Also parts of South Portland.
So after sucking the last possible ounce of warmth from the slowly cooling electric blanket, we decided to head into town and find warm things there. And missed the ferry by about a minute and a half. I warned justbeast he could not leap onto this boat from the dock.
Instead we ducked into our local pub, which is attached to the local inn, and joined the Outage Party already in progress. Booze there was aplenty, half the island had been drinking since the power had gone out at 11 am. There were candles all around, as the sun goes down around 4:30 these days. A small generator had been used to fire up a little grill for food and to power a projection screen for movies. We hung out, got tipsy, were the recipients of island gossip and witnesses to omgislanddrama! (This place is like a low-tech LJ) and cheered when the lights came back on about 8 hours later.
I would share island drama, but that would be bad manners. But yay for island huddling refugee fun. After Pennsylvania I'm not so easily impressed, though.
Sunday was therefore highly productive, since everything we couldn't do on Saturday got crammed into that hapless day instead. Much work on the Sekrit Projekt of Doom, orders for Palimpsest mailers and temporary tattoos were placed, invitation to Vericon accepted, and I got to give my Photoshop muscles a workout, learned a lot of new tricks. I take absurd pride in my ever-evolving graphic design abilities, since I taught myself Photoshop in Japan without a manual and have little non-digital visual art skill to speak of. Yet I have a pretty fabulous eye for design. Must be all those advertising execs in the bloodline.
Thank you to matociquala and sibylla , who swooped in to help when I was at my wit's end!
Today I am finally getting some damn novel time in, then it's short fiction for the rest of the week. I also have to write a column for Laurell K. Hamilton's newsletter...any ideas on what I could write about that would appeal to her fans and still plug my book? Tall order, man.
Tomorrow I go into town to pick up the Thanksgiving goose!
Lastly, first on the Injured in Action list is my German Shepherd Grimm, who is an idiot. She CANNOT leave the cat alone. She MUST herd the cat. I DON'T UNDERSTAND HER. The cat NEEDS to be herded, MOM! MOM! SHE'S IN THE LIVING ROOM WHEN I ALREADY HERDED HER INTO THE KITCHEN, MOM!
Whereupon the cat ventures her opinion on the matter, and Grimm takes a couple of claws to the nose. Lather, rinse, repeat.
Pet manuals for my little goober's breed actually say: on no account leave a GSD alone with a cat. This is for your GSD's safety, not the cat's.
But that's not enough. Grimm has worried the cuts with her own paws to the point that they are really pretty unsightly. Mama Cat applies hydrogen peroxide, makes fun of her 110-pound German being smacked around by a 10-pound cat, and tries to monitor her pawings. It's looking better today. But she's still trying to herd the cat.
OH MY GOD SHE'S IN THE DINING ROOM! MOOOOOOM!