August 21st, 2008

lion in winter broken because you're bri

aim for the heart and fire away

Okay, so, since a short scene is written and the bread is out of the oven and it's midnight, I should really go get in bed so I can get up tomorrow and run while it's still cool.

If I manage to drag myself out of bed at six, it's supposed to be in the fifties. (It's already down to 58. Oh please, can summer be over now? A nice long autumn would be just what I like.) The seven-day forecast looks glorious, anyway. I am made of joy.

Also, my new comforter should be coming in the next day or two. Yay! Thank you, mailbeings of the world.

Today involved walking a lot, driving for a while, deciding not to buy those pillowcases after all because they were ridiculously expensive, and then beating up dogs, eating choclit cake, and eventually writing about 587 words. Which is not a lot, but it's something. And more than made up for by the part where I got to beat up dogs.

(I mentioned on twitter, but also report here:  www.fitday.com tells me over 2 months, my calorie balance is not bad. 31% from fat, 16% from protein, 46% from carbs. And 8% from, er, beer. What? It's a complex carbohydrate....)

Oh, I just yawned. I'd better take that to bed before it wears off.
  • Current Mood
    recumbent recumbent
spies mfu glower flowers

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.
  • Current Music
    Peter Mulvey - Smell the Future
writing literature vonnegut

bang bang, shoot shoot

Several good ends at archery tonight, though there is always that inexplicable thing where, when you are shooting at a three-spot, the shots at one of the three targets will always be off center. Someday, I will solve that problem.

The part that I really find incomprehensible is that it's not always the same spot that gives me trouble. It's a wandering stance issue. Actually, I think the issue with the topmost target might be a release issue rather than a stance issue, because I strain a little more when I have to elevate the bow, and I think my point of aim wavers more because of it.

But hey, I did get one three-shot end where they were all in the yellow, and a couple of six-shots where five were.

Still competent to hit the broad side of a barn, anyway.