Lynn Flewelling's Blog, page 40
June 11, 2011
Skittens on the move
Today the kittens emerged from their den under the cabinet and began to explore the larger world. We got to handle them carefully. They are round and fuzzy, probably long hairs, and spend as much time rolling around as they do walking. Rufus the Red hisses at me. Patches the Meek has one eye still shut. A little worried about that.
And here's Smokey the Adventurous.
And here's the family:
And here's Smokey the Adventurous.
And here's the family:
June 9, 2011
Casket of Souls Cover Art-- Almost.
I had my first peek at the cover art for CoS today! It's in progress, but as soon as it's finalized I'll post it here, of course! All I can say for now is that there is a very delicious man on the cover. (Not Seregil or Alec, though they are equally delicious) Currently elbow-deep in revisions.
Also a reminder that CoS is available for pre order at Amazon, in both paper and ebook format.
http://www.amazon.com/Casket-of-Souls-ebook/dp/B004J4X73K/ref=pd_ecc_rvi_cart_2
Also a reminder that CoS is available for pre order at Amazon, in both paper and ebook format.
http://www.amazon.com/Casket-of-Souls-ebook/dp/B004J4X73K/ref=pd_ecc_rvi_cart_2
June 6, 2011
Skitten Report
Checked in on the kittens today. They've grown a lot and their eyes are open! They hissed at the light, too. Fierce little guys. I talked to them for a while and put my hand out to them as far as I could, hoping they'd get my smell.
Paul Revere's Ride Revision
I'm sure many of you have heard Sarah Palin's gaff rendition of Paul Revere's famous ride. NPR listener Bruce Foster did some reimagining of his own. For the actual text of Longfellow's famous poem, see: http://poetry.eserver.org/paul-revere.html
Listen my children and you shall hear
Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere,
On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five;
When Paul started yellin' "You won't take me alive"
As he sat with Samuel Adams for a beer.
He said to his friend, "If the British march
By land or sea when down goes the sun
Start clanging those bells in the belfry arch
And tell those Brits they won't take our guns!
They won't take our freedom or our liberty!
As I on the opposite shore will be,
Ready to ride with the courage we sowed
Telling all who will listen, "Don't retreat. Reload!"
And protect our freedom, our liberty
So through the night rode Paul Revere;
Yelling and screaming his cry of alarm
To every radio and TV station and farm,---
Don't let the Brits take your guns, my dear,
Or steal our freedom and liberty for sure,
The Liberals want your soul for evermore!
For,borne on the night-wind of the Palin,
Through all our hist'ry, her words are sailin',
In twenty-eleven as our ears bleed
The people will waken and listen to hear
The big diesel engine of Sarah's bus
And her midnight ride to enlighten us
Listen my children and you shall hear
Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere,
On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five;
When Paul started yellin' "You won't take me alive"
As he sat with Samuel Adams for a beer.
He said to his friend, "If the British march
By land or sea when down goes the sun
Start clanging those bells in the belfry arch
And tell those Brits they won't take our guns!
They won't take our freedom or our liberty!
As I on the opposite shore will be,
Ready to ride with the courage we sowed
Telling all who will listen, "Don't retreat. Reload!"
And protect our freedom, our liberty
So through the night rode Paul Revere;
Yelling and screaming his cry of alarm
To every radio and TV station and farm,---
Don't let the Brits take your guns, my dear,
Or steal our freedom and liberty for sure,
The Liberals want your soul for evermore!
For,borne on the night-wind of the Palin,
Through all our hist'ry, her words are sailin',
In twenty-eleven as our ears bleed
The people will waken and listen to hear
The big diesel engine of Sarah's bus
And her midnight ride to enlighten us
May 27, 2011
Zoo Report
Having vented my spleen in the previous post, I feel much better now. Cranky pants folded and put away.
Zoe is thriving! As much work as a young pup is, they are so much fun. She's growing fast, and stands as tall as Emma now, but still fits nicely in my lap. She and Em puppy pile me in the evening when I'm trying to knit. She is absolutely gorgeous, too. Can you tell I'm smitten? She's got the other two wrapped around her- whatever, too, or at least most of the time. Jack still takes her to task at times when she crosses his boundaries on a bad day, but most of the time they play. They're currently frisking around the back yard as I sit outside, enjoying them and the windchimes and the sound of the waterfall.
The only real problem we have with her, aside from her penchant for my shoes and yarn, is house training. She's making progress, but still has an accident or two most days. I do think she's catching on that peeing in front of me and looking up proudly only earns her praise and treats outdoors. There was some serious confusion there for a while. She is currently running around the yard with a small clay flower pot full of dirt, having dispatched the hapless plant. Oh well, it was ugly anyway. Pot's probably not a good idea, though. *off to get it* I am learning the deep wisdom of something I read on line right after we got her: A bored boxer is a naughty boxer.
She's crate trained, knows "sit" very well, "down" pretty well, and we're working on "stay" and "fetch." Since she's part Lab, I ordered the duck retriever kit from LL Bean to train her with. http://www.llbean.com/llb/shop/61845?feat=507026-GN2 I have fond visions of her leaping joyously into the waves at the dog beach someday. The others are waders and absolutely do not fetch in public. It will be interesting to see how they all respond to the duck scent on the training lure.
The Pack
The Divine Miss Z
The Skitten family is doing well, too. I managed to get the babies onto a towel and slide them out of their hidey hole and into a carrier this morning, hoping Skit would go in with them so I could trap her and relocate the whole tribe to the spare bathroom, but no such luck. Skit stayed out of reach, pretending she didn't care and looking daggers at me. I couldn't find any kitten rescue place willing to take them, and I just don't have it in me to feed them every two hours 24/7 for the next month,though I did go get some formula and bottles just in case I had to. On a helpful rescue person's advice I left the carrier door open and went away. When I checked back an hour later the carrier was empty and kitten noises were coming from the same corner under the cabinets where they were before. I left the towel as a peace offering and resolved to leave them alone. The rescue person said that when they're a month or so old I can start socializing them, which should be easy, or so she says. The trick will be to find them in the maze that is our garage. And I couldn't resist naming them. The grey is Smokey, the grey and white patched is Patch, or Patches, and the orange one (which I sexed as male, since he's the one I might keep) is Rufus the Second. Rufus the First being a handsome, long-haired orange fellow who met a sad end years back. I have a thing for orange cats. I love all cats, but the orange ones just seem to have an extra bit of personality that meshes well with mine.
The fish are well, too. Sometime this winter someone gave birth and two of the babies survived (the others probably eaten as snacks): one lemon and white, and one with a silver metallic body and orange head. The lilies are blooming and all's well in the pond. I do miss Hannibal the Feral Turtle, though, but he was a ramblin' reptile.
Zoe is thriving! As much work as a young pup is, they are so much fun. She's growing fast, and stands as tall as Emma now, but still fits nicely in my lap. She and Em puppy pile me in the evening when I'm trying to knit. She is absolutely gorgeous, too. Can you tell I'm smitten? She's got the other two wrapped around her- whatever, too, or at least most of the time. Jack still takes her to task at times when she crosses his boundaries on a bad day, but most of the time they play. They're currently frisking around the back yard as I sit outside, enjoying them and the windchimes and the sound of the waterfall.
The only real problem we have with her, aside from her penchant for my shoes and yarn, is house training. She's making progress, but still has an accident or two most days. I do think she's catching on that peeing in front of me and looking up proudly only earns her praise and treats outdoors. There was some serious confusion there for a while. She is currently running around the yard with a small clay flower pot full of dirt, having dispatched the hapless plant. Oh well, it was ugly anyway. Pot's probably not a good idea, though. *off to get it* I am learning the deep wisdom of something I read on line right after we got her: A bored boxer is a naughty boxer.
She's crate trained, knows "sit" very well, "down" pretty well, and we're working on "stay" and "fetch." Since she's part Lab, I ordered the duck retriever kit from LL Bean to train her with. http://www.llbean.com/llb/shop/61845?feat=507026-GN2 I have fond visions of her leaping joyously into the waves at the dog beach someday. The others are waders and absolutely do not fetch in public. It will be interesting to see how they all respond to the duck scent on the training lure.
The Pack
The Divine Miss Z
The Skitten family is doing well, too. I managed to get the babies onto a towel and slide them out of their hidey hole and into a carrier this morning, hoping Skit would go in with them so I could trap her and relocate the whole tribe to the spare bathroom, but no such luck. Skit stayed out of reach, pretending she didn't care and looking daggers at me. I couldn't find any kitten rescue place willing to take them, and I just don't have it in me to feed them every two hours 24/7 for the next month,though I did go get some formula and bottles just in case I had to. On a helpful rescue person's advice I left the carrier door open and went away. When I checked back an hour later the carrier was empty and kitten noises were coming from the same corner under the cabinets where they were before. I left the towel as a peace offering and resolved to leave them alone. The rescue person said that when they're a month or so old I can start socializing them, which should be easy, or so she says. The trick will be to find them in the maze that is our garage. And I couldn't resist naming them. The grey is Smokey, the grey and white patched is Patch, or Patches, and the orange one (which I sexed as male, since he's the one I might keep) is Rufus the Second. Rufus the First being a handsome, long-haired orange fellow who met a sad end years back. I have a thing for orange cats. I love all cats, but the orange ones just seem to have an extra bit of personality that meshes well with mine.
The fish are well, too. Sometime this winter someone gave birth and two of the babies survived (the others probably eaten as snacks): one lemon and white, and one with a silver metallic body and orange head. The lilies are blooming and all's well in the pond. I do miss Hannibal the Feral Turtle, though, but he was a ramblin' reptile.
New Icon For a Grumpy Day
Note the new icon. That's my "Grumpy Old Fart" (GOF) icon. (Jeff Dunham's puppet Walter)
Today this GOF was listening to an NPR discussion on texting. Texting, for instance, while in the presence of flesh and blood friends whom you've invited out for breakfast then proceed to ignore while you text other friends. Texting during business meetings. Texting, as Doug often sees, during class lectures. Texting during a supposed conversation with someone sitting across the cafe table from you. And I'm talking extensive, almost exclusive texting during such events, not picking up the occasional one because it might be something important, more important than "Hey, I'm eating a really great sandwich!" (I have no idea what this would look like in "text" language)
Some say it's the New Era, the Connected Era. They talk about texting addiction. It's the way people communicate these days.
Well, this GOF calls bullshit on that. It's fucking rude.
If you're with someone, be with them. If you want to text, then text but don't commingle the two.
Harumph!
Today this GOF was listening to an NPR discussion on texting. Texting, for instance, while in the presence of flesh and blood friends whom you've invited out for breakfast then proceed to ignore while you text other friends. Texting during business meetings. Texting, as Doug often sees, during class lectures. Texting during a supposed conversation with someone sitting across the cafe table from you. And I'm talking extensive, almost exclusive texting during such events, not picking up the occasional one because it might be something important, more important than "Hey, I'm eating a really great sandwich!" (I have no idea what this would look like in "text" language)
Some say it's the New Era, the Connected Era. They talk about texting addiction. It's the way people communicate these days.
Well, this GOF calls bullshit on that. It's fucking rude.
If you're with someone, be with them. If you want to text, then text but don't commingle the two.
Harumph!
May 26, 2011
Skit's Kittens
At great peril to my clothing, I got this footage of the garage kittens. Eyes still closed, nice fat tummies.
May 25, 2011
Cruise News: Writing on the Waves II
We still have some space available for the Writing on the Waves II! Sign up now and be entered to win a complete set of the Nightrunner and Tamir books, signed!
May 24, 2011
The Other C-Word
Two of my friends have recently been diagnosed with cancer, both quite suddenly and unexpectedly. One, S, has what is hoped and expected to be a very treatable kind. She is incredibly positive and proactive, with lots of support from family and friends. It's difficult for her, I know. She has a family she needs to be strong for, and that is an additional drain on already strained resources. There's no history of this cancer in her family, so it came out of the blue. She's amazing.
The other, K, is on morphine and dying, and probably soon. I saw her two weeks ago. She hadn't been feeling well for some time, but no one expected this. So far she is very peaceful about it, and refusing any further testing or treatment in favor of hospice. She's a solitary person, with no family that I know of, or that she wants to see. I need to go see her, if she's feeling up to company today. I need . . . She needs me to . . . Both.
It's been interesting to watch other friends discussing "how K got cancer." There must be some reason. Family history? Chemical exposure on the job? I see this happen a lot with sickness. For some it may just be about needing a reason. Or checking off the the boxes of "what I didn't do/haven't been exposed to so I won't get it." Mostly I think it's human to wonder how our physical frames can suddenly become untrustworthy. If it happened to them, it could happen to us. Of course it could, and something will. But we don't think about about, even deny it, until it stares us in the face. Impermanence of self.
I'm not sure how I feel about prayer these days, but if you have a moment to send a good thought to S and K, please do. It certainly can't hurt.
The other, K, is on morphine and dying, and probably soon. I saw her two weeks ago. She hadn't been feeling well for some time, but no one expected this. So far she is very peaceful about it, and refusing any further testing or treatment in favor of hospice. She's a solitary person, with no family that I know of, or that she wants to see. I need to go see her, if she's feeling up to company today. I need . . . She needs me to . . . Both.
It's been interesting to watch other friends discussing "how K got cancer." There must be some reason. Family history? Chemical exposure on the job? I see this happen a lot with sickness. For some it may just be about needing a reason. Or checking off the the boxes of "what I didn't do/haven't been exposed to so I won't get it." Mostly I think it's human to wonder how our physical frames can suddenly become untrustworthy. If it happened to them, it could happen to us. Of course it could, and something will. But we don't think about about, even deny it, until it stares us in the face. Impermanence of self.
I'm not sure how I feel about prayer these days, but if you have a moment to send a good thought to S and K, please do. It certainly can't hurt.
May 22, 2011
Gad, kittens!
Well, Skit the Uncatchable and Untamable has gifted us with three kittens. They're in a small space under a cabinet in the garage, well protected by the chaos that fills it. I have to move an old tv stand, lie on my belly, and use a flashlight to see them, but I believe there are three: a gray, a gray and white, and an orange one, who takes after his daddy in coloration. He had long fur, too, so could be a pretty cat. I hope we can socialize them for adoption but for now I'm leaving Skit and her new family alone. From the volume of mews when Skit leaves them to eat, they are thriving. I just hate to think of them sleeping on that cold concrete. But, as Doug pointed out, Skit is a survivor, and probably her kits are too. We're installing a small cat door to replace the dog-sized hole in the garage door to better protect them. I don't trust Jack or Emma not to go after them.
