15 March 2019

Instead of doing real work, even housework, Max and I (shuddup, he's helping) have been setting up a site for The Wick Chronicles. It's bare bones right now, with links that probably go nowhere, and one that leads to my Amazon author page, but eventually we want it to be comprehensive, interactive, and we'll occasionally offer freebies.

This is how he's helping...

The original idea was to set up a Patreon page, but I keep reading horror stories from both the creators and their supporters, and I don't need any new headaches. I'm not totally dismissing the idea, but if we can offer up the same things without committing people to something every month, all the better.

I have no idea how this will play out, really. At the very least I'd like to be able to offer moderately tech savvy people discounted first reads on Max's books as they come out--you'd only need to know how to side-load a file onto your Kindle or other reading device--but I also need to figure out how to implement that without the books winding up for sale under someone else's name before we get to print. Or even after.

I've never had DRM on my books; I believe in trusting people with the things they purchased and presume they'll be fair about it. The only time I know for sure that I've been burned was by a publisher who offered my entire first novel online instead of the first 20% as intended. There were, the publisher estimated, 25,000 downloads before they caught the mistake.

No, I was never compensated.

We'll figure it out.

Since we're not going down the Patreon path, there might be--I stress might be--a tipjar* at some point. It depends on how much content we can generate. The tipjar would function as royalties do when you buy a book online--the money Max earns is used to purchase toys at Christmas for either Toys for Tots or the local foster kids program, and once in a while it's used for other charitable donations.

There will be more than Wick content available, eventually. If you haven't read any of his books, they'll be offered at discounts, and on random days, perhaps even for free. My books will show up there at some point.

But, we're getting things ready. Mostly, I need a better theme, because it's kind of bland right now. I'm not creative enough to write the code for my own, so I'll probably wind up buying something, once I find a reputable site for Wordpress.org themes.



*I mention that upfront because many, many years ago, I had a link to a joke tipjar, a link no one clicked on, and got reamed for my crassness in having it. If anyone had followed the breadcrumbs, they would have eventually landed on a "Thanks, but..." page. The max total anyone could have clicked on to donate was 50 cents, and even then they would have wound up at the Thanks, but... page. I expected one person to click on it, someone with whom I had a long running joke about owing me fifty cents for a long forgotten debt...but the whole thing backfired, and after it languishing on my blog for over 3 years, someone noticed it and started yelling...people piled on...it was not pretty.

14 March 2019

Max and I are working on two different things right now: another Wick book, and his interview with Buddah. the former is a week or so from going to the editor for a final look (she's already read it, likes it, and the beta readers have had their way with it, too) and the latter is at the end stage of the first draft.

So, kind of close to two more books hitting the market, and all I could think today was, "Damn, that's really going to screw up my blog header."

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I think the bike in the Room of Pain is coming off the trainer and heading into the shed. I keep trying to use it, but the fit is all wrong and I feel so cramped that I don't stay on it long enough.

Sucks, because it's a good bike otherwise. I may pull off all the extras, like the rear rack, and re-home it. Before I do, though, I'll take it for a spin outside...it could be how I feel up on a trainer. I dunno. But I have two other bikes in the garage so if it's a matter of fit, there's no point keeping it, not when there's surely someone else out there who would like a good bike but can't afford one.

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 My head is really cold.

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Buddah's 14th birthday--the one we picked, because we don't know the actual date--is tomorrow. He's getting new nip bananas but not anything else, really. 1) he doesn't like people food so that's not much of a gift and 2) he's a cat, he doesn't care. But mostly 1.

That spastic little demon kitty is an old man now.

12 March 2019

Thanks to your generosity, my head is now cold--no kidding, it's freaking chilly--and St. Baldrick's has $1504 that they otherwise wouldn't have had. Even better...DeVere's, the Irish pub where the event is held, has raised $2.5 million in the last ten years. I don't think that includes this year, either.

Not gonna lie, and I've said it before, I really don't like this. The next two weeks are going to be several levels of uncomfortable; people stare more at the bald than they do when my hair is neon pink, probably because they're trying to figure out if I'm sick, if I'm just weird, or what.

Truthfully, it would be super easy to sign up, raise funds, get my t-shirt, and then duck out without getting my head shaved, but that wasn't the deal (other than 2015 or 2016 when a last minute don't-shave donation of $3500 was offered and I couldn't pass it up...)

Every year I tell myself this is it, after this I'll just donate a few bucks, but I'm not telling myself that this year. This was year 6, and next year I'll move up from the Squire of Hope rank to being a Knight...and guys, I am all about the fake designations. I WILL BE A KNIGHT!

After that...well, the next one is at 10 years, and I told myself before that I didn't need it, ten years was stretching it. But then I thought I would keep doing it until the year I turn 60, and if I do that I might as well do another year...

So, who knows.

But even though I don't have kids in my life going through the horror of diagnoses and treatment, this means as much to me as the events for breast cancer. Mostly because it's kids involved, and the idea that any child has to go through this is so wrong.

Both of my parents had cancer. My dad lost a kidney to it, and my mom had lymphoma. I could (and have) done things to raise money to combat those diseases, but I think they would be just as pleased that this is what I do in their memories. My dad was a very stoic, quiet man, not prone to emotional outbursts, but I know that the idea of a child with cancer would have reddened his eyes and make his voice crack...and then he would excuse himself to another room so that no one else would see what he was feeling.

So, next year for sure, so I can become a Knight, and then y'all will have to address me as Sir Thumper.

You know I'm going to insist on it.

9 March 2019

Thanks to y'all's generosity, I hit my goal for St. Baldrick's, with $4 to spare. So in two days, I will present myself to the people with the noisy clippers, get all the purple hair removed from my head, and hope that there's nothing weird growing on my scalp. After I'm bald and cold, I'm totally going into the bar for a shot or three of Fireball, and maybe a burger.

I can't thank you guys enough. And it would be totally weird if I tried. Like, someone would probably punch me in the face and yell ENOUGH ALREADY and I'm too old to duck quickly enough. I've gotten way too slow in my latter middle aged years.

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Speaking of slow. I bought a new bike this week, one that's not glaringly bright or pretty, and one that does not have a motor to give me that boost I've fallen in love with on my long rides.

I am so slow on this thing. Like, most runners can pass me up. But once my butt gets used to that seat, I'll be able to do 10 mile rides with no difficulty, I think. Yesterday I rode 4 miles to Starbucks, worked for about 45 minutes, and then 5.5 miles home. I wanted it to be 6, but...yeah, my poor asterisk was screaming at me.

There's still the concern about my blood sugar crashing and once the weather warms up, overheating, as I wont to do. I need to get in the habit of carrying Lifesavers with me, and figure out ways to cool down periodically on a ride. It might mean investing in a few Arctic Cool shirts, which are kinda form fitting and not especially flattering given my nice spare tire, but...not passing out mid-ride trumps discomfort over the flab.

This wouldn't have been possible if not for the thousands of miles on the ebike. Okay, two thousands, but still. More that one. Riding that got me into shape just good enough to know I could make the leap, and while I still worry about my knees and face planting, I can do it. Two years ago, pre-ebike, no way.

This doesn't mean the ebike is going anywhere. It's still my favorite toy and I'll still pile the miles on it. But most days, before I hop on it, the new Thumper-powered bike goes out for an hour. And hopefully I'll get faster.

Also hopefully, that 80 year old lady I sometimes see out riding won't zoom past me. I don't think my ego could take that.

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 This was delivered on Feb 26, and the cats are just now jumping on it.

I honestly thought that they would claim it by the end of the day, Buddah especially since it gives him a much better and more comfortable view than the sideboard that was there.

They still won't get on it at the same time, though.

Probably never will.

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 Dammit, y'all, I like my hair. IT'S PURPLE.

6 March 2019

"It's kind of early to fundraise for the 3 Day," a friend recently said. "I was surprised to see it pop up on Facebook. Any plans in place for if it doesn't happen?"

Yeah, it does feel early. And I hadn't planned on starting it so early, but I clicked on a thingy at the 3 Day site to connect my page there to my Facebook profile and didn't realize it would propagate...and people started donating. So I posted here, and the ball started rolling, and I'm close to being halfway to goal with that one (Still a bit away from my St. Baldrick's goal...FIVE MORE DAYS!) And I have every intention of being there in San Diego for the walk.

But, we all know I've missed a couple for reasons, and there's never a guarantee.

So I won't be doing much active fundraising until it's closer to the date.

BUT...if we don't go, we'll still earn those donations. If the Spouse Thingy can't get the time off, or something else happens, we'll do the miles.

On the bikes.

And all in one day.

Plus a few.

I won't pin the Spouse Thingy down to ride the miles--he can be my support crew, which I will need--but if I don't walk for the 3 Day, I'll do a minimum of 60 miles on the bike...and shoot for 80-100. In one day. I'll nail it down closer to that weekend, but the promise is this: if I don't walk, I ride 60, period. I will train for more and shoot for 80+ so that I earn every penny of every donation.

I can be bribed to ride outlandishly.

The point is to raise the money for breast cancer research. Ideally I'll do the miles in San Diego with 1300 other people and a whole lot of Fireball, but this is the fall-back plan.

But man, I really want to be in San Diego, whether I walk the whole thing or not.

So add to that...if I go and don't walk the whole thing, I will then bike the miles at home. All of them.

But first is St. Baldrick's on Monday. I am $302 from matching what I raised last year, so I'll be super happy if I can raise $303 before the event. I'm getting the t-shirt, though, so my inner 8 year old is satisfied. The soon-to-be-bald, adult, though, would like to beat last year. Smash it by hitting my goal. For that, I need to raise another $522.

It's tax deductible, y'all.

And if you're in the area, it's being held at a bar...could be 3 or 4 kinds of fun! I damn well better get a shot or two of Fireball...before and after.

5 March 2019

I rode in the rain today.

Like, a total of two miles, but still.

I rode in the rain and did not melt.

If my mom were still alive, I would totally jab my pointy finger in her direction and yell, Oh yeah, take that, I am OBVS not the Wicked Witch of the West.

Or east.

Whichever witch melted...

26 February 2019

Were I less of a weenie, this wouldn't stop me from going outside for a bike ride.

I am, when it comes to being cold and wet, a royal weenie. I am the drag king of weenies.

I am the whining drag king of weenies, because I want to go outside and play, but it's cold and it's wet and it looks like it will be for the rest of the week and possibly through the weekend.

A few weeks ago, I whined less about the rain because we really needed it. But come on, Weather Fairies, enough is enough. Flooding is the issue now. We need for it to not rain for a few weeks.

No, seriously, we've hit the point where it would probably be better if we didn't have any rain for a while. Snow in the mountains, adding to the snow pack, would be good, but rain down here is just going to get complicated. Also, my mood is going to suck if it keeps up much longer.

Now, I have options. I know I have options.

I have the road bike propped up on a trainer and I have the treadmill, so it's not like I can't do anything...but I'd rather be outside and not in a small room that will quickly smell like my armpits.

There's no way I'll hit 300 miles for February. I probably won't hit 200, though it'll be close...I think I'm sitting at 170, with two days left since it's a short month.

Eh, that's actually doable, even on the trainer.

Doesn't mean I'm going to stop whining.

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Thirteen days until St. Baldrick's and this might be the year that I'll be mostly okay with having my head shaved. No, I'm not happy about being bald, but I dyed my hair purple a couple weeks ago and I think I might be a tiny bit allergic to this particular dye. My scalp has itched since then, and I have a rash on my upper back, likely because as I shower, the dye drips down.

That means there's a real chance that when they shave my head, I'll have a giant red rash on the back side of my head, probably throbbing at anyone unlucky enough to be behind me, Like, who wouldn't want to see that?

I'm $443 shy of what I raised last year, but I don't really want to amp up the fundraising, not on the heels of registering for the 3 Day and getting a ton of donations for that already.

But, still, I'm sure as hell not turning down any donations. If you want to support research into and treatment of childhood cancers, click [here] and contribute to my public humiliation discomfort.

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Oh, and I have one of these. A Flexispot desk bike, not the Mac computer.

It is no longer enough (hence putting the road bike back up) and it's taking up space.

If you're local-ish and interested, let me know. It sells new for $400 (and is in very, very good condition) and I'm pricing it at $175.

It's actually a decent little bike. It has a small footprint, but doesn't feel tiny when you're on it. You can ride hard on it with the tension notched up, but if you do stuff on the desk will go flying. It's pretty perfect for working up a light sweat while surfing online or reading, and quiet enough to watch TV. The desktop is adjustable, so you can get it right where you want it.

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And for all you people waiting for a purple cat pen, the Spouse Thingy got his first batch of supplies and is, at this very minute, in the garage working on the first couple.

What he couldn't get are the silver/chrome bits, so if you wanted that in particular, the stuff is on backorder but he's keeping his eye on the supplier so as soon as he can, he'll order those.

Slowly but surely, y'all are gonna get your purple pens!

22 February 2019

Um. Yeah. About that not walking the 3 Day again because it's just too rough on my body.

Eh, what the hell. What's the worst that can happen, other than dying?

Between all the bike riding and trying to get my pace down for the 2020 Hot Chocolate, I think I have the training covered. Basically what I'll need for the actual walk are drugs (I am not even kidding...though I'm not sure I can convince my doc to give me Norco for this and I don't have any left), Fireball (there should be some on route), and donations.

The Spouse Thingy has already asked for the time off for other things things this year so I'm not sure he can get off for the 3 Day, but if he can...we'll see. It would be fun to walk with him again because I can keep up with him. And this year we would both be in better condition than we were in 2017.

So, yeah, we'll see. But I fully intend to be there. 'Tis a shame they won't let me ride the route on my bike.

19 February 2019

I fed him at 7:30 this morning.

At 9:45, when I was making my own breakfast, he sat on the floor and insisted that if he didn't get fed again, he was going to pass out, and quite likely loose control of his bowels and bladder, and wouldn't that be a shame since Buddah had just pooped on the floor 18.387 inches from the litter box?

The entire time I was making oatmeal, he was begging.

I'm not a monster. On the off chance that he really didn't eat enough two hours earlier, even though there are two bowls full of fresh crunchy food, I opened a can and fed the little monsters again, because of course I did.

He ate three bites, sat down, and proclaimed the offering insufficient. To assure that I would have 3 minutes without a cat in my face so I could eat my own food, I gave him a few crunchy treats. He ate them, proclaimed that good enough, and walked off.

Feed me feed me feed me feed me...

At 11:45, he jumped into the chair and began working me for early lunch. He's not hungry, I know he's not hungry; were he truly hungry, he'd go eat the food that's still on his plate in the kitchen. But habit is a snack at 11:00, and he did not get that snack because he'd been given something just a little over an hour earlier.

I know him. He's going to whine at me until I cave in, no matter how long it takes--it will take until 2pm, when it's time for a snack--and he'll think he won. (And yes, he gets fed a lot. Minimum 5, sometimes 6-7 times a day, just to keep his weight at 12.5 pounds.) Every few minutes I'll interrupt him to remind him that I'm working and I really don't need the distraction...and he won't care.

And people wonder why I work at Starbucks so often...

Which I am about to do, because we're into the second draft of his next book, and he's not helping the process... You think he would understand that, but no.

Perhaps my expectations are too high.

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Just a little under three weeks to St. Baldrick's and the annual why-did-I-do-this-I-hate-being-bald shaving of the hair. I'm just shy of halfway to goal...don't you want to participate in my misery? Because I will be miserable for a couple of weeks.

Your donation is tax deductible, if you itemize. If you don't itemize, well...you get to help the kids while encouraging me to do humiliating public things. And isn't that the point? Making me do things?

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Speaking of doing things...I registered for the 2020 Hot Chocolate 15K in San Francisco. It's not quite a bucket list thing, but one of those things that if I don't do it soon, I'll have regrets. I can do the distance, it's the pace that's a problem.

I registered the Spouse Thingy, too. LOL let's see if he'll do it.

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We have reached the GET UP AND FEED ME portion of the afternoon. Man, is he going to be pissed when I get up and leave the house...

Come on...you know I'll give him something before I go. I'm that easy.

8 February 2019

Ok. I think we officially need to worry. They're going to start conspiring soon.

7 February 2019

This never happens.

Yesterday, following the mass consumption of steak fresh off the grill--and they got as much as they wanted to eat in lieu of opening a can of cat food--they plopped down on the bed fairly close to each other.

Sleeping did not occur; it was a coordinated effort to keep the bed from being made. I swear, Max especially knows when sheets are going to be changed and when beds are going to be made, and he makes a beeline for the bed. If it's sheets, he wants to help, and by help I mean he wants to get in the way as much as possible and turns into a furry little crack headed monster, chasing fabric and jumping on it like he's just brought down a cow all by himself. If it's bed-making, he wants to stop it. And yet, he loves sleeping on a nicely made bed, getting his fur all over it.

I've given up trying to figure them out.

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I am a cold weather weenie.

It was 33F in the front yard when I got up this morning at Stupid O'clock, and I've been waiting, sorta patiently, for the temp to get to 46-47F . It's supposed to be a nice, sunny day and the rest of the week is not, so I'd really like to get a bike ride in. Between the rain we've had and errands that got in the way, I haven't been on the bike (other than a really short one last night) in a week. I'm falling way behind on my mileage goal for the month.

If I were not a weenie, I'd be outside right now, riding in circles around Dixon.

The Spouse Thingy is not a weenie, so he's outside mowing the grass. But that's also not at 14 mph, so he only gets 7 Not-A-Weenie points. He'd get 10 or so if it were a bit breezy.

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He's mad because I don't have my lap available for his use. I keep telling him we're going to watch 2 episodes of Star Trek: Discovery tonight and he can have it then, but that's not good enough.

Suck it up, cat. I'm busy waiting for it to warm up enough to go outside and play, and while I do that I have work to get done. And Reddit to browse. And comics to read. I have stuff, cat.

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Yes, I talk to him. We have long conversations, mostly about my failings.

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A little over a month to go, a little under halfway to goal...

30 January 2019

I set a mental goal of 200 miles a month, to make sure I hit 2000 for the year.

With one day left in January, I hit 300.

Only 1700 more to go.

Tomorrow will be a rest day, mostly because by mile 17 of today's 20 my knee was letting me know enough is enough. I was feeling my quads this morning before I even got on the bike, like I'd done a 300 pound leg press more than once.

Worst part...over 300 miles, and keeping my calories close to 1200 a day, I've lost a grand total on half a freaking pound this month.

I better be getting some shredded legs out of this and am gaining muscle, but I had a few things off the Bad Word List tumble from my mouth this morning.

OTOH, Max reaped praise when he got on the scale, because he's holding onto 12.5 pounds. Also because he sits there until I say he can get up, which makes him a good boy, but I know better than to say those words. Instead he gets "Good job!" even though deep down I'm thinking, "Good boy, big guy."

Now if only Buddah would cooperate as well...

24 January 2019

Oddz N Endz #985,139,100.4x6²

The first charity event I'm committed to this year is rapidly approaching and I haven't even started fundraising yet. It might be the only one this year--we registered for the 3 Day but I doubt we'll do it, because it's a spendy kind of thing and we have some home improvements to tackle--and the one for sure is the one I'll do this year and two more, maybe three. Stop when I'm 60.

Or not.

The for sure is the St. Baldrick's head shaving event in March. This is the only one I'll probably beg for donations, starting...now.

You donate, I get my head shaved and suffer the uncomfortableness of it for about 6 weeks, until it grows out enough to not look six kinds of weird.

It's for kid's cancer research, so please donate what you can. I will look like a goofball for something that does a hell of a lot of good for kids who are going through this. I set a goal of $1500 for this year, and I'd at least like to break last year's $1205.

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For about a mile and a half on my ride today, I was about 3 kinds of freaked out. I noted in my rear view mirror a car following; I expected it would speed up and pass me, but it stayed back there, creeping along at the same 14 mph I was going. When it didn't pass me, I made a hard fast turn onto another street, because of course I was imagining things, and it would keep going straight.

The driver turned onto the same street, and kept the same distance behind me. 14-15 mph on a 25 mpg street.

So I pedaled faster, looking for people. When I got to the end of the street I turned right, knowing my dentist's office was one more turn away, and if that SOB was still on my six, I intended on barreling in there.

I turned left to the street where the dentist is, he turned...and when he spotted the cop coming my way, he did a U-turn and went elsewhere. I was =this= close to waving the cop down, and in hindsight I should have. But riding in town just got a bit creepy.

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On the bright side, the manager of the pizza place where the Spouse Thingy and I often meet near the end of our rides asked the building owner about putting in a bike rack, and today he told us work will start in February. They're putting one in near the pizza place, and another at the end of the strip near the bakery.

It stemmed from a Facebook post not too long ago. The manager was online getting feedback, and I posted--not thinking anything would come of it--that a rack to lock up to would be nice, so I could destroy all the calories I'd just burned on a ride. He replied he'd make it happen. And damned, it's gonna happen.

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Today is the Spouse Thingy's last day off. Sucks that we didn't get to go to Disneyland, but we actually had a decent time at home. It rained a lot but we still managed to get several rides in--I think I'm at around 140 miles for the last 2 weeks--and we saw a couple of movies, purged a bunch of stuff from the house, and slept in a lot. Not too shabby.

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Because of the opening of Star Wars Land in Disney this year, it's probably going to be wicked crowded for the next 2-3 years, so I doubt we'll even try to go. I may be wrong, who knows. But I think we'll shoot for something different this spring, maybe Monterrey. Or Vegas. Or both.

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 Also, I'm still contemplating Patreon. I kinda want to, kinda leery of it, mostly because of some horror stories I'm reading online. I'd just like a platform where I can share stuff I'm working on before it goes to print, an all-you-can-eat kinda thing for a freaking low monthly cost.

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And this guy has been helping lately. I think I'm glad I don't understand him, because his tone is pretty freaking critical and he doesn't seem to approve of the work Max and I are doing.

23 January 2019

Okay, one more week left in the month and I'm totally on track to hit 2000 miles for the year. Presuming I can keep this pace, especially once summer hits and it's hot and all I want to do is sit inside and read.

But, so far so good.

Most of the miles have been done on my spiffy pink bike, just riding around town. I still get asked a lot of questions about it, usually just people who are curious about where one gets a bike pink enough to blind the masses, but once in a while I'll talk to someone who wants to know if I get any kind of real workout on it.

This is today's ride. It was 45 minutes, a smidge over 10 miles. My heart rate was about as high as someone my age should get, and I sustained it the whole ride.

It feels like a real workout.

I'm not fast, not even close. I top out at about 14.5 mph using level two of the pedal assist. I could go faster by going up to 3, 4, or 5 but this is the sweet spot for me, just enough to take the strain off my knees but not enough to turn it into a super lightweight motorcycle. I pedal, I get my HR up, and I sweat.

I get passed by a lot of the same riders, guys on road bikes who blast past me at 22-25mph. One part of my brain says I'll get there someday, another part doesn't care because I'm already having fun.

I also cross paths with this old guy most days; he's in his 70s and rides slowly, on the sidewalk, on a fairly nice hybrid. We see each other enough that when we pass we say Hi and smile.

I nearly always ride by a drug deal going down on one of the bike paths...by now I think the guy realizes I'm no threat, and he nods when I pedal by. I just tell myself he's selling weed and it's legal here, so no skin off my nose.

I just zoom around and enjoy it. Granted, I wish we had bike paths like the ones in nearby Davis, and that there were safe roads to get to places like Davis and Vacaville on a bike...it would be a hell of a lot more fun to get out of town without needing to throw the bike on the back of the car.

If I ever win the lottery, we're totally moving to someplace that has great riding paths (and ebikes are allowed) and the temperature is nice and even and water magically appears without rain.

Hey, if I can win the lottery, I can find that place.

In any case, I have fewer than 1800 miles to go. Yay.

14 January 2019

I fell way short of my 2018 goal of racking up 2,000 biking and walking miles. Still, I set the same goal for 2019, because it's totally doable if I pay attention to the numbers every week.

It's only 166.7 miles a month.

41.7 miles a week.

I can easily do that. We're 14 days into 2019 and I'm sitting at 122 miles so far. Even with the Spouse Thingy being off this week and the rain that will surely impede my riding time, I can hit 167 miles by the end of the month, even with this week being a rainy shitshow.

I might have to ride indoors.
Where I have a honking big 4K TV to watch.
Life is so hard.

Peleton and NordicTrack are battling for my money on Facebook, ad after ad after ad, which would give me a better alternative to indoor riding than my current indoor ride, but cripes...$2000 for the bike plus like $40 a month to access the online classes. That's an extra forty to have someone yell at me from teh discomfort of my own home while I lag woefully behind everyone else in the class.

And I'm pretty sure those bikes have little cameras for the instructors to peek at you, which means the rivers of pink sweat running down my face would be seriously noticeable.

Oh, yeah...I sweat pink. I know this because a little girl in Starbucks a couple days ago felt pressed to tell me I had pink sweat on my forehead.

Good to know.

13 January 2019

Not seeing what you expected?
Yeah, I deleted it.
Why?
Because it was a lot of repetitive whining.

The TL;DR: we had vacation plans. We canceled them. We're going to have fun at home instead. We're going to get stuff done around the house instead. Maybe some shopping, because I want a love seat and to get an idea what blinds for the front room might cost.

That's the gist of it.
Boring krap without the whine.

1 January 2019

I basically ended last year and started this year the same way:

With him staring at me.

This is how the whole year will go, isn't it?

31 December 2018

This time last year I set a goal of 2000 miles, either walking or biking, to beat the 1500 miles I did in 2017.

Oy.

Not only did I not hit 2000, I didn't even hit the 1500 I'd managed last year. The big difference was the lack of 3 Day training; if I'd done that, I'd likely have hit 1500, maybe a little more.

Now, I registered for the 2019 3 Day, but I honestly don't think I'll do it. Every time I get excited about it I go back and read what I'd written about the 2017--I was sure then that was my last one, for pretty good reasons.

So we might look for something else, another charity to jump into, one that doesn't culminate in 60 miles on foot over 3 days...and doesn't have such a high minimum. It's one thing to raise $2300 for one walker; with two, that minimum feels impossible and I don't think we could do it again. And I know my body won't hold up without some medicinal intervention, and I hate the idea.

My gut says to do a bike event; I could easily do the 60 miles over 3 days on the bike. I could do 100. I enjoy riding a hell of a lot more than walking. So...maybe.

Still, no matter what we decide as our big charity thing for 2019 (I'm still doing St. Baldrick's...gotta do that one) I'm setting another 2000 mile goal, and hopefully paying more attention to where I am every month. That might have been part of my failure to hit 2k--I didn't keep an eye on my mileage, so I didn't know when to kick it up a notch.

Other than that...no resolutions. There are things I want to get done, but those aren't things I consider to be resolutions. Just stuff that needs to get done or just happen. Eat better, be more active, purge all the accumulated crap around here that doesn't get used or doesn't make sense. Tear down the patio cover and get a new one.

If I win the lottery, we're totally renovating the bathrooms and getting new flooring. And a pool. Maybe skylights. The kids will get whatever they want for their house.

I should go out and buy a lottery ticket, eh?

Oh, and when I do win, I'm also opening Whispers, my bookstore/cafe/writer's haven, where anyone can come in and use a table, get something to eat or drink, and study/read/write/work...but they have to be quiet.

And there might be a bar attached. Maybe call it The Drunken Scribe, and anyone who lands a publishing contract gets free shots of Fireball.

Okay, so maybe my resolution for 2019 is to win the freaking lottery, because I have IDEAS, people.

Maybe not great ideas, but IDEAS.

25 December 2018

21 December 2018

The Indie Pub Panel is approaching, as I may have mentioned before; it's a small thing compared to most professional conferences, rarely more than 50 in attendance, and when I last checked only 12 people had signed up. I'm pretty sure there are more now (it's being held at Disneyland...they're gonna go just for the room discounts) but the first person to sign up is the first person who always signs up as soon as the dates are set.

Now, the last time I was there, said person instigated a bar fight with homophobic slurs and an implied threat, IIRC (I missed it. Dammit.) She should have been banned then, but money is money and she has money and supports the online group and has, honestly, kept it afloat. She's tolerated at best, when she asks for critiques of her work people do their best to be fair, but frankly--and if she sees this, oh well--she's not a nice person.

She's also very, very afraid of me.

I am everything she's internalized as being Very Very Scary. I have multiple, visible tattoos. Often I have pink hair. I've spoken about owning and riding motorcycles. I fit quite nicely into her neat little Box of Stereotypes, and she's admitted to other members of the forum that she's afraid to be alone in a room with me.

So of course, I was asked to front two panels: one on cover creation, and one on formatting print books using InDesign. She signed up before that tidbit was announced, and I was curious what would happen when she found out.

She found out.

This will be the first year since the beginning of the Indie Pub Panel that she does not attend. At all. Because of me.

That, boys and girls, is how badass I am.

Stop laughing.

Here's the real kicker. I'm not presenting those panels, after all. If she had waited just 3 days longer to withdraw, she would have learned that I wasn't comfortable with the cost being charged for what is, essentially, basic information easily available online, and instead promised to host an online Q&A for free. It worked out for the IPP overall, because it frees up a few hours for a trad-house editor who jumped in at the last minute to host an informal round-table with writers in the group.

[Why Thump, you were fired, weren't you? Tsk. No. I withdrew before they landed the editor. Swearsies. But I guarantee that's what my biggest superfan will try to tell everyone once she finds out.]

Gotta admit, I am impressed with the structure of the 2019 IPP. As promised, there's a dress code--no more shorts and t-shirts in anticipation of bugging out for the parks--and there are fees associated with each panel to stop people from bailing out and playing instead. It won't stop anyone from ditching, but they'll essentially be paying 2-3 times as much as they would have for that park admission.

But dang, peoples. I'm officially wicked super scary.

I might have to celebrate with new tattoos.

30 November 2018

Okay, not too bad. Out of 30 days, I think I missed blogging on 4 of them. Given the reason, I'll call my failure to get something up every day a success anyway...even if most of it was talking about my cat.

I really did think he was going to die.

Today, for the first time in over a week, he ate his lunch, went to the back of the house, and started yowling. It's one of his quirks and we tend to find amusing even though we can't figure out why he does it, but the Spouse Thingy realized that he wasn't doing it at all, and we missed it.

Today when Max started up, Spouse Thingy came from the back room, excited, because the cat was on the bed, talking to Bast knows who, like he usually does after eating.

I don't know whether I'll get up in the middle of the night to feed him tonight. He won't need it, but he'll want it. But I will leave the door open, and if he's good and quiet, he can sleep with me.

Until he plops down on my face, anyway.

In other news...while t felt like I got zero work done last week, I managed to finish NaNoWriMo with 90,000+ words. A good 20,000 of those will get edited out, and the book isn't nearly toward the end of the vomit draft.

In other other news, the cats are happy because the Christmas trees are up. Buddah has the big one to lounge under and Max has his Whovimas tree, and they both can drive us nuts chewing on the branches and batting at ornaments. The living room looks like Christmas threw up in here, but we might not even get to the outside. It rained this week while the Spouse Thingy was off--significant rain--and it's supposed to rain while he's off next week. Since there are no kids on the court now, I don't really care if we decorate outside.

I'll miss the inflatable dragon, but still...

Probably not going to shoot for NaDecBlogMo, but I am still going to make more of an effort to post here. I'm just a little too verbose to keep it all on Facebook.

You're welcome. ;)

29 November 2018

He's eating.

He's eating without help of an appetite stimulant.

He's lost weight and even at 12.5 pounds, picking him up feels like lifting a kitten. According to the vet, he's lost a lot of muscle mass, but he's old, it's not unexpected.

The main thing is...he's eating. He's still getting me up between 3-5 for food, which might be the new normal even though I really hope it isn't. Up until this morning I've been tired enough to get back to sleep after feeding him, but he woke me at 2:45 and it's nearly 6:00 and I'm still awake.

The downside to the return of his appetite is that he's hungry every three hours or so and until I'm positive he's over the hump, I'm not comfortable letting him go over that without feeding him, so I'm kinda stuck with being close to home. That's not really a problem right now--we can get errands done pretty quick, even if we have to go into Vacaville--but it might be an issue in a week or so when I have plans near Sacramento with friends. I'll be gone all day and the Spouse Thingy will be asleep.

So, we'll see. By then he might be fine with getting fed a full can just before I leave the house and then getting another one when the Spouse Thingy gets up.

And apparently we're back to this: sitting on the arm of my chair, staring intently, trying to convince me to set the computer aside so that my lap is available for lounging purposes.

Not this time, furball.

I have comics to read, FARK and Reddit to peruse, blogs to read, and 271 other things to do online.

And after that, there's a good chance I'm going back to bed.

With the door closed.

So I won't have kitty help.

But I'll feed you again first. I'm not a monster.

27 November 2018

Where we're at with this guy is probably "guardedly optimistic." He's eating close to 2/3 of normal, he's gotten some good sleep, and he's been allowed to sleep with me at night so I can check on him frequently.

He hasn't been allowed in the bedroom at night for a couple of years because, frankly, he's a pain in the ass at night and picks then to tell me all about his day. It became a matter of my health over humoring him, so I started closing the door at night...and he got over it quickly.

But since last Wednesday night, the door's been open, and he has free access to me. He did the whole meatloaf-cat thing for two nights, not really sleeping but not bugging me, either. Friday night, after getting meds, he slept like a rock, right on top of me, barely moving.

But the last couple of nights he's treated his access to the bedroom like a pre-teen sleepover, moving all over the bed (and me, mainly) and last night he decided my head would make a fine bed. Monday morning he woke me at 3 am for food, and this morning it was 5:15, and he's eaten several times since.

The key now is to see if he keeps his appetite up through today and into tomorrow, because the appetite stimulant should be out of his system sometime today. We were able to get 4 more doses to give him at home if we need it, as well as nausea medication.

I am less worried about him suddenly dying now that I was 5 days ago, but I'm not entirely convinced he's okay. My gut says this is the start of something chronic, which scared the crap out of me until a couple friends with cats Max's age and who have the same medical issues weighed in, and they're managing it just fine. It might mean doing what I said I never would--putting him through anything that stresses him--but I'll weigh the benefit of the stress over the good it will do him before actually doing anything.

Max is that unique creature--the furball that can easily be said to be The One. I've loved all the pets I've had before, probably to an outsider's idea of extreme, and we've done everything we could for them, but Max is the one that's going to hurt the most when he goes. I was ready before with Hank and Dusty, knowing what they'd already been through, but I don't think I'll ever be okay with Max dying.

I once promised him--when he was so sick before--that I'd never make him do anything he truly hated in order to keep him around, but I suspect I'll break that promise. I'd never let him truly suffer, but I may subject him to some medical things he'll hate me for.

It's Max. I'm not sure I need any other reason.

25 November 2018

The appetite stimulant kicked in just before 3 this morning. He was lounging in bed near my head, quietly, until it was suddenly GET UP LADY GET UP and when I didn't get up, he bit my nose.

That certainly got my attention. Of course I got up.

He ate about half an ounce of canned food at 3:15, and then again at 7:30, 11, and 2pm. When dinner rolled around, he came to get me, not the other way around, and he ate a little more than half an ounce.

While he ate, the Spouse Thingy grilled steak, and Max ate a bite or two of the meat I shredded for him. At 9pm, he ate about 3/4 of an ounce.

All in all, he took in a bit less than half of what he usually eats in a day, but his stomach has probably shrunk a bit and not stuffing it in was a good idea.

What I don't know is if 100% of this is owed to the stimulant, and whether he'll revert to not eating once it wears off. The vet said we could get more to give him a couple times a week at home if needed.

While the relief here is palpable, we're also feeling extremely cautious. Without knowing why he suddenly stopped eating, we can't know if he just managed to catch a bug or if there's something more brewing, or it this is just the beginning of his end. So we wait and see, and hope that he's still hungry tomorrow, and that whatever is wrong is something he's recovered from.

No matter what, he's a frail old man now. He has very little muscle mass now and his fur looks a little raggedy these days. But damn, I hope we're over the hump and not just stopping to rest a little.

Doesn't matter how many times I rationalize his age and time creeping up on him; I am not ready for it, and this week proved it.

24 November 2018

We're on a roller coaster with him right now. After getting meds at the vet yesterday, he got some rest. There were a couple of naps during the afternoon, and last night he crawled into bed with me at 10:30, and slept on top of me until nearly six this morning, when he began to get really obnoxious--normal.

He wanted food. So I dashed out of bed and opened a can at which he turned his nose up, so my sleep-deprived brain decided that heating up his Fancy Feast might work. And it did; he took a few bites before walking away. And half an hour later he ate 2 small shrimp.

And we thought he'd turned the corner. I took him back to the vet for second doses of the nausea and stomach acid meds, as well as an appetite stimulant, hoping he would forgive me by lunch time. And he seemed to, he acted like he wanted food, but just couldn't make himself eat it.

And that's where we've been all day. Expecting the stimulant to kick in, offering him different foods, getting hopeful when he seems to want it, and then watching him sniff it and walk away. He's also restless now, which might mean a long night for both of us. I'm not locking him out of the bedroom in case he really needs something, and he's not going to let me get much sleep. Even if he manages to sleep, it will be on top of me, with his LED hallway light on, which illuminates the bedroom, too.

There's a chance he'll want food in the middle of the night, and if he does, I'll get up and offer something. If he hasn't eaten by morning, I have a fish fillet to bake and he might be tempted, and if that fails, I'll go get a fresh steak.

His lab work was good; there was nothing in it to explain any of this.

If he doesn't eat this weekend, the next step is, I think, checking his heart and his intestines to see if there's something there, but truthfully, we won't put him through stressful treatment of anything.

But that's where we're at...really hopeful that he'll be able to start eating tonight, and more than the few bites he took this morning.