C.J. Cherryh's Blog, page 4
June 7, 2018
June 5, 2018
The tree is getting planted even as I write…
Poor thing had been delayed: the anniversary for which we bought it for each other was the 17th May, and then life intervened again and the lad who plants got sick and then we had to be in Seattle—today, the stars all came together. The beautiful lilac we bought was accidentally destroyed in the interim, unable to be replaced. But our red-seed Japanese Maple is being lowered into the ground in good shape. Happy! The pond is crystal clear and the day is not too hot.
I’ll be taking the car in for an inspection after the road debris incident, and after that, I think we will go out to eat. Too much chaos to cook.
June 3, 2018
Being home…what a nice thing.
I’m outlining both the new Bren book and the second Alliance Rising book, after story-conferencing with Jane on the trip. Jane is finishing up the kitchen painting and a little wall-repair where we had some electrical revisions. I’ve cleaned the pond filters and gotten the main tank pump running (it had stopped). And over all, we just sat last night and stared at Project Runway reruns on the telly. We are that tired. The pond is clear as glass…that’s working. I haven’t attacked the leeches yet. That’s on the agenda. I’ve ordered more probiotic for the cats, another automatic topoff (for evaporation) for the main tank (it broke), and I’ve got an appointment to get the car checked and am seeking one to get the new tree planted as soon as the responsible person gets there on Monday. We are both tired from travel, and trying to get life back on even keel.
The two new kitties are getting friendlier. Which is an improvement over hiding and hissing. And we are starting to try to pick up the house and clean the floors after all the kitchen construction. Which started in September. I have cooked on temporary countertop, on moving ranges, and had the fridge likewise uncertain in location. I have wiped off construction dust to be able to cook. I have coped with no cabinets, and cabinets with no doors. We have finally almost achieved kitchen. With backsplash! And we are going to try to clean up the basement and bring order down there. My one rule is, the kitchen will not be the stopping place for basement chaos! To the garage with it!
Pix will happen when we have cleanliness, no dust, and order.
June 2, 2018
On the road again, back again
Road trip. And road debris. Came on a truck tread coiled up in bridge shadow, and had a split second to decide not to try to avoid it—could have wrapped around a tire and taken a fender out. But then I think “OMG! Prius!” because we are low. Wham! We shot it between the wheels, accurately, but brushed it, and I think we may have lost a clip holding the under bumper shielding and got an almost imperceptible ding in the bumper. I am going to take it in to the dealer this week and have it looked at, maybe fixed if we broke anything. But it was tracking perfectly and not leaking anything. We stopped at a service station to have a look and asked them to advise the highway patrol there was a hazard about 2 miles back.
I-90 was a zoo this week, really heavy traffic, lot of trucks, lot of RVs, and tires were failing. Near Ellensburg WA, we saw 7 patrol cars, including the sheriff, and 5-6 car stops—one patrol car had stopped 2 (probably driving together) and interspersed with all of it — 2 lunatics intent on driving 90 (speed limit is 70.) I think one of those was one of the stopped cars.
Tired, really tired. It was a ‘family needs us’ kind of trip, we hadda go, but are glad to be home, ding in the bumper and all.
May 25, 2018
Leeches. Man-killing leeches….
5000 gallon pond. 25′ x 15′. Ordinarily spring start-up involves closing a drain, inserting a few filter pads, flipping a switch, pulling the cover off the winter-pit (deep spot), and adding 3 cups of pond balance pink stuff. The fish, sleeping through the winter, wake up and swim about and all is well. This year, however,…we had the 10 year old main pump die. This meant pulling it. But the cam-lock connector stuck. We got it out, and decided to install the NEXT one above the water line so we don’t have to work it under near-freezing water by touch and feel. This entailed sawing off the old one very carefully—30 feet of buried 2″ ribbed hose is not to be reckless with: we left enough comfortably to attach the new pipe/connector the way we want, and get the pump running. BUT in the interconnectedness of things-that-go-wrong, the slow incomplete demise of the pump last fall meant fir needles and old leaves piled up in the 20 lb (dry:more when wet) tangle of green tape that is the guts of the waterfall filter (think of a large garbage can full of gunky green tape that is populated, I swear, with man-killing leeches. (Actually they’re little worms and bugs.) And the new line, half-an-inch larger than the last, is blasting out water from the falls and the falls are clogged and spilling water like a volcano over the edge…So I climb up onto the rocks of the waterfall’s backside, haul out the tape into a trash can, take it away to hose down, and meanwhile the gunk escapes into the pond, rendering it a murky mess. So I go get the ‘fine’ filter pads to try to clean it up. Today I have 2 pairs of pants—the wet ones, and the dry ones. I sit with the window open, listening to the pump, and when (not if) its filters clog, I shall put on the wet pants and run out and rinse filters. Literally wash, rinse, repeat. This will be my day, besides taking notes on the next Alliance Rising book. Such is the glamorous writing life. The African Queen experience, complete with crawly things, in your own back yard.
May 18, 2018
May 11, 2018
Jane and I have been given the unofficial goahead for another novel….
…to follow Alliance Rising.
We know where we take up.
‘Denied’ a batch of user applications. If you’re in that lot, follow the instructions…
…over on the sidebar to the right and I can easily get you back out of the pile. You have to write me an e-mail, simply put.
I hate doing this, because I want to believe all applicants are good and true, but I give them a week (more in this instance, because we’ve been out of town) to get me that e-mail. I’ve got a backlog, so I’m starting with applicants with names and addys that follow certain patterns.
If you’re legit, please complete your registration by writing me.
May 9, 2018
Tilework nearly finished.
Which means the kitchen nearly is—a lot of fiddly chipping of excess mastic (glue) before grouting, occasional replacement of a bit of tile where the match is less pleasing. It’s stretched into the second week, but we’re getting there. And we have—wait for it—ONE sheet of tile left, of the several boxes of sheets we ordered. It’s looking great.
We’re going to build (well, Scott is) two flanking display cabinets for the china hutch, because we have a lot of pretty little items. And then we can start moving boxes out of the kitchen. We will also be moving things into the garage for, ultimately, the long-threatened garage sale. We have the cumulative ‘stuff’ from the move up from Oklahoma, the 3 storage units, the Spokane Valley apartment, its storage units, and here, where it is junk in the basement. We are needing clutter gone from our lives.
May 6, 2018
Cinco de Mayo coincides with the Bloomsday Race…and we are not eating ‘out’ today…
Cinco de Mayo means no reservations available at any of the Mexican restaurants in town and Bloomsday, which attracts runners from all over the world, including people with prams doing the walk behind the runners—for a teeshirt—means there is no table and no parking place available anywhere in town for anybody who has not planned for this…
Jane and I have walked it a couple of times. The last time I limped in with a sneaker tied to my blistered foot like a sandal, and I decided that was that. I have my teeshirts. We are good.
We are staying home today with a packet of tamales and a can of chili to celebrate—well, we are celebrating the happiness of those whose day this is, since there are never enough celebrations in life, and we are not taking the car out until Monday, at least.
