The rabbit ate every single leaf off this rose last summer. Gary put her in a cage and she’s blooming. So is pretty much everything!

Some good news and some other news. Mostly funny stuff. Mail, stories, running, television.

The TV remote fell over the back of the couch last night and we could only turn the television on and off, but we could not use the up/down/side-to-side button that would allow us to access anything online. There is no broadcast here and we discontinued cable last summer, so the internet is our source of entertainment. I tried Alexa but that voice is determined to inflict music on our ears and cannot seem to locate video. We could not even see a DVD because the remote is the only access and would not shift to the DVD player. Nevertheless, we watched the end of the movie we’d been enjoying on my laptop—yeah! I ordered a new remote and assumed there is about a 50/50% chance it will work.

And then just now Gary went on the internet and after reviewing several tutorials, he fixed it! He’s so smart.

This was a much better outcome than the day before when we went grocery shopping and picked up mail (and came home to a phone call from Gary’s schizophrenic brother). Speaking of mail . . .

The Russian and Estonia purchases are still somewhere between those countries and the US port of entry. Three weeks mia so far.

The shipper (UPS) has admitted that they have no idea where my painting is, but they are looking for it. The yarn I ordered has been delayed twice so far and no delivery date again, also UPS.

All my USPS packages have arrived quickly and on time. Despite everything (pandemic and years of defunding) the Post Office is doing their job.

So jobs: A seafood plant down the coast has discovered 124 new cases of coronavirus. “On Sunday, Pacific Seafood issued a statement saying it provided testing for 376 workers at its five Newport facilities. Fifty-three employees and 71 local contractors tested positive.” Every business is vulnerable that places poorly-protected workers in close and prolonged proximity, especially around meat packing—why is this surprising? The US has two million confirmed cases and well over a hundred thousand dead. So there is that.

Changing the subject: How is my running coming along? I’m so glad you asked. Not well. I did something last week that put an end to my running ambitions. My right knee objects to walking, much less running. So far it’s not better, but worse. I will take today off entirely from walking. Gary insists I stay off it for a week. sigh He blames piecing the quilt top in a single day, and he’s probably right. I spent a lot of that long day on my knees pinning. (I returned the sport bra.)

Yesterday I did not wind a warp or begin another quilt (or run). I spent the afternoon exploring Lulu and other self-publishing sites, compiling almost 52k of eleven SF/F stories (and three other possible stories I have not yet worked through) in a single document, and formatting a chapbook version of Butterfly Fontanelle on my computer. I would need at least seventy-five thousand words to have a book, and I probably do not have enough. Perhaps a bee story? I’ve been thinking about bees a lot lately. No honey bees at all this season. We have bumblebees and mason bees and they love the ceanothus that is blooming blue!

The novella printed by itself would be a satisfying object. Fifty-six pages, thirteen sheets of four pages each, front and back on legal paper. Printing a dozen copies on my laser printer would require a LOT of work to set up duplexing, but I could do it. (I used to print off a booklet of my college writing students’ work as a gift for them in time for the holidays each December. Of course I had access to the copy machine at school which simplified layout and printing.) Doing this at home will take more time to layout, print and hand stitch, and I will need a new black toner cartridge. But it’s doable. In the mean time, my novella is at a third magazine with a response time of at least four months. Three more submissions after that, so it will be awhile before I give up on official publication I can share.

No one in my immediate family reads my blog, so I can say here that probably a square-printed and homebound novella is what they will get for Christmas. And socks.

Watch the first seven minutes of the pilot (1.1) of The Mentalist:

“Honestly, it’s not as bad as it looks.”