Rick called me while I was putting up the BFACauctions (some really great stuff up today, bids already!) and said Dad had died in his sleep this morning, with a little help from morphine. Neither of us sounded very upset. Rick said there would be a funeral in a funeral home (not a church?) in about a week and then interment at Arlington National in a few weeks (they have a waiting list). I told him I wasn't going to the funeral, which he expected, but I might find a way to go to the interment. I haven't seen Mother's part of the headstone since I've been sick because their grave is on a steep grassy hill. Early in his marriage with Sue, they decided that Dad would be buried with Mother and Sue in a family plot that was set aside.
I mostly feel released. I'm sure it's too early to know all the feelings, but will it be that easy? He's gone and I don't have to fight against him again?
I forgot to say yesterday that I got a DHL overnight envelope early in the morning. What was in it? The phenobarb that I put in a refill for on 2/11, that the doctor made new refills for on 2/14, that I ended up waiting at the pharmacy with an empty bottle for a refill on 2/28. My guess? They found it behind something.
I microwaved and prepped and froze another 40 meals of chicken for the cats last night. I made the mistake of giving them a small amount and Spirit screamed at me most of the rest of the night.
Feeding Spirit and Shiva in the mornings has been interesting the last few days. I used to give all three of them an ounce of chicken under a packet of wet food and there was no problem. So when Giorgio died, I started giving Spirit and Shiva about .66 of an ounce and a full packet to split. Friday, after I'd put their dish down and started doing other kitchen things, Shiva barked at Spirit. Really, a bark. I couldn't figure out what happened and I said "What!?" and Shiva ran and hid.
So yesterday, on Doris' advice, I tried two dishes. They both went to separate dishes but when Spirit finished hers, she started on Shiva's. He barked again, and now I know why. So I was not very coordinated this morning and I put down a single dish again, but then I remembered and watched. Shiva even moved over to Spirit's side to try to get food, but then barked and left and hid in the castle. I let Spirit eat about her portion and then put the dish on the ledge in front of the castle and Shiva ate it. I had to give him his share of snackies up there, and he hasn't been out yet, even though I've been out of the recliner for hours (he usually takes over the recliner when I finish with skimming the paper and taking my BP).
Tomorrow, two dishes, and I'll move Spirit and hers to a bathroom and find out if Shiva will eat his. I'm washing bed linens and Spirit has been yelling at me to play with her on the bed, but I think a little yelling will do Shiva good today.
James Patrick Kelly covers the new Mundane movement in his column, and Sheila wants us to be sure we know she's open to new writers in hers.
The stories I liked this time:
1. Shoggoths in Bloom by Elizabeth Bear -- a black man in a white Northeast tries to learn about the giant jelly-like shoggoths. The Lovecraftian mystery of the jellies is good, but the way she portrays the time and people is excellent.
2. This Is How It Feels by Ian Creasey -- in this future England, people who commit crimes are punished with implants from people related to a similar crime. In this case, a man who sped too often has the implant of a father whose daughter died after being struck by a car. It comes close to paralyzing him and when he thinks he's found a way, it may not really be what he wants.
3. Sepoy Fidelities by Tom Purdom -- he had an earlier story in Asimov's in the same universe -- people inhabit other people's bodies for many reasons -- in this case, to be a decoy for assassination. Interesting tech, but great characterization.
4. Master of the Road to Nowhere by Carol Emshwiller -- we find ourselves in a tribe of outsiders -- not any kind we know -- and follow one man's attempt to leave. Emshwiller always has lyrical language, and this time it rides on the outside language, too. They've used typography to separate three types of speaking/narrating and I wish the fonts/sizes had been more different.
Ruth Berman's Snow Angels is a crisp bit of wishful poetry that I liked.