scrapcat

Sunday. Sunny and said to be heading for warm.

Yesterday continued off-kilter, and it's not too much to say that it actually went into a spin. Today I must and, she says determinedly, I will, write the Author's Afterword for I Dare.

First, though, I need to find breakfast and make a list so that I may dash out to the grocery. I'm almost out of cat food, and that obviously cannot be allowed to stand.

How's everybody doing?

Friday: Office still closed today, for values of "closed" that include trying to find a way to read the WIP that doesn't screw up my back again. I would hate to have to replace the comfy chair in my office, but that's for later consideration.

I slept last night, and into the morning, ably assisted by rolling shifts of coon cats. Trooper and Tali are apparently the designated Morning Wake-Up team, and I variously had Rook and Firefly monitoring my morpheus ranges on the overnight.

I feel immensely better than I did at this time yesterday, which is kind of impressive, given my back still hurts. Yes, even after the steroid shot, which they gave me in my arm. The last time I had a steroid shot for back pain, they nailed me in my back. Understand, I'm not complaining, just curious.

I did manage to eat this morning, which was another thing I didn't do well with yesterday. I have a hard time eating when I'm in "that much" pain. I will say, though? Those six packs of peanut butter crackers? Are lifesavers. I did manage one of those to buffer the naproxen dose last night.

And that's my news.

What's yours?

Wednesday. Sunny, slightly breezy, warm, but not too warm. The windows in my office, the bathroom, and bedroom are all open.

My watch has been very upset with me -- I've been burning the candle at both ends to hear it tell the tale -- stressful days followed by nonrestorative sleep. It's busted me back to 8.30 hours a night, and last night I tried to oblige it, ending up with 8.10 hours of -- you guessed this already, right? -- nonrestorative sleep. It wants me to rest and recruit myself today, but since it seems to think that sitting and reading is "stressful," I'm not really sure what will make it happy.

That being the case, I've been sitting and reading the WIP. I'm taking a break right now to give the cats their late morning treats and to eat one of the cookies I bought yesterday -- apricot/pistachio. Very good.

I'll be going back to the manuscript in a bit and work until lunch, which will be -- soup and a salad.

Yesterday, as I was out and about, I heard a woman ask a clerk in one of the stores if they had any "green amethyst" jewelry. Since I thought I knew that there was no such thing as "green amethyst," I drifted over and added my plea to hers. We were presented with several sets of earrings set with a extremely pale green stones -- so pale that you had to stare at them to convince your eyes that, yes, they are green. Or maybe yellow.

The clerk having been called down-counter to answer someone else (leaving us along with (if the price tags were to be believed) a cool two grand in earrings), the woman who had first called for them confided that she had bought a "green amethyst" bracelet from this very story, but had lost it when it slipped of her wrist. She also allowed as how hers had been "bolder."

We both declined to buy; I packed up the earrings, put them back into their box, gave them to the clerk (Virgo, here; sorry), and continued my perambulations.

So, here's the thing: amethyst is quartz. Purple quartz, because of the inclusion of iron in the crystals. The thing that's being called "green amethyst" is green quartz, made green by the inclusion of chlorite in its crystals. So! Purple quartz = amethyst; green quartz = prasiolite. Not "green amethyst."

I won't add "fight me," because I'm sure someone will.

My cookie is gone. O! Woe! And also? Time to go back to work.

What's happening with you on Anything Can Happen Day?

Today's blog post title brought to you by Edna St. Vincent Millay, "First Fig"

Cat census:

What went before: Done, compiled, and gone.

All that's left is to write the Author's Afterword.

I believe I may do something irresponsible and have an early glass of wine and watch Wandavision.

Monday. Slightly cloudy, and cool at the moment, and the windows in my office are open for the cats, and fully occupied. They'll be closed later, when it gets hot. That's the windows, not the cats.

Trooper has had his first envelope of gravy and is asleep in his box on my desk.

Waiting for my tea to brew. First breakfast will be Skyr.

Today is Chores and writing an afterword. I Dare of course was the Seventh Book -- the last in the orignally-planned series. I'm now working on Book 28.

I watched . . . three? episodes* of WandaVision last night and I'll be continuing. I finished Dr. Who last week, I guess, and I have come to the conclusion that I Do Not Get Dr. Who, which is fine. I believe it consistent with other conclusions in re Dr. Who that I made in the past.

My intention had been to cancel Disney after I finished Dr. Who, but it renewed for the month before I finished, thus WandaVision, which makes much more storytelling sense to me than the Doctor, for all he's cute as a bug.

It's been my policy of late to avoid Marvel movies, because My Ghod and Little Green Apples (apologies in advance to all who think they're the bee's knees) they're irritating. I think the last Marvel movie I saw with Steve was Captain Marvel, in an empty theatre -- and it was fine. And we did watch Black Panther here at home, somehow. But a little of Tony Stark/Cap/The Hulk/Thor/etc goes a long way, and the flipflopping characterization -- never mind. Just went off Marvel movies, is what I'm saying. (I also went off Star Wars movies. Three was more than enough.)

All of the above is to make the point that I have no idea who Wanda -- or Vision -- are in the universe outside of the sitcoms they're hiding in. I DON'T WANT to be told who are they, or their backstory, because, so far at least, the story is interesting on its own merits.

So! While Disney has my money -- are there -- how do I say this? -- any other Marvel movies that are Interesting, Not Irritating, and Don't Hinge Everything  on an intimate knowledge of 400 interwoven films? You may include Marvel projects, as long as they meet the criteria Thank you for your recommendations. I realize this may be a touchy topic, so I also thank you for your continued civility in any discussion that follows.

(I realize the above may sound snooty from someone working on the 28th book in a long and involved universe, but visual storytelling frustrates me at the best of times; I depend on text to remind me of important events/people, and I use text to remind readers of same. Film is all forward motion. Also, why are the damned things so dark? Ahem.)

My Disney Watchlist, which may or may not give a range: (Encanto and Free Guy: I already watched these, but I may want to watch especially Free Guy again.) Shang-Chi, Mulan live action, Ms. Marvel, The Light Shop, and two Fantastic 4 movies (no, I don't know why).

I think that's all that's going on at the Cat Farm today -- chores and more chores.

What's happening at your house?

Today's blog post title comes to you via WandaVision and the Monkees "Daydream Believer"
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SPOILER:
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The twins have just been born and Vision is starting to smell a rat.

What went before: So, it turns out there's a Method to First Friday. It's advertised as "from" 5 (or 5:30; advertising is a little squishy on this point) to 7:30. What that means is that, some bands will be starting to set up around 5:00 and the restaurants will be open, so you should go have something to eat, nice glass of wine, and then, eh, 6/6:30ish, you perambulate around downtown, and then, around 7, you wander down to Head of Falls, where the music will be happening. Music starts at 7:30 and goes to 9/9:30.

Obviously, I did not make it that far, which is too bad because the band was the Atlanta Rhythm Section, which wouldn't have been terrible to listen to. There's a beer garden set up at Head of Falls for the concert and a food truck from The Proper Pig. And I kinda didn't want to be one old woman in a crowd of folks some of whom had had too much beer.

I did revisit the Langlais exhibit and took in the Dark Was the Night and Bright Were the Stars exhibit. I stopped by the reception -- yes, there were cookies and also fruits and cheese and crackers.

I meandered around downtown, and I found out that there's a rock store. Yes, a rock store; it's been there about three months, I'm told. I of course bought a rock (yeah, I know, but, hey! It's flourite, which is an amusing rock, in that it flouresces). I also stopped in Old Soul Supply, Oliver and Friends Bookstore, and Holy Cannoli, where I listened to a folk group for a couple of songs before I moved on, hoping for music in the Green Block, but -- not yet. So, I came home, educated and more or less relaxed for having done something different with my afternoon and early evening.

I have about 15 more pages of I Dare to finish proofing -- which I'll do tomorrow.

For now, the cats have had Happy Hour and I'm going to go pour myself a glass out of the Nice Bottle I opened last night to share with Steve.

And that's the First Friday Report.

Intermission: Oooh, nice echo of the prologue: "I won't hurt him."

And my favorite bit in the whole book, though there are so many good bits:

"My lifemate and my oathsworn are blameless. I claim all."

"Ever more terrifying," Val Con returned, lightly, deliberately, in the Low Tongue. "Pray reveal at once the horrific crimes of which they are innocent."

Saturday. Sunny and predicted to a nice-ish day.

Breakfast was toast and cottage cheese and grapes. Lunch will be something easy. I have choices, including a Door Dash account, if it comes down to desperation.

I did not sleep well last night; doubtless the late few days of High Living are catching up with me.

Today's to-do list includes one's duty to the cats, finishing the proofing of I Dare, swapping out cat fountains, and straightening up the house, which has become slightly shell-shocked, doubtless from the High Living referenced above. It's possible that I'll throw it all over and go back to bed, but not really likely.

My Solid Goal is to get back to the WIP -- remember the WIP? -- on Monday, so those things that must occur in service of that goal, including turning in the correx for I Dare, have to happen this weekend.

Arrived in yesterday's mail is news that the Subaru is included in a class action suit referencing failures in the EyeSight Driver Assistance subroutine. The suit appears to focus on the braking protocols, of which I have no complaint. I had hoped that it would be something to address the Concerning Issue of Eyesight turning itself off in downpours where human eyes are basically useless, and the pilot could really use some help staying on the road and not running into the back of a semi. OTOH, I haven't been to the website yet. That's actually pretty far down on the list.

Also, just at a tangent -- and I've made this argument before, so nothing new here -- if you (universal you) break the law, you must pay the penalty for breaking the law. It does not matter who you are, who your dad is, what political affiliation you hold, if you have fifteen houses or live in a cardboard box in an alley. Break the law, pay the price. That's, like, one of the foundations of our society: that money and influence do not alter the functioning of Law. This is why Justice is blind.

So, my second up of tea is gone, and I guess I'd better get to work.

Who's doing something exciting today?

Proofed 80 pages. Fed Trooper. Fed myself. Did one's duty to the cats. Refilled my red pen.

Otherwise, it has been a . . . slightly fraught day, and I will be closed for business tomorrow.

Everybody stay safe.

What went before: Read 60 pages of I Dare, which got me to an end of a section. Wrote +/-540 new words in the WIP, which brings it to +/-65,080.

On the proofing front, I am definitely missing some of the places where there ought to be scene breaks marked, and I'm trying to figure out if I have anything around here that will serve as a guide. I'll look at the Meisha Merlin edition, but that one had, um, many errors. I'm just not sure if spacing was one of them.

Onward.

Rook collaborated with me in an after-lunch nap; he could have gone longer, but I felt the call of duty, and went back to Steve's office to work. Surprisingly, he fetched Tali and the two of them did the afternoon shift with me.

Trooper ate an envelope of bisque with his meds stirred in; a smol can of gooshy food, in two sessions, a couple of crunchies to keep his grandkid, Tali, company at the food bowl, and for Happy Hour, an envelope of stew and his usual serving of gooshy food.

He seems to be somewhat more alert today, OTOH, I spent most of the day in Steve's office, and he spent most of the day asleep in my office, so we didn't see much of each other.

Tomorrow, I believe I'll take a couple hours off and go to Augusta. Get out of the house for a bit, see people who aren't cats. There's a plan.

In the meantime -- everybody stay safe; I'll see you tomorrow.

Tuesday. Sunny and cool, but heading for hot.

Woken by Trooper standing on my chest at 6:00. There were three other cats in the bed, all asleep, so I turned on my side, and snuggled Trooper under me, and we all got another half-hour.

Trooper has had (most of) his morning bisque-with-meds.

I have no idea what my breakfast will be, but I have a cup of tea with me here at the desk, so there's a start.

I will be going out to Augusta today, specifically to Michael's, Target, and -- Lowe's? There was something I wanted at Lowe's . . . sigh. It'll come to me.

I got a little crazy last night just paged through the Meisha Merlin edition of I Dare and found all the scene breaks, some of which are in the page proofs, but not all. Those are now all notated and marked, so I can concentrate on the text.

Speaking of I Dare, the new Baen edition will be a trade paperback and it will drop in December.

What else? Ah. I had asked someone on Etsy to make me a thing, and she said she'd be delighted, so I wrote back and asked how we were going to handle the details, and have heard nothing else. It's been a couple weeks, so I guess I'd better drop a note.

I'd been having an increasingly harder time listening to Devil's Cub, which I was attributing to the narrator, so I opened the book to refresh myself, and -- no, it's not the narrator; it's Vidal, or, rather, the whole cast.

It is permitted to be at the feet of the Divine Georgette and still prefer some of her works over others, and in fact, while I admire These Old Shades as a melant'i play, I believe I read Devil's Cub once, exactly, and did not care for it.

(These things are matters of taste. For instance, Steve doted on The Toolbooth; which I understood as little as his dislike for Bath Tangle, which I adore.)

Anyway, I set myself to analyzing why it is that I so dislike Devil's Cub, and I believe it is this.

In These Old Shades, we are told that Alastair is a Very Bad Man, with a Past. He had served in espionage during the late war, giving his gift for ferreting out secrets free range. We are told that he has a history with Comte St. Vier, that perhaps neither man was in what we will call "the right," and their enmity spans a quarter century.

With the exception of One Thing, we are never shown Alastair doing any of these Very Bad Things, though we are shown that he is very possibly brilliant, and is wearied (as who among us is not) by those who are less brilliant than himself. He is sarcastic and unapproachable, and it would be hard to make a connection with such a man, except we are given, almost immediately, an intermediary between ourselves and this unlikable, perhaps evil, man. Leon, running from abuse, seeking to escape a life that can only end in tragedy, is rescued by the Duke for his own nefarious purposes, and Leon loves the Duke. We, in turn, love Leon, for his wit, his temper, his devotion, and his courage.

The Duke of Avon could ask for no better lens through which to be viewed.

Now, that One Evil Thing -- His Grace of Avon sees fit to drive a man to suicide at a public party, but by the time he does this, we want that man to pay -- for the evil he has visited upon Leon. It's a masterpiece of timing, and These Old Shades is a good book and an excellent melant'i play.

Devil's Cub makes the mistake of showing us Vidal at his worst immediately, and we are given no balancing viewpoint, save his mother's, who may be excused for loving him, and even she knows he is "very bad," but -- he's her son.

I'm also irritated because it's been 24 years since These Old Shades, and Rupert, Alastair's younger brother, who had shown some promise of growing into a Better Man if not a very intelligent one, is stuck in a permanent boyhood -- still running himself off his legs, and needing to apply to Alastair for funds, and much the lesser of Vidal, who does, at least seems to possess a good pair of wits.

Since I'm using the audiobook as a sleep aid, I'll probably continue, and I may finish reading along side of it, to see if I'm being unjust, and Georgette does manage to put everything right. I do recall thinking that Mary Challoner could have done much better.

. . . and my tea's gone.

How's the morning going at your place?

This morning's blog post title is a vary on the classic sign "Gone Fishin'"