a while.

I intend to work on the chapbook today. Needlework group is this evening. And I think that's all I've got.

How's everybody doing today?

Later that same morning: Sigh. The New England Donor Services, with which organization I have not found myself in charity with since it first brought itself to my attention by calling me at midnight of the day Steve died, to ask me a bunch of intrusive questions and persuade me to donate usable parts to the Greater Good. . .

The New England Donor Services, I say, not only saw fit to send me a medal in Steve's name (for, yes, after getting up, very calmly in what I now know to have been an Altered State, I looked them up, saw they were legit, thought of what Steve, the author of "Charioteer," might actually want, and called them back to give permission), for being a "hero" for giving the Gift of Life -- and also saw fit to send me a thin volume of tips for survivors, in which such burning questions as "Am I still allowed to wear my wedding ring?" were addressed, and which still from time to time, despite my stated preferences, takes it upon itself to contact me --

Has contacted me again.

They're having a walk -- to repeal death, I guess? No, wait. They need death. Well. -- and they're making a Day of the Dead quilt, and I'm offered the opportunity to "share my loved one's 'donation story'".

I'm pretty sure I've previously asked New England Donor Services to never speak to me again, and, yes, I've asked them again, just now.

But I really did not need them in my mailbox today.

Here, have a picture of Tali inna bookcase. That'll make us all feel better:

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Second Sunday; First of September

Second Sunday. Sunny and warm.

Trooper making the day more difficult than it strictly needs to be by screaming for food and then not eating. I suspect his tooth is hurting him again, but there's nothing I can do about that today, and I'm not sure how many shots of antibiotic he's good for.

Last night, I was restless, so I sorted through some of the sdcards from Steve's stash, and found an entire card that's the car camera videos of us taking a drive on April 22 2023. The camera is set up to look out the back window and into the cockpit, so I have about 30 minutes of little 2 minute clips of Steve and me talking to each other as he drives us through Winslow and out to Fairfield. Talk about your mixed blessings...

Today, I got to working on the 2025 chapbook, because I actually came up with a title, that being CIVILIZED BEHAVIOR: Adventures in the Liaden Universe(R) No. 36. I may have found a cover -- I have two mocked up and trying to decide if I like the blue-on-blue abstract, or the two little kids sitting together on a swing, staring at the moon in the clouds while birds fly all around.

For those who may be curious, this chapbook largely deals with the Matter of Colemeno, two stories and an outtake from Ribbon Dance. Also, the text of my speech at Balticon, accepting the Heinlein Award. I'll have to check, but I may now have enough stories to make a sixth Constellation.

I have a bunch of corrections to make in the chapbook manuscript, but first! Second Sunday dinner, which will be a chicken burger onna roll with cheese, some baked beans and macaroni salad. A picnic, hey?

How's everybody doing today?

Well. In regard to Constellation Six, it looks like I have 98,617 words of short story. If I throw in the Heinlein speech, I've got 99,413.

Guess I'll talk to Madame the Agent...

Yeah, it's the kids on the swing.

So I finally just got a pack of chains, because the monofilament wasn't making me happy, and that was before it degraded in the sun.

Ornament, blown glass, made in the Corning Glass Studio, by Sharon Lee.

Code deploy happening shortly

Per the dw_news post regarding the MS/TN blocks, we are doing a small code push shortly in order to get the code live. As per usual, please let us know if you see anything wonky.

There is some code cleanup we've been doing that is going out with this push but I don't think there is any new/reworked functionality, so it should be pretty invisible if all goes well.

Mississippi site block, plus a small restriction on Tennessee new accounts

A reminder to everyone that starting tomorrow, we are being forced to block access to any IP address that geolocates to the state of Mississippi for legal reasons while we and Netchoice continue fighting the law in court. People whose IP addresses geolocate to Mississippi will only be able to access a page that explains the issue and lets them know that we'll be back to offer them service as soon as the legal risk to us is less existential.

The block page will include the apology but I'll repeat it here: we don't do geolocation ourselves, so we're limited to the geolocation ability of our network provider. Our anti-spam geolocation blocks have shown us that their geolocation database has a number of mistakes in it. If one of your friends who doesn't live in Mississippi gets the block message, there is nothing we can do on our end to adjust the block, because we don't control it. The only way to fix a mistaken block is to change your IP address to one that doesn't register as being in Mississippi, either by disconnecting your internet connection and reconnecting it (if you don't have a static IP address) or using a VPN.

In related news, the judge in our challenge to Tennessee's social media age verification, parental consent, and parental surveillance law (which we are also part of the fight against!) ruled last month that we had not met the threshold for a temporary injunction preventing the state from enforcing the law while the court case proceeds.

The Tennesee law is less onerous than the Mississippi law and the fines for violating it are slightly less ruinous (slightly), but it's still a risk to us. While the fight goes on, we've decided to prevent any new account signups from anyone under 18 in Tennessee to protect ourselves against risk. We do not need to block access from the whole state: this only applies to new account creation.

Because we don't do any geolocation on our users and our network provider's geolocation services only apply to blocking access to the site entirely, the way we're implementing this is a new mandatory question on the account creation form asking if you live in Tennessee. If you do, you'll be unable to register an account if you're under 18, not just the under 13 restriction mandated by COPPA. Like the restrictions on the state of Mississippi, we absolutely hate having to do this, we're sorry, and we hope we'll be able to undo it as soon as possible.

Finally, I'd like to thank every one of you who's commented with a message of support for this fight or who's bought paid time to help keep us running. The fact we're entirely user-supported and you all genuinely understand why this fight is so important for everyone is a huge part of why we can continue to do this work. I've also sent a lot of your comments to the lawyers who are fighting the actual battles in court, and they find your wholehearted support just as encouraging and motivating as I do. Thank you all once again for being the best users any social media site could ever hope for. You make me proud and even more determined to yell at state attorneys general on your behalf.

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Firefly’s Fifth Birthday with Rock Show side

Saturday

Opening Ceremonies for Firefly’s fifth birthday consisted of me, and my trusty meter stick, retrieving five springs from beneath the bed!

The Birthday Cat assisted by trying to wrestle the meter stick out of my hands while retrievals were underway.

It was very exciting. So exciting that Birthday Cat and spectators are now having a wee dram of cat food to recruit their strength.

Birthday Cat demonstrating singleton hall blocking technique.

So the rock show is a roaring success and I hope the vendors have a profitable weekend. When I arrived at the site, a little after 10:30 (show opened at 10), the lower parking lot was already full, so I parked up top, which was, eh, about a third full.

The room was very crowded, and I had a good time talking rocks, asking questions, getting confusing answers, and all such things that we do at shows of this nature. In fact, it was a lot of fun right up until the point when I should’ve met up with Steve at our prearranged point, so I could show him all the Very Cool Things I’d seen, and he could ditto, which I guess is never going to stop being A Thing.

I will say that things have gotten much more expensive than the last time I was at that rock show, which will have been a year or two before Steve died.

I did manage to buy a pair of hammered silver earrings, which I guess now that I have holes in my ears again, with be A Thing, and some tiger eye marbles and a piece of rutilated quart, because of course I did.

At this show people were differentiating their rutilated quartz — this piece had tourmaline inclusions, this had gold — which was instructive. There’s also a new way of cutting and polishing fragments of geodes, so that the rock the crystals live in is smooth and shaped to be a kind of holder, like an art piece. Very pretty. No, I did not buy one.

I am … very tired, despite having slept a long time last night, with the window open so I could hear the rain. I’m cooking macaroni and steaming some frozen peas, and that’s looking like lunch. Then I’ll see what else is on the schedule.

Here’s a picture of the astronomically correct moon necklace Steve gave me for my 60th birthday, and the earrings I bought today. I think they’ll make a nice set. Note: the earrings are silver. The gold glow is light from the windows.