Eagles Over the Kennebec

What went before: And, the first Steve Miller's death has killed the Liaden Universe®; the latest book is filler: boring, stupid, and includes icky girl stuff¹ commentary has landed. I'm kind of surprised it took this long. And, no, I did not  seek it out.

Closing up shop for the day.  Dr. Who up in 3...2...1...

Everybody stay safe.

¹<fe>Assuredly the first Liaden book ever to include icky girl stuff</fe>

* * *

So. Did he bring her to that desolate Welsh hilltop on purpose?

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Tuesday. Sunny and already kind of warm, pardoning the slight, cool breeze. The 'beans are looking for 70F/21C, so I might actually be able to sit out on the deck for a little while this afternoon in Actual Sunshine.

Trash is at the curb, but not recycling, since there's no recycling pickup this week, those trucks being needed to haul in the junk for the City Cleanup.

Breakfast was -- don't judge me -- leftover mashed potatoes with egg, onions, and cheese. Lunch will be a burger and ... something. Or, yanno, not.

I have a letter from the hospital that's closing next week. It appears that I can fill out a form to see if my PCP will accept me into his new practice -- in Bath. I'm required to fill the form in and fax it to the practice, which is going to be a challenge. I note that Bath is, eh, an hour away, maybe?

However, in Actual Good News, the Walk-In Clinic is not closing. At least, not yet.

The letter is dense -- in layout and in information, so I'll be reading it again. I also have a bill from the plumber for the Installation Fiasco, and it is less -- even much less -- than I had feared. So -- qualified good news there.

I've some other this, that, and t'other things to look after, and tonight is the second meeting of the fiber craft group at the library.

"My life makes perfect sense: drugs and booze, and violence." Possibly my least favorite Dire Straits song.

Thanks to everyone for the outpouring of love for our writing, and for Diviner's Bow. I should perhaps have given a paraphrase warning, and I now let the world know that "icky girl stuff" is romance/relationship content. Which, yes, the Liaden Universe® has embraced -- cough -- from the beginning, and it always  amazes me that people who preface their Disappointed Remarks on our Sudden Wokeness with "I've been reading this series from the beginning," managed to miss this for nearly 40 years. I can only believe that reading is very difficult for them, and I admire their perseverance.

The windows are open -- only not the bathroom window, which will have to do penance for a while yet -- and the cats are strategically deployed to take advantage of the Smells Of Outdoors.

Do you know where your cats are?

Today's blog post title comes to you via Dr. Who ("Kiss-Kiss"), "Skye Boat Song," the linked performance from Celtic Thunder.

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

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

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

Go!

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

Lucky. Of course, he had gotten lucky.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What's everybody reading today?

Oh. There are four cats in my office.

What went before:  That? Was a very tight bit of storytelling, disguised as an aimless ramble.

And I might have not gone to see it if I had realized it was her farewell to Lou Reed.

Tuesday. Damp and warm. Trash and recycling have been escorted to the curb.

Breakfast was half a raisin-bran muffin and cottage cheese (I didn't get cottage cheese yesterday, since Shaw's does not carry my Preferred Sort). Lunch -- eh.

Last night's movie (Laurie Anderson's "Heart of a Dog") was Interesting; a little long for me, though I would be hard-put to cut anything. Well, maybe a few of the disorienting visual episodes, though, from what I know of Anderson's music, they're probably meticulously timed for maximum...something. Also, I was tired when I got there, so the "too long" could easily have been me, not the film.

The Colby professor, Dr. Katie Altizer (boy, they're making PhDs young these days), Applied Music Instructor and Collaborative Pianist, gave a talk based on the good parts of a much longer paper she'd written on the film. Her husband and baby were there to support her. Theater One wasn't packed, but nor was it empty.

Apparently these Cinema in Conversation episodes happen every now and then. I missed the first one, but there are three (?) more upcoming, so I suppose I should check the website.

Today, here at the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory, I'll be -- anybody? -- yes? Yes, you, in the yellow headband. Ah. Indeed, one's duty to the cats, but also? Yes, person with the green hair? Yes, thank you. Writing. I made a Huge Breakthrough, and suddenly the Ideas are Flowing. So, yanno, yay.

I -- what was that? What was the Huge Breakthrough? Oh. I know what the book's about. Which I often don't, so that's kind of interesting, if you happen to be interested in what the inside of my head looks like.

So, a boringish day hereabouts.

Who's having excitement today? Tell us all about it.

Ooh. Just heard an interesting story from Alan Hunter, hosting Classic Rewind, about Billy Joel, who apparently said in an interview (somewhere, somewhen, Mr. Hunter's recollection being unclear on the point -- and understanding that I'm paraphrasing the paraphrase), that you start out making music, and you're young and you have to strive, and you get a little single-minded about it, and you don't notice the passage of time, because you caught up in what you do; you don't notice that it's not only event that passes. I (Billy Joel) look at my pictures from Madison Square Garden, and I think, "That's not right. I got old."

And this is exactly what it feels like, thank you Messrs Hunter and Joel. Steve and I used to talk about the artists who had the privilege of living the "Life of the Mind," never realizing that we, too, were living such a life.

Steve never fully understood, I think, that he was no longer 30, and he couldn't come to terms with the fact that he couldn't lift That Thing anymore -- what was wrong with him? -- and I'm surely no older than 40, though a tired 40...

Some time back, I saw someone else talking about suddenly realizing that he was 70, but only felt, say, 40, and that, suddenly, some of the things his parents had done when they were old, made sense to him.

Random thoughts -- assemble!

Or, perhaps, random cats, assemble.  Much more restful.  Yesterday afternoon's cat census:

Today's blog post title brought to you by Billy Joel, "Still Rock 'n Roll to Me"

What Went Before:  Last night, as part of the curriculum of Not Writing, I watched a show on PBS Passport called SAFE HARBORS, which is a tour of 65 Maine lighthouses (I note here that this is not all of the lighthouses in Maine, and also that I've been to/seen a surprising number of them).  I urge everyone to find this show and watch it (I'm told it's soon to come to YouTube).  It's not a documentary, there's no narration, only music and these incredible, incredible views of the lighthouses.

Moving on to!

Friday. Chilly, lots of puffy white clouds moving fast across a mostly blue sky.

Tea brewing. Breakfast will be cottage cheese, corn flat (I've forgotten what they're called -- Thomas' Toaster something. As a substitute for corn bread, it's not. Next time, I'll make my own.) -- and grapes. Lunch -- I guess fish and -- something.

I see there are as many as half-a-dozen folks admitting to having read Diviner's Bow -- thank you and I hope you had fun. Do remember the spoiler space, and to drop a review at Goodreads or other venue of your choice.

Regarding the spoiler space, I am going to vary. It has been the authors' policy not to be involved in those discussions, merely releasing messages after a scan for politeness &c. This time, I have a Question Regarding Craft that you, the readers of this particular work, can help me with. So, I'll be posing my question in the spoiler discussion, and I thank all participants in advance for your patience and your assistance.

Today is another No-I-Am-NOT-Writing Day. This is kind of hardcore, but I've got to get my brain back, and the best thing I know to do is Do Other Things. If the weather were more clement, I'd go for a drive, but I think that's off the table. *looks out window at the wind shaking the crab apple tree* Yeah. Off the table.

What I will be doing is taking down the wreath, which has started to lose needles, and changing out the 2024 moon phase calendar for the 2025. Also, there's rumors of the June royalties in the bank, so I'll be doing some cash juggling.

I read an interesting article last night about the Five of Cups, which is typically rendered as a Card of Loss. In traditional decks, the image is of a figure and five cups, three of which are overturned; two remaining upright. The figure is focused on the overturned cups -- thus the loss. However, the two unregarded cups, still full, sitting behind the figure, hint that all, perhaps, is *not* lost.

It will surprise no one here to learn that my favorite tarot deck is not a traditional deck, but the Halloween Tarot, which I find both joyful and accessible. In this deck, the suits are Pumpkins (Pentacles), Ghosts (Cups), Bats (Swords), and Imps (Wands).

The Five of Ghosts, then: a central figure, gazing downward, clearly disconcerted or sad; there is a bucket on the ground directly behind him. Around the figure are five ghosts, hovering in a sky with five stars. The ghosts are also disconcerted, following the central figure's downward gaze. The black cat (which appears in all of the cards in this deck) is in the foreground, looking at the ghosts.

I was at first somewhat alarmed. Playful my deck might be, but it stringently adheres to the Language of the Tarot, and this card varied and not in a good way. It seemed to withhold the promise of those two, unspilled, cups, not only going against the Language, but the spirit of the deck itself.

So, I sat with the card for a while, and it came to me, finally, that one of the ghosts was not focused on the disaster, whatever it was. It was focused on the figure, and its arms were outstretched, as if it would offer comfort. And then, of course, there's the bucket, sitting quietly -- empty or full, but not spilled. The Language remains pure, and the card remains true to itself and the deck.

So, that.

What's surprised you recently?

Wake-up cat census:

Saturday. Sunny and cold.

Breakfast was rice cakes and cream cheese with the last of the grapes. Kettle on for second cup of tea. Lunch with be Leftover Feast. Except for the apple pie. The apple pie is long gone.

Stayed up late last night to watch the last three episodes of Magpie Murders. For some reason, I had thought that there were only five episodes, and I had made a commitment to the cats that we would learn whodunit before we went to bed.

In the end -- well done, all! I liked Mr. Horowitz' commentary, and his description of, having written what must be a very tight book, needing to unravel and re-knit it into another sort of sweater entirely.

I did sort of blink at Mr. Horowitz' comment, which I may have read, not heard, that when he started writing books, there was no Amazon, no internet, no computers.

Well . . . yeah. I wrote my first (second, third, fourth ...) short story on a manual typewriter; we wrote Agent of Change on an electric typewriter. There were, of course, computers in existence at that time, but they were behemoths that were housed in their own substantial wing and bathed in freezing cold air. There was also an internet -- Steve used to do card creation on the proto-internet, back in his curation days (note the juxtaposition: he was creating cards to go into a physical card catalog on the internet).

Anyhow, I've had Magpie Murders in my TBR pile for a while, so that's queued up for next read, now that I've finished Salvage Right. I don't usually see the movie first and then read the book, so this will be interesting.

My next door neighbor dropped me a note this morning, offering snow removal assistance, which I've accepted. I s'pose I'll call the guy I thought I hired on Monday and ask if he's still on.

I really don't understand the people who say, "Yes! I will do this thing, for which you will pay me!" who then never show up, never phone, just -- poof! Why on earth would you say yes if you have no intention of doing the thing? Surely, it's much less hassle to just say, "Nope, sorry. Can't do it." Then everybody's on the same square, no one's aggrieved, and your karmic load isn't disbalanced.

So! Today, is Change Out Computers Day! Always an exciting event. This also means that I may be scarce for a bit. Please talk among yourselves.

What're you doing that's exciting today?