Requiescat In Pace, Smokey

Smokey, our old grey cat is dead. He was fifteen years old. He had survived saddle thrombrosis about three years ago, which slowed him down a little and required some daily meds to prevent another blood clot. He had been up to his usual “let me in / let me out” and channeling his inner raccoon at the water bowl routine early last week. 

Last Thursday, he was low energy, but restless. We think Aoife knew something was up, because she kept coming up to him as if to check up on him and would give him some licks. By the evening it was clear that I would need to take him to the vet. He went out that night, and crawled up under the outdoor sectional’s cover; as this wasn’t terribly warm, I brought him back inside to one of his cushions. 

Mark found him dead Friday morning. 

It will be weird not singing “Smokey, the Smokey Cat / Wonders where his dinner’s at” or “/ meow meow meow and all of that.” when I see him. It will also be weird not singing, “Kitty Food for Smokey / Kitty Food for Cicero, too,” during kitty meal time.

Since Friday is usually listener’s choice day on KWAX, I requested some cat themed music as a memoriam. In between some kitty waltzes, I heard a cat meow that sounded just like Smokey—I’m fairly certain it was part of a recording coming over the radio, but I’m very glad that I was hearing it while working from home alone in the morning instead of hearing it home alone in the night. Similarly, I walked into the dining nook, and for an instant thought I saw Smokey crouching out on the deck: it was actually a reflection of Mark’s shoes.

We think Aoife wonders where Smokey is; she seemed to be looking for him in the back yard Friday night.  I'm not sure what's going through Cicero's head, but I think he's noticed Smokey's absence during feeding time.

Some favorite Smokey stories:

When The Child and I first adopted Smokey, the shelter gave us a cardboard cat carrier to bring him home in. Half-way through the half-hour ride home, Smokey punched a claw through the top flap and forced it down into the box with him and managed to get out.

Smokey liked to groom Mark. https://johnburridge.blogspot.com/2019/09/cat-grooming.html

Smokey used to accompany us to the blackberry bushes a few blocks away. On our return, we ran into a dog. We could practically hear him saying, “A dog! I’ll hold it back as long as I can! Warn the others! Run! RUN!” He appeared at a house a few minutes after we did, agitated and almost panting, and had to lie down.


Smokey was visiting his “girlfriend,” a cat across the street, when a dog on a too-long leash went after her. Smokey leapt onto the attacking dog’s back and made it drop his girlfriend.

When we got a little black kitten, Cicero, Smokey didn’t find out right away. But the first time he saw a little black head peek out from a hiding spot underneath a printer stand, Smokey’s ears slowly swiveled back, his lips pulled back to bare his fangs, and he let out a long, slow hiss. Then he ran out of the house, ran across the street, and sought solace from our cat-lady neighbor.
https://johnburridge.blogspot.com/2016/09/mostly-cats.html
https://johnburridge.blogspot.com/2016/10/kitty-wars.html
https://johnburridge.blogspot.com/2019/02/smokey-and-cicero.html


Hiding out next door is how he responded when we brought home an American Staffordshire Terrier puppy, too. https://johnburridge.blogspot.com/2020/03/aofie.html


Smokey slowed down in his final years, and spent a lot of time finding sunny spots to nap in. He also liked to crawl underneath the outdoor furniture coverings, which were black, and which could turn into solar powered kitty saunas. His last year, he also developed a habit of digging in his water bowl like a raccoon washing his hands, which generated some spectacular puddles.

Cats, Books, and Dreams

Yesterday was a vet day:  I loaded both cats into carriers and drove them to the vet's for their vaccinations.  The theory was if they were both going at the same time, they'd keep each other calm.  Based on the syncopated caterwauling, I'd say it was a bogus theory.  

The cats eventually forgave me for stuffing them into cages and taking them to That Awful Place -- Smokey was over it about ninety minutes after we got home; but Cicero held out all afternoon and refused to come into the house, even when it was hailing.  To be fair, he had hidden under our bed when he heard Smokey wailing from his cage, but I had coaxed him out and then immediately thrust him into a small loaner carrier.  

That evening, I read the synopsis of Dion Fortune's contribution to Neo-Paganism in Ronald Hutton's "Triumph of the Moon," as a kind of counter-balance to some other readings.

So, naturally, I dreamed...

I was on an island research center.  The island was rocky and temperate -- there were fir trees instead of a jungle, and it wasn't icy.  A group of us entered the center, which was blocky and reminiscent of classical architecture.  The more I think about it, the more I am realizing that it was based on the architecture of the Lighthouse of Alexandria.

There was something about riding an elevator, which, paradoxically, seemed to be lowering (there was some sort of shuttling motion in the rafters of the elevator car as if a cable was being unwound), but we travelled up to one of the upper floors.  There was also something about entering a defunct part of a library -- in my dream's eye, I saw a floor schematic of the complex, and we entered a greyed out portion.  This had been under the prevue of an unnamed country, but they had withdrawn from the research center for reasons that were never revealed in the dream. 

Somewhere around here in the dream, Cicero was with me.  We were in a kind of card catalog hall, with lots of shelves of unread books.  The room was large and airy, but dim, as if only every third light worked.  Leaning up against a shelf was a pile of books which included Dion Fortune's "Moon Magic," "The Sea Priestess," some other books of her fiction, and some sort of book on antiquities that belonged to my parents (their names were written on the inside cover of the book.  The sense was that since this section of the research center was closed, if we wanted to, we could take some of the books.  I wanted some of the books I saw, especially the one that had been my parents' -- in the dream I supposed that the book had been left behind when they left the Mangla Dam Project, but I couldn't figure out how it had ended up in a foreign government's library.  I had a sense that this was my, or at least my family's, book, and that I had every right to it.

The ownership of the books didn't resolve, and the group left the library.  There was something here about going down a level or two to a kind of utility or engineering floor filled with lots of unused machinery.  At this point, Cicero got away from me (he'd been good up until then) and I had to coax him out from between collections of shelved tools and conduit that he'd crawled into.

There was probably more to the dream, but that's all I recall.  What strikes me about this dream is that it could have turned into an elevator anxiety dream, but didn't; it could have turned into a lost in a twisty, constricted place, but it didn't; and that it was set in a conflation of the Lighthouse of Alexandria and the Library of Alexandria.  

 

Snow Wishes

More snow this morning--not a whole lot.  No moon or stars, only grey clouds making the snow a dusky pastel blue.  The forecast for today is a tug-of-war between snow and rain.  I expect the day to become darker as the rain washes away the snow.

Yesterday the sun came out and turned the snow brilliant.  The light bouncing off of everything lifts my spirit, and makes for some fun photography.

The cats are hopeful that the snow will go away, and seem dashed when we open the doors to that cold white stuff covering everything.   They spent most of yesterday on tables and chairs, in the sunlight, waiting for the snow to melt.

The dog loves it, though.  Mark has been making snowballs for her and filling some of them with dog treats.  

Wrapping Up December 2021

  I envisioned myself blogging (and writing) much more this December than has actually happened.  Part of this is due to posting to social media more than actually blogging.  I suspect that I need to have add some time-keeping software to my apps to bring social media usage back into balance.    

To recap the last few weeks.   

Through a series of events, the Day Jobbe has expanded to full time.   It's mostly remote, and I drive in to work some days.  I am doing a combination of departmental intranet design and web site management.  It has been a reminder of how brutally insurance benefits are awarded (or not) to vested employees. 

 

Writing is going very slowly, which I find it tends to do this time of year.  

My extended family is doing mostly well and managing to stay healthy during the pandemic.  

The cats have crossed another threshold with the dog and are more likely to spend the night in the house (rather than the garage) with the dog.  The cold might have something to do with this.  They also seem more tolerant of the dog in general, and no longer zip out of a room whenever she appears.  

Smokey seems to have recovered from his earlier medical emergency.  He's still as fluffy as ever, but--whether through the medicine he's taking or through the touch of age--he is bonier than he used to be.  

On the design front:  last November I sat down and decided to see about reproducing an Islamic design I've always thought was an interesting interlocking of circles, triangles, and hexagons.  As is usual with these sorts of designs, one can make it tile infinitely.  Other design projects include designing this year's family calendar and paper projects.

Hectic Weeks

Things have been hectic over the last week or so.  Weird dreams.  Odd hours.  Some projects have picked up at The Day Jobbe, with the result that I've been working a little later into the evening and then inclined to relax and wind down later in the night instead of writing or other creative endeavors. 

Then our older cat, Smokey, had some medical distress, that, after some back-and-forth, has been diagnosed as saddle thrombosis.  For a few days, we thought we might have to put him down.  Luckily, while he's not running around like a kitten, he's made a miraculous recovery and is walking after a fashion.   Cicero continues to be a punk barncat.  

I've continued with some introductory Egyptian hieroglyphs classes, and I'm winding up attending a series of Zoom lectures on ancient Egyptian Magic.  This is Official Writing Research -- the most surprising facet of ancient Egyptian Magic is that it's supposedly outside of the Frazerian concept of sympathetic magic.   I'm not sure I understand how this could be so, but I expect this will be addressed a few lectures down the road.  My challenge will be to write a magic-using character in an Egyptian-like scenario.  

Animals and Seasons

November is over a third of the way through and the dark season is upon us.  For real this time, although the ten days in early September when the smoke from the forest fires blotted out the sun were bad enough.  At least we can be outside without too much fear of breathing unhealthy particles... oh, wait, COVID-19.  Oh well.   

The damper, colder weather has driven the cats into a grudging acceptance that a dog lives here.  Some days are more grudging than others.  The other day, Cicero was sleeping on Mark while Aoife rested next to him; Mark slowly shifted his body until Cicero was resting, if not on, then at least next to, Aofie.  We think at this point Cicero realized how much body heat Aoife puts out.  I've noticed he's less likely to retreat to the bedroom window when Aoife enters since; and recently, Cicero ventured into the back yard -- something that hasn't happened since the Spring Equinox.

Mark and I notice how early the sun sets these days because all of the acres of the dog park we take Aoife are in shadow by 4, and the sun slides behind the hills by 4:15, and you can see Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn by 4:40, and by 5:00 it's too dark to see the Chuck-It Balls we fling.  If Aoife didn't have a mostly white head, we wouldn't be able to see her, either.   We used to be able to stay until 8:30.

The dog park hasn't turned into a total mud pit yet, but I expect the Big Storm that's supposed to hit us Friday the 13th will change all of that.  (The fist-sized gravel the city used to fill in some of the larger foxholes the dogs dug last spring is already dispersing into new geologic depressions.)

Smokey is more grudging than Cicero.  At least he has the next-door neighbors to run to (and they love him, so it's a win-win situation).  He's still likely to make a dash for the window when Aoife enters the bedroom, but there have been a few times where he's (noisily) tolerated being sniffed by the dog.   Aoife understands that the cats are part of our family, and unless she's previously wound up, she'll slowly creep forward to sniff them (instead of lunging at them) in an earnest attempt to initiate play.  

Smokey and Cicero had been sleeping in the garage over the Summer, but they've worked up enough courage to begin sleeping in our bedroom (and waking us up at 4 AM to be let out).  Sometimes Aofie sleeps in our bed -- when I'm feeling like indulging her -- but I find I sleep better when she's on the couch.  

Animals and Everything

Week four? of Shelter in Place.  We continue to work and study from home.    I drive the car some place once a week just to keep it moving.  We walk place or hang out outside when it's nice.   What I do notice when I drive, is that traffic is very light, but that there's two or three instances of loopiness from other drivers making interesting choices or random pedestrians crossing the street in random fashions.

Stuck my head out of the window this morning (Wednesday), thinking that I might see the Lyrid meteors, but it was raining.  The last few days have started out overcast, but have cleared by mid-afternoon.  The snow

Some time in the night, a bag of dog treats had spilled -- I suspect a midnight snack raid -- and there was about 2/3rds of a cup of treats on the kitchen floor.  If I had been more properly awake, I would have swept them up -- but the dog was happily hoovering them up.  Later, it crossed my mind that maybe the kibble wasn't proper dog food.

On the Writing Front:  did a final pass on a 6900 word story by having the computer read it back to me.  I've been polishing for a while, so the process caught only a few odd places where there was a missing "the" or some other word-o.

I should put more stories into the mail.  One of the last items, which I thought had been in the slush for 90 days, apparently had been rejected after 5 days and the reply was stuck in my spam filter or something.

On the Gym Front:  Did my Power Walk, only without music this time.  On the plus side, the music keeps my tempo up; on the minus (?) side, having the soundtrack makes me pay attention to the surroundings differently.  I am unsure if having the soundtrack makes me more engaged with the neighborhoods I walk through (because I'm compensating for not hearing soft sounds) or if the soundtrack engages the woolgathering part of my mind that pulls me out of the world when I walk.  Came home and did some free weight work; looped an elastic loop over a cherry tree branch and did some cable pull-downs.

On the dream front:  I haven't exactly been having the intense dreams that some folks have been having because of COVID19 lockdowns.  I did have an intricate "back at Reed, failing Physics, freshly-discovered missing attendance" anxiety dream, which I'm going to attribute to an unsettled stomach this morning.  I had an intense advising meeting with Del Rhodes--who in real life was the head of the Psychology Department, but in the dream was a perky Physics Professor.   I can't recall the conversation verbatim, but she said something ambiguous, which I took the wrong way, and replied with a pointed remark, but after some back-and-forth, we ended up on the same academic plan.

On the animal front:  Aoife and Smokey just now had a nose-to-nose meeting.  Smokey was in the windowsill.  There was no growling, barking, howling, snapping, or claw swiping.  Mark says Cicero made some kind of wailing noise from outside the window (which I think I heard from the next room) along the lines of "Oh, Smokey! You're gonna die!"   There's apparently a second meeting going on in the Cat Sanctuary, so I better go see what's going on.

Blurry Days and Animals

Isolating in place at home and working remotely has made the weekdays blur together.  It's an odd feeling working with less physical boundaries between work lives, home lives, and family lives.  I'm getting a touch of cabin fever, the treatment for which is physically leaving the house for a power walk or to get food.  Mark is working from home (most days), as am I.  The Child is attending his classes remotely.  Mostly,  we're managing to give each other enough space.

On the dog front, the cats have moved from fear and grief to anger.   Okay, and a little indifference.  Mostly.  Smokey was going to do something about That New Creature the other day when Aoife came into the bedroom while Smokey was on my lap, but I was able to negotiate a peaceful retreat with the use of a blanket.

I connected with a FaceBook group that watches a local pair of bald eagles (and their arch-enemies, the ospreys).  There's a nest that's visible (at least until the leaves come in) from a local Willamette River path, so I fled the house with my camera and managed to get a photograph or two -- mostly of eagle beak.  It's not quite as concentrated bird as The Raptor Center, but at least it's open.

On the writing front:  staying home means I'm actually at home before 1:30, so I've had lunch and I'm actually writing by 2.  Some friends have started up writing groups in Zoom, which seems to work as far as motivation.

On the gym front:  well... I've been doing power walks, so that's better than nothing.  Aoife makes doing mat exercises difficult.

Cats, Dogs, and Quarantine

Day something of self-isolation with the family.  We're doing fairly well, also I am a little stir-crazy.  I would very much like to go to a dance party right now.  Last weekend the sunlight made being in the back yard pleasant.   However, starting last Tuesday, the weather has been cold, wet, and overcast.  We need the rain, but I could do without sunless skies (and more rainbows).   I was also disappointed that the clouds hid a conjunction of The Moon and The Pleiades on Friday (and Thursday and Saturday) night.

Aoife, the new puppy, has settled into the house.  So far we've pretty much established that she's a stick dog, she's a car-ride dog, and she's a frisbee dog.  She loves us, and once social distancing isn't such a big deal, we'll work on socializing her.

The cats are still annoyed.  We've established our bedroom as the cat sanctuary, and Mark occasionally opens the door and stands with the dog while the cats furtively eat their meals.   Mark usually times some long-ish dog walks around meal times so the cats can come out of our bedroom to skulk and sniff.  The down side of all this is that that cats frequently want to leave the room at 3:30 AM and wake us to open a window.   If we're not stealthy enough, the dog hears us rustling around and wants to be let out of her crate in The Child's room.

It's slowly paying off.  The cat's aren't in a complete panic when they see the dog.  Aoife has always been mildly curious in a "let's play" kind of way about them, but is otherwise uninterested in the cats... unless she thinks they are intruders on the front porch, in which case they get an "intruder alert!" bark through the front window.   Smokey ventured out, took a strategic position on the table, glared with Great Glaring, then forgot that Aoife had fallen asleep on the couch while Mark and I were watching a Wooster and Jeeves movie.  I didn't see Smokey's face when Mark stopped him from jumping onto his lap -- which coincided with Smokey realizing that the brindled pillow was Actually A Sleeping Brindled Dog! -- but Mark said it was priceless.  Mark was also thankful he had avoided getting his lap shredded to ribbons.

Staying At Home With Cats and a Dog

Today is overcast and damp.  I had hoped that I might be able to write outside, but that's not going to happen--even with a deck umbrella.  Kate Brown, the Governor of Oregon, has issued executive order 20-12, which translates to Lockdown-Not-Quite-So-Lite-This-Time.  Still, pretty much everyone is being strongly encouraged to stay at home and not go anywhere if they can help it.

We're going on Day Three with a New Puppy Bull-Terrier Mix.   The cats have moved from full panicked “Oh My God, it’s a dog! Stand you ground! No—puff out to twice size! No—I’m outta here!!” to Irritated Bushiness (Cicero looks like a stereotypical Black Halloween Cat) and a low growled battle song (the lyrics of which are “When the Foeman bares his steel (ta-ra-tara ta-ra tara) We uncomfortable feel...").   Our bedroom is the Cat Sanctuary, and they've taken to fleeing the house through one of the windows.   Even Spencer, Cicero's brother, is on high alert, and performed his signature bound over the chainlink fence when I came out with Dog Smell on my Hands.  

Aoife pretty much wants to play with the cats.  She pretty much wants to play with other dogs.  She loves us, and is a leaner.  She's not quite so sure about other people, although she threw doggy heart looks at some guy in a Toyota muscle car and booming hip-hop (he actually pulled over, got out of his car, and said hello).   She has figured out the home is The Den That Must Be Protected, so there's some barking at the mailman.  When Mark commented on how cliché it was, I responded that Cliché would be a great dog name.  

In other animal-conflict news, there's a hawk or other raptor that's been hanging about and getting mobbed by the local corvids.  Just now as I was writing this, I saw a smallish--maybe a red-tailed hawk--be forced to land in a tree across the street by two crows.  I was too slow with my camera to get any photographs... although I did get a woodpecker in the same branches about fifteen minutes later.

 

Friday Update

Went to the gym Wednesday night, did the usual routine.  Going consistently has resulted in some nice reductions, but it also means that I wake up around 9PM. 

On the writing front:  Got a short, detailed rejection for one piece -- mostly the story wasn't the editor's cup of tea.   I've been working on older pieces that have been languishing in draweres post-critique.  Taking a long break from pieces has been useful for spotting clunky writing (and excising it).

Oh, and the Autumnal Rains continue....

Cat Grooming

Friday I had to attend to some family business, which meant that I went to the gym on Saturday and did the regular routine (OK, I didn't do the Roman Chair curls because I was feeling a little tired). 

The weather has turned autumnal -- we had lots of lightning (unusual) on Thursday night, which unfortunately sparked a few fires up and down the valley.  Luckily we had rain Saturday and Sunday, which helped to dampen the flames.  The temperatures arent' supposed to get much higher than the mid-seventies today, which is pleasant. 

As we were leaving for a day trip, Smokey became concerned that we were Leaving Forever.  He paced back and forth in front of the car making squeaky meows and looking at Mark.  So... Mark lied down on the street and Smokey groomed him.  Three minutes later, a much more happy Smokey let us drive to Corvallis, where we celebrated my mother's birthday.

On the writing front, I managed to slip some editing in during the family business.  I'm also keeping my fingers crossed for good news from a market that's short-listed one of my stories; we'll see if it beats the competition and is published.

Writing Day

I'm calling this picture, "Curiosity, before the pavilion of the subconscious, turns away from the font of dreams."

Went to the gym Wednesday (7/17) and did the regular workout.  I was kind of tired, but once I got going I managed to do everything within about an hour.  My weight has been stating about the same, which I suppose is good--but I'm trying to get more definition in my lower abs.  I'm blaming a mediocre diet and the fact that I'm in my mid-fifties for lack of meaningful progress.  Doing "mummy tummy" exercises  while I brush my teeth seems to help.

Thursday night I was restless, and wound up taking a power-walk up the hill.  I think going to the gym at 8:30-ish is conditioning my body to want to be active in the evening.  I'm not sure if this is a good thing or not.  I saw one bat (we have some resident fledermauses on our street).  At the reservoir, I thought I might see the rising moon, but it was too early for night sky objects other than Jupiter and a faint Antares.  Saturn became visible as I walked home.

Back in our yard, I took some photos of Jupiter and its moons, but I haven't uploaded them to see if any of them are clear enough to share.  I tried photographing the Big Dipper, the Summer Triangle, and Cassiopeia; but I think the star-trail video the camera took probably came out the best.

Friday morning is a writing day, and I'm warming up with the blog.  I've got the laptop raised a little so the screen is closer to eye level, and I'm writing outside under the pavilion.  I would have a wireless keyboard in my lap, but Cicero has claimed that territory as his own.  

Cats

Rejections

In writing news, I got a rejection from the anthology I was hoping to get into.  The editor was very gracious, as I had resubmitted a piece she liked from a few years ago, and said that she'd consider it again -- but, alas, the stories that she'd put a call out for were long and there wasn't room in the anthology for mine.  So, now I have to continue to shop this story around.

I also got a thirteen-hour rejection for a short story; that's gone off to another market.  I'm always hopeful the first market will buy my pieces, but they're extremely competitive.  I've got my fingers crossed for the second market, which has proven a difficult nut for me to crack, so I'm not exactly holding my breath.

Last Sunday, Mark and Smokey were being picturesque, so I snapped some photos of them.  I didn't realize until later how Abrahamic Mark's beard makes him look; I usually don't notice his beard that much, but with the blanket he had drraped over his head, he looks like someone out of an Old Testament story, something like "Mark Among The Cats." or "Mark in the Cat's Den."  

Did not go to the gym Monday, but did go Wednesday.  I'm pleased with how the gym is working out, and I think I've hit a plateau or something -- very likely I need to increase my weights or more closely examine my diet.  

Did not write Tuesday, but did write (some) Wednesday.  Mostly, I looked at old work.... I have a fairy tale set on Venus  I've been tinkering with that I should see about fixing and finishing.  If I'm very good, I could have it ready by then end of next week (looks at calendar).  For fun, I polished up the sex farce, which made me laugh as I was writing it.... so at least it's funny. 


Thursday morning, I dreamed my hair was suddenly long and Fabio-like.  

Kitties Sleeping

 Before Cicero became part of our household, Smokey used to sleep with Mark and me.  Ever since that day about two and a half years ago when Smokey hissed and ran out of the bedroom, we've felt a little sad that the 16 pound older cat was displaced so quickly by a 4 pound kitten.

Okay... um, yeah, Cicero is a descended from barn cats and has no sense of boundaries.  

And, Smokey has been known on occasion to do a sumo-ninja move by rolling with a Cicero pounce, resulting with Cicero landing on his side instead of on Smokey like he had planned.

 Fast forward to this week, where I discovered them sleeping and actually touching.

And, of course, as soon as I typed this, Cicero went up to Smokey, who was on the bed, and started biting him.  Sigh.

Foggy Monday Artsy Walk

Monday, the last day of the year, wanted to see if I could see the Moon before it passed by Venus, Jupiter, and Mercury over the next few days.  But the sky was dark and starless.   Thinking that if it was foggy, at least I might be able to get some good fog photographs, I sauntered outside and to the local park.

On foggy days, when I'm driving The Child to school, often I wish that I could stop driving a take some photos.  I'll be zooming along one curve in the road, and the sun will blaze over the hilltops, and dye rising silver wisps of fog crimson and gold.  The copse running through the park become spears of sable shadow.  And then the idiot in the car in front of me (who certainly is a worse driver than I am) will do something stupid requiring my attention. 

But today I wasn't going to be in a car, and I'd have my camera ready. 

The frigid air made me glad that I had layered up with fingerless gloves, a polar fleece jacket, and my grey-green wool cloak.  I kept the camera under my cloak so it wouldn't freeze solid, all the time wondering how much it made me look like I had a concealed gun. 

I got to the park.  The pre-dawn darkness turned to pre-dawn grey.  The thickness of the fog made itself evident as the sun failed to materialize; and the trees, grass, and joggers remained studies in black and white.  I walked along the path and snapped photos of the lampposts, which were still on. 

I hadn't realized before how crooked and beat-up-looking many of them are.

As the morning continued to slowly fade in, various dog walkers and joggers passed by.  Mark accuses me of looking like a homeless person when I wear this particular cloak, and the state of my hair (vaguely untamed) wasn't helping.   I felt the evaluation of the regular path-goers change as soon as they saw the camera (oh, crazy photographer; probably harmless). 

I walked along the path, taking artsy photographs of where Amazon Slough had flooded its banks, and waited for the sun to pop up and do its crimson-dyeing magic -- but we had a secret dawn clothed in grey.  All the lamps turned off and I knew it was going to be one of those dark and twilight days where the lights of the sky are sourceless.   Also, I'd left The Child asleep at home and I wondered what he was up to.

So I came home.  Smokey greeted me.

More photos here:  https://photos.app.goo.gl/nh8E1udnzrZov9sJ8

Cat News and World Building

Yesterday afternoon, (Friday,The Ides of Winter) was practically 70F, so I managed to get some writing done outside. I was visited by a small black spider, who seemed  to be particularly interested in my tea:  I had to shoo it out of my teacup twice.

It appears that what Smokey has been wanting the last few nights is to sleep in our bed.  When Cicero came to our house, there was a divying up of rooms and territories (for reasons that I don't understand, as at the time Cicero was a five pound kitten and Smokey was a sixteen pound cat).  In any case, Cicero somehow got our bed.  The cats get on tolerably well, although Cicero is a little too rough-and-tumble for Smokey's tastes.  Apparently, there's another territory shift going on, or the borders are relaxing or something, because after meowing a few times at 2 AM, Smokey jumped into our bed and began grooming the top of Mark's head (which is an old, familiar trick).  

There's a big wedding for later today -- one of my first cousin's daughters is getting married --  so this morning's plan is to go to the gym when it opens, write, and then go to the wedding and reception.

Saturday workout (since I'd hadn't gone since Wednesday, I decided to try for a fuller session):  30 minutes and 300 cal on the Nordic Elliptical.  Downstairs was very chatty.  3x13x30lbs on the deltoid fly.  13x(30+40+50)lbs on the pec fly.  13x(40+50+60+70)lbs on the lat pull-down.  3x14 curls on the Roman Chair.  3x13x30lbs bar-bell curls.  3x13x30lbs on the triceps curls.  Bits of free-weight work.  And now I want bacon.

On the writing front... I've hit a point where the magic user is thinking about how to do a spell, and the moons' phases could affect his spell, and I realized that if I was going to be consistant in the story, I really needed an ephemeris of the moons' and the sun's position in the sky.  The variable nature of the length of time the moons take to make a complete orbit means that the concept of a month is more fluid.  Looking back at other fantasy books, unless there's a race to get the McGuffin to the Mystic Place by the Full Moon, there's not much detail -- but it's the sort of detail that's going to shape how the characters speak and think.  

I set out to program a switching set of orbits, and after wasting some time trying to put together a web-based program on Wolfram, I reverted back to a Perl script on the iMac.  Several hours later and about 80 lines of code... I had a program that would spit out an ephemeris table.  Now I have to review it by hand to make sure it's doing the right thing (there's a state where the program will double-switch the moon's if they're haven't moved far enough away from each other).  

What building the ephemeris has shown me is that there will be a Red Moon Season, when the smaller, ruddier moon is larger (and faster) and a Blue Moon Season, when the larger moon is prominent.  Which means the story will have phrases like "Blue Moon Fortnight" (which is 14 days, like ours) and "Red Moon Fortnight" (which is a few days shorter).   So I don't go too crazy, the fantasy world's sun moves at about the same speed as ours... and I think I'm going to use a 360 day calendar of 12 months of 30 days each, with an intercalendary period just before the winter solstice.  

Gym and Dark Shadows

Went to the gym Saturday.  I've been advised to mix things up a little more than I have been to help with my shoulder and back (work the back to balance out working the front).  30 minutes and 300 calories on the elipitcal (while I did line edits to a story).  3x12x20lbs on the butterfly pull (a reverse pec-fly).  3x12x80 Lat Pull-downs.  3x12 Roman Chair curls.  3x12 bridges.  Also some assorted quasi-yoga stretches.  Pool-noodle spine stretches and thigh faschia stretches.  30 second planks.   3x12x20lb triceps pull-downs.  

After the gym, I managed to actaully get a flu shot; the closest pharmacy always seems to require two visits for anything, and this was no acception (I'd dont the paperwork yesterday).  The advantage to going early Satruday was that almost no one else was there (sometimes going to this particular pharmacy is like visiting the Emergency Vets on New Years').  

I spent most of the day working on a short story at Caré John, in the rain.  Cicero visited between sprinkles, mostly because I was warm and dry.  He's usually only wants to sit in a lap for about three mintues, but I think he curled up on my lap for about fifteen before a bird or a squirrel or some other defeceless creature lured him into the neighbor's yard.

Mark's been Binge Watching "Dark Shadows," a black-and-white Horror-Soap from 1966.  The premise is that a wealthy, influencial family with secrets is visited by a vampire (and ancestor) who has been released from over 150 years in a coffin, and vampiric hijynx ensue.   It's kind of slow, and extra cheesy.   I have a very vague recolection of seeing the opening or closing credits, but being unable to read the Gothic Script of the show's title.  

I think the Soap Genre demands that the characters connect the dots much more slowly than the viewing audience.  For example, it seems a little odd that a medical doctor with a patient who has inexplicably lost a dangerous amount of blood and whose injuries are only two puncture marks on the neck wouldn't draw some obvious conclusions.  We've amazed The Child on several occasions by predicting actions and dialog.  We've also been coming up with drinking games we could play while watching and pretending to drink whenever anyone says "blood," "Colins", "I'm busy," or "I'll call a doctor-"/"No! Don't call a doctor! I'm not sick!"

A some point, I decided that Smokey should be in Dark Shadows and started to intone a typical opeing:  "My name is Smokey Winters..."

"Smokey Winters!?" Mark said.  "That sounds like a stripper's name."

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Today (Sunday) feels like a slow day.  I think I'm fighting off whatever Back-To-School bug is going around, and I'm a little sore from the shot.   I guess this makes it a good day for marketing.  So I've submitted a short story and a flash piece.  The short, unfortunately, has been making the rounds and finding a good market for it is proving to be a challenge.  The flash is experimental, and we'll see if it sells.

Kitty Wars

Earlier in the week...

I had a strange mash-up dream involving Carleton College and Scooby-Doo.  I think.  Between Cicero tearing around the house, various cloud-bursts, and probably too much tea yesterday, I didn't sleep as soundly as I would have liked.

Cicero is being a typical kitten, I guess.  He's the only cat I've met who likes to chew on paper, and we're at the point where The Child could say, "The cat ate my homework" and it would be plausible.  Just this Tuesday morning, the wicked little Visigoth chewed the corner off of my copy of Fowler's "Modern English Usage."  

Unfortunately, this also means that he bounds up to Smokey, wraps both front paws around his neck, and gets into Smokey's face.  Or decides that Smokey's tail is a kitten toy.   Smokey's been extremely good natured about all this, but it means we can't leave them alone in the same room.  With the turn in the weather, Smokey shouldn't stay out, with the result that one or the other spends some time locked up in a bedroom.   Our latest strategy -- which Mark is better at that I am -- is to sequester Cicero in our room whenever he gets into Smokey's face.   Cicero seems to be responding to this conditioning... until he's wound up and wants to kitty-wrestle.

I think it will be easier wrangling them when we can let Cicero outside.  He has to finish his immunizations and then get fixed (during which he'll get chipped) and then Halloween has to be over.  We have let him go on supervised jaunts in our back yard; his barn kitten past comes to the fore, as he likes to spend lots of time under our deck.  And zoom in and out of the patio door.

Smokey has been handling this fairly well, but we're pretty sure he's been going over to the neighbors to stress feed.  

Wednesday Workout:  20 minutes on the elliptical for 205 calories.  3x12x70lbs on the pec fly.  3x12x80lbx on the lat pull-down.   2x8x10lbs oblique curls.  3x12x30lbs barbell curls.  3x12 hanging curls.  3x12x30lbs triceps pull-downs.