Snowy Sundays

Was it Verlaine or Baudelaire who complained about rainy Sundays? What about snowy ones? Tomorrow is supposed to be a bitch with LOTS of snow. Ah god, I am so sick of the cold and the ice and the snow.

On Friday, we took a nice long walk in the 50+ weather. Hadn't been out since November. What a seige. It was lovely. Fed the cows, too. The cows have a flock of robins in their pasture. I wonder if the robins don't find bugs in the cow manure. No idea, really.

So today we tackled the accountant's tax workbook. The writer must keep meticulous records. Mine were only so-so. I had to do a lot of research to find out what some of the listed expenses were actually for, and changed the categories to better agree with the work sheet.

I was astounded that I spent to much money on writing last year, compared with the really paltry money that came in. I attended three conferences, one out of town. And all the dues and meetings and this and that really add up. The royalty check was laughable. It is always hell on wheels to compute the "beginning inventory." This year I will write the freakin' number down instead of having to back into it.

Doing the tax workbook takes a day out of my life, and I always resent it. Accounting is not my thing, although I do force myself to keep records all year and not just throw receipts into a paper bag. Imagine! Eeek!

Last night we had oregano chicken which was tres tasty. I made a broccoli rabe dish from Cooking Light, which I swiped at the vets. Reminder to self: take a nice magazine back in return. Tonight we have a tenderloin with pepper recipe from the South Beach Diet. I went through all my diet recipes (yeah, as the pie was baking ) and realize most of them are actually salads or veggies. Salad in the snow is really not an option, but there are a few beef or chicken that actually sound good.

Hey, there are still 2 pieces of the chocolate pecan pie left, which will be history after the scanty fare on tonight's menu. We really were very disciplined to eat ten pieces over 5 days. Self control is all.

Thisbe wanted to go for a stroll on the porch all day, but whenever I opened the front door, she recoiled in horror. Once she stood with front paws on the porch and back paws in the house. She complained a lot. Water bowl is low; moist food now; where's the catnip? Do something about the weather, will you?

Off to make dinner. Last night we saw a fun movie from Netflix. Waiting for Guffman. Much of the same cast as Best in Show. Forgotten Indie gems.

Grapeshot

Got the Blogging Blahs

Yes, even bloggers get the blahs. When none of your topics seems, well, topical. The photo is a chocolate pecan pie I made yesterday. Started out to make cookies, with the requirement being that all the ingredients needed to be on hand. Somehow I landed on the pie. Even the crust is chocolate. The pie is so rich one only needs a mini-slice. Make that a micro-slice.

We're trying to get ready for a European jaunt and I check off four items from the "to do" list and add six more. The cats are a problem, with Thisbe (the shy one) needing insulin twice a day and Annie needing heart meds twice a day. Color them expensive. And you always have to keep the mental health of your cats foremost in mind.

Cats hate change. They love routine. They hate being boarded. They treasure the comforts of home. We took them BOTH to the vet this week. For once, no great traumas getting them into the carriers. At the vet, Thisbe, who is usually nervous Nellie, was pretty calm, and Annie, who is Miss Congeniality was a spitting, growling she-dragon. Go figure.

Little known fact: even indoor cats need rabies shots, in case rabid bats move into your house. It's the law.

I've been spending too much time on Facebook. Just happened. Dunno why. The isolation of winter, although today looks pretty good, and we have been getting out to shop and exercise and tonight we're trekking to Jordan Hall to hear the Baroque Grand Tour.

In Flight, my novel in process is coming along. Big scene in Miami. All this Florida stuff means I'll have to do a soupcon more research next June, which is the month in which the book takes place. All my books are set in the summer, my favorite season. Interesting, no?

We walked around the Patriot Place shops and restaurants last weekend. Couldn't find the wine bar. The burger restaurant was the busy place, crowded with beef lovers, but the seafood restaurant (Skipjack's) also had a decent crowd. Not meal time but mid-afternoon. Stores were empty. Not a good sign.

With the exception of groceries and household products, it's amazing how long was can actually go without buying stuff. Of course socks and underwear, even pajamas do wear out. I just "saved" $11.00 by washing 2 sweaters instead of dry cleaning them. Even the tailor said her business was slow. Logic would dictate (actually, does logic ever dictate?) that people would pay for alterations instead of new clothes. Maybe not. Or maybe because it was the week AFTER school vacations and nobody brought in clothes the previous week.

I am thinking about writing and money and wondering why I never got an advanced degree when so many friends and classmates did. The other thing I've been pondering about if whether so many years of computer programming changed my brain. Please don't laugh. This is serious stuff.

Back to the omnipresent "to do" list. It's time for that most hated activity, the tax workbook that the accountant sends out. Thank heavens MONEY keeps impeccable records. Actually, I keep the records, money just records everything. And produces nice reports. Once a detail-oriented geek, always a dog. Hmmm good. Detail Oriented Geek. DOG.

I'm wondering if I should write more adventure tales of my robot fish. Or maybe even a screen play.

Always wondering,

Grapeshot