Kage Baker

I was on a panel with Kage Baker at Odyssey Con two years ago; she was wonderful--smart and dryly funny and an overflowing cornucopia of knowledge. I understand her books are the same way (I have not read them due to my ongoing problems reading fiction, and I hate it because I know I'm missing out.) Kage is now fighting metastasized cancer; as her caregiver says, "At this point, it is a race to see what dies faster: Kage or the cancer."

She is too weak for phone calls, but messages and cards would be deeply appreciated; the address information, both email and land, is in this post.

Life with cats, debate team edition

So I'm trying thecoughlin's advice for whiny princess feet (thank you, btw!), which means there is a towel draped across my footstool (stubby little legs to go with the whiny princess feet), and, periodically when I feel warm enough to take my slippers and socks off, my bare feet kneading it.

This would be the unparalleled glamor with which the life of a writer is filled.

It took Catzilla a couple days to notice (Catzilla, while nowhere near as dumb as my beloved first cat Richie, is nevertheless not the brightest porchlight on the block), but then this evening, he was all, "Dude, what are you doing?"

"It's not for cats," sez I, by rote.

"Dude," says Catzilla, unimpressed as ever by this line of reasoning. "It's totally for cats. Here, lemme see."

We then had to have a discussion about whether or not this was a game (the cat voted yes, the biped voted no) and whether or not the biped's bare toes were cat toys (the cat voted yes--"Dude! They're moving!"--the biped voted no), and then, philosophical in his defeat, he curled up on the spare stretch of towel, just close enough that I can feel his body heat on my right foot, and sacked the hell out. ("Dude, I told you. Totally for cats.")

Catzilla is the epitome of the annoying younger brother, for both the bipeds and the other cats, but he is, when all is said and done, a very sweet kitty.

I will try to remember his sweetness when we have to have this same discussion all over again tomorrow.

ETA 9:57 P.M.: My toes just got licked.

ETA 10:08 P.M.: The biped was just completely discombobulated (i.e., I broke all records for the sitting high jump) by the cat's cunning introduction of a milk jug ring into the field of play--I mean, the towel. Notice the way in which this achieves the feline goal ("totally for cats") while staying technically within the previously promulgated rules (which may be boiled down to, "No attacking my toes, fluffybutt.")

And in conclusion, totally for cats.