Adulting and Pruning

Yesterday was a flurry of adulting. Correspondence needed tackling, decisions had to be made, pruning to be done–and the firepit required tending, since limbs, branches, and twigs off the dead cedar which came down during 50+mph winds (fortunately not taking my office with it, falling just perfectly to avoid clipping the house or killing the back gate) had to be dealt with in some manner. The entire yard smelled of cedar incense and damp earth. It was wonderful, and I made quite a few decisions while staring into the flames. I also got a great deal of plot-noodling done while moving around, breaking up wooden bits, and watching the fire.

The kids were thrilled; they did most of the processing, snapping and sawing cedar into smaller chunks. Boxnoggin was extremely unsure about the whole thing, but enjoyed being part of the ruckus while outside. He also seemed more than happy to go back inside after a few token circuits of the yard and sniffing at the wind, though he usually wants to be where everyone else is with a vengeance. I think the smoke made him uneasy, poor fellow.

Bailey was a partner; Boxnoggin is definitely a subordinate. He’s most comfortable when I tell him exactly what to do. We were worried he might need a companion, since Bailey bossed him unremittingly and he thrived under that direction–we joked that she told him when to breathe, and how, and he liked the reminders. But he seems to have adjusted to only-dog status quite happily. The only trouble is that I prefer to ask instead of command, and he wants to be told in no uncertain terms. I suppose we’re both learning, even after four-plus years.

Things seem to be settling in certain areas. I left CounterSocial since I wasn’t quite comfortable there, and due to health concerns I’m also taking a hiatus from livestreaming. Don’t worry on the latter account, though–old streams will stay up on my YouTube channel, and if my health improves I might come back to some version of Reading with Lili. And of course I’m playing with the idea of videos for patrons. The trouble with streaming is that it takes energy away from writing, and that can’t happen. Both my sanity and the mortgage depend on the bulk of my energy going towards digging up stories.

In related news, I’ll be mostly on Mastodon and Tumblr going forward. I simply can’t handle the toxicity on Twitter anymore. It’s kind of awful–I was just beginning, after over a decade, to get some real traction on birdsite. But I can’t lend myself to its current incarnation, so…here we are. I am still squatting on my username so an impersonator can’t pick it up thirty days after deletion, but it’s become just a signpost pointing to other places.

So today is all about the subscription drop, writing a conversation in a cold dark garret for Hell’s Acre, and moving ahead on The Fall of Waterstone. If I can get to the Viking elementalist saving the princess’s intended from drowning in the latter I’ll call today well spent. There’s no shortage of work despite the pruning, which is the way I like it.

I always forget how free and oxygen-rich the world feels after a good purge, whether it be of household clutter, yard detritus, or subscriptions that don’t quite serve a need. I’m no Marie Kondo, but I do enjoy seeing a good mess turn into open space. A certain amount of crowding is necessary–I keep my desk slightly messy, since creativity (for me) seems to do best in that condition–but one must periodically practice a bit of ruthlessness in clearing the undergrowth.

Anyway, the only problem with yesterday was that we didn’t feel like using the s’mores supplies we had in stock, but if the weather’s clear on Saturday we might do another session to clear the last of the wrack. And that will call for celebratory marshmallow flambé.

It’s a new year, after all. The decks are being cleared, and there’s space to breathe. But before all that, breakfast has to be approached, and Boxnoggin wants his walkies. That’s one thing which will never change, world without end, amen.

See you around.