Not saying I've shed actual tears, although over the past two & a half years my head has gone frighteningly desky on a few occasions. 

Can't remember who said editing was like peeling onions, but it makes perfect sense. Initially, the layers are difficult to shift. The closer you get to the heart, the easier it becomes.  You're weeping buckets but the onion looks lovely & tastes sweeter.

This morning I received an email from one of my beta reader which made my heart sing.  Some of her comments are overwhelmingly kind & read like validation of all my hard work.

You know who you are ;)

[Originally posted at http://readthisandweep.dreamwidth.org/467069.html. Comments appreciated on either site.]

Things continue to come together over here. Yesterday we finished the last of our Major Stuff Shopping, and when the last thing gets delivered on Thursday, we'll officially have the place fleshed out - at least from a furnishing standpoint.

Not that we'll be "done" in any real sense. My dad says that when it comes to home ownership, you're only ever done for now. He's right, I'm sure. There are already a dozen little projects I'd love to fiddle with, not least of all the garden - which is, at present, a rectangular patch of backyard harboring dandelions, semi-wild onions, clover, and the tail-less cat.

The tail-less cat (henceforth TLC, as her name eludes me) showed up in our back yard shortly after we arrived, and at first, I thought she was a pregnant stray. A pretty little black-and-white longhair, TLC was too skittish to touch, and her pendulous tummy swayed as she waddled frantically away.

Poor kitty, I thought. I will feed her and lure her close, and maybe she'll have the kittens nearby - so I can catch them and vet them and home them and oh yes, I was making plans.

After a few days, she'd figured out I was a food-dispensing monkey - and I'd find her sitting outside the roses, waiting for me to open the curtains every morning. Just to make sure I would see her, and know that there was a hungry, pitiful, single-mother-to-be hoping for breakfast.

And then I met the neighbors, who had a good laugh about it.

Formerly a feral stray, TLC was taken in and spayed by these same neighbors - who have never successfully gotten her to stay indoors or wear a collar. She is, however, spoiled silly, routinely vetted, and amply fed.

On the one hand, I'm relieved. I'm always sad to see homeless animals, and it's just as well I don't have to find homes for half a dozen kittens. On the other hand, I could do without the turd presents the fat little scammer leaves outside our back door every day, now that I've stopped accommodating her.*

I'm told that she's an excellent mouser who has never successfully caught a bird to anyone's knowledge, and both of these points please me. We're right at the foot of a mountain, backing up to thick woods which are no doubt teeming with mice ... and we have a shit-ton of birds hanging around, not least of all because I feed them.**

Speaking of birds, though - we may have a couple of new under-the-porch-eaves residents: two of the cutest wee tiny purple-headed finches you ever did see. At first they considered the hanging planters, but after I knocked down an unrelated, long-abandoned nest from a corner, they seem to feel that prime real estate has unexpectedly opened up and the time to buy is NOW NOW NOW.

(Aside I: Obviously I would not have taken down the old nest if it had not very, very clearly been out-of-use for ages.)

(Aside II: Maybe it was haunted, and that's why nobody else took over the lease in all this time. Some kind of bird-atrocity was committed there, and word's gotten around. Maybe other birds called the nest, "The old McFeatherstone place" and teenage birds dared one another to go sit there by themselves ... and when the moon is full, they say that the ghost of Widow McFeatherstone hangs from the petunia planter while moaning, "I KNOW WHAT IT SOUNDS LIKE WHEN DOVES CRY" and never mind now this just getting silly.)

Anyway, now they're checking out that freshly vacated corner, and I really do hope they move in.

Hm. Let's see, what else?

Well, today we went to the Chattanooga Market, which frankly blew our minds. The weekly (seasonal) market had just started up around the time we moved away, but it was pretty damn pitiful. Now it's a total circus - well stocked, with a lot of great local crafters, farmers, and other assorted people-with-stuff-to-sell. Well done, Chattanooga. Well done.

I spent a few bucks, brought home a few things, and plan to return, but here's hoping that next week it's not quite so damn hot. And you know it was damn hot if I'm complaining about it, because I'm the sort who keeps the AC set around 80 degrees if I'm left to my own devices, and if it's cooler than that indoors, I'm likely to jaunt around in a bathrobe. You can take the girl out of Florida, etc. etc. etc.

But damn. A few thousand people were crowded into a big old pavilion, and it was 95 degrees.

This having been said, the heat prompted me to sample the wares of a really great two-person soda company offering some seriously fantastic custom syrups. I had a "honey lime" beverage, and would cheerfully go buy another - or try out some of the other flavors. Now I just wish I could remember the company's name. I'll keep an eye out for them next time.

[Edit: It was these guys. Pure Sodaworks. Two thumbs up.]

Not a lot of news to report in home repair and improvement news. This is partly because we're coming up close to Done For Now - and now we're figuring out bills and services, and whatnot. The Perplexing Back Room is now a guest room, but it's big enough that yes, we use it as a game room too. We threw our old TV back there, hooked up the game system, and now we're just waiting for the seating to arrive. (On Thursday, see above.)

It actually looks pretty nice, despite the carpet. I took a picture or two for Twitter, but we've rearranged everything since I did so. The whole thing is still a work in progress.

The library/study has come along nicely, too. The husband's bookcases arrived, and are assembled, and are now holding up books - so yes, we are Officially Unpacked. [:: throws confetti ::] He still has some art to hang, but the place looks great.

If this meager tally sounds like a pitiful excuse for how little I've updated as of late, I would add another excuse to the pile: the copyedits for The Inexplicables landed a few days ago, and I've been eyeballs deep therein. I'm still not done, but I'm about 2/3 of the way through. I was going cross-eyed, so I thought I'd take a break and come over here to ramble.

Mission accomplished, I'd say.

Right. Well. Happy Memorial Day weekend, everyone. Go hug a veteran. I have to wait to hug my two nearest and dearest veterans, as my dad and stepmom won't be here to visit for another few weeks - but I will surely make up for it then.

---

* In all fairness, she quit doing this after a week. And now she'll let me pet her sometimes, which is great. She's really a beautiful, sweet little cat. Just ... hilariously fat.
** "Feeding" is one of the many services I am likely to provide for random critters.

I scan Witchvox every so often and today I found this article http://www.witchvox.com/va/dt_va.html?a=uswi&c=words&id=14905
This point of view does not match up with my own experience.  The Wiccan elders, mostly Gardnerian and a few Alexandrian, that I know say they have more than enough people seeking them out.  The problem is that many of the seekers are not willing to put in the work needed to be initiated.  The whole collapse of covens comment is very much from a solitary perspective.  I can understand a bit where he is coming from because I lived in Wisconsin recently and it was impossible to find a vouched for coven in that state.  From my perspective as an initiate I have seen a constant slow growth in the number of covens in my tradition.

The whole going public thing is just plain silly.  My HPS says the Wica are the Hidden Children of the Goddess so the whole idea that Wiccans need to be public does not jive with the priesthood as a whole.  Individuals can make the decision to be public or not, but it is not a requirement in any shape or form.  My late spouse lost a job when she came out as pagan is a small town in New Mexico.  Bias and discrimination still exists and the idea that you have to out to be pagan is forcing your personal attitudes onto others.  Wicca is about personal responsibility.

He stated he has yet to meet a "Crafter" who does not hold some level of anti-Christian sentiment is again a perspective caused by geographic isolation and self selected internet browsing. 

He also goes with the whole Wicca is evolving argument.  Some aspects of Wicca have changed but this change comes from within not from others imposing their views of what Wicca is from without.

Wiccan covens are still around, but as always you are required to seek them out and prove yourself read and proper for initiation.  Expecting to become Wiccan through the internet or without the work seems to be the norm today.  It took me over 25 years to find a vouched coven to train with and that was a proper fit. 

It eats me alive, does the heat.  Brings me out in a rash & if I am foolish enough to sit in the sun for too long, causes me to faint.  Autumn & winter are my time - I love to wear velvet & cashmere & believe boots were made not only for walking but for running, dancing, jumping & even relaxing in.  I love boots & own four pairs, not counting two pairs of ankle boots & a pair of silly girl pseudo-Edwardian heeled things.

While the heat lasts & with Misty likely to do a runner at any given moment the flinging open of windows is a risky venture.  While she sleeps elsewhere - basking - I open the study window as far as the scaffolding will allow.  The rest remain un-flung & I long for a shady balcony.  Men are likely to be here a good deal longer than they said.  This summer then, on several levels, is like to be a challenge.  I may melt.

That apart, technically I'm at the end of my virtual retreat.  I have achieved - to a greater or lesser extent - everything I planned.  The synopsis is written - I'm ignoring it for a while - it needs space & so do I.  The re-shaping is done & I sense the decision to do this was well made.

I may take a break from work & do some more reading.  More than usual.  I read every day - first thing in the morning, in bed accompanied by a pot of English Breakfast tea (Virginia Woolf's letters at present) & again in the evening before I go to sleep.  I tend to read novels at night. 

What I'd like for a while is to do some extra day-time reading and focus on poetry. I want to re-read T S Eliot & Walt Whitman & Yeats; fall in love all over again with Adrienne Rich & Sylvia Plath & Sappho.

The writer of contemporary novels can learn a lot from reading poetry.  Poets have a relationship with words which transcends prose in ways which the finest of them cause this writer to shiver in admiration. Playing with words as a poet is to fly with birds & know their songs.  The wise prose writer sits under the tree waiting for a bird to land & drop a feather in her lap.

And before I wax too lyrical for my own good, that will do.

Still yet - this:

... A child said, What is the grass? fetching it to me with full hands,
How could I answer the child? I do not know what it is any more than he...

~ Walt Whitman
From: Song of Myself

I've just sent out the first round of the new short story sub - if anyone has signed up and NOT received it, please let me know and I will send you your fiction asap.

*

In other news, it is exceptionally hot. The Levels are lovely - covered in cow parsley and charnock, and there are cuckoos. The house is in some disarray, since Pickle the elder cat (I think) managed to kick a tin of red paint off the shelf, and Lily trod in it, with all 4 paws, then ran through the kitchen. I have just found Pickle sitting in the frying pan.