Workout and writing. Best combination, ever.

Since I went to bed at least an hour early, I also wake an hour early, which does kind of defeat the point, and does very little to alleviate last night’s exhaustion. Still, I feel better when I wake this morning and for about half and hour linger between sleep and really waking as I try to decide whether or not I’m getting up from the bed.

In the end rising wins, and I drag my butt from beneath the warm and cozy blankets to hurry on through the morning rituals. I manage to read another short story from the book I’m reviewing and then head for the house. The weather is clear, slightly less cold than yesterday, but still not the way I like it.

Workout day has returned, albeit a day late, and I get to it with semi-enthusiasm just as soon as I’ve deposited my bag on the kitchen counter and changed into my exercise clothes.

Muscles and joints feel a bit gritty when I start the warm ups, turning the volume of the music a little louder in hopes that it can get my blood pumping. By the time I get to the “fun” part of the workout, kick boxing, everything is moving smoothly and a thin sheen of perspiration is already forming on my skin.

Perspiration, I have found, is essential to a good workout. If ya ain’t sweatin’ it ain’t workin’, hah. It goes well, I’ll admit and after about seventy minutes of punching, kicking, and weightlifting I’m actually sorry that I’m done.

When I’ve had breakfast and poured myself a mug of coffee I set up the computer and start on today’s writing session. It takes me a little while to get into the scene, but when I do, the words come out effortlessly, creating excellent imagery that make the characters jump out at me as they talk, act and generally live their lives on the screen before me.

I’m pretty much consumed by the scene, and somewhere around nightfall I finally resurface and am pleased to see that I’ve gotten down five solid pages that bring the total up to a third of what will be needed to make a full-length novel. A good day’s work, to say the least.

Since there are more than enough of last night’s burgers ready for those who want them, I don’t feel any inclination to make dinner tonight, and make myself a healthy sandwich with lettuce, tomatoes, some cheese, onion and red bell pepper slices, soaked in a herbal yogurt sauce, instead, which goes down well enough and lasts me through the rest of the day with a couple of cookies to fill the gap.

By the time the new episode of “House” comes on the TV, I’m making a quick sweep at the glass doors of the kitchen closets, finishing up during the first commercial before I settle down to watch what Hugh Laurie (House) is up to today. Up to his shenanigans, as usual, I soon find out, smirking as he has his personal PI checking out his colleagues and boss.

I have to admit that I like the new (whether temporary or not) addition to the cast: The wacky Private investigator, who seems to have a very keen sense of what makes House tick, and gets along with him famously.

I don’t know how the writers, producers and whatnot manage to do it, but House is one of the few shows on TV that can pull off replacing/adding new characters without annoying me. Though, admittedly Vogle and the nasty cop made me a little less enthusiastic, the new cast is working very well for my viewing pleasure.

Next is the new show “The Mentalist” which hasn’t been failing in keeping my attention yet. Definitely a plus for new shows; since most seem to lose their “interesting” factor after the first few episodes.

By the time “Las Vegas” starts up, big brother and I get into a heated discussion about the action-reaction/cause-effect theory, distracting me enough to barely follow the episode, but by then the evening is drawing to an end and I pack up my things to take the dogs up to the cabin.

There’s a strange smell in the air when I head on up the mountain. It’s been raining most of the evening and there’s a mixture of an earthy and ashen scent swirling in the clouds that lay low overhead. It reminds me of the big fire, years ago when practically our entire mountain, minus our property, burned down.

I stand in front of my porch for a long time, peering at the low-hanging clouds and the fragments of the valley below. Suspiciously, I keep staring at the blackness, wanting to be sure that it is not a fire causing the smell, and then decide that it really isn’t possible what with everything wet around me.

I don’t remember until it’s time to feed the dogs that last night I used the last of the dog food supply in my room, and head on back outside to get the forty pound bag from the carport, and then feed the dogs their nightly meal.

A few more pages get read for the review, after which the time to get online has arrived. Just the Blog, messages and some fun chats to go and the time to go to bed has, once again, returned.