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Well, that's a little better
Feb. 26th, 2003 01:42 pmChumley does not have lymphoma. He is home, with a feeding tube and an Elizabethan collar, neither of which he appreciates. Lydy is finding putting the liquid nourishment down the tube a lot harder than the vet techs made out it would be. And she had to stay home from work. The only other person in the household who might be able to feed C while she's gone is me, and while I am willing to try I am not very sanguine about my success.
He is a large cat and does not acknowledge my authority.
They want him fed five times a day at regular intervals. What they think people do for a living and how they expect this to work I have no idea. The U is great, but they do often act as if everybody had a host of eager students willing to do stuff like this round the clock.
In other news, I wrote 600 words on Monday, and this morning while I was reading over the new stuff at Eric's while he made coffee, I realized that this could be the end of the chapter. I've done what I wanted to do in it, though not at all the way I had envisioned, and it happens to stop with a nice little rhetorical flourish. So, I think Zeno's Chapter got done while I wasn't looking.
"So," said Eric when I told him, ever helpful, "where does Chapter 4 start?" Some people's readers.
I've seen preliminary cover art for The Secret Country, and it's beautiful.
David got paid for the first part of his short-term contract, which is good. I have nagged my agent to nag my publisher about the book proposal, and must do so again.
I finished Linda Nagata's Limit of Vision, some time ago. It ends on something of a cliffhanger, but I found the entire thing very impressive. It's way, way outside what I could ever write, and to my comparatively untutored mind unfolded like a fantastical scientific puzzlebox in unexpected directions. I really liked it very much indeed.
I am now rereading the Liavek anthologies in earnest. It's a bit embarrassing how much I still like my stories.
Raphael and I are slogging through episodes of "Angel," mostly at this point waiting for Faith to show up. We just saw "The Prodigal," and were stark amazed at how the same writers could produce such good contemporary scenes and such incredibly lame stupid dopey stereotyped anachronistic boring interminable historical scenes. It's as if the moment they put the characters in eighteenth-century clothing, the writers become possessed by, by, I don't know what. The Ghost of History Dumbed Down and made all Pseudo-Freudian. Argh. We are now current on "Buffy" and still very, very wary and generally untrusting and easily annoyed.
A few days ago Raphael came into the kitchen looking deeply amused and asked me, "Am I making this up, or did you say there wasn't anything wrong with the first X-Men movie except that it didn't have any cats in it?" I admitted to having said something like that, and Raphael made me come and see the trailer. Well! One cat, anyway!
He is a large cat and does not acknowledge my authority.
They want him fed five times a day at regular intervals. What they think people do for a living and how they expect this to work I have no idea. The U is great, but they do often act as if everybody had a host of eager students willing to do stuff like this round the clock.
In other news, I wrote 600 words on Monday, and this morning while I was reading over the new stuff at Eric's while he made coffee, I realized that this could be the end of the chapter. I've done what I wanted to do in it, though not at all the way I had envisioned, and it happens to stop with a nice little rhetorical flourish. So, I think Zeno's Chapter got done while I wasn't looking.
"So," said Eric when I told him, ever helpful, "where does Chapter 4 start?" Some people's readers.
I've seen preliminary cover art for The Secret Country, and it's beautiful.
David got paid for the first part of his short-term contract, which is good. I have nagged my agent to nag my publisher about the book proposal, and must do so again.
I finished Linda Nagata's Limit of Vision, some time ago. It ends on something of a cliffhanger, but I found the entire thing very impressive. It's way, way outside what I could ever write, and to my comparatively untutored mind unfolded like a fantastical scientific puzzlebox in unexpected directions. I really liked it very much indeed.
I am now rereading the Liavek anthologies in earnest. It's a bit embarrassing how much I still like my stories.
Raphael and I are slogging through episodes of "Angel," mostly at this point waiting for Faith to show up. We just saw "The Prodigal," and were stark amazed at how the same writers could produce such good contemporary scenes and such incredibly lame stupid dopey stereotyped anachronistic boring interminable historical scenes. It's as if the moment they put the characters in eighteenth-century clothing, the writers become possessed by, by, I don't know what. The Ghost of History Dumbed Down and made all Pseudo-Freudian. Argh. We are now current on "Buffy" and still very, very wary and generally untrusting and easily annoyed.
A few days ago Raphael came into the kitchen looking deeply amused and asked me, "Am I making this up, or did you say there wasn't anything wrong with the first X-Men movie except that it didn't have any cats in it?" I admitted to having said something like that, and Raphael made me come and see the trailer. Well! One cat, anyway!
