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July 2015

Read:
- Living Ink by Eddie D. Moore (http://www.everydayfiction.com/living-ink-by-eddie-d-moore/)
- Great Girls by Deborah Siegel (http://www.everydayfiction.com/great-girls-by-deborah-siegel/)
- For a Tooth by Tim Major (http://www.everydayfiction.com/for-a-tooth-by-tim-major/)
- Dear Jezzy: How Can a Devil Make an Angel Say Yes? by Sarina Dorie (DSF)
- Potemkin Girl by Isabella David McCaffrey (http://www.everydayfiction.com/potemkin-girl-by-isabella-david-mccaffrey/)
- The Turing Test by Chris Beckett (K)
- Help Wanted by Mark Richardson (http://www.everydayfiction.com/help-wanted-by-mark-richardson/)
- The Brothers Rose by Michael Burrows (http://www.everydayfiction.com/the-brothers-rose-by-michael-burrows/)
- Final Message by Dustin Adams (http://www.everydayfiction.com/final-message-by-dustin-adams/)
- In the Cave of the Delicate Singers by Lucy Taylor (http://www.tor.com/2015/07/15/in-the-cave-of-the-delicate-singers/)
- The Knight by Ty Karnitz (http://www.everydayfiction.com/the-knight-by-ty-karnitz/)
- Take One Twice a Day by Allyson Leskovic (http://www.everydayfiction.com/take-one-twice-a-day-by-allyson-leskovic/)
- A Man Lay Dreaming by Lavie Tidhar (K)
- The Consciousness Problem by Mary Robinette Kowal (http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/fiction/the-consciousness-problem/)
- Roboteer by Alex Lamb (K)
- Dead Spider Curl by Chip Houser (http://www.everydayfiction.com/dead-spider-curl-by-chip-houser/)
- Noted by Steffany Willey (http://www.everydayfiction.com/noted-by-steffany-willey/)
- In The Detail by Simon Kewin (DSF)

Knit:
- 20 hexipuffs

Yoghurt

Yesterday, homemade coconut yoghurt (plus cow milk live yoghurt as starter) plus blackberries from back garden (2 mins in microwave plus some caster sugar stirred in)--tasty, but runny enough for drinking.

Today, homemade, goat milk yoghurt (plus cow milk live yoghurt as starter) plus blackberries (as above)--goat-y, tasty, and a little less runny.

Tags:

There's no accounting for cats

Mr Socks has spent the last few weeks looking up longingly at my lap, which was almost inevitably occupied by Little. I've made sure he's got his share of my attention, when Little decamped to M or Looby Loo.

Now, of course, he's avoiding me and Mr Oswald--the non-lap cat--has happily curled up on me.

Accounting for a Cat (1)

We adopted Little on June 6th 1996 (I just checked the paperwork). She was a year old, but had been at the Blue Cross for six months (we were told: they were trying very hard to "sell" Big, but especially Little, to us). So she could have been not much more than one up to nearly two and a half. She was at the very least 20 when she died.

A pretty good innings.

Empty

My parents bought this cat basket a very long time ago (at least thirty years):
DSCF0565
It was a step up in the world for the cat (possibly not Moggy, but definitely Kitty) as before that we'd used any old cardboard box for feline transportation (or none at all, until Moggy decided that the best place to travel in the car was under the brake pedal).
It served as Kitty's bed, too, and was where Mieze was born, but not the rest of the kittens. Felix, the last of those kittens, also slept in it.
When my Dad brought Astrophe over from Wales just after we moved in here, she came in this basket. She didn't take to sleeping in it, but it's carried on performing its cat-carrying duties, to and from the vee ee tee ever since. Big generally got to go in it, 'cos our other carrier was smaller.
DSCF0449
Today we settled Little in it for her last two journeys.
Empty:
DSCF0564

Tags:

Bah!

I've done my back in. Just like the previous two occasions, but veering towards the worse of the first time rather than the not so bad of the second.

So, no trip down to Wells with M to drop Looby Loo at Latin Camp. Bah! I like Wells. (I like wells, too, but that's something entirely different.)

Now how to explain to the fading Little cat that there is absolutely no way I can stand her sleeping on me tonight.

Wet, wet, vet

On 16th July 1662 Pepys posted (oops! wrote):

"In the morning I found all my ceilings, spoiled with rain last night, so that I fear they must be all new whited when the work is done."

Well, actually I found the drip and put a bucket under it before I went to bed to endure Thursday's inundation. About four inches from a tiny leak in the roof of the bay window (wot we had fixed a couple of years ago). We can't locate the source of aqueaous ingress from the outside. Still, it's better than M's office ceiling which had been leaked through onto the carpets and thence through to the office ceiling below.

And our vee ee tee is flooded again. The Little cat is under strict instructions not to have an emergency in the next few day

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The many routes to decluttered heaven

So, as well as getting rid of stuff, I'm making use of stuff.

I'm in the process of finishing a summer dress in a length of fabric I failed to make into a dress well over twenty years ago. (Good thing my tastes haven't changed too much.)

I've also started a Beekeeper's Quilt to make us of as many bits and bobs of 4ply and sock yarn in my possession (easier to get at as I've had to move stacked boxes from the corner of the bedroom to under the new bed so the widdling cat can't find any floor to make use of). It's modular, and I'm aiming big--four foot square--so it'll take some time.

I also discovered the downside of disposing og things: I ran out out clean duvet covers (the worn-out or incorrect-sized ones went a few weeks back). Sometimes decluttering means reacquiring jsut the right stuff.

Ooh shiny!

I think I should change my name to kickstarter_addict. (Note not Kickstarter, as I've backed stuff on Kickstarter, and Indigogo and Pubslush too :-)

Recently it was pretty postcards, here: One: Two: Twelve

Today it was Shetland knitting, here: The Vintage Shetland Project

Caw!

Not Cool

Those scrolling lines of white text on black background. That's the second time in the year or more since I got the beast.

It could just be the heat, of course. But, but, but... I went over to the penguin side to avoid all those blue screens of death.