Conversations with my cat – 67

This is Chester. He’s come down from his bed in our bedroom to see what the commotion is about.

He stops at the top of the stairs down into the lounge room and sees the TV.

I might have guessed, the Maple Leafs are playing, he says.

Yep, I say, gleefully, and they’re winning.

Its not over until you know what…

Way to be a spoilsport. Stop complaining and take a seat. It’s a new day, a new coach, and a new invigoration in the team.

He sits and does that wrap around thing with his tail that indicates irritability.

Don’t get your hopes up, he says. And shouldn’t you be out in the office working on your NaNoWriMo project.

Under control I say. It’s practically writing itself.

Is that a shake of his head?

NaNoWriMo Day Fourteen

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Distractions, distractions…

You guessed it, the Maple Leaf’s are playing the New York Islanders, and it’s not going to be pretty.

It’s made worse by the fact Chester has decided to barrack for the Islanders.

Turncoat!

But, it gives me an idea to dig myself out of a plot hole, and there’s more scribbling before I go to the master plan, now on the computer, and can easily move things around.

I was writing yesterday, and somehow my mind took the story off on a tangent.

Sleeping on it, it led to another part, and then will neatly fold back into the masterplan later on.  It’s a twist no one will see coming, simply because I didn’t, at first.

As of last night, my word count is sitting on 25,044 words, which is good and gives me a buffer in case I get a blockage of some sort.

Today’s word count looks like it will be about 1,400 words.

The Maple Leafs are 2 to 0 down, and I think I’ll change the channel to a repeat of Murdoch Mysteries.

All I have to do is get the channel changer out from under the cat.

Maybe not.

 

I was never very good at doing two things at once

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A NaNoWriMo journal supplemental

The Maple Leafs are playing and so I thought I would juggle watching them play and work on my NaNoWriMo project at the same time.

It seemed like a good way to get in 3 hours of work, and a little entertainment on the side.

But…

First period down and the Maple Leafs are 2 goals down.

What I first thought was going to be easy, is now becoming mission impossible.

After the second Philadelphia goal, Chester, my stalwart anti-everything cat comes down to see what the commotion is.  By that I mean, almost yelling at the TV screen.

A lot of good that’s going to do when they’re 12,000 miles away on the other side of the world.

And by the look on Chester’s face, I think he thinks it’s a waste of time too.  Or maybe that’s his usual, I don’t give a $%^^%$ expression he has most of the time.

We have the Philadelphia feed so we’re getting the joy from the intermission analysts at their teams lead, but it does take me back to Philadephia when we were there last year when they cut to shots of the city.

And, of course, instead of having my eyes on the story, I’m now thinking of a subplot, yes, you guessed it, in Philadelphia, which is not very far from New York where the main action takes place.

Then…

We score.  It’s now a more respectable scoreline, but Anderson has his work cut out for him, and I’m thinking of turning off the sound because I don’t want to hear any more praise for their young stars.

The story proceeds, taking out the outline pages and looking to see where it can fit in.  Yes, I see a gap where I can fit in an interlude, and scribble a few notes.

End of the second period.  Still 2 goals to 1 down.

Start of the third period.  Chester decided to jump up on the table and, seeing the pencil sitting there, starts to push it around with his paw,  I snatch it away, and he gives me a chastising swipe.

Blast him, while my attention was diverted we score again, and I missed it.,  Thank heavens for the replay.  Over and over.

I finish the notes for the interlude, and the game ends a draw.  We now move to overtime.

I get the first few lines of the chapter I began working on at the start of the game, and just as the words are flowing, overtime ends with no score and we go into a shootout.  And before you know it, the game’s over and we’ve lost.

I swear Chester is smirking so I pick him up and put him on the floor with a very stern admonishment.

No, I’m not taking the loss badly, but there’s a few bad guys about to die horribly.

It’s been a good day for the Maple Leafs

It’s an unusual topic, but I was looking for a distraction from the rigours of NaNoWriMo, and this fitted the bill perfectly.

For someone who doesn’t really care about sport in general, and rarely able to find the time in between all the writing to actually sit down for several hours, and, in some cases, all day, today seems to have been an exception.

I got through my NaNoWriMo exercise earlier this morning, and since the Maple Leafs were playing today, I thought I’d fire up the computer and take a look at how they’re going.

By the time I’d found the streaming site the game had started but it was nil-all so it was much the same as not missing the start.

I thought it odd that an Australian would be interested in ice hockey, but it seems I’m not alone.  Nor that others barracked for Toronto, Ottowa, and Edmonton, and all seem to dislike with varying degrees of intensity, the New York Islanders.

Maybe because they’ve won ten straight games.

So, it takes a long time, almost halfway through the third period for the first goal, and its the opposition the Vegas Golden Knights.

Damn them.

And now I have this sinking feeling the game might slip away.  Their form can hardly be labelled stellar, and I thought I heard the home crowd booing them, but that must have been my imagination.

No, my dismay is misplaced, there it is, Mathews comes to life and evens up the scoreline.

And for the rest of the period, Anderson keeps the Golden Knights out.  As only Anderson can when he’s on his game.

Once again we’re in overtime, with more heart in mouth stuff, and, of course, the man we’ve been missing, Tavares finally pulls the rabbit out of the hat.

It’s a pity we couldn’t be there in person to see it.

Conversations with my cat – 62

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This is Chester.  You wouldn’t think he would have an interest in horse racing.

But…

He does.  Today, in Australia, is the day the Melbourne Cup is run.  It seems to be the biggest thing on the racing calendar, not only in Melbourne but the rest of the country.

Chester, as usual, doesn’t seem to think it’s all that great.

He wants to know why the cat races are not televised.

What cat races?

It seems he had been watching Fox Sports, and there’s dog races, greyhounds he says.

I’ve heard of them, even went once or twice when we lived in Melbourne, where there was a dog race track.

\Well, he says, if they can race dogs, they can race cats.

I appear a little sceptical.  What are they going to chase?

Mice.

Isn’t that a little cruel, I mean, you’ll get the animal rights people up in arms.

Over mice, he snorts.  No one likes mice.  But if it’s a problem, why not rats?  Everyone hates rats.

So, I say, you’re up for it then.  We could make a killing.

A shake of the head, and nose in the air.  “Of course not, I’m a pedigree cat.  That’s for the alley cats.  I’ll be watching from the Royal box thankyou.”

Sport, sport and more sport

I’m supposed to be writing my quota of words for NaNoWriMo, but there’s a problem.

After a late night, the Maple Leafs are playing the Philadelphia Flyers at 9 am our time, Brisbane, so I’ve got to get up and put it on.

And, yes, the usual problem crops up, the internet is running slowly and connecting to the live feed is traumatic. It starts working, just in time for the national anthems, and once again we are able to hear that of our adopted country, Canada.

Then we get to see the first few minutes before the internet dies. What can you expect when the government takes on a huge infrastructure project. Delays, cost overruns, and compromises as it looks to rein in costs. Result, an internet that’s utter crap.

We get to see parts of the first period, none of the second. I call my daughter who’s as invested in ice hockey as we are, and tells us she’s using a different host. We change, and it all comes good, so much so we get to see the last period, the overtime, and then an exemplary bout of goal keeping from Frederick Anderson, to win us the game in the shootout.

By that time it’s after noon.

Time for writing? No. I have to make some meatball pasta with spaghetti for tonight.

That consumes the next couple of hours.

Now the cricket is on, Australia playing Pakistan in a T20, and as we don’t usually have time to watch it, today we do.

Maybe later.

Reality television, just why am I watching this stuff?

If I was ever in doubt that there was one medium that could produce a thousand storylines, it’s watching reality television.

It is truly horrible, and is somewhat akin to a ‘train wreck’.  Why, then, do we watch it?  And why on earth am I watching it?

Currently, where I live, there was a show called ‘Married at first sight’.  Going by the title, you can guess the premise, two people are matched by ‘science’ and meet for the first time at the altar.  They then live together, with and without external influences for a number of weeks before deciding if they want to continue after the show ends.

As it happens, the experts here have yet to get it right in a number of series (or, I think they may have succeeded on one occasion).

Whilst the fact it looks to be scripted, a fact the Producers vehemently deny, it is impossible to wrap your head around some of the antics, and especially the words used by the ‘participants’.  Decent people do not ‘act’ in the manner of some of these people, and more often than not, several of the ‘participants’ are labeled by the public as ‘actors’.

I guess, in most reality television, ratings can only be achieved by controversy.

Certainly, the Twitterverse goes off after an episode, championing the good and railing into the bad.  Each will, good or bad, get their fifteen minutes of fame.

And, is it not surprising we have learned one of the participants is going to write a ‘no holds barred’ account of her time in the show, but given the fact all participants have to sign an NDA,  I don’t whether it will ever hit the bookstores.

I was considering doing the same, from an armchair perspective.   But, sadly, when I thought about it, it would never sell.  No one could believe or even identify with the antics these people get up to.

It’s the reason why Big Brother disappeared.

But, never fear, there’s a new disaster, I mean series, on TV called Love Island.  I’ve seen the promos.  Perhaps I should leave it at that!