So much for my productive day off. I blew it entirely on being stressed out on Internet drama.
Fuck this. Maybe I do need to turn off comments, much as I would regret it.
New words: 189
Deadline: May 1
Mammalian assistance: There is a cat on my knee as I type this, holding on to the cloth of my jeans with her clawtips and purring. She must be cold. Or want something.
Jury-rigging: Dream sequences. Hate 'em, Jake.
Sustenance: steamed buns with red bean paste, courtesy of the frozen foods section of the local Asian grocery
Exercise: Climbing last night, five routes. I am still thrashing on my project wall, which is a 5.7 that really doesn't seem like it should be that hard. At least I got past the point where I was stuck until last week, and did it with relative grace and professionalism. And then I got to the traverse.
A Brief Dramatization:
The Jeff (on belay): "What seems to be the problem up there?"
Our Heroine: "(&^%(*&^(*^ traverse."
The Jeff: "Oh, yeah, that traverse. That traverse sucks."
Our Heroine: *falling off wall again* "Yeah, I noticed."
Alisa (wandering in a little late): "Which one is she doing?"
The Jeff: "Blue route."
Alisa: "Oh, yeah, the one with the sucky traverse."
Our Heroine: "*&^%^%#$*^%!"
After that, I tried another 5.7, which is on the level of, I sent it once but have not yet been able to reproduce the feat--I also did not send it last night, as I was too worn out from falling off that damned traverse--and then I did a 5.6, a 5.5, and a 5.7 on the slab that I had never tried before, which I sent pretty well, once I figured out a sticky spot after the transition to vertical. I am getting really good at smearing; it's the one place where being heavy and having big flat feet works to my advantage.
I have picked out a 5.11 that I would really love to be able to climb. Someday, my prince will come....
This morning, 2 mile run in the warm (for this time of year) rain at dawn, which was much more like a run than last week's two mile runs. I only did four intervals, but they were much longer intervals, so I actually ran--okay, dog-trotted--about half the distance. And there were a couple of actual sprints in there, too, which was the only time I got winded, which is incredibly exciting to me. (The other times, I dropped out of the interval because either my arches or my calves hurt too much to push through, but that will get better as I adapt, and as my weight drops and these shoes break in.) First mile in 15 minutes, five minute break, second mile in 17 minutes because after the last interval, I stopped to look at the crocuses and snowdrops carpeting a neighbor's lawn for a minute.
Not too shabby, all things considered.
The lovely thing about going for a run first thing in the morning is that it fulfills the Live Frog clause. Nothing worse is likely to happen to you all day.
Also, I went for a walk to the package store on the corner, because I needed beer.
Miles to Lothlorien: 235.8
Guitar practice: My right hand appears to be developing a mind of its own. It does stuff now without consulting the neocortex, which is encouraging--that's what we hope to train it to do--but little disconcerting, because now it often will not do things it used to know how to do. However, it taught itself a new finger-picking pattern recently, though it kind of still sucks at it, and it just randomly invented a bridge for "Brown-Eyed Girl" the other day. I had nothing to do with it. (It was not a good or complicated bridge, but it was definitely a bridge, and it kind of freaked me out. The hand seemed happy, however.)
Mail: Dust is number 4 on the Locus best seller list for April. Of course, that is the April Fool's edition. But the story about me sharing a bunk bed with Margaret Atwood? Total fact.
The Internet is Full of Things: Snake and mouse!