Tails up, Storm Troopers! I’m Storm, you’re awesome, and this is Typing With Wet Paws It’s June, which means summer, which is not Mama Anna’s favorite season, but she is glad it’s here because the next season is fall, which is her favorite. This is also the month where we observe the six-month half-anniversary of Papa going to Rainbow Bridge. I miss him, and I am doing my best to make sure Mama Anna is okay.
Writing is going pretty well over here, which makes me feel confident we are on the right track. Part of that, apparently, is me doing my weekly blogging duty. Since Mama Anna lets me have free rein of her office chair, next to Koolio, when she is not using it, I figure I can manage that. She is also my treat dealer. I know where the treats are, but they are high and in a drawer and I don’t have thumbs. I do have dewclaws, but they are not the same thing.
Picture A (ball mode)picture b (bed and breakfast)
Anyway, the point of this post is that Mama Anna wants to update the graphics on this site, and one of those things is my signature photo. Big Sister Skye had a picture of her walking away, with her big floofy tail. I like sleepy pictures (I am great at napping.) Also, I am a sleek girl, so if I have a picture of me walking away, you would see the :ahem: Eye of the Storm as we call it. Which picture do you like? For those wondering, I did wake up and eat the treats that were right next to my head a few seconds after she took the picture.
In computer news, Mama Anna’s laptop caught a virus (she’ll be taking care of that ASAP) and her desktop is chugging along. The word she uses for it is “elderly.” This means that she is going to have to figure out how to turn Papa’s newest laptop into her newest laptop. That would have been easier if he had written down his password anywhere. Looks like Mama Anna is going to be on a first name basis with the computer guys at the computer store.
That’s about it for this week. What’s going on in your world?
Right now, the thing holding my brain together is a sketchbook. Technically more of an art journal, which I already have, but this one is different. This one is dedicated to filling as quickly as possible. I grabbed the closest notebook to me, and the closest art supplies, and went all the way through, making frames around every single page in the darned thing. No thinking at all, just frames with liquid watercolor daubers that are mostly on their way to the great supply closet in the sky. Forget concerns about paper weight. Forget asking if it would be good enough. Nope, watch sketchbook videos on YouTube and continue until every single page had a frame.
This picture is actually from a different sketchbook, but it’s mine, and the idea is the same. This was me trying out a soft pencil and blending stump. The “help” text is mostly there because it fit in the box. Still, it’s pertinent. I don’t have pictures of the sketchbook I’m talking about at present, and probably won’t until it’s all full. I am thinking maybe a flip through at a later date.
Improv session ended a couple of weeks ago, and the next one will be, I think, in August. Right in time for Real Life Romance Hero’s birthday, which I will appreciate. Next month will see the six month mark of his passing, and it’s taken me that long to figure out what I want to do for a very private memorial. It will involve some of his favorite foods and fond memories. Nothing formal, but it feels right.
Some of the lessons from improv are finding good use in my current sketchbook practice. Housemate shows me the cool tag from her new clothing item. Do I want that for my sketchbook? Yes, please. Straw wrapper from a local diner that has “biodegradable” printed on it? On the page. Random papery bits I find while I excavate the doom piles? That’ll do. No overthinking, very little thinking, and actually very few words. That both surprises me and doesn’t.
Time moves differently in grief. An hour can take forever and then three weeks can whoosh past so quickly that they knock a person off balance. I don’t make the rules. The practice of throwing images and colors and shapes on the page does things for the story part of my brain. I’m not sure how that works. I’m not sure I need to know. What I do know is that this new sketchbook lives in a hard shell case that travels with me, at home and outside. Spare minutes? Sketchbook. Waiting in line? Sketchbook. No idea what to draw? No problem. Not great at drawing? Shapes. Lines. Squiggles. Colors. Textures. Slap it down and move on along.
Do I know how this is going to carry over into writing? I do not. Am I confident that it is getting me where I need to be? Yes, I am. As with improv, blurt. Say the next obvious thing. My challenge for this sketchbook is that I have to use things I already own, preferably only things within the case, plus found objects, such as the straw wrappers and clothing tags.
That’s where I am going to leave it, because it’s late, and I have commitments in the morning. This, too, is blurting. Plopping whatever is in my head into the blog, slap a picture down and hit “post.”
Tails up, Storm Troopers! I’m Storm, you’re awesome, and this is Typing With Wet Paws. Today makes five months since Papa went to Rainbow Bridge. We miss him, and we are finding our way. Some days are easier than others. I think this one is going to be okay.
Colonie diner, Colonie, NY
That cake is from an outing earlier this week, one on which Mama Anna did not take me. Still salty about that. I love car rides. Something about cats not being allowed in diners, which I think is stupid. They probably have a decent seafood section on the menu, and I bet I could fit in a high chair. Anyway, sometimes there is cake. I don’t know if there will be cake today, but Mama Anna and Aunt Linda will be going to the groomer, so maybe.
Anyway, about the piles of doom. I am not allowed to post pictures of those. Mama Anna is not fond of them, and is working on sorting them all out into some semblance of order. She says physical clutter is mental clutter, and I don’t think she is too far off on that one. Suffice it to say that I get to investigate everything, and inspect anything going in or out of the house.
on top of it all
Here is a picture of me in my supervisory position, said position being on Mama Anna’s shoulder. Here, we are watching something on the small glowy box together. I love our girls’ movie nights. Mama Anna is learning to pace herself on this sort of thing. Right now, we are watching the new Night Court. After that, it will be Lord of the Flies. Our viewing habits have range. As far as I can tell, neither have any calico cats in them. In the latter, that is probably a good thing. I will count that as a win.
Anyway, back to the piles of doom. Those are what happen when life gets…lifey. Mama Anna figures that this is the week we bring Koolio out of retirement. That gives Mama Anna some extra comfort while going through said piles. Even more if she can listen to an audiobook while she does so. She likes that there are other things going on besides de-piling. Somehow, that makes it more palatable. Also, if I help by supervising from a distance, odds are high I will get treats. I send her love beams while she does her stuff, and remind her that this is all a reasonable reaction to a very unusual situation. Either she feels bad about the piles being there, or she feels good about having vanquished another one. All the while, she has story stuff going on in her head. Especially when she takes care of her notebooks and pens and stuff like that. I also take care of her pens, though that is usually by batting them around the floor, usually in the middle of the night. Sometimes I mix it up with parkour.
journal spread before the pen
Here is a spread from one of Mama Anna’s journals. The bathtub picture is a postcard from a local art store and then the other pictures are from the stationery box that comes every month. This month’s theme is birds and foliage. I strongly approve of that theme. Maybe they finally listened to cats’ input.
Today marks four months since Real Life Romance Hero passed. This is not going to be one of those upbeat posts, so I totally understand if you would prefer to catch the next one. This is an Anna post, not a Storm post, because she is a kitty, and I am feeling especially human today.
Grief is strange. One day, you’re dealing, then riding the ceiling fan of anxiety because tax times and you were not the one who did that, but then again, you were not the one who did a lot of things. The weight of partnership feels extra heavy when it isn’t there.
I am fine. Having a lot of thoughts, and this is where they want to go, so here they are. Today, Housemate and I got laundry down to the car before we hit a mutual NOPE and went to lunch and errands instead. Laundry can be tomorrow. Adulting things are depending on hearing stuff from professionals, but our apartment is nice and safe.
Throughout the day, I was keenly aware of what time it was, and what was happening at that time on that day, the one when RLRH died. There was a quiet voice in my head, in one of those compassionately impartial tv presenter tones: this is the time we went into the conference room. This is when the Catholic priest came for RLRH’s sacrament. This is when the non-denominational chaplain came to be there for me. This is when I told the team I wanted to touch him as long as possible, look at him as long as possible, because this would be the last time. Somebody kept pointing out the bereavement tray, which was bags of snacks, and all I could think of was “my husband is dying; why would I want potato chips?” I did hold his hand until the end, and I remember the gap between the actual death and the official time of death. We had the opportunity to stay in the room for up to four hours, but I wanted to be with him, not it (the body.)
When we walked home that night, it was dark. Today, at that time, it was light, and temperature was in the seventies, if not eighties. There was sweat. The contrast is/was big. RLRH loved spring. I am more of a fall/winter girl. Housemate and I have been discussing when to turn on Koolio, our air conditioner, now adorned with a handlebar moustache sticker. I had joked about putting googly eyes on Koolio, to which RLRH was opposed. I told him he’d said nothing about handlebar moustaches. I could put the googly eyes on now, but I don’t think I will.
So, where does this go from here? I don’t know. I wanted to write about this, and so, I did. Evening is here now, so time for a scented bath, a good book, and then kitty belly rubs. New day tomorrow, bringing laundry and writing. The day after that, improv class. Also getting back to social media. I am now on Tik Tok as anna_log_writes, and would love to connect.
The mouse for the laptop where I am writing this is somewhere in the primary bedroom, but I don’t know where. If you have ever had a cat, you understand. I have reached the stage of adjusting my environment to this new shape of our family, which partly involves me turning Real Life Romance Hero’s old desk into my new analog (and Anna Log) and laptop desk, and using the accompanying bookcase into a home for journaling supplies. With the new setup, I should be able to film journal and planning content, which is both exciting and intimidating. As with anything else, I plan to make a bunch of mistakes until I figure out what I am doing in that regard.
pocket size catchall journal
The biggest surprise for me is that taking over RLRH’s old desk is that it helps me feel more connected to him. I was not expecting that but not complaining. I’ll take it. Since this is a curbside treasure (city dwellers, if you know, you know) I need to re-surface the surface. I would prefer not to know how it got to its present state. We do have a better desk in storage, but this is the one that is here now, and I am very much interested in using what is here now.
2026 is doing pretty well so far, life-wise, apart from the grief thing. I am working on a blog for the MelvaAndAnna site, about Melva’s brand new solo release, Angel Whisperer..
I remember first experiencing this book as Melva was writing it, in pages submitted for our long-standing critique group. I would describe this as cozy romantic suspense, which Melva does extremely well, this time with a paranormal accent. I will gobble this published version as soon as I am done with my current Kindle read.
For those keeping track, Melva released her nonfiction book, Thanks For the Memories in the end of last year, and together, we put out Drama King, our second Love By The Book title, last month. Last night, I turned in my final-final edits on the Chasing Prince Charming reissue. All we need now is cover art, formatting and uploading. Queen of Hearts is already in the second round of edits, and later this spring, or early in summer, I will be releasing A Heart Most Errant. A Heart Most Ardent is in pre-writing, which also includes poking at A Heart Most Wicked with a stick, as the two stories have slight overlap. Writing a historical series is new to me, writing a series by myself is new to me, and writing medieval is new to me, so there is a learning curve. I have to pay attention in what I am doing with these books, since they are going to affect the fourth book, A Heart Most Wild. I know very little about A Heart Most Wild, and I am okay with that.
There is also the matter of computers. RLRH had more than one laptop. I have a desktop that I named Brick, that peaked with Windows 10, and my beloved rose gold laptop with the expanded battery, so Housemate and I are getting well acquainted with the computer fixer people. Ideally, there will be one desktop and one laptop, all done. The others, I will sell, donate, or recycle. Not top of the line machines, so we are not talking huge profits here, but I am one person, and one good machine is better than a bunch that semi-function, no matter how much I can relate to them.
As of today, I am on season eight of my new TV love, Waterloo Road. There are still about nine more seasons I haven’t seen yet, the show is contracted for two more, and news just dropped that one of my favorite students turned staff members is coming back, this time as a parent, with her mini-her daughter now a student and teenager. She was the first student to come back as staff, but not the first to come back as a parent. I have already seen beloved regulars leave, their characters off to other adventures such as young marriage, university, military service, moving to another country, and even incarceration. I know other favorites, students and teachers alike, will be leaving, some to the great staff meeting in the sky, so to speak, and I know there are a few couples I would have made canon were it in my power. I have added a series tracker to my reading journal, so I can see where I am iny viewing journey. I have also adopted their favorite insult, “you colossal muppet.” Lowercase “m.”
I am also warily eyeing the list of lovely, delightful friends I need to get back to, who sent wonderful messages after RLRH’s passing. We will hit the three-month mark on the day before St. Patrick’s Day. Right now, that feels like just a fact. Closer to the day, that may change. Being more social and active on social media feels more do-able somehow. Many thanks for all who have been patient I will post later about the planning methods that are helping me get things back in order, but this feels good for now.
Tails up, Storm Troopers! I’m Storm, you’re awesome, and this is Typing With Wet Paws. We have had a big snowstorm here in New York (we live in a city, but not that city) which made it an especially good weekend to stay home. Normally, this would be Mama Anna’s time to blog, but she says I owe her, so I am taking this spot for now. That’s fine. I am at no loss for words.
picture by my Papa ❤
Mama Anna has been taking care of business around here. Part of that was getting Papa’s phone ready for its next adventure. No surprise, most of the pictures were of me. Mama Anna also found a digital camera with a full memory card. She hasn’t looked at those images yet, but that’s probably mostly me as well. Right now, her plan is to get a new card and use the camera herself, probably also mostly for pictures of me. I do not blame her. They both have excellent taste in subjects for photography.
Watching Mama Anna work on stuff around here is super fun. The other day, she found some ribbons she had given Papa to choose from (for wearing something around his neck; he didn’t like chains) and that meant we got to PLAY. I smacked that ribbon. I chewed that ribbon. I showed it what-for and showed it what’s what. We are going to do that again.
Aunt Linda is doing some research on the kinds of people food she and Mama Anna might like to buy and make. They will also be donating the wrong kinds of cat food they got by mistake. One of the nice things about living in a city is that there are humans who make it possible for us to get things we don’t need to humans and kitties who do. I want to go on record that the wrong cat foods taste fine, but I am not a pate girl. Also, turkey is no bueno for my tumtum. Enough said on that.
photo also by Papa ❤
Back when the humans lived in their first NY apartment, when Skye was the kitty, their downstairs neighbors were a troupe of steppers. That doesn’t just mean humans who walk. It means the humans perform rhythmic movements and sounds. It also means they had to practice a lot because they did that for monies and to compete with other humans who perform the same thing. By the time they moved, my human’s (okay, Skye’s then; I wasn’t born yet) had learned some of their routines.
I mention this because with Mama Anna working on her first standup set in a very long time, she is practicing it. At some point, I will probably be able to learn the whole thing. This is not a complaint, only an observation. We cats are great at recognizing patterns. I am keeping a very close eye on all the things she is doing, be it environment stuff, writing, journals, or anything else. I am also strongly interested in the food thing. Cat food has to be in there somewhere.
My first Valentine’s Day as a widow sucked exactly as much as I expected it to, but I survived it. Mostly, that was by watching Waterloo Road in bed with Storm, on YouTube. There are, to the best of my knowledge, seventeen seasons of the show, with two more contracted. Think Degrassi, but in the North of England. Storm actually has started coming to get me and leading me to the laptop, where we watch, and looking first at the screen and then at me. This is her “my show is on” signal. I am to assume the cuddle position and best not think of getting up before a full episode has passed.
on Monday, I did go out
My plan for the day was to not leave the house, get food delivered, and be a puddle of energy, to use one of Real-Life Romance Hero’s favorite phrases. In that, the day was successful. Not going to lie, it was hard. When the whole day is about romantic love, and mine has passed, yeah, that’s not a fun time. Getting under the fuzzy blanket on top of the weighted blanket, curling up with a soft cat, and watching a British comprehensive school’s students and staff go through a wide assortment of life experiences. Safe to say I have found my newest comfort show.
Even with the real-life complications, I am still a romance author, with a new book out, at that. Which reminds me, if you’ve read and liked Drama King, please consider leaving a review on Amazon or Goodreads. Speaking of Amazon, we are as of this writing #284 in fake dating (under “books”) — we have cracked the top 300. If that is not actually a thing, let me have this. I have had a sneak peek at Melva’s upcoming solo title cover (it is gorgeous) and we are working on the Chasing Prince Charming reissue, to have it out this spring. After that, A Heart Most Errant, which will be the first of my first ever planned historical series. Reviews can be as short as “I liked it,” or “good story” or “Clawed is an awesome cat and should be in every book.”
Writing and publishing is actually a super good thing to keep me occupied. I met with a writer friend in person on Monday, and made plans for virtual and in-person writing sprints in the near future. They invited me to an in-person group that does timed writings, and we discussed going together to a nearby drop-in improv night. I am very much looking forward to the next round of improv class.
Both friend and I had challenging years just past, and both want to socialize more and make writing a priority. This week, I am also trying something else I haven’t done in a long time. I did a little (very little) standup in college, and I loved it. Therapy Gal thinks I can definitely get a five-minute set from recent experiences, so I am now working on my first set in decades. Since I live in a city, there are open mic nights, so here is a new adventure.
Yesterday was the two-month mark exactly. I am glad I spent it chatting with friends, doing writer things. Storm is aware she owes blogs. She has been pretty busy sitting on me, fulfilling her purr-pose as a fuzzy tricolored nurse.
That’s about it for now. Tonight is trash night, and, since we are decluttering, we have a bunch. After I put the trash out, I will grab some leftovers and return, with Storm, to Waterloo Road, under the weighted blanket.
Picture it, Albany, New York, 2026. The winter was b*tt cold. A romance writer, faced with her entire life turning upside down, was desperate for something to hold her focus and bring some order to aforementioned life. She watched YouTube. A lot of YouTube. Her concentration was crap. Stationery, though, that she could do. If only there were a way she could pick up her whole journaling setup and move it to whatever room she wanted to be in at a given time.
behold the bed(side) basket
Enter the basket. Technically a bin, but basket sounds better. It’s pink, obviously. Inside, she put her morning and evening journals, a Union Jack themed pen cup to hold selected pens and highlighters, a box of washi, and a box of crayons for funsies. English Ruler ruler (now out of date, as it does not include Charles III) zebra print scissors (to go with the Zebra brand pens) and a red cowboy boots phone stand (Pulling. Them. Off.) The glasses case lives in the basket because the basket lives next to the bed, and the space is for a water bottle or other beverage of choice. Also an ephemera pouch. It’s behind the journals. It’s clear but it’s there.
That basket is my basket and that romance writer is me. The journals are only my first thing in the morning and last thing at night journals. They are not planners or where I do any fiction writing work. Well, mostly. I can put whatever I want in those pages, and sometimes that is fiction.
Gold sun cover is an A5 slim, from Artfan, while silver moon cover is an A5 by Archer and Olive.
I didn’t plan for the sun and moon thing, but since I am focusing on using what I already have whenever possible, there they were, and it made sense. Pens in the pen cup are all from Zebra. All pens but two, which are Blen, are Sarasa Clip. Highlighters are all Mildliner, some chisel tip, some brush, some dot. There’s also the kind that is meant to mark with two colors at once, but they’re tricky. I like it when all pens in one kit are by the same maker. It feels more harmonious.
Do I have random bunches of stuff that do not go together, that I love and use? Yes. Do I also count assembling a kit of this sort as a pleasure all on its own? Also yes. I am not a person who normally goes for trends for trend’s sake, but Sophia Petrillo was way ahead of her time on the house purse thing.
Storm is doing her smack me on the elbow thing and then very pointedly leading me to the bed, so I will wrap this here. I am planning a video walkthrough of this kit and others, but for now, I must obey my feline overlord. Cat people, you understand.
I can describe the weather around here can be summed up in one word: snow.
view from our landing window
This means it is perfect weather for tucking in and fully committing to the great indoors. Normally, reading would be great, but depression and grief say otherwise. Thankfully, journaling is an option. I have been watching a bunch of You Tube videos on analog bags (or, in this case, Anna Log bags, and yes, the videos will resume soon) and how to use items I already have, I am very interested in using what I have before I acquire much more.
The video that lit a fire under me on this latest endeavor was this one from Abbey in Archive on You Tube. For bonus points, she has a page about Empire State Plaza in Albany, which is a familiar sight. She includes pastel pages, which is definitely relative to my interests. Right now, I am loving Morandi colors, a dusty pastel palette and making kits for individual projects, so I can pick up one thing and take it wherever. Bedroom, kitchen, cafe, library, etc.
I am writing longhand, a lot, in different journals, on a few different projects. Melva and I will have good news on Drama King very, very soon. We have seen and approved the final cover, and the only thing left is uploading. Then we are officially indie published. A Heart Most Errant will not be far behind. This is exciting and a little scary.
Anyway, back to the particular journal at hand. I am not sticking strictly to commonplacing, as in a place to collect information, but still close enough. I have one section started to create wiki-like pages for the leads in my current projects, for easy reference, so people don’t change eye color, age, or place of origin willy nilly, as has been known to happen. This can be especially useful when collaborating.
this looks much brighter than it really is
The actual pagers are not this cyan in real life; more of a soft, powdery periwinkle. Ditto with the highlighter used for the bands at top and bottom. Stickers are from a kit by Cora Crea Crafts.
That’s about it for this week. Hoping to have good news about Drama King very, very soon.
February is going to be different this year. February means Valentine’s Day, which, as a romance author and reader, is kind of a big thing. This year, though, I am also a recent widow, (still getting used to saying that) so that gives the day a whole new light. I figure I will take it as it comes, let family and friends love on me, and there is always the option of hot tea, weighted blanket, journal and comfort read.
still life from top of dresser
This thought came to me while I was at the library, donating the first round of books from RLRH’s shelves. It came as one of those weird grief things: starts out mildly surreal, but I can do this, then ‘oh crap, I’m actually doing this.’ After that, there is the whole ‘what am I doing, this is their stuff’ thing and then ‘this is what they wanted’ thing and ‘somebody is going to be super happy to find these books at the library sale,’ even if that is a reseller.
Housemate and I also went through a couple of the boxes RLRH had in storage, things he had not asked after in years, but also things he wanted to keep. Again, whole range of emotions there, and once we got home, I super crashed, with Storm paying very close attention. Housemate suggested some form of visual confirmation that we had sorted through the boxes we did. Excellent suggestion. I am all out of neon labels, but that is easily fixed. Any excuse to visit a stationery related store is a good one.
Hardware stores are more neutral. Tomorrow is, after laundry, hardware store time, for mattress bags and a decent lighting device for the storage unit. That, as well, is moving forward. Writing-wise, indie publishing journey progresses, waiting only on one thing each for Drama King and A Heart Most Errant to make their final preparations for going live. I am taking part in a program called “The Write Stuff,” through Romance Writers of America. That means a small critique group within my genre (historical this time) and monthly meetings online to learn craft and commune with others of my kind. On that front, we tap into the computer side of things.
RLRH left electronics, which need various degrees of attention. I also have a couple of devices that need attention, whether it’s ‘this thing is toast’ or ‘easily fixable’ or some other diagnosis. Wipe, factory reset, sell, donate, recycle. Now, more than ever, keeping track of what I do on what day becomes important, not only because the regular course of things has been completely obliterated, but because I am charting brand new territory. Some of that is returning to places I haven’t been in a while. Taking pictures, for one. The earrings are a Halloween purchase, but are among my favorites for everyday wear. The small perfume bottle is a gift from a friend, and the large one is RLRH’s favorite cologne, which I have appropriated. Vanilla, tobacco, and tonka bean confirm that scent does indeed hold memories.
That is a good enough place to wrap for today. I am a writer. Writers write. Thanks for reading.
Typing With Wet Nails 