it's a great life, if you don't weaken (matociquala) wrote,
it's a great life, if you don't weaken

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it smells like gasoline

1022 words on "Smoke & Mirrors," and I'm calling that a day even though it means quitting in the middle of a scene, because I have no idea what work this scene is meant to be doing other than the obvious, and the obvious isn't enough. So apparently I need to think at it for a while, and come back either tonight or tomorrow. The good news is, there's no rush.

The weather this week is just gorgeous. Ideal. It could be like this all the time; high seventies or low eighties during the day, dropping into the fifties at night, cool enough in the morning to run comfortably. This is pretty much my ideal climate right here. I just hope that because we are getting thie slovely mid-September weather in August doesn't mean we won't get autumn at autumn-time.

Another summer survived. Phew.

My hands and feet still haven't recovered from three days of climbing in a row. It's not a sharp pain, just a tired-out ache, but there's the thing where my big toes decide they don't flex anymore, and that's a little annoying. Which is why I tape them, and hey, I am a lot of girl to try standing on just the edges of my toes, spiderman shoes or no spiderman shoes. The meatpuppet has reasons to protest.

27.6 miles to Lothlorien.

All right. Time to find some food around here somewhere.

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