Category Archives: Diary

Ups and Downs, A Sunday Edition

We had a lovely brunch with the Preston-LeBlanc clan this morning. Liam is uncharacteristically subdued; we think he may be fighting off something.

Unfortunately, the oven has died. I discovered this when I went to bake a batch of scones to take over. It’s not the fuses; it’s not the elements being loose. We tried both of those.

As the creature is only four years younger than I am, we’re fairly certain that the cost of a service call plus whatever repairs might be required, if they are even possible, will be more than we’d pay for a second-hand replacement stove. I already have sent queries out to two or three people who’ve listed very affordable stoves on Craiglist, asking year of manufacture and model numbers.

It couldn’t have waited three more months till Ceri and Scott could sell theirs to us before kicking the bucket, oh, no. Of course not.

Respite!

All hail Janice, who while on the phone with me today for a different reason, prompted me to work out that I’d dropped an entire week from my deadline countdown. I know how it happened, too: on my miniature office calendar, the 24th and 31st are sharing the last Monday calendar square with no diagonal line dividing them. So it looks like I come back from Toronto on the 31st, not the 24th, which would have meant the next day was delivery day.

I have — you have no idea how it thrills me to say this — four extra days before my original deadline. That makes eight work days. Plus the three extra days my editor granted me.

That makes a grand total of eleven work days.

I am positively drunk with the possibilities.

It’s as if someone actually handed me all that extra time people have been saying they wish they could find for me. Thank you, universe. And no love, mini office calendar. I’m going to go through you right now and draw dividing lines on all the split days so I don’t make this mistake again.

A Morning — The ‘Good’ Is Debateable

My mp3 player died last night.

Yes, the refurbished one I got exactly two months ago. No, it’s no longer under warranty. I have no idea why it died; it worked perfectly well the night before, and would not turn on yesterday. And no, it’s not the batteries. I’m not going to be able to replace it for at least a week.

I had a very bad night. Listening to music via headphones helps me fall asleep, and it’s been invaluable. Also, I am understandably cranky because it died after only sixty days of use.

Rawr. And I forgot to pack Sparky’s heavy mitts and snow pants before he left for grandma’s house today. And I forgot to replace the spare clean top and pants in his bag. When I take him somewhere, my mind is working the right way and I remember everything. If HRH takes him, it’s like my mind disengages from the packing mode and won’t access the preparation subroutines beyond making sure he has his drink, his slippers, and his toys.

I used the breadmaker to mix and knead a batch of dough for sweet buns and forgot about it, so the machine tried to bake it before I got to it to turn off the cycle and take it out to shape it and leave it for a second rise.

And it’s dark out. Rawr and grr.

But when the cats knocked over my hurricane lamp that was on the altar, neither the chimney nor the base shattered. I put the half-baked loaf in the oven to finish baking, so there will be sweet bread, at least; maybe I’ll make cinnamon toast tomorrow for breakfast and just not mention to Sparky that it was supposed to be sweet buns.

Experiments in Bowmaking

The frog of my main bow cracked last fall as a result of a small boy-related incident. I filled the crack with Krazy Glue and it’s been fine so far. I know, I know; purists are shuddering. I paid about $150 for this bow; it would likely cost me about that much to have the frog replaced. And I love this bow; the balance is perfect, the weight is perfect, and I don’t want to buy a new one.

Except with the spring concert coming up, I’m starting to worry about the crack, and have visions of the thing giving way during performance. My only usable back-up bow is a really heavy one that hurts my hand because the balance is off. Or rather, it was off.

Last night I took it to HRH and asked if he’d be able to shave some of the wood off the head and gradually extend the taper of the upper half of the stick further towards the middle. As it was, the taper went abruptly from a very thick stick to a much thinner section about three inches long at the tip. He said that while he could do it, he’d be uncomfortable because he’d be worried about breaking or ruining it. In return I pointed out that I’d only paid $80 for it, and to have the reshaping done professionally would cost more than that. Also, I still had my main bow, and so if this backup one was to be broken it wouldn’t be a tragedy.

So we took it downstairs and he set up the Dremel. In half an hour we had carefully reshaped the head and upper half of the stick beautifully. It’s lighter and better balanced, and the head is much more elegant than it was originally; it was very blocky before the remodelling. When I was happy with the weight, the balance, and the tapering along to the middle of the stick he buffed it, and I oiled it. Then came the final test: I sat down to try it out on the cello. To my satisfaction it travels well, and the balance is miles and away better than it had been. The fulcrum point is now a third of the way along from the frog end, where it’s supposed to be, instead of halfway along the stick. I no longer feel like my hand is going to fall off or cramp up from fighting gravity when I hold it. I’m going to use it as my primary bow at rehearsal tonight and see what happens.

Daring, but successful. I’d never have tried it with a more expensive or precious bow. It makes me wonder what we could do with a bow blank, a frog, the facings and screws, and a hank of bow hair. It would be interesting to make my own bow.

In Which She Does NOT Panic Because April Is Evidently Much Closer Than She Thought

Oh, hey, look at that; it’s the eleventh of the month, which means it’s time for Liam’s Thirty-Three Months Old! post.

Needless to say, it’s not here. That’s because it’s not done. Hasn’t even been started. This is partially due to the fact that I’m swamped with work and don’t have the spare time, and partly because I simply cannot believe that it’s almost halfway through March. I didn’t even remember it until I just sat down to check something else.

It will be done eventually. When it is I’ll backdate it, and post a note with the link.

Introducing…

Now that HRH has made his own introduction, I present to you the newest member of our family: Gryffindor.

Gryffindor is a five-month-old ginger tabby. Some of you knew Gulliver, HRH’s big orange cat who used to perch on his shoulders. We lost Gully in October 2005 to kidney failure, and HRH has taken a long time to get over it. If — and it was a big if — HRH ever got another cat, it would have to be one with as much personality, and who clicked with him as well as Gully had. This kitten, whoever he would be, had big boots to fill. This past January HRH said to me that perhaps, if there was an orange kitten out there who needed rescuing, just maybe he would be ready to welcome another one into his heart and home… assuming there was that spark.

This past weekend, HRH met this little fellow in person, and watched him very critically. The kitten was friendly, well-grounded, not completely freaked out by Liam (this was important — we weren’t going to force a cat into our home if he didn’t get along with the boy, no matter how well the cat and HRH hit it off), and, most importantly… there was a connection made between HRH and the ginger kitten.

We signed the papers and brought him home. The highlight of the journey back was Liam lifting the edge of the blanket we’d snugged around the carrier, in response to a single tiny mew. He peeked in and said in the most tender voice I have ever heard him use, “It’s okay, buddy, we’ll be home soon.” Gryffindor spent a lot of his first afternoon with us under the comfy chair, watching the room. When Liam napped, he came out to play with a bit of string. And after the nap, he allowed HRH to hold him and met Liam properly. Over the next day he explored more and more of the room, and was even bold enough to try my office and the kitchen door.

What do the current feline residents think? Maggie has displayed a “whatever” attitude; if he gets too close she Looks at him and hisses half-heartedly. Nix and Cricket have cornered him once or twice by staring at him across the room, and make creaky noises when they see him in the same area, but other than that things are going very well indeed. He is open and cheerful and willing to meet them. He has shown himself to be a tremendously loud purrer, and very willing to be scratched and petted. Today he climbed up on HRH’s shoulder and rode along to the kitchen with him. I think there are wonderful things ahead for us all.

Did we need another cat? No. But it has always seemed mildly unfair that the cats we have all decided that they belong to me. And Maggie is the only one who will allow Liam to pick her up and cuddle her. She’s getting on; I don’t know how much more she’ll be able to take. It made sense to find a kitten who would grow up with Liam and not run from him the way the cats-who-can-no-longer-be-referred-to-as-‘the-kittens’ do. We felt it was time for us to give another abandoned or unwanted creature a place to be loved and kept safe. And with HRH finally coming to a point where he was ready for another cat, and the fortuitous discovery of a ginger kitten on the Animal Rescue Network (who ended up being adopted by someone else before our screening process was completed in early January, but they told us about this one they’d just rescued and who hadn’t even been catalogued yet), things simply happened in the right way at the right time. All of our cats have been rescued in one way or another, but this is the first time I’ve worked with a shelter. I cannot recommend the ARN highly enough; their principals and their commitment to placing their animals in the right kind of homes are admirable.

So here’s to many years of love and joy with Gryffindor, our newest member of the family. May we give him the home he’s always dreamed of, and may he live a long, happy life with us.

Oh, and those big boots the next cat would have to fill? Gryffindor has huge paws. And huge ears. And a very long tail. We suspect that he’s going to be a big boy, just as Gully was. He will never replace Gulliver in our hearts, but he seems to be a more than worthy successor, with a definite personality of his own.

That Kind Of Day

It is probably a bad thing that I want a glass of red wine this early in the day.

Although I am listening to a recording of Pieter Wispelwey playing the Bach gamba sonatas that a friend of the friends-in-same-circles kind of acquaintance lent to me (among a veritable pile of other recordings), and it is doing wonders to keep me from throwing myself over the edge of the cliff into madness. Thanks, Tina!