Scraps

This, that, and the other thing...

I’ve been so busy, and I’m so tired. Right now, I’m writing to avoid cleaning the cat boxes. In revenge (or something, because that one doesn’t actually care about clean boxes) Toast just levered up the lid of my office trashcan to steal the grape stem I’d put in there. She adores them as toys. I object to them as toys because I find them, dry and spiky, with bare feet later.

August 7 aphorism: recently the First Reader and I went on a road trip where we had no distractions and could just talk. It was lovely.

The kitchen is, at long, long last, finished. We put the range hood up Sunday. There are still finishing touches - I’m replacing the cabinet hardware, and putting in under-cabinet lighting - but the major works are done. It looks good, and I’m very happy with the function. To give it an inaugural run, we invited friends to come for Sunday breakfast. Seven people, bacon, eggs, pancakes, and apple pie: successful full bellies. I will have to learn how to coordinate the bridge element better for the griddle, and having the range hood running (we installed it in the afternoon) would have been useful when the pan got smoky while I fiddled with the temps. But the convection oven did a nice job on the bacon baking, and the eggs were flawless in my First Reader’s hands. The dishwasher holds far more than my old one did, and was able to cope with all the dishes from the meal and then some.

August 8 aphorism: there was a whole bunch of life lobbed at me the first week of August.

I spent the weekend on my feet, moving, cleaning, working… wore myself flat out. Lay down on the couch after everyone left on Sunday and woke up three hours later in my own bed. The First Reader says I got there under my own power, but I don’t remember it!

I reprised the Midjourney art for 8/8 in Procreate, with hand-lettering. Fun to see the differences.

I have been waking up early, even for me, usually about 0330, and giving up on sleep around 0400. Sunday I used this time to deep clean the Utility Room, which was great, as it’s been a dumping ground. I also managed a quick sweep in the garage but even at that early hour it was too hot to do much. I’m trying very hard to get the house more organized, to have it need less of my attention, fighting for every scrap of time I can make up from my schedule.

I grabbed a handful of art tools from the studio, which is a mess - that’s my next project, but likely not until next week as I have to pack for a con tomorrow, Wednesday there are evening meetings, and Thursday I will be working while traveling. This weekend I will be with the Raconteur Press booth at Geek’d Con in Shreveport, LA.

Messing about with ink and watercolors, playing with new paints and pigments. I want to get back to daily drawing, I badly miss it. I also miss writing. You begin to understand what is fueling my push to claw back time, yes? I need to create more than just calm in my home. The brain is coming alive with hope and craving expression.

Shimmery! The metallic ‘paints’ are so very translucent, but they do add a nice sparkle.

I continue to post the daily aphorisms on X and in Substack Notes, and I have worked ahead enough to keep at it even while I’m so very busy this weekend. I’ll be training, when I’m not working in the booth, someone in book layout for the Press. Which will, in the long run, give me back a bit of time here and there.

August 9 aphorism: If you stand still before the avalanche, you will be buried in it.

A scrap of time here, another there, and pretty soon I’ll be piecing them together like a crazy quilt. Who knows what I can do with them? Stuff like the daily aphorisms? I’m illustrating these in Midjourney, of course, since I don’t need to pull out supplies onto a nonexistent flat space to make up what I want to illustrate - and the aphorism is the important part. The art is punctuation, if you will, to the message.

August 10 Aphorism: why I write science fiction.

We all have dreams. Sometimes, you can take hold of a dream and find it real. I’ve managed that. I’ve come out of nightmares and found them false. Held my arms around someone that in my sleep was gone, but waking heartbeats sounded beneath my ear pressed to them. Life happens, but you can happen to life, too.

August 11 aphorism

Still and all, these seem like small things, the art, the kitchen, the housekeeping. They are. The excitement over them tells me my life is calm enough again to be joyful in the peace. We are through the storm. The sun is shining, and things are blooming in the garden despite the torrid sun and wind of a Texas summer.