John Burridge

Yesterday was a vet day:  I loaded both cats into carriers and drove them to the vet's for their vaccinations.  The theory was if they were both going at the same time, they'd keep each other calm.  Based on the syncopated caterwauling, I'd say it was a bogus theory.  

The cats eventually forgave me for stuffing them into cages and taking them to That Awful Place -- Smokey was over it about ninety minutes after we got home; but Cicero held out all afternoon and refused to come into the house, even when it was hailing.  To be fair, he had hidden under our bed when he heard Smokey wailing from his cage, but I had coaxed him out and then immediately thrust him into a small loaner carrier.  

That evening, I read the synopsis of Dion Fortune's contribution to Neo-Paganism in Ronald Hutton's "Triumph of the Moon," as a kind of counter-balance to some other readings.

So, naturally, I dreamed...

I was on an island research center.  The island was rocky and temperate -- there were fir trees instead of a jungle, and it wasn't icy.  A group of us entered the center, which was blocky and reminiscent of classical architecture.  The more I think about it, the more I am realizing that it was based on the architecture of the Lighthouse of Alexandria.

There was something about riding an elevator, which, paradoxically, seemed to be lowering (there was some sort of shuttling motion in the rafters of the elevator car as if a cable was being unwound), but we travelled up to one of the upper floors.  There was also something about entering a defunct part of a library -- in my dream's eye, I saw a floor schematic of the complex, and we entered a greyed out portion.  This had been under the prevue of an unnamed country, but they had withdrawn from the research center for reasons that were never revealed in the dream. 

Somewhere around here in the dream, Cicero was with me.  We were in a kind of card catalog hall, with lots of shelves of unread books.  The room was large and airy, but dim, as if only every third light worked.  Leaning up against a shelf was a pile of books which included Dion Fortune's "Moon Magic," "The Sea Priestess," some other books of her fiction, and some sort of book on antiquities that belonged to my parents (their names were written on the inside cover of the book.  The sense was that since this section of the research center was closed, if we wanted to, we could take some of the books.  I wanted some of the books I saw, especially the one that had been my parents' -- in the dream I supposed that the book had been left behind when they left the Mangla Dam Project, but I couldn't figure out how it had ended up in a foreign government's library.  I had a sense that this was my, or at least my family's, book, and that I had every right to it.

The ownership of the books didn't resolve, and the group left the library.  There was something here about going down a level or two to a kind of utility or engineering floor filled with lots of unused machinery.  At this point, Cicero got away from me (he'd been good up until then) and I had to coax him out from between collections of shelved tools and conduit that he'd crawled into.

There was probably more to the dream, but that's all I recall.  What strikes me about this dream is that it could have turned into an elevator anxiety dream, but didn't; it could have turned into a lost in a twisty, constricted place, but it didn't; and that it was set in a conflation of the Lighthouse of Alexandria and the Library of Alexandria.  

 

More snow this morning--not a whole lot.  No moon or stars, only grey clouds making the snow a dusky pastel blue.  The forecast for today is a tug-of-war between snow and rain.  I expect the day to become darker as the rain washes away the snow.

Yesterday the sun came out and turned the snow brilliant.  The light bouncing off of everything lifts my spirit, and makes for some fun photography.

The cats are hopeful that the snow will go away, and seem dashed when we open the doors to that cold white stuff covering everything.   They spent most of yesterday on tables and chairs, in the sunlight, waiting for the snow to melt.

The dog loves it, though.  Mark has been making snowballs for her and filling some of them with dog treats.  

  I envisioned myself blogging (and writing) much more this December than has actually happened.  Part of this is due to posting to social media more than actually blogging.  I suspect that I need to have add some time-keeping software to my apps to bring social media usage back into balance.    

To recap the last few weeks.   

Through a series of events, the Day Jobbe has expanded to full time.   It's mostly remote, and I drive in to work some days.  I am doing a combination of departmental intranet design and web site management.  It has been a reminder of how brutally insurance benefits are awarded (or not) to vested employees. 

 

Writing is going very slowly, which I find it tends to do this time of year.  

My extended family is doing mostly well and managing to stay healthy during the pandemic.  

The cats have crossed another threshold with the dog and are more likely to spend the night in the house (rather than the garage) with the dog.  The cold might have something to do with this.  They also seem more tolerant of the dog in general, and no longer zip out of a room whenever she appears.  

Smokey seems to have recovered from his earlier medical emergency.  He's still as fluffy as ever, but--whether through the medicine he's taking or through the touch of age--he is bonier than he used to be.  

On the design front:  last November I sat down and decided to see about reproducing an Islamic design I've always thought was an interesting interlocking of circles, triangles, and hexagons.  As is usual with these sorts of designs, one can make it tile infinitely.  Other design projects include designing this year's family calendar and paper projects.

 

Cicero (and Smokey, too) is slowly working toward acceptance that there is a canine living (and sleeping) in the house.  Both cats will (mostly) put up with being sniffed by Aoife, but they aren't exactly happy about it.  

I'd say Cicero is further along with the process than Smokey is.  Smokey pretty much would rather sleep in the cold garage than in the house.  

November is over a third of the way through and the dark season is upon us.  For real this time, although the ten days in early September when the smoke from the forest fires blotted out the sun were bad enough.  At least we can be outside without too much fear of breathing unhealthy particles... oh, wait, COVID-19.  Oh well.   

The damper, colder weather has driven the cats into a grudging acceptance that a dog lives here.  Some days are more grudging than others.  The other day, Cicero was sleeping on Mark while Aoife rested next to him; Mark slowly shifted his body until Cicero was resting, if not on, then at least next to, Aofie.  We think at this point Cicero realized how much body heat Aoife puts out.  I've noticed he's less likely to retreat to the bedroom window when Aoife enters since; and recently, Cicero ventured into the back yard -- something that hasn't happened since the Spring Equinox.

Mark and I notice how early the sun sets these days because all of the acres of the dog park we take Aoife are in shadow by 4, and the sun slides behind the hills by 4:15, and you can see Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn by 4:40, and by 5:00 it's too dark to see the Chuck-It Balls we fling.  If Aoife didn't have a mostly white head, we wouldn't be able to see her, either.   We used to be able to stay until 8:30.

The dog park hasn't turned into a total mud pit yet, but I expect the Big Storm that's supposed to hit us Friday the 13th will change all of that.  (The fist-sized gravel the city used to fill in some of the larger foxholes the dogs dug last spring is already dispersing into new geologic depressions.)

Smokey is more grudging than Cicero.  At least he has the next-door neighbors to run to (and they love him, so it's a win-win situation).  He's still likely to make a dash for the window when Aoife enters the bedroom, but there have been a few times where he's (noisily) tolerated being sniffed by the dog.   Aoife understands that the cats are part of our family, and unless she's previously wound up, she'll slowly creep forward to sniff them (instead of lunging at them) in an earnest attempt to initiate play.  

Smokey and Cicero had been sleeping in the garage over the Summer, but they've worked up enough courage to begin sleeping in our bedroom (and waking us up at 4 AM to be let out).  Sometimes Aofie sleeps in our bed -- when I'm feeling like indulging her -- but I find I sleep better when she's on the couch.  

Day something of self-isolation with the family.  We're doing fairly well, also I am a little stir-crazy.  I would very much like to go to a dance party right now.  Last weekend the sunlight made being in the back yard pleasant.   However, starting last Tuesday, the weather has been cold, wet, and overcast.  We need the rain, but I could do without sunless skies (and more rainbows).   I was also disappointed that the clouds hid a conjunction of The Moon and The Pleiades on Friday (and Thursday and Saturday) night.

Aoife, the new puppy, has settled into the house.  So far we've pretty much established that she's a stick dog, she's a car-ride dog, and she's a frisbee dog.  She loves us, and once social distancing isn't such a big deal, we'll work on socializing her.

The cats are still annoyed.  We've established our bedroom as the cat sanctuary, and Mark occasionally opens the door and stands with the dog while the cats furtively eat their meals.   Mark usually times some long-ish dog walks around meal times so the cats can come out of our bedroom to skulk and sniff.  The down side of all this is that that cats frequently want to leave the room at 3:30 AM and wake us to open a window.   If we're not stealthy enough, the dog hears us rustling around and wants to be let out of her crate in The Child's room.

It's slowly paying off.  The cat's aren't in a complete panic when they see the dog.  Aoife has always been mildly curious in a "let's play" kind of way about them, but is otherwise uninterested in the cats... unless she thinks they are intruders on the front porch, in which case they get an "intruder alert!" bark through the front window.   Smokey ventured out, took a strategic position on the table, glared with Great Glaring, then forgot that Aoife had fallen asleep on the couch while Mark and I were watching a Wooster and Jeeves movie.  I didn't see Smokey's face when Mark stopped him from jumping onto his lap -- which coincided with Smokey realizing that the brindled pillow was Actually A Sleeping Brindled Dog! -- but Mark said it was priceless.  Mark was also thankful he had avoided getting his lap shredded to ribbons.

Today is overcast and damp.  I had hoped that I might be able to write outside, but that's not going to happen--even with a deck umbrella.  Kate Brown, the Governor of Oregon, has issued executive order 20-12, which translates to Lockdown-Not-Quite-So-Lite-This-Time.  Still, pretty much everyone is being strongly encouraged to stay at home and not go anywhere if they can help it.

We're going on Day Three with a New Puppy Bull-Terrier Mix.   The cats have moved from full panicked “Oh My God, it’s a dog! Stand you ground! No—puff out to twice size! No—I’m outta here!!” to Irritated Bushiness (Cicero looks like a stereotypical Black Halloween Cat) and a low growled battle song (the lyrics of which are “When the Foeman bares his steel (ta-ra-tara ta-ra tara) We uncomfortable feel...").   Our bedroom is the Cat Sanctuary, and they've taken to fleeing the house through one of the windows.   Even Spencer, Cicero's brother, is on high alert, and performed his signature bound over the chainlink fence when I came out with Dog Smell on my Hands.  

Aoife pretty much wants to play with the cats.  She pretty much wants to play with other dogs.  She loves us, and is a leaner.  She's not quite so sure about other people, although she threw doggy heart looks at some guy in a Toyota muscle car and booming hip-hop (he actually pulled over, got out of his car, and said hello).   She has figured out the home is The Den That Must Be Protected, so there's some barking at the mailman.  When Mark commented on how cliché it was, I responded that Cliché would be a great dog name.  



In other animal-conflict news, there's a hawk or other raptor that's been hanging about and getting mobbed by the local corvids.  Just now as I was writing this, I saw a smallish--maybe a red-tailed hawk--be forced to land in a tree across the street by two crows.  I was too slow with my camera to get any photographs... although I did get a woodpecker in the same branches about fifteen minutes later.

 

The Moon is getting close to Venus.  It's supposed to be nearer tomorrow, but given the penchant for cloudy skies in late Winter, I figured I should take pictures now.  In a few more days, the Moon will sail past Aldebaran and the constellation Taurus.

While I was setting up, Cicero jumped up on The Fort and just happened to line up with the crescent moon.  I'm not sure why he was up on the very top rail of The Fort; maybe he likes to be as high as possible in an attempt to survey as much of the neighbors' yards as he can. 

On the Writing Front:  I've been cleaning up a 20,000 word manuscript.  Thank goodness for the computer's ability to speak text -- I've found a couple of phrase echos and a number of stupid clerical errors.  I also ran into a weird Scrivener bug where it would display one version of my text if I was looking at it on a scene document-by-document basis and an earlier version if I was looking at it on a pan-scene Folder basis.   I ended up having to create a new Scrivener file and copy-and-paste the scene documents in. 

On the Gym Front:  I went to the gym Monday (2/24) and did the Push-Pull Routine.  I went kind of late and felt tired the next day.  So tired, that I made Writing Day Hot Bath With Candles and Recordings of Singing Bowls Day and skipped the gym Wednesday. 

Went to the gym Wednesday night, did the usual routine.  Going consistently has resulted in some nice reductions, but it also means that I wake up around 9PM. 

On the writing front:  Got a short, detailed rejection for one piece -- mostly the story wasn't the editor's cup of tea.   I've been working on older pieces that have been languishing in draweres post-critique.  Taking a long break from pieces has been useful for spotting clunky writing (and excising it).


Oh, and the Autumnal Rains continue....

Went to the gym Wednesday (8/21) and did the regular routine.  I suppose I should look up some hand stretches or other warm-ups because I've noticed my hands are sore now that I've returned to the gym routine after a vacation.

The other day Cicero caught a dragonfly.  I'm never quite sure if he's catching them on his own or if these have been disabled by birds who don't eat them after pecking them.

This one seemed to be in fairly good condition:  its wings seemed to be working and it only had a little dent in its side.  Cicero had mostly been batting it against the ground before I rescued it.  After appreciating it, I managed to place it on some horsebane growing near our deck and sprinkled a little water on the branches for it.  Cicero really wanted to play with it more, and, like a Disney cartoon wolf, took up a station at the base of the plant.

Wednesday and Thursday were grey, rainy days.  The trees and grass needed the rain, and I feel like much of the dust and pollen has been cleared from the air.  Of course today (Friday), I'm noticing the haze in the air is making the pines on a hill across Amazon Slough grey-green instead of the pine-green of their nearer counterparts.

Today (Friday) is a writing and marketing day.  My in-the-mail count is one and it ideally should be up to ten (or greater).  I've got a list of stories to send out... although one (fairly old) story has got some dated technology in it that needed to be cleaned up and the more I think about it, the more I'm wondering if I should run the story past some beta readers to see if I'm guilty of cultural appropriation.

 I took some photos of the cats the other day.  Smokey's photos came out looking odd, and quite a few of Cicero came out out-of-focus.  But I got a few artsy cat shots.

Story prompt:  if you found the right link in a fence, what would it show you? 
 Story prompt:  the humans didn't know what was lurking under the deck.
Story prompt:  In my past life, I was a priest of Isis in Egypt, during the Fourth Dynasty.

Cicero brought a rat into the neighbor's yard and started playing with it; this gave me a good opportunity to stop painting the side of our house and grab the camera. 

The autumn has been dry, so the yards in our neighborhood are still on the brown side. 


I'm recovering from the mandatory Autumnal Student Cold.  This has interrupted my return to the gym, which is delaying my attempts to shrink the bicycle tire around my abs. 

Cicero keeps bringing snakes into the yard.  I think this may be the same snake that I've rescued about three or four times now. 

What I like about this photo is that you can see (when you zoom in) how the scales change along the girth of the snake's body.  The ones along the top are long and narrow, while the hexagonal ones on the side are more circular, and the scales along the snake's bottom look like shields. 

Also, the yellow stripe along the snake's body has scales in it that are half-yellow, half-slate colored.

After I photographed this snake, I scooped it up and slid it into a crack in the ground (we have a lot of those because of the high clay content of the soil).  Cicero can't get at the snakes, but he can smell them, and I suspect he spends much of his day standing guard over the cracks, waiting for serpents to emerge.

Went to the gym Saturday.  I've been advised to mix things up a little more than I have been to help with my shoulder and back (work the back to balance out working the front).  30 minutes and 300 calories on the elipitcal (while I did line edits to a story).  3x12x20lbs on the butterfly pull (a reverse pec-fly).  3x12x80 Lat Pull-downs.  3x12 Roman Chair curls.  3x12 bridges.  Also some assorted quasi-yoga stretches.  Pool-noodle spine stretches and thigh faschia stretches.  30 second planks.   3x12x20lb triceps pull-downs.  

While we didn't catch him in flagrante delicto, we're pretty sure Dragonfly-Slayer Cicero damaged a Paddle-tailed Darner, (Aeshna palmata) late this afternoon.  I'd seen him pawing at something (I'd assumed a mouse) in the tall grassland next door, and discovered the darner on the walkway by our house a few minutes later.



At first I thought it was dead, but it had a very strong grip on the concrete.  I offered a dry twig for it to crawl on, and it pulled itself up onto my hand.   I didn't see any holes it its body, but I noticed as I was photographing it that it wasn't moving its lower wings.




The unrepentant monster was fairly certain I had carried off his prize, but wasn't exactly sure where I'd placed it.  Also, he didn't want to be photographed.




We're growing some corn, and I placed the dragonfly onto a stalk, flicked some fountain water onto it, and took some photos.









I checked on it after dusk, and it had climbed up under a fold in the corn leaves, so I'm hoping it will rest the night out and fly away in the morning.