29 April 2025

 My quarterly Oh-I-am-going-to-blog-more post

My intentions are good. I typically have a dozen things spinning in my head that I intend to write about, but they're all kinda stuck in my head. I'm getting really good at telling myself that no one wants to read that; between imposter syndrome and executive dysfunction, I'm not getting a whole lot done. But that doesn't mean things haven't been awesome around here.

I mean, how awesome is she?

This is Amelia Belle, born mid-February, and she is amazing.

Look at that smile!

She took her own sweet time getting here, refusing to be born for three days while Mom and Dad waited in the hospital. All of the grandparents came and went, waiting sometimes, leaving to give them privacy in others, until the day we were sure she was going to be evicted from her nice, warm residence.

It's incredible how much she's grown every time we see her; she started at at the exact same weight as her daddy, long like both her parents, and she's already grown a couple inches and gained a few pounds.

She is the absolute light in all our lives, but man...her parents are like they won the lottery. And I'm not sure I've ever seen my son light up the way he does when he's holding her, speaking to her softly.

This is going to be one spoiled little girl...though long before she was born the Boy informed us that when he had kids there would be limits. We'll see if those get enforced.

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And this little chit...

Ozzy and CJ still do not like him. I had really hoped that CJ at least would warm up to him and start playing with him, but Ducky is such a little crackhead. His idea of playing is to leap on top of the others, or to pester them endlessly, and he hasn't grasped that teeth and claws are not appreciated.

Ozzy hisses and growls when he's even remotely near, but that doesn't stop him.

CJ is a bit afraid of him, probably because Ducky worships CJ and, when he's not imitating everything CJ does, has chosen him for his best stealthy attacks.

At this point I'm not even hoping for friendship with these 3. I'll settle for peaceful co-existence.

Ducky is 6 months old. So maybe in another 6 months...

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I still have not sold any of the bikes cluttering the garage, but I did go ahead and order the dream bike.

Yep, I wanted to avoid tariffs, which would have put it well out of my reach.

It's also waaaay more bike than I will ever need, and is probably stupid choice for the kind of riding I do, but with this color scheme it's the one I really, really wanted. 

If you're local and kinda want an e-bike, hit me up. I have a few that I need to get rid of.

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This time I mean it. Really. I swear. LOL

1 February 2025

 Oddz-N-Endz #89.30987637645

This is the first time CJ has plopped down on my computer. Ozzy has walked across it several times and tried to curl up on it before, but CJ will crawl into my lap and not on the computer.

He is most definitely Good Boy CJ.

His Good Boy patience has been sorely tested lately, though, and he's been kinda sad.

Apparently that hyperactive little furball was not expected to stick around, and when it was clear we weren't going to slap stamps on his head and send him to the next person, CJ developed a nice case of the blahs.

Did he get in trouble?

Hell no. 

I resigned myself to not working for a while and crossed my fingers in the hope that he didn't delete my manuscript altogether (he did not), and gave him head rubs while he fell asleep. His life has been hard enough without being told no when all he wants is a little attention and a place where Ducky probably won't find him.

The sucky part is that a large impetus in getting Ducky was to give CJ a playmate, since Ozzy sleeps so much more. I never would have guessed that my brave boy would be afraid of a 3 pound kitten, and would run run him at every opportunity.

Ozzy will slap the krap out of Ducky (who thinks she's playing) but being the Good Boy, CJ doesn't unless he's pushed to. We don't get in the middle of it because no one is using claws and no one is getting hurt, but I feel bad for CJ. 

Progress is being made; he'll go up to Ducky and touch noses, which works if Ducky stays still. But 4 month old kittens do not stay still and all they want is to play with the big kitty, and he wishes CJ would chase him back.

That'll come, eventually. But for now I feel bad for him, and give him all the attention he'll allow...which isn't a whole lot right now. But I'll take what I can get.

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In the 3 weeks he's been here, Ducky has gained almost 1.5 pounds, so he's caught up to where he should be at this age. 

He still has chronic diarrhea, though, and his next vet appointment isn't until the 18th, so I imagine Monday morning Mike will call to see what else we can do.

Thing is, Ducky is super active, he eats well, drinks water as expected, and you'd never know there was anything wrong if not for the horrendously awful smelling runs.  

Little dude has no sense of personal space, either.

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With spring coming, I figured this was a good time to start selling a few bikes (to make room for the eventual dream bike, of course.) So of course the day after I got one ready, the skies opened and it began to rain...and will rain for the rest of the week.

One of these days I'll get them sold.

I'll miss them, but I think I want that dream bike more than I would miss them. And to be honest, one of them I'll mostly miss because it's purple.

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And my WTF moment of the weekend: an online acquaintance had words to say because I failed to donate to their fundraiser, and pointed out that I am ALWAYS fundraising for something, so I should turn around and donate to others.

Well...I do. But I have to KNOW about it before I can donate anything, and that was the first I'd heard about it. And I could have still donated, if not for being told "you guys are rich, so I expect something good."

First of all...no, we are not. My bank account is unimpressive.

Pile onto that the Spouse Thingy retired in December, so going forward our income is slashed in half. I'll still donate to my friends' fundraising efforts when I know about them (unless you're raising for political reasons, and then I'll nope out of it, especially if the funds go to one particular megalomaniac.) But I might not be able to give as much as I have in the past. 

Hell, we have a grandbaby on the way, due any day, and we're going to want to spoil her most of all.

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 I want ice cream.

21 January 2025

 These two are not happy, and have not been since the 9th. Why?

Because of this guy:

His name is Ducky, and they do not like him.

Not yet. But they will. Or at least CJ will; Ozzy may never come around, but I'll settle for her not hissing at him every time he's within 5 feet. CJ is not thrilled, but he'll get nose-to-nose with Ducky and not growl, and he'll hang out in the same room just to watch the little guy play. Granted, there have been a few times that CJ has been up a bit higher and reached down to swipe at him, but never with claws and never in a way that made me worry.

This is good, because 75% of the reason that we decided to adopt a kitten was to give CJ someone to play with. Ozzy sleeps a lot more than he does, and when she's awake she's not often interested in chasing around the house the way he wants to.

(And yes, we realize that Ducky might turn out to be just like Ozzy, but it was a chance worth taking.)

Ducky seems to have had a fairly rough start in life. According to the paperwork, when the shelter did intake on him early November, he was one month old but only .52 pounds. He's had digestive issues since then (but they ran a lot of test, all negative...and we had our vet repeat most of them) and is gassy af, but extremely active, eats like a horse and drinks well, and is an affectionate and happy little guy. 

When I picked him up post-neutering on the 9th, he weighed in at a whopping 2.98 pounds and was 14 weeks old.

Like we did with Ozzy and CJ, he hung out in the spare room for the first couple of days. Mostly to decompress, partly to give all the cats time to sniff each other and get used to new smells. The door remained open, despite common sense.

Yes, we know it's usually "better" to keep everyone separated for a week, but my gut said that would not work with Ozzy and CJ. And hell, we did it for Max and Buddah and we all know how that turned out.

After a few visits to the litter box, we were aware that his tummy problems were not solved; the poor guy was shooting out super soft toothpaste from his back end, and it was odoriferous enough to not only concern us, but drive us from the room.

Spouse Thingy called the vet two days later; he took them a stool sample and yesterday he had his first stabby person appointment.

The sample was fine; it repeated several tests the shelter ran, and there were no signs of worms or parasites, nor giardia. So now he's on a prebiotic mixed with something else to help calm his gut down (vet thinks he just as poor gut flora) so fingers crossed it helps.

The big thing, though, was his weight. Yesterday marked day 11 with us, and he'd gone from 2.98 to 3.72 pounds.

Today I realized that while he kinda stinks still, he's not as flatulent and the odor doesn't linger as long when he bombs the litter box. 

He also has run of the house during the day (except for bedrooms...that's mostly to give Ozzy a quiet place when she needs one, and to keep from overwhelming him) and he's allowed out of the catio if he wants. 

Oh, and before someone mentions it...no, we did not intentionally get cats that look like Max and Buddah. It just kinda worked out that way. I was actually hoping to find an orange kitten, but Ducky was there, this little black bundle of trembling kitten, and I had the thought that he would be overlooked in the shelter if we didn't adopt him.

So of course, when I went to pick him up the next day, there was an orange kitten.

I was not the least bit upset by that.

Ducky was meant to be ours.

4 January 2025

 :::blows dust off the blog again:::

I swear, I never intend to not write something, but I sit down and nothing comes out. My brain has been pulling me in 42 different directions lately--for no good reason. And it's not just the blog; I'm only halfway through a book I began writing a year ago, which is super slow for me. Still, I'm having a blast with it, I know where the story is going, and I'll get it done sooner or later.

In the meantime, I'm trying to get into a shape that is less...round. And to accomplish this, I ordered a new-to-me kind of indoor cycling, and have joined Zwift in the hopes that the increased difficulty level (I live in a flat city; this sucker has hills) will help a bit more.

This is the Zwift Ride mounted on a Wahoo Kickr Core, with an iPad (already had that) to access the Zwift app. I could have mounted a bike to the trainer and played that way, but I really didn't want to have to take off the back tire, get the frame set on the trainer, then do everything in reverse when I want to take the bike outside.

Yes, I am that lazy.

This thing is kicking my ass. Like I said, I live where it's flat and I don't have to struggle too much when I ride. But the first day I had this, just a couple minutes into it, I hit a baby hill and holy fark I could barely pedal. I used all my weight on the pedals and my little avatar would not budge. I tried so hard I nearly barfed all over everything, and after 20 minutes or so cried Uncle.

That was 3 weeks ago. Now I can make my avatar move, and sometimes even getting up to 20-22 mph, but the hills are my bane. And I'm using the easy routes. Yesterday I zoomed up a hill at a grand 3 mph (you read that right...THREE. Just three) but I made the pedals go round and round and eventually got to the top of this very-much-a-baby-hill.

We won't discuss the riders who blew past me doing 25 mph. On a hill. 

It's just difficult enough that I added a decal to the frame:

I think I've invented a few new swear words while riding on Zwift.

One day I will conquer the Alpe du Zwift (think BIG HONKIN' MOUNTAIN.) I might die at the top, but at least I'll go out on a major win.

More importantly, one day I'll be in shape. I am determined this time around. A year from now I want to be at my goal weight, be close to having the ability to hit those hills at a speed other than slow, and not be a pre-diabetic with high cholesterol.

4 November 2024

 BLOG BLAST FOR PEACE 2024

2 November 2024

 NoMo'NaNo

Normally this time of year I am bemoaning the fact that I signed up for NaNoWriMo without any clue what I'd write. This year, though? Nah.

I will probably never try NaNo again. Hell, I wasn't even going to bring it up, but I've pulled a few people into in years past, and in the middle of a conversation today I was asked what I'd be working on. Now, I am working on something, but not for that.

There are a couple of reasons. 

One...they announced not too long ago that they fully intended (or perhaps already have been) to use this year's uploaded word-check manuscripts to train their own AI. We all know where that can wind up: wholly AI-written books, pages upon pages of probable trash, for which no living, breathing person will profit. Well, other than the company. And honestly, even if the effort was above board, I am not interested in allowing the words I have spent countless hours upon being used to train a machine to write something using my voice.

But really, that's just a tiny reason.

The biggest reason? 

The NaNoWriMo site has a popular collection of forums, one of which is intended for young writers. It is supposed to be a safe space for kids interested in the craft to gather, somewhere they can ask questions, share ideas, where a few behind-the-scene adults make sure nothing untoward is going on.

The problem is when one of those adults uses the forum for their own grooming wants. I have no idea how long it went on, but one of the moderators was doing just that, grooming young participants for whatever nefarious impulses they had...and the NaNos in charge knew about it and did nothing for a very long time.

That's it. I'm out. I don't care if they've "taken care of it." It happened and they did not act in the kids' best interests.

I canceled my ongoing financial support, a monthly donation, and will not participate in any current or future events.

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 2024's Great Cycle Challenge went pretty well. I was unable to increase my mileage, but mostly that was owed to poor time management on my part. I hit 201 miles, what I pledged plus one, and raised a nice $4350--the most to date. 

This was year 5 for me, and so far overall I've raised $17,594. Or better said, y'all have donated that much. I appreciate more than I can express that my friends indulge my whims. 

Next year I'm shooting for the 300 I used to do. Maybe then I can get my chit together and make the time to get it done.

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Part of what's distracted me is that the Spouse Thingy retires next month, and has been chewing off his unused vacation days. He'd considered cashing those in, but when you're this close to retiring, you just want time off, and trust me, that makes sense in your head when you're there. We haven't gone off and done much, just kind of chilling around the house and getting used to him being here, interrupting my schedule. 

Yeah, we really need to make an actual schedule or I won't get much of my own work done. Only one of us is retiring...I still have things to make up inside my own head and then barf out onto virtual paper.

But...he has one more week off next week, fifteen more shifts after tonight, and is done on Dec 10th.

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I dunno, though, he might nee to keep working to pay for my freaking teeth. I broke one, saw the dentist for a quick fix while waiting for the Real Fix, and the NEXT DAMNED DAY I broke another one. That one has now been spackled over, I've had the prep work done to get a crown on the first tooth, and Monday I get the prep work for the 2nd tooth. So, in a couple weeks we get to pay for two more crowns.

I'm grinding my teeth like a freak. All day, clench, grind, clench grind. If it keeps up, I'm gonna need all my teeth fixed. 

There may be a light at the end of the toothy tunnel, though. I had the same problem in 2016 and 2020, and it abated after the elections, though this is the first time teeth have protested. I have high hopes that after the 5th my jaw will relax and I'll stop again.

Clearly, I should not pay attention to politics.

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I already voted, too.

You can figure out for who on your own, I'm sure.

1 September 2024

 

Lessons learned today:

1. Look out for potholes, lest you hit one at 15mph and get jostled enough that you bruise your crotch. 

2. A granola bar at 10:30 is not enough food for a ride starting at noon, and you will wind up stopping for a sandwich you aren't ready to eat but are grateful for nonetheless.

3. Since the Spouse Thingy was ridding behind me, the zombies totally would have gotten him.

Today is the first day of the Great Cycle Challenge, and plans went awry from the start. I needed to put air in the tires of my super spiffy road bike, but the valve on the front tire is bent funny and would not hold air. So that's going to the shop on Tuesday, because this is the first time I've needed to air up and the valve should be fine. It should be covered under warranty. If not, this shop will do it anyway.

The food thing was a brain fart; I'd expected to be out the door by 11, but Mike wasn't quite ready and I didn't think anything of it. The bike...I wound up taking my single speed, which added to how quickly my reserve depleted. It's a heavier bike and with no gears...that was work. I don't mind that; I really like this bike but man it showed me how much easier the road bike is.

We did 10 miles, a bit less than I'd hoped, but I can finish the rest on the Peloton later. I'll count the miles, but that one will be totally for fun; I'm strapping a cadence sensor onto it and riding with the VR set strapped to my face, and wander around somewhere with VZFit. It's been a long time since I used it, but I remember the feeling when going off the road (kinda hard since you really can't steer, but you feel as if you're falling and it's one of those fun but weird and scary feelings.)

I did not realize how big that shirt is on me, but since I have a chunky tummy, I'm embracing it.

So for now, 10 down, 190 to go. Unless I hit 200 early, in which case, 10 down, 240-290 to go. I really hope it's the latter.

20 August 2024

 

Shiny!

I had the chance last week to snag a pair of these cycling shoes for the cost of shipping. I wasn't worried about a scam--you know, pay the person then never get the merch--because this was courtesy of a writer friend whose spouse is closing out an eBay store. For $30 I bought a $500 pair of shoes that I wanted for no reason other than they are shiny and sparkly.

Thing is...I ride with flat pedals, not clips, which these are meant for. I told her that before I decided to buy them, and she virtually shrugged and said I could ride flats in these if I wanted.

Ride on the tail of that, someone else in the group mentioned a coupon we could all use to get some Wahoo gear, specifically Speedplay pedals, so I figured why not? I can play with them on the Peloton at home first, and if I get the hang if it (which I never did with other clip-in pedals...I mean, I clip in just fine, it's unclipping that I just didn't seem capable of) I can swap them over to my road bike and ride in my shiny new shoes.

Ngl, part of me wants to stick the shoes on a shelf because they are gorgeous. 

The other part of me spent a week watching the Tour de France Femme and I am going to be a clip-in MONSTER soon, zooming up hills and mountains, flying down straightaways. Yes, of course I will, just as soon as this little town gets a mountain and a long straightaway with no traffic. I think if I win the lottery I can make that happen.

So I'm sitting here waiting for the FedEx dude to get here with my new pedals. He usually gets here around noon, which means he will get here at 8pm this time.

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A while back on FB I joked that because I am doing the Great Cycle Challenge again this year, surely I need a new bike for that. And at the time I really was joking. There was a bike I had my eye on, thinking I could get it next year, since this year's stock was depleted. It's the bike, the one I absolutely don't need but coveted the hell out of, and if I were any other person I could declare it the Last Bike Ever, but we all know better.

Trek Domane+ SLR 6. It's electric, yes, but rides beautifully without running the motor. I start out on my own power, get as many miles as I want (or as many as I can) and then turn it on for some zippy fun. If I hit my miles and am just wiped out or am in pain, having that pedal assist boost makes all the difference for me. 

No, it's not cheating. Even when using the power, I ride longer than I normally would, farther, and get my HR up just as much. I'm pushing into the 140s now, where I used to struggle to get it over 130ish. I can make that extra effort now because of a lot of time spent on =surprise= an ebike.

If I do ever get another, though, it will be a non-ebike, and I'll get it because I've finally gotten into some semblance of in shape and won't need the motor.

(okay, to be fair, I don't need it now. But I'm a lot more confident having it there just in case.)

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Yes, my brain is hyper-focused on bikes again. I do that. I get in a groove and obsess over something, sometimes for a few days, sometimes for a few weeks, sometimes for years.

I mean, I have other obsessions going at the same time, but this is a long term one, I think.

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It could be worse for you, worse than reading my bike obsession. You could be the Spouse Thingy, who patiently sat here during parts of the Tour de France Femmes and listened to me info-dump. And I don't really know much about racing, but damned if I didn't blurt out what I did know. 

I know enough to understand that was one hell of a race.

Also, I learned that there are hyper-pink shoes out there that I want (though they might be custom. I suspect they are custom.) Also also, there is rainbow bar tape that I NEED. Also also also, I envy those women who can wear skin suits and look good in them, and if I EVER get that thin, you know I'll rock one while zooming around Dixon on a Saturday morning. I might be 80 by then, but I'll damn well do it.

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Still waiting on Fed-Ex...

9 July 2024

 

A couple of weeks ago, after someone punched me in the face with a fistful of sleep, I wandered to the back of the house to crawl into bed. For once, I had no kitty help, so I was able to close the bedroom door. And while I was snoozing, the Spouse Thingy decided to run a couple of errands.

I wasn't quite asleep when he left. Within a minute, CJ began wandering up and down the hall, crying. It was pretty clear he thought he was alone and didn't want to be, but I was so close to being zonked I couldn't make myself get up to let him in the room.

He quieted quickly, though, and I fell asleep, hard.

Cut to today. Spouse Thingy was off work, and again, there were errands to be run. CJ watched as we got ready, and when he saw the wallet and keys go into my pocket, the crying began.

He followed us around, plastering us in guilt made of tiny, baby-like mews. He even jumped onto the table to head butt the Spouse Thingy, all the time begging us to stay. And I was tempted, I really was. I was not the only one. He was so sad, and it was our fault.

But...we had places to go. Yes, those errands could have been put off, but that only would have made the next time worse. That doesn't mean my heart wasn't kinda hurting as we closed and locked the door.

Once in the car, I remember a check that needed to be taken to the bank. Going back in for it would have hurt him even more, so we left without it, reasoning there's always tomorrow. Chances are high that I will need a nap, and CJ will sleep on top of me, so he won't be alone.

Now I worry he cries like this every time he realizes he's home alone (with Ozzy...she doesn't care. Us leaving just means more nap time as far as she's concerned.) 

There's no real point to this.

We made Good Boy CJ cry today, and I felt really, really bad about it. And now you can feel bad, too.

6 July 2024

 Oddz n Endz #867,391,911.902384b

♫♪♪ I feel useful, oh so useful...♫♪♪

I intended to get up at a normal-person hour so I could go to the store before the worst of the heat hit. So of course, I didn't wake up until almost 9:30 (this is actually good) and it took me a couple hours to feel like I'm a real live human, so by the time I left the house it was already 95F.

I did not beat the heat, but I did beat the worst of it, which should hit 108F (it is now 106 in my backyard, and it's not quite 2:30pm.) 

A little grumpy because OH MY BAST I SWEATED A LITTLE! I headed for the cat food first, because Ozzy and CJ love Meow Mix as a treat and we were out of it. They let me know last night that this made them all kinds of sad, including a mournful whine of of CJ, who is a Very Good Boy and knows he deserved him bedtime treat.

Anyway, I got there, turned my cart into the aisle, and saw a woman with a mop trying to coax something off the top shelf. So yes, of course I offered to help. She was about 5-feet nothing and I'm 5'8 with a decent reach. I grabbed the litter she wanted, placed it in her cart, and was going to go on my merry way when she said, "Everything important here is too high up. Don't they think of people my size when they do this?"

Nope, they do not.

So...we shopped together for the most part. She didn't need a whole lot, but truly 90% of what she needed was up higher than she can reach. 

I've reached the high things for others before but this is the first time I've been a personal shopper.

Not gonna lie, it made me feel good. I patted myself on the back when I got home, and decided that was a good excuse to have a couple cookies.

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A few weeks ago, I ordered a catio kit from Wayfair, and the Spouse Thingy assembled it and attached it to the house. For a day or two, Ozzy and CJ didn't quite know what to make of it, and it took a bit for both of them to risk exploring the high places. Now it's their all-time favorite thing. When Spouse Thingy gets home in the morning he lets them out for an hour, and in the evening they can spend several hours out there.

We had a stretch of not-so-hot weather, and they were able to go in and out as they pleased all day long. So this stretch of unreasonably hot is not going over well. CJ lays on the back of the love seat, his paws pressed to the glass, and he whines every now and then. He wants out, he's been good, so why am I not opening the window? 

Yesterday I explained the 113 out there, but he didn't care. I am now a Lame Human,

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Those pretty flowers are all dead now. Between the heat, the neighbor's dog peeing on all of them, and my giant black thumb, they never really stood a chance.

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The meds I stopped taking? Yeah, that lasted about 10 days. I did not mind the withdrawal effects--most of them were kind of interesting, including the brain zaps. Best one was late at night, in the dark, watching as a thin electric-looking line zapped from one side of my head to the other, right in my line of sight. There was quite a bit of whooshing in my ears, it felt like my brain was floating, and my tinnitus jacked up, but it was nothing too awful.

No, what got me was right around day 10, all the pain came screaming back at me. It was an eye-opener, realizing how much it was helping. So I started taking it again, and will live with the near-daily naps.

CJ loves those naps. He knows when I usually crash and burn, herds me to bed, and then climbs on top to hold me down. He's figured out when I'm on my right side with a body pillow up close, there's like this sweet spot where the sheet forms a hammock. My leg makes for a nice pillow. He drops off into sleep quickly, and whether I sleep or not doesn't matter. He's happy, I'm resting, and it's comforting to have him there.

Granted, I usually sleep for about 45 minutes, but we all know his happiness is more important.

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My new favorite picture. Y'all know my MIL was trying to steal my car, right? LOL

16 June 2024

 

CJ spends a good part of the night sleeping with me, usually draped across my hips and thighs, which tends to make my legs go numb. But, hey, he's a Good Boy and he picked me as  His Person, so I let him stay.

The night before last he stretched out near my side, using my body pillow for support. He was comfortable, I was comfortable, and we both fell asleep. I was also happy as hell because there's nothing like a warm kitty who wants nothing more than to be with you sleeping cuddled up close.

I'm not sure how long it was--an hour, maybe three--but I woke to the sound of a tiny, weird sounding meow. That was nothing new; both cats have soft meows unless they really want something, or are scared. I thought he might be having a bad dream, so I reached out to pet him.

Normally when I do, he lifts his head to look at me, even for just a second. But that night, he didn't move. I whispered his name, then said it louder, still petting him. No response.

Carefully, with a whole lot of trepidation, I set my hand on his side. I couldn't feel any movement. No soft rise and fall as he breathed, no tiny muscle twitches from the weight of my hand on him. 

I moved my hand to his chest. Not a thing. No breathing, and I couldn't feel a heartbeat. I pressed harder, still nothing.

So I stuck my finger under his nose, hoping to feel tiny puffs of warm air.

Nope.

So I did what any hopeful person would do. I started shaking him, speaking loudly, calling his name, begging him to wake up, despite the dread that he would not.

I shook harder.

Nada.

Finally, I reached for my glasses and half sat up, wondering what the hell I was going to do. I told him, "You're only a year old, CJ, come on."

My watch lit up, bathing his still body in dim light.

He lifted his head, looked at me like, HEY I AM SLEEPING HERE!, and then laid back down, dropping right back into the sleep I worked so hard to rouse him from.

"You," I said into the dark, "are a little shit."

meow.

16 March 2024

 

20 January 2020, the day I got this bike. About 8,000 miles and 12 pounds ago. Someone please come take those 12 pounds, please.

I skipped the meds last night, and for the first time in who knows when, the sleep fairy hasn't punched me in the face yet today. Am I tired? Yes. Could I fall asleep if I crawled back in bed? Also yes. But I don't feel like I will die if I don't take a nap.

Today was also not rainy (as it has been a whole lot lately) and not windy (last two days were awful) and wonderfully sunny, so after puttering around for a bit, I pulled on some bike shorts and headed out for a 100 mile ride.

I wish.

No, I intended to ride for an hour, which would have gotten me 15 miles a year ago. Today was slow, with a couple of breaks to assess how I really felt, and I ended it a little after 45 minutes and 10 miles. I know, your grandmother can ride faster than that and she dead...but I was happy enough with it.

I first stopped at the little park around the corner, somewhere around mile 5. I planned for just 2 minutes, enough to get a drink and check my HR, but then Rando Rider (who I see around all the time) pulled up and sat on the bench next to me. It's fine, it's not the first time, but he's Rando in my head because I don't know his name. His intent was to do the same thing I was, just a breather after his likely 18mph leisurely roll around town. He sat, grabbed his bottle, and then said, "Have you noticed how many people are out on bikes today? Other than me and you, they're all on those ebikes."

Now, I have several ebikes. I had no idea how he felt about them, but a lot of dedicated cyclists are still wallowing in the "that's cheating" pool.

And I had noticed. "Good for them," I said. "It's a nice day. Anything that gets them out on two wheels."

"Ayup." He slid his bottle back into the cage and got up. "I'm getting my fourteen year old one of those little folding ones. Get him pedaling before he's old enough to want a car."

And off he went. I admit, I was surprised. I expected him to grate against the ebike surge. But he took off too fast for me to tell him I have a small folding ebike in my garage I'd sell him for cheap.

Another minute, and off I went, too. I had a running commentary in my head, mostly noting all the work people had done in the yards, swapping grass for rock and plants, wondering how much that cost because damn they looked good. There's also a high chance that the commentary wasn't all him my head and I talked out loud to myself, but hey. Who cares.

Just before my final loop of the neighborhood I approached a 2 way stop sign, and coming up to it on the sidewalk was a little boy and his dad on their bikes. I could see easily that no one was coming, and normally I'd slow but not stop, but I did this time because...little kids. "See?" Dad said. "People DO stop on bikes at the sign."

Glad my gut was right and I didn't blow through it.

(No, I don't blow through stop signs. I slow, I balance, I wait. But I rarely need to put a foot down unless there's traffic.)

Next up: pulling all the bikes out of the garage to clean up, lube the chains, charge any batteries...and then put most of them up for sale. I don't need that many, I can't ride that many, and I realllllly want to make space for the One True Bike. 

Cross your fingers weaning off the meds is the answer...I have the Great Cycle Challenge in September and would really like to not cry my way through it.

13 March 2024

Blowing a little dust off the blog...

 Ok, so what's 4 months of silence amongst friends? I truly did not intend to let it go this long; there were a whole bunch of days when I opened the computer intending to write, but then things happened and nothing writery happened. So it goes.

I mentioned back in July that we had a new doctor who was taking my chronic pain seriously; she prescribed generic Cymbalta, which should play around with all the gunk in my brain and over time provide some relief, especially for my back pain. And it did--I'm guessing it's soothed about 90% of some specific radiating pain (though not the actual spine itself, where the pain is generated) which is enough that I could get back to doing the normal fun things I enjoy.

Problem is, there are side effects. Most of those went away within  couple weeks, but the sleepiness...oh, man, has that stuck around. I sleep well at night--a total victory for a chronic insomniac--but 3-4 hours after I get up in the morning, a vicious sleep fairy sneaks in an full on face punches me with fists fill with sleepy dust, and I find myself crawling back into bed. 

It's like there's no choice; I either go back to bed or fall asleep in my chair.

In the first weeks after we brought the cats home, that was fine. They were little and liked to plop down on top of me and nap for long stretches, so I slept then, too. Now they're full sized cats and while they still like to sleep with me, they're not an excuse for nap time. 

I'm drained all the time. I'm barely working--I've been playing with a manuscript for 4 months and have only gotten 40 pages into it, where normally I'd be done with the vomit draft--I can't read a book without falling asleep, I can't surf online for long, and I especially have not been riding the way I want. 

I love naps, but not when the sleepiness is keeping my from real life.

So, yeah, I need to contact the doc and see about weaning off the drug. I would honestly rather have the back pain than not function at all.

I'm still on Facebook every day, so you can catch me there if you miss me ;)

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

The cats...

There's my big regret in not blogging. They grew so fast, from fluffballs to Real Cats a whole lot sooner than I would have likes. CJ is a big boy, long and tall and about 12 pounds; Ozzy is more petite, she feels tiny in your hands though she hit 10 pounds this week. He turned into a momma's boy and she's a daddy's girl...they picked their people and that's it. We didn't get to vote.

They love each other most of the time and spend an insane number of hours chasing and picking on each other. She takes no chit from him, despite how much bigger he is. But she will let him chase her all over the house, the definitive Thundering Herd of Elephants game, and it's not unusual to see him streak past with her hot on his tail.

He's super affectionate with me; she sometimes allows us to pick her up for a quick snuggle. Though, if I'm in my recliner, she jumps up, makes me lie back, and she crawls on top of me to purr. It just has to be on her terms.

 

 

They even work together every night to hunt the elusive toe mice that live under the blanket.

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

I'm going to make better efforts to keep up here. I miss blogging, I miss the comments, I miss having old posts to go back and moan about what a moron I am. Hopefully, I'll be more awake when I do...

4 November 2023

Blog Blast for Peace 2023

 

29 October 2023

21 years ago I had a tumor yanked out from the underside of my brain via my sinuses. Yes, it was painful. I spent the 3 days following surgery on morphine, then Percoset, and they sent me home with a prescription for Vicodin, and stressed that I needed to fill it.

So, fill it I did, with the Spouse Thingy's help because I couldn't stand there long enough to hand it over to the pharmacy tech. When it was ready, they handed me two huge bottles--300 tablets. Of Vicodin.

300.

When we got home, I wanted to go to bed, and I wanted Percoset. I don't know why, I just did, and we had two tablets left over from something else. I took one, napped, took another before bedtime, and after that managed it on Tylenol.

I never took any of the Vicodin, and we carted those pills around for YEARS.

Thing is, no one blinked at the amount I had been prescribed. It's just what they did back then. Controls weren't as tight; if your surgery had been painful enough, you took home a chitload of pills.

But, you can imagine what might have happened if I had taken them all, even as directed.

Floating around online, I'm seeing *a lot* of blame heaped on Matthew Perry for his own death. "Well, yeah, what did he expect?" "Drugs will do that to you." "No sympathy, he was a druggie."

I'm going out on a limb and presuming most of those people are too young to remember how his addictions began. And it started with surgery and post-op Vicodin. He got on it, and struggled to get off of it.

It was not a personal failing. He took the meds he was prescribed, and the meds got their hooks into him. It could happen to anyone...and back then it did, more often that it does now, I think.

They sent us home with insane amounts of pain relief. That was a kindness, right? Don't make the patient suffer, make sure they have relief at home.

What never seemed to come with those meds was a tapering plan.

Yes, he wound up horribly addicted, was in and out of rehab more than 20 times, but he tried. And he owned it. And the most likely scenario of his death is that after playing Pickleball for a couple hours, he went home, got in the hot tub for a soak when he was already overheated, and those years of struggle caught up with him. He likely had a heart attack, or even just passed out and drowned.

Don't blame him.

What happened to him was something no one deserved.

I keep thinking of those 300 tablets of Vicodin, and, damn...there but for the grace... y'know?

22 September 2023

 Last weekend, I decided it was time to stop "bedtime" and let the little monsters have run of the house at night. No lie, I really expected it was going to be horrible for a couple of weeks and I would get zero sleep, but they surprised me.

First night was confusing for them, I'm sure. At "bedtime," when I went into their room to put out fresh food and clean the litter box, CJ tried to herd Ozzy into the room. It took a heartbeat after I turned the light out for them to realize I'd left the gate open. Ozzy bolted down the hall like I'm freeeeeee! I'm freeeee! and I'm not sure what CJ did, but less than two minutes after I was in bed he was on top of me, purring away. He wiggled, crammed himself int my throat, and finally went to sleep.

For about 15 minutes.

It was a pattern all night long. Go do Cat Things for a bit, then come back and molest my armpits, drool on me (and in my armpits), mush my flesh with his tiny little death blades, then run off only to return.

I heard nothing from Ozzy. I slept in snatches, and at about 4:45 in the morning I heard a tiny, squeak meow. It wasn't CJ; he was busy drooling into my armpit. So I went to investigate and Ozzy was on top of the tallest bookcases, and I think she'd been there all night.

At the time she had just learned to get to UP but wasn't that good at finding DOWN. I flipped a light on, told her it was safe, and she found a way down.

Night two started off with as much kitten noise as you can imagine, both of them running around the bedroom like their little asterisks were on fire--and I discovered that CJ's coveted toy mousie with a rattle in it sounds a lot like plastic being chewed on at night--but after that CJ jumped on the bed to sleep with me, and Ozzy went off to do Ozzy things.

Sleep was not undisturbed because he kept getting up and coming back, but he slept in long stretches, which  meant I could, too.

And after that...it was not a big deal. CJ has made me his bed and declared it her territory (he will not let Ozzy on the bed at night) and they're not making a ton of noise. Monday night the Spouse Thingy was home so there was a lot of excitement about his CPAP machine and how the sheets fluttered when his Bed Jet was on, but they let me sleep.

Bedtime is now for me, not them. They notice when I grab a drink and my phone and head to the back of the house and follow me, waiting patiently while I brush my teeth. Then it's Fresh Food Time, and they eat without worrying that gate will close, and after that Ozzy helps scoop the box, chasing the scoop as it moves through the litter, and they'll stay in the room after I turn the light out. No worries about being trapped.

What I was afraid would be a couple weeks of torture was basically a non-event.

Ngl, lol, I might be a little disappointed that they didn't go bat crap crazy for a while. I think I was hoping for a ton of funny cat stories, but all I got was armpit drool.

16 September 2023

 

Yesterday Ozzy discovered the uppermost UP. She's since spent a lot of time up there, walking across the top of the tall bookcases, to the TARDIS, then back, where apparently she has decided to take down the curtains.

I don't disagree with her on this; we've talked about taking them down since CJ climbed them. They're old, snagged repeatedly (Buddah), and we never close them so they might as well come down.

But man...she is all over the place now.

I used to have things there. No more. And I really should move the stuff on the shelf under it because that Dalek is not replaceable and I suspect she doesn't care.

This is the no-no side of the kitchen. They're allowed on the counter on the other side but not this one because hot things happen here...but we know better, hence the heavy wood cover on the stovetop. Today's struggle is keeping her away from the Crock Pot. I should just let her get close enough to feel the warmth seeping from it, but she's still baby and I'm not ready for that lesson.

Though given that she knocked over my other computer--I am still not ready to go see how bad the damage is--maybe I should.

(No, I will not.)

When we brought the kitties home we were pretty sure she would be the troublemaker of the two...damn, were we ever right.

5 September 2023

 We have become Those People. 

The people who buy the cats a stroller and take them for walks around the neighborhood, lapping the small park, talking to them the whole time to assure them that everything is fine and ISN'T THIS FUN???

Every now and then one of them responds, usually CJ, and he sounds small and confused despite being large and quite centered for a 5.5 month old.

I keep telling them they might as well get used to it and learn to enjoy it, because if they don't I'm getting them a puppy. I want someone to walk, dammit.

YOU WANT TO GET ME A WHAT???

They've actually been very good about it, but we're not taking them far or for long yet. I was afraid this would freak them out, but in general they're very curious and are looking at everything around them, not curling up trying to hide.

And tonight, they saw their first dog. Ozzy was impressed. CJ just wanted to to home LOL

***

Five days in, and I've knocked out 50ish miles for the Great Cycle Challenge. 

If I can keep up the pace, I'll definitely up my mileage goal; chances are I'll need a rest day here and there, so we'll see, but I have high hopes.

I set my fundraising goal at $2500 and am in the $1400 ballpark right now. I'll get there. Donations can be made directly at my rider page, and I also have a Facebook Fundraiser going, which is connected to the GCC page. 

Since I can't do the long walks anymore, this one has become pretty important to me. And I believe in sweat equity, so I will get the miles in one way or another.

***

If we can get our asterisks in gear before the heat ramps up tomorrow, the Spouse Thingy is going to ride with me. This means a break stop and Starbucks, where I have discovered frappucinos with a creme base, so no coffee...I am going to drink every calorie I burn riding, aren't I...?

BTW, I learned how to change my name in the Bux app so I no longer have to hear my actual name called out. Haven't gotten a single snarky comment or look since I did. It's stupid, but it's a relief.

28 August 2023

Back in January, I wrenched my back. Badly. Pile on top of that my day to day back pain, and I could barely move. Like, just getting out of a chair was agonizing and I often needed help because halfway up was about all I could manage.

That also meant I could not ride, not at all. Or take walks. Or really...anything.

But then came a new doc and some new meds, and I can move. It still hurts but not OMG KILL ME hurts. But I can't really swing my leg over my road bike and even my step-through ebikes are problematic, so I haven't been riding, other than a couple of false starts, at all.

Thing is, I signed up for the Great Cycle Challenge and it starts on September first. I need to get on a bike. And this one sneaked up on my radar, a Trek Verve 3 lowstep. It's lower than a typical step-through, and on a test-sit at a bike shop (not my usual shop, which did not have it in stock) I was able to easily get my leg through and sit on it. It's comfortable. IT'S PURPLE, which might be the most important thing.

So the Spouse Thingy called my favorite shop and asked if they would take a bike in on trade, and yes, they will. So we took my least favorite bike over, they offered more than I thought I could get, and I placed an order for the Verve. It should get here this week...and then I can start slowly pumping out miles for the GCC.

This year I only pledged 200 miles, mostly because I am not sure how this will go. But if I hit that early, I'll add miles and with some luck I can reach the same 300 I've done the last 3 years. That only seems fair to my donors. 

***

"This would be so much nicer if she would just shave her legs already..."

I'm their favorite bed, apparently

...and clearly they love each other...

***

Ozzy and CJ are growing like weeds (he's cat-sized already, cripes), they're super active, and tons of fun. They're still being put into their bedroom at night because they get into everything, but we're just about ready to move the gate to the hallway entry so they can have more space to roam at night...which means they will have access to me allllll night long.

That's fine. I didn't want to sleep, anyway.

13 August 2023

I plopped down in my recliner last night to pound out a post about the cats, because they amuse the snot out of me and are cute as hell. But, I checked my email before I did, and after that, I just did not feel like it.

There was email from my editor's address, and I clicked on it without reading the subject header. I wish I had, so I could brace myself.

It was from her grandson, Brian. He interviewed me about Not About the Cookies when he was in 8th grade and she'd made him promise to be the one to contact me when it was "time."

Yesterday, it was time. Tracy tripped in the kitchen, hit her head, and was likely gone before she hit the floor. And honestly, that was probably how she wanted to go. Quickly, no prolonged illness, nothing like the drawn out passing of her son, Eric.

I will miss her.

She retired from publishing in the early 2000s and began editing for me in 2003. I knew upfront she was more a fan of the stories than perfect grammar and syntax (and it shows in a few of my books) but she extended an offer--let me be 2nd reader, after Mike, and I'll edit--and she definitely had suggestions that improved my work.

Because she was retired from the NY scene, she only worked with a few writers, never more than 4, and I was honored to be someone she never turned down.

She liked the Charybdis series, but she loved Wick. I'm not sure there would be as many books if she hadn't pestered for the next one as soon as one went to print. Hyrum became her favorite, and in her email Brian said, "She also said that if you ever decided to end the series, Vicat needs a major sendoff. I think she saw a little of herself in Vicat."

I can see that. Vicat refused promotions because she was in a place where she was needed, helping newbies get their footing. When she finally agreed to a change in jobs, it was first to annoy the snot out of the Emperor while protecting him, and then to protect his toddler.

Tracy's retirement life centered around helping newby and some established writers get just a bit more out of themselves. She helped us all get firmer footing and then encouraged us to fly.

Her life was long, she lived to 86, and it was happy; I think she was content with what she'd created out of life, and would kick my ass if I mourned.

But dammit, Battleax, I am going to miss you.

11 July 2023

 Odds n Endz #624,899.9536

I've been working on a manuscript, and because it's been so long since the start of the series, I needed to go back and read them again.

Kinda wish I hadn't, because it's left me with a conundrum and a problem to figure out.

I got to The Space Between Whens, and realized with horror that what went to print was not the final draft. The file used was likely the first draft. A really bad, passive-voice-laden, words-missing, first draft hellscape.

I'm pretty sure I know how it happened, and also know it's not my fault, but still...thousands and thousands of copies of that book are out there, and it's the wrong freaking draft.

I don't know if Amazon will allow a corrected upload.

I do know I'm having a Come-To-Jesus discussion with the responsible party soon.

===

Back in February our long-time doctor retired with very little notice. As in...none. We received a letter in the mail stating he was no longer seeing patients, and we needed to pick a new one.

Ok, fine. I get it. Last time I saw him he seemed as if he was done, and after the last few years, who can blame him? He was pushing 70, so sure, I get it. But we basically had to choose another without any real knowledge of the available doctors. Going through the list and their bios online, I picked a much younger doc who, unless she changes practices, should still be working long after we're dead.

Next appointment with her wasn't until June. That was all right, unless we got sick. I did wrench my back, badly, but if it had gotten any worse they would have just given me an appointment with a random doc, whoever had an available appointment. So, no harm, no foul.

We finally met with her--a requirement, she wants to meet all her new patients--and the 15-20 minute appointment I thought we were getting turned out to be a 90 minute thing, and she went over everything.

Long story short, she listened. Like, really listened. And for the first time I have a real answer about my back pain--spinal stenosis, not just arthritis--and a new medication to control the pain. I can't take NSAIDs any more, so no Ibuprofen or Naproxyn, and thought I just had to suffer. It's an off-label use of Cymbalta, and over time should play with the serotonin and other fun things in my brain to provide relief.

She also gave the Spouse Thingy the same thing to deal with arthritic knees.

The only downside...there are side effects. A lot of side effects that could take 8 weeks to resolve.

EIGHT WEEKS.

And I've had a lot of them. Nausea (which is already abating), lightheadedness, some tummy issues, but the biggest one is sleepiness.

Not just the yawns. This is like SLEEPINESS on a major scale. I have taken more naps in the last two weeks than I have in the last two decades. When I'm awake, I'm sleepy. My eyelids feel like they weigh ten pounds each. I fall asleep sitting up. The only thing I'm not doing is drooling. I have felt punch-drunk most of the time and I'm surprised I haven't fallen asleep while standing.

But it's working. I'm not worth much right now, and probably won't be for a few more weeks, but it's working.

===

The biggest thing going on here:

These two came home on June 26th, and have kept us super busy since. They're a whole bunch of go go go, and everything is new to them, and they've made this a very happy place again.

They also spend a lot of time doing this. Usually on me. Which works, since I can snooze while they do.

I had expected them to be several kinds of freaked out when we let them out of their carriers the first time (in the safety of their own room) but it took less than ten minutes before they were crawling all over us. It was like...hey, we get it, this is home and you belong to us, and we're going to make sure you know it. Also, we like climbing your legs whether you have pants on or not.

This was day one. And they've gotten even more affectionate since then. His name is Captain Jack (called CJ) and her name is Osgood (called Ozzy) and I don't think we could have chosen a better pair than these two.

Remind me of that when they totally destroy the furniture, which they seem determined to do.

(No I don't really care. We knew they would, and when they understand what not to do and where they should scratch instead, we can replace anything they're really ripped up. They just haven't learned yet.)

Ngl, I still miss Max and Buddah, but I already love these two like crazy. They were meant to be.

 

CJ

Ozzy

23 June 2023

 

It would have been nice if the kitties had been able to come home with us the day we adopted them, but I understand why not (they needed to be neutered, and you just can't trust people to bring them back to get it done...) And the delay is giving us time to better prepare for them.

Many years ago, we turned the spare room into Max's room. There was a sofa and love seat because he was an old man and needed (and deserved) the comfort, but not much else because he didn't need anything else.

After he died, I desperately needed that room to be anything other than Max's room. I needed to walk past it and not automatically look to see if he was sleeping there. So we hauled the furniture out and gave it to a kid just starting out on his own, put my bike in there, and decided it would be a Pain Cave.

But then we discovered Animal Crossing, we liked to play at the same time, so the bike came out and two TVs and two chairs went in.

That was awesome, and we used the room every day fora couple of years. But once the decision was made--it's time for new furry friends--I wanted it to become a cat room again. So we rearranged the house; my office went into the space where the Peleton lived (and still does...I can share) and the gaming room (LOL if you can call ACNH "gaming"...though I also play a bit of Mario Kart, quite badly) went where my office was, and...voila, space for a cat room.

So the day after we adopted them, we hit up PetsMart and spent way more than we should have. And with the time we wait for them, we were able to set up their space...I think the only other thing not there is a tall gate that was supposed to be here yesterday, but thanks for the delay, Amazon. I want the gate so they can chill but not have the bedroom door closed.

They're coming home the same day they've had surgery, so I'm pretty sure they'll need the downtime.

But who knows? I haven't had kittens for 17 years, and never a pair of them at the same time. 

When we got Buddah, Max was just shy of 4 years old. Buddah spent a lot of time in the Boy's bedroom because he was clearly sick and we needed to keep him away from Max (y'all might remember how well that worked out) but I don't remember if we otherwise restricted his run of the apartment for a while. And this house is considerably larger than that apartment was, with nooks and crannies to hide in, so I'm still not sure how much freedom they should have right off the bat.

But...this week is giving us time to go room to room, looking for hazards. Last night we blocked off access to the back of the washer and dryer (because a litter box will go in the laundry room, so closing it off is not really an option) and we finally hung up some pictures that have been leaning against a wall for far too long...we really didn't want them turning into scratching posts.

Over a decade ago, the Spouse Thingy built this super tall scratching post for Buddah, one that the long kitty could stretch out on. We kept it because it was in great shape, but when he pulled it out of storage, he note the top had cracked. So he has time to  fix that now.

They now have toys, two climbing trees, beds, food...everything two kittens need and a lot they really don't. And with any luck, this weekend I can find all the electrical cords they might discover and gnaw upon, and get those wrapped. And Amazon damn well better deliver that gate because I do not want to close the door on them while they recover.

They've also received their first gifts! Three super premium kitty crack bananas from Auntie Michelle and Baby Diva Olivia. I imagine they'll just be kick toys at first, until they're old enough for nip to affect them...these are perfect for kicking and clawing and gnawing upon.

I think we're 95% ready for their arrival.

Now if we could just agree on names...