Another chilly night passes much too fast. I was all ready to go to bed last night–an hour before my usual sleeping time, mind you–only to end up going to bed half an hour late. I’m amazed at how I manage it every single time, but…well, it takes skill, I guess.
Anyways, I had a very interesting dream, which I would share, but it was kinda personal and…ehm…intimate, if you get my drift, so I’ll just revel in it by myself. Hah.
I’d planned to get up an hour early, or so, but by the time the monster wakes me, just a few measly hours after I drift off to sleep, I decide to just sleep ‘till my usual time instead, and do so by keeping the monster boxer in a headlock for the last few hours remaining. She definitely enjoys it, snoring in my ear and enjoying the warmth of the blankets that I’ve dragged over both of us. She actually doesn’t start messing about again until the alarm goes off.
I throw the dogs out, quick, looking around the messy cabin and reaffirming my determination about doing some serious changes later today. The old settings have become dark and unsatisfying, and I’m ready for a change that’s a fact.
By the time I head down to the house, knowing full well that I’ve postponed workout long enough and need to get at it today.
The day feels freezing cold, even though the sun’s shining brightly overhead when I enter the courtyard and frown at the laundry hanging there, which I will have to take down an hour from now.
With the dogs swirling around me, I enter the chilly house, heading immediately for the heaters, and lighting one up before I deposit my baggage in the kitchen, and scowl at my workout clothes. Knowing that there’s no help for it, I change into them, shivering continuously while I move to the heater and start doing my warm ups right in front of it.
The movements, combined with the heat, warm me up at a rapid speed, thankfully, and soon I hardly feel the cold anymore as I get into the “shwung” of the exercises.
By the time I reach the boxing bag, wearing socks for the first time, the high kicks are a little off-balance. I’m really not used to doing these spin-kicks with socks under my feet and it makes me a little nervous. Still, I manage them well enough without major disaster occurring. There are a few near misses with careless dogs, but luckily none of them is send flying, because I manage to divert my aim in the nick of time.
Since big brother and grandpa have disappeared outside to fix the fence…again…I take longer than usual on the five-jabs routine, but in the end I have a full hour of workout under my belt and head for the shower ASAP. This, too, takes longer than usual, my muscles protesting from the cold, and lower back feeling a bit sore–probably because of the somewhat clumsy sock episode–until I finally decide I’ve wasted enough water and electricity and get dressed.
What comes next is getting the dry batch of laundry inside, and bringing the wet back out for hanging. The dirty laundry is almost completely gone at last, so I hope that tomorrow will bring more sunshine for proper drying. It’s such a novel idea, not having any laundry that I’m actually looking forward to seeing both the laundry room and lines empty for a change.
At long last, with the dry neatly folded by big brother and me, we chat with grandpa for a bit. It is now official. He heard it on the news. This is the coldest winter in Spain in the past fifty years. I knew I wasn’t imagining it when big brother, who tends to walk around in an undershirt and slippered feet, at most, during the winter, actually complained about cold feet and wore a sweater. Miracles do not cease to occur, apparently.
By the time I’ve fed Yadzia, and had a BLT myself, I settle behind the computer, and have another crack at the “what if” story, only to end up with little more than a page to show for the several hours of belaboring the twists of the tale. Since it is obviously not working, big brother and I do an edit for the second chapter instead.
About an hour after dusk, I’ve had enough for the day, and declare that I really want to do something about my room today, and head up the mountain with only Mosha and Dax as company…fully expecting big brother to follow as soon as possible.
First things first: I need to take out the cushions and rugs on the floors, creating a semblance of space to work in, and then proceed to take out blankets, sheets and mattress, around which time big brother arrives and activities commence for real.
The bed is screwed from the wall, cabinets are shifted out of the way, and the floors are scrubbed clean before we reposition the bed against the northern wall. Busy dogs and lots of weight from human and canine bodies alike have had their effect on the structure, so after some debate, we fortify the structure with a strong wooden beam, and then start attaching it to the wall and floor, so the dogs won’t move it around–in effect making it crash at some point.
It takes quite some time to get everything back in place, including the exchange of a high drawer with a low cabinet that I decide to hang on the wall instead. It’s not until eleven in the evening that there’s a semblance of order that allows us to return to the house for a quick snack and some relaxation.
Upon asking little brother how Sita is doing, he informs me that the swelling is going down some, and she’s happy enough lounging upstairs where the sibs are keeping themselves occupied with their computers and whatnot, doing their thing.
I watch a rather silly episode of “Psych” followed by “Dead Like Me” but it doesn’t really capture my interest before it is time to gather my dogs after one in the morning and drag my weary limbs back up the mountain.
For the next few hours I proceed to sort through my wardrobe, putting summer clothes away in the copper chest in my living room, and taking out the remainder of winter clothes to fit into my closet.
There are quite a few things stored in the chest that I haven’t seen for years, and while making my picks I do some fitting, and realize that I can actually wear them again. Wow. It’s like buying new stuff, and I’m pretty darn thrilled when I store them in my closet for later use. Added to that fortunate discovery, big brother also found out that even though my CD player doesn’t work anymore, I can still use the machine if I attack one of our MP3 players to it. That is certainly going to save us some serious money, which is always a good thing.
Recycling. I love it in every shape and form. Nothing feels better than being able to reuse something I thought useless before, saving precious Euros.
I will still need to do more cleaning tomorrow, and remove some old furniture from my living room, but things are looking very good at the moment. The new arrangement makes things look a lot roomier, and though some adjustments will have to be done, it feels good. Almost like being in a new bedroom, which for some reason seems lighter.
When I’m done at last with the sort-through of clothes, big brother and I talk on the house phone for a bit, mulling about our book projects and the intended return to the vampire flicks in the next few days, before I finally get to my messages online and smile at the birthday wish I’ve received from one of my myspace buddies.
Handy those birthday reminders: If it weren’t for those, I might even forget the entire thing. Haha!…Or maybe not: I’m certainly feeling every one of the thirty years that I’ve had behind me now that the 10th has arrived.
I’m exhausted after all the lifting and hauling, which was unheard of before my twenties…weird how things change…but it’s a good exhaustion. It certainly feels better than hanging around doing nothing constructive.
Wonder what tomorrow will bring.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Friday, January 9, 2009
Not much.
Not much to write about today. It was quiet day on the overall, very cold, even two heaters couldn’t keep things warm and I can feel it in my bones even now.
After going to the house this morning I immediately lit the heaters–it was a rather disconcerting chilly night, and I had to pack up completely–I feed Yadzia and myself and then set up the computer.
I manage to write about a page for my “what-if” novel, but it goes slowly, partly due to the cold that makes my fingers feel like clumps of ice.
Sita is doing well, her eye socket is swollen, but otherwise she acting like her normal self, trotting about as if nothing happened, even with the cone-collar she’s wearing.
Around dusk, little sister and I decide to make vegetable flatbread for dinner, along with a try-out cake for my birthday the day after tomorrow.
Both are successful and are eaten with relish. Being the salty types the flatbread even goes down better for most of us, leaving only small portions for tomorrow, if at all.
For the rest of the night we really just take it easy, watching some TV, “House” and “The Mentalist” were on, so it was entertaining, but still, I would much rather have been doing something more constructive.
Instead, by the time the evening draws to an end, I feel pretty darn deflated as I head up to my room and wonder what I can do tomorrow to keep me occupied.
There’s got to be something.
After going to the house this morning I immediately lit the heaters–it was a rather disconcerting chilly night, and I had to pack up completely–I feed Yadzia and myself and then set up the computer.
I manage to write about a page for my “what-if” novel, but it goes slowly, partly due to the cold that makes my fingers feel like clumps of ice.
Sita is doing well, her eye socket is swollen, but otherwise she acting like her normal self, trotting about as if nothing happened, even with the cone-collar she’s wearing.
Around dusk, little sister and I decide to make vegetable flatbread for dinner, along with a try-out cake for my birthday the day after tomorrow.
Both are successful and are eaten with relish. Being the salty types the flatbread even goes down better for most of us, leaving only small portions for tomorrow, if at all.
For the rest of the night we really just take it easy, watching some TV, “House” and “The Mentalist” were on, so it was entertaining, but still, I would much rather have been doing something more constructive.
Instead, by the time the evening draws to an end, I feel pretty darn deflated as I head up to my room and wonder what I can do tomorrow to keep me occupied.
There’s got to be something.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Another visit to the vet's
Well, as promised I was two hours early going to bed last night, crawling under the blankets and settling in for sleep–I was very tired–only to lie awake ‘till my usual sleeping time and drifting off a mere three hours before I had to get up to take Sita to the vet hospital where she had to get her eye-surgery.
I hate it when that happens. It totally defeats the purpose of going to bed early and I can’t stand lying awake, my mind awhirl and feeling all sorts of itches all over my body that have no business being there, but always come when I’m trying to sleep.
It is freezing cold when I wake, even my small, but strong heater can’t battle the temperatures outside when I drag myself out of bed and stumble to the door to let the dogs out into the sunny morning. The alarm, which I’ve forgotten to shut off, is still screeching by the time I stumble back and grab the infernal thing from the shelf and shut it off, before straightening the blankets and starting on the speedy morning ritual.
I’m not feeling too bad, on the overall, and manage to get dressed, move the dogs to the house and be ready for departure by the time big brother brings out Sita and deposits her in the car. The poor Cocker Spaniel doesn’t know what’s going on, and settles up against grandpa after we’ve shoved his moped on the truck-bed and head on out to the village. The moped is giving some trouble, and grandpa hopes that they can fix it during the day.
Sita is given a quick check when we arrive at the hospital, and when the young vet finishes, I ask if she can give the nervous twelve-year-old cocker a shot of morphine and relaxant so she won’t be so traumatized by being left there for the day.
The injection works within minutes and I carry the barely conscious dog to the back of the hospital where she is put in a cage until her surgery is supposed to commence.
Our regular vet has arrived by then, and we exchange a quick hello before I inquire about when we can come and pick Sita up. It is a relative simple surgery, I know. It will take our vet–who specializes in eye-surgery–and with the assurance that he’ll take care of Sita we leave for home.
Once there, I change into warmer clothes and head on to the house where my pack impatiently awaits my return in the cold courtyard.
Bunch of idiots. They could be sitting inside where it’s warm, but no. Can’t go in the house where they aren’t able to keep an eye on the carport and in effect my return. Some of them are actually shivering with both cold and excitement when I slip through the courtyard gate and shoo them inside.
Big brother is up, too, and for the next hour or so we go through the normal morning chores before, by the time we’re folding laundry we decide that we’re both really too tired and are dreading the day ahead considerably. We had planned to use this early start as a writing opportunity, but since we know that we need to go to school later tonight, sleep is imperative.
Discussing our options for a bit, and both of us being incredibly cold, we choose sleep and each head for our designated quarters with our packs in hot pursuit. My dogs appear thrilled as a matter of fact and soon settle down in their usual places as I crawl under the blankets and snuggle up against warm canine bodies to drift off to sleep for two more hours.
With the second awakening, I’m nicely revived and don’t bother with the morning rituals when I return to the main building where the heaters quickly make the temperatures bearable.
Since I’ve eaten French bread with lettuce, cherry tomatoes, red bell pepper, some cheese and a delicious yogurt sauce when I returned from the vet, I’m not hungry and just grab a cup of coffee while I set my computer up.
There won’t be time for writing today, I know, so instead I go online for some messages and chats before I need to scramble to get ready for school. Big brother’s hair has grown some during the past two weeks or so, so I use the trimmer to shave it all off again less then twenty minutes before we have to depart.
I’m surprised how well the “bald” look suits him. He used to wear his hair shoulder-length, but then, about seven months ago he decided that all the fuss was too much to bother with and asked me to shave it all off for the first time in ten years. The long hair looked well enough, I guess, but this isn’t bad either. I see a little Dominic Purcell (Prisonbreak’s Lincoln Burrows) in him and that’s a surprise. I’d doubted if the look would suit him, but luckily it does.
That done, I head on up to my cabin to dress in my school clothes and wobble my way to the car since I was stupid enough to don my high-heeled boots for a change. High-heels are really not a smart thing to wear on uneven mountain surfaces, but in town I do like to keep my feet familiar with the different pose that took me ages to get used to. The first few times felt like I was walking on shards of glass after just five minutes, and since that feeling has disappeared since then, I have no particular desire to repeat the acclimation period any time soon…if ever.
We head to town, the exact time we’re supposed to, arriving at school around six to start another tedious session of doing tests on paper. The dratted computers still haven’t been fixed, I fear. But it goes well. We manage four tests each, and I only had three wrong answers in total. Moving up, at least.
Butane kegs need to be acquired again, and since the place where they’re sold in town is already closed we head for the village where we’re supposed to pick up Sita, in hopes that there will be at least five kegs that should keep us warm for a few days.
Before heading for the hospital, we pop into the bazaar beside it to buy some plastic containers for the kitchen, a narrow garbage tube for the build-in disposal and some one-piece neck warmers for me. They’re so handy compared to the wrap-around shawls.
Five past eight, the exact time we were expected to come for Sita, I walk into the hospital and ask the vet how the operation went. All’s well and after I get the usual spiel about how to follow up on Sita’s treatment I take the poor Cocker to the car, where she immediately jumps into big brother’s arms and wants a solid petting.
Not much has changed for Sita, what with the removal of her second eye, but still, it is a sad thing to happen. Luckily Sita knows the house so well that she hardly ever knocks into anything and knows her way around by heart. She’s had practice, I guess. What with having been blind for almost three years, it’s only the pain of surgery that’s different. Luckily that can be dealt with through pain medication.
The butane supply in the village allows us to stock up for the next few days, and with that final task done we head back home, where Sita ecstatically throws herself at little brother who awaits our arrival in the car port.
Our purchases get moved into the house, and after I’ve once again dressed into warm house clothes I face my jubilant pack for the second time this day. No difference in their behavior. They act as if they haven’t seen me for a week as I struggle my way through them, trying to dodge the nips as bites of welcome from the labs and cockers, while Chaos throws his full weight against my hips time and again.
Little sister has made onion cheese rolls for dinner, and I add the same ingredients I used this morning to get my daily dose of veggies in before I settle down in the living area to catch my breath and watch some TV.
I can’t muster much energy for anything as I sit there, debating myself about doing something constructive with my time before we put on the latest recording of “Prisonbreak” and watch it through. Afterwards, big brother and I finally decide to try to get at least an hour’s work on the computer in.
The past few weeks have been horrid, work-wise. Constant distractions such as responsibilities and necessary tasks that need to be performed keep cutting into writing/editing hours, and it is frustrating as heck.
Since I want to work on my full-length thriller novel, big brother finally ventures into editing for something other than romance, and is pleasantly surprised by my completely different style in this story. Heck, he even compares it to Michael Crighton, which tickles my funny bone as he makes his way through four pages and I write down one of the book that already counts more than two-hundred pages, and still isn’t near it’s end.
By then the eve has come to its end, and I wrap things up to head out of the house and take my dogs to the cabin. The temperatures have dropped even more, and even though grandpa was thoughtful enough to switch my heater on almost an hour ago, making it bearable, I’m freezing by the time I feed the dogs, change into my pjs and set up my computer for the night.
Let’s hope that tomorrow will allow for more writing.
I hate it when that happens. It totally defeats the purpose of going to bed early and I can’t stand lying awake, my mind awhirl and feeling all sorts of itches all over my body that have no business being there, but always come when I’m trying to sleep.
It is freezing cold when I wake, even my small, but strong heater can’t battle the temperatures outside when I drag myself out of bed and stumble to the door to let the dogs out into the sunny morning. The alarm, which I’ve forgotten to shut off, is still screeching by the time I stumble back and grab the infernal thing from the shelf and shut it off, before straightening the blankets and starting on the speedy morning ritual.
I’m not feeling too bad, on the overall, and manage to get dressed, move the dogs to the house and be ready for departure by the time big brother brings out Sita and deposits her in the car. The poor Cocker Spaniel doesn’t know what’s going on, and settles up against grandpa after we’ve shoved his moped on the truck-bed and head on out to the village. The moped is giving some trouble, and grandpa hopes that they can fix it during the day.
Sita is given a quick check when we arrive at the hospital, and when the young vet finishes, I ask if she can give the nervous twelve-year-old cocker a shot of morphine and relaxant so she won’t be so traumatized by being left there for the day.
The injection works within minutes and I carry the barely conscious dog to the back of the hospital where she is put in a cage until her surgery is supposed to commence.
Our regular vet has arrived by then, and we exchange a quick hello before I inquire about when we can come and pick Sita up. It is a relative simple surgery, I know. It will take our vet–who specializes in eye-surgery–and with the assurance that he’ll take care of Sita we leave for home.
Once there, I change into warmer clothes and head on to the house where my pack impatiently awaits my return in the cold courtyard.
Bunch of idiots. They could be sitting inside where it’s warm, but no. Can’t go in the house where they aren’t able to keep an eye on the carport and in effect my return. Some of them are actually shivering with both cold and excitement when I slip through the courtyard gate and shoo them inside.
Big brother is up, too, and for the next hour or so we go through the normal morning chores before, by the time we’re folding laundry we decide that we’re both really too tired and are dreading the day ahead considerably. We had planned to use this early start as a writing opportunity, but since we know that we need to go to school later tonight, sleep is imperative.
Discussing our options for a bit, and both of us being incredibly cold, we choose sleep and each head for our designated quarters with our packs in hot pursuit. My dogs appear thrilled as a matter of fact and soon settle down in their usual places as I crawl under the blankets and snuggle up against warm canine bodies to drift off to sleep for two more hours.
With the second awakening, I’m nicely revived and don’t bother with the morning rituals when I return to the main building where the heaters quickly make the temperatures bearable.
Since I’ve eaten French bread with lettuce, cherry tomatoes, red bell pepper, some cheese and a delicious yogurt sauce when I returned from the vet, I’m not hungry and just grab a cup of coffee while I set my computer up.
There won’t be time for writing today, I know, so instead I go online for some messages and chats before I need to scramble to get ready for school. Big brother’s hair has grown some during the past two weeks or so, so I use the trimmer to shave it all off again less then twenty minutes before we have to depart.
I’m surprised how well the “bald” look suits him. He used to wear his hair shoulder-length, but then, about seven months ago he decided that all the fuss was too much to bother with and asked me to shave it all off for the first time in ten years. The long hair looked well enough, I guess, but this isn’t bad either. I see a little Dominic Purcell (Prisonbreak’s Lincoln Burrows) in him and that’s a surprise. I’d doubted if the look would suit him, but luckily it does.
That done, I head on up to my cabin to dress in my school clothes and wobble my way to the car since I was stupid enough to don my high-heeled boots for a change. High-heels are really not a smart thing to wear on uneven mountain surfaces, but in town I do like to keep my feet familiar with the different pose that took me ages to get used to. The first few times felt like I was walking on shards of glass after just five minutes, and since that feeling has disappeared since then, I have no particular desire to repeat the acclimation period any time soon…if ever.
We head to town, the exact time we’re supposed to, arriving at school around six to start another tedious session of doing tests on paper. The dratted computers still haven’t been fixed, I fear. But it goes well. We manage four tests each, and I only had three wrong answers in total. Moving up, at least.
Butane kegs need to be acquired again, and since the place where they’re sold in town is already closed we head for the village where we’re supposed to pick up Sita, in hopes that there will be at least five kegs that should keep us warm for a few days.
Before heading for the hospital, we pop into the bazaar beside it to buy some plastic containers for the kitchen, a narrow garbage tube for the build-in disposal and some one-piece neck warmers for me. They’re so handy compared to the wrap-around shawls.
Five past eight, the exact time we were expected to come for Sita, I walk into the hospital and ask the vet how the operation went. All’s well and after I get the usual spiel about how to follow up on Sita’s treatment I take the poor Cocker to the car, where she immediately jumps into big brother’s arms and wants a solid petting.
Not much has changed for Sita, what with the removal of her second eye, but still, it is a sad thing to happen. Luckily Sita knows the house so well that she hardly ever knocks into anything and knows her way around by heart. She’s had practice, I guess. What with having been blind for almost three years, it’s only the pain of surgery that’s different. Luckily that can be dealt with through pain medication.
The butane supply in the village allows us to stock up for the next few days, and with that final task done we head back home, where Sita ecstatically throws herself at little brother who awaits our arrival in the car port.
Our purchases get moved into the house, and after I’ve once again dressed into warm house clothes I face my jubilant pack for the second time this day. No difference in their behavior. They act as if they haven’t seen me for a week as I struggle my way through them, trying to dodge the nips as bites of welcome from the labs and cockers, while Chaos throws his full weight against my hips time and again.
Little sister has made onion cheese rolls for dinner, and I add the same ingredients I used this morning to get my daily dose of veggies in before I settle down in the living area to catch my breath and watch some TV.
I can’t muster much energy for anything as I sit there, debating myself about doing something constructive with my time before we put on the latest recording of “Prisonbreak” and watch it through. Afterwards, big brother and I finally decide to try to get at least an hour’s work on the computer in.
The past few weeks have been horrid, work-wise. Constant distractions such as responsibilities and necessary tasks that need to be performed keep cutting into writing/editing hours, and it is frustrating as heck.
Since I want to work on my full-length thriller novel, big brother finally ventures into editing for something other than romance, and is pleasantly surprised by my completely different style in this story. Heck, he even compares it to Michael Crighton, which tickles my funny bone as he makes his way through four pages and I write down one of the book that already counts more than two-hundred pages, and still isn’t near it’s end.
By then the eve has come to its end, and I wrap things up to head out of the house and take my dogs to the cabin. The temperatures have dropped even more, and even though grandpa was thoughtful enough to switch my heater on almost an hour ago, making it bearable, I’m freezing by the time I feed the dogs, change into my pjs and set up my computer for the night.
Let’s hope that tomorrow will allow for more writing.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
A quiet day at home.
Lots of disturbances during the night, the monsters waking me time and again until it is time for me to rise. Having read somewhere that stretching out while waking is good for the body, I have been trying to do so for that past few weeks even though natural inclinations would have me move as carefully as I possibly can, instead.
For the first time, going through the stretch and yawn, I actually feel the usual night tensions soothe almost instantly, allowing some comfort as I get out of bed, toss Trin Trin in the back yard, and then head for the front door to let the rest out into the garden.
I don’t feel like working out at all today, and assure my protesting body that I don’t have to unless I feel like it. Getting dressed, I finish up the morning rituals and start on my way to the house in the bright sunlight that is once again penetrating the winter chill bravely.
Entering the house, the first thing I do is grabbing my workout clothes, and changed into them before I can form a single objection in my head. What follows is a rigorous session that is made comfortable by two blazing heaters, until finally the hour comes to an end and I can head to the showers.
I’m pretty tired from the workout, but continue to push through the weariness because I know that if I don’t I’m not going to be able to drag my butt up again for quite a while yet.
Yesterday’s laundry dried just fine during the night, and it takes me almost an hour to get the dry down and the new batches up.
By the time I’m done folding everything, I’m grouchy and more than happy to huddle in my long vest for several hours at least. Armed with coffee, I settle behind the computer and manage to edit a few pages of one of my full-length novels before focus escapes my grasp and I delve into the forums instead.
The rest of the afternoon is spent chatting and reading two novels I received for reviewing, passing quickly while I occasionally get distracted by big brother talking, and then little sister offering dinner of couscous and veggies.
Around ten in the evening, I decide to quit for a bit, and paint the storage closet, and then return to the computer for an hour’s worth of reading before the evening comes to an end.
Very little happened today, and that’s a good thing, considering I’ll have to get up four hours early tomorrow to take Sita to her vet appointment. I’m not looking forward to it, but the poor girl needs her surgery, that’s a fact.
For the first time, going through the stretch and yawn, I actually feel the usual night tensions soothe almost instantly, allowing some comfort as I get out of bed, toss Trin Trin in the back yard, and then head for the front door to let the rest out into the garden.
I don’t feel like working out at all today, and assure my protesting body that I don’t have to unless I feel like it. Getting dressed, I finish up the morning rituals and start on my way to the house in the bright sunlight that is once again penetrating the winter chill bravely.
Entering the house, the first thing I do is grabbing my workout clothes, and changed into them before I can form a single objection in my head. What follows is a rigorous session that is made comfortable by two blazing heaters, until finally the hour comes to an end and I can head to the showers.
I’m pretty tired from the workout, but continue to push through the weariness because I know that if I don’t I’m not going to be able to drag my butt up again for quite a while yet.
Yesterday’s laundry dried just fine during the night, and it takes me almost an hour to get the dry down and the new batches up.
By the time I’m done folding everything, I’m grouchy and more than happy to huddle in my long vest for several hours at least. Armed with coffee, I settle behind the computer and manage to edit a few pages of one of my full-length novels before focus escapes my grasp and I delve into the forums instead.
The rest of the afternoon is spent chatting and reading two novels I received for reviewing, passing quickly while I occasionally get distracted by big brother talking, and then little sister offering dinner of couscous and veggies.
Around ten in the evening, I decide to quit for a bit, and paint the storage closet, and then return to the computer for an hour’s worth of reading before the evening comes to an end.
Very little happened today, and that’s a good thing, considering I’ll have to get up four hours early tomorrow to take Sita to her vet appointment. I’m not looking forward to it, but the poor girl needs her surgery, that’s a fact.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Groceries, the bane of my existence.
I wake a multitude of times during the night; first Trin Trin is bouncing at the foot-end of the bed like a mad-hatter. Seriously, if I weren’t so fond of sleeping, it would be quite a funny sight.
The second time Knight II is tugging on the blanket while the monster latched on, on the other side. They are quite a match in their delighted tug of war, even though Knight is twice Trin’s size. Her persistence and pure muscle build they even out nicely.
Third time, some odd three hours before it’s time to rise, Knight II gets into a fight with Chaos, who isn’t feeling at all well. The poor Basset is cold and comes slinking his way up to the top end of the bed and proceeds to curl himself over and around me, in an attempt to get warm and away from Knight II who is taking up most of the bed.
Around the fourth time, Chaos is trying to vomit on his place beside me, luckily only having dry heaves, and once I wrap him up in the blankets with me, his shivers slowly subside, and allow me to fall back to sleep.
On the fifth awakening, it is the alarm screeching on the shelf beside the bed that disturb my slumber.
No time to mess about this morning, so as soon as I stretch the kinks from my back I roll out, throw the dogs out the door, get dressed and head on down to the house.
Laundry is first, even though yesterday’s batch hasn’t dried yet. During the night the sky grew a multitude of clouds that are now hovering close over the mountain, hinting at rain. After adding one new washing I head inside to feed Yadzia.
Time is limited again today. First thing up is taking Sita, one of our black Cocker Spaniel to the vet. She has been blind for years, but somewhere during the night one of the sibs noticed that her one remaining eyes was bloody, and somewhat bulbous. She isn’t feeling poorly, however, which is always a good thing. Sita’s still trotting around, knowing full well where everything is, and happy to follow either little brother or sister around.
We can’t leave immediately. We need to wait for the sibs to wake up, so the dogs won’t be alone in the house, and thus I kill time going on the forums for some quick chats, and check my messages.
The time passes ridiculously fast, and when little sister arrives, I put my computer away so we can trim the Cocker a bit before taking her to the hospital.
She goes through the procedure reasonably calm, wiggling her butt excitedly and trying to bounce around a bit as clusters of dirty hair are trimmed off, so she won’t look like a complete disaster when she goes to the doctor.
It is not like our dogs aren’t taken care of properly, by any means. Twice a year all those with long fur are trimmed down to manageable short length hair, creating a semblance of neatness on the overall image.
In winter, however, a trim is not advisable due to the cold, so in effect the dogs tend to look a little wild, with occasional lumps of dried dirt in their long hair. It smells a little, it doesn’t look pretty, but we rather have them a tad dirty than sick from cold.
Anyways, by the time we get the cocker trimmed, and I have headed up the mountain in order to get dressed, sunset is already approaching.
Since after we have seen the vet, and hopefully arranged for Sita’s expected surgery, we need to go to town to do our bimonthly grocery shopping, I need to don something a little neater than my usual house clothes.
At first we had planned to go to school too, but as the evening advances and Sita has an appointment set for Wednesday when our regular vet is there, we decide that we really don’t have time.
We drop little brother at home along with Sita and Mosha, who had joined us for the short trip, and then immediately head back out again to go in the opposite direction towards town.
The Chinese bazaar is the first shop we visit. Mugs and glasses have shattered repeatedly during the course of the past months, so we need to acquire new ones. Along with tea towels and some wooden spoons. Unless kitchen utensils are made of steel, they really don’t last longer than a few weeks around our dogs, but luckily the simple wooden ladles come cheap.
That done, we turn towards the center of town in hopes of reaching a small computer store run by a South African man who usually has good bargains on laptops.
Regretfully little brother’s computer gave the spirit a few days ago, so we’re obliged to find a new one for him at an affordable price.
Due to the three kings festival, we are waylaid halfway into town, and are forced to make an about-face instantly. All around families are gathering for the impending parade and thus getting to the store is pretty much impossible. Traffic police is all over the place, rerouting traffic and preparing for the festivities.
Thwarted in our plan we head for the Parque Miramar, where we buy a supply of frozen goods–vegetables and such–at Iceland and make a quick pass through the large domestic electric goods store, in hopes of finding a laptop on sale. No such luck, so once again we climb into the car and make our way to the large European supermarket.
There are quite a few sales, which will come in quite handy in the near future, so with those piled into the truck bed we resume on our way.
Up next is the major department store several miles down the road, and we hit up on both sections where computers are sold.
We see a nice one that is discounted due to some missing parts, but when we hear that the main missing part is the adaptor, and that the salesman can’t supply us with another, we don’t dare take the risk.
Disappointed, and starting to get a little weary from going up, down, east and west on a multitude of occasions without actual results to show for it we’re just about ready to call today’s foray a bust.
The last store’s up at last and we head into it with two shopping carts, only to find that we need another one, due to the fact of bargain prices for dog blankets and a DVD player for under € 35, which is really good since ours is on the fritz. We even buy a spare one, just in case. The machine won’t last for more than a year or two, we’re sure, but since an expensive brand will give the same problem–experience taught us as much–we are willing to take the risk.
It takes quite some time to get everything loaded into the truck, and when we do the bed’s filled to full capacity. Bags and boxes are piled high; the supplies for a group of nine people and over ninety dogs being nothing to laugh about.
I’m pretty much running on empty by the time we get home, dreading the prospect of unloading, but luckily the younger sibs are already waiting by the carport when we arrive, ready to start lugging the multitude of supplies down to the house.
Quickly I change back into my warm–the chill up on the mountain is considerably colder than it was down in town–clothes, and return to the car to grab four full bags and carry them with me into the house.
It is practically impossible to get inside with the heavy bags and the barrage of dogs welcoming us, but as usual we somehow manage and start putting everything away.
Pleased with the end result of full shelves, a filled fridge and freezers and properly stocked drawers, I shove one of the frozen pizzas in the small oven and plunk down on a chair to catch my breath.
For the rest of the night I’m unable to do much more. Somehow grocery day takes a lot from all of us, and I sit there, barely able to follow “Bones” and whatever show came afterwards, until I finally settle in one of the arm chairs and put on “Casino Royale” for about half an hour of entertainment.
At long last the day has come to an end, and I can head up to my quarters feeling flushed and chilled at the same time, and more than a little tired.
I AM going to get to bed in time today. I must!
The second time Knight II is tugging on the blanket while the monster latched on, on the other side. They are quite a match in their delighted tug of war, even though Knight is twice Trin’s size. Her persistence and pure muscle build they even out nicely.
Third time, some odd three hours before it’s time to rise, Knight II gets into a fight with Chaos, who isn’t feeling at all well. The poor Basset is cold and comes slinking his way up to the top end of the bed and proceeds to curl himself over and around me, in an attempt to get warm and away from Knight II who is taking up most of the bed.
Around the fourth time, Chaos is trying to vomit on his place beside me, luckily only having dry heaves, and once I wrap him up in the blankets with me, his shivers slowly subside, and allow me to fall back to sleep.
On the fifth awakening, it is the alarm screeching on the shelf beside the bed that disturb my slumber.
No time to mess about this morning, so as soon as I stretch the kinks from my back I roll out, throw the dogs out the door, get dressed and head on down to the house.
Laundry is first, even though yesterday’s batch hasn’t dried yet. During the night the sky grew a multitude of clouds that are now hovering close over the mountain, hinting at rain. After adding one new washing I head inside to feed Yadzia.
Time is limited again today. First thing up is taking Sita, one of our black Cocker Spaniel to the vet. She has been blind for years, but somewhere during the night one of the sibs noticed that her one remaining eyes was bloody, and somewhat bulbous. She isn’t feeling poorly, however, which is always a good thing. Sita’s still trotting around, knowing full well where everything is, and happy to follow either little brother or sister around.
We can’t leave immediately. We need to wait for the sibs to wake up, so the dogs won’t be alone in the house, and thus I kill time going on the forums for some quick chats, and check my messages.
The time passes ridiculously fast, and when little sister arrives, I put my computer away so we can trim the Cocker a bit before taking her to the hospital.
She goes through the procedure reasonably calm, wiggling her butt excitedly and trying to bounce around a bit as clusters of dirty hair are trimmed off, so she won’t look like a complete disaster when she goes to the doctor.
It is not like our dogs aren’t taken care of properly, by any means. Twice a year all those with long fur are trimmed down to manageable short length hair, creating a semblance of neatness on the overall image.
In winter, however, a trim is not advisable due to the cold, so in effect the dogs tend to look a little wild, with occasional lumps of dried dirt in their long hair. It smells a little, it doesn’t look pretty, but we rather have them a tad dirty than sick from cold.
Anyways, by the time we get the cocker trimmed, and I have headed up the mountain in order to get dressed, sunset is already approaching.
Since after we have seen the vet, and hopefully arranged for Sita’s expected surgery, we need to go to town to do our bimonthly grocery shopping, I need to don something a little neater than my usual house clothes.
At first we had planned to go to school too, but as the evening advances and Sita has an appointment set for Wednesday when our regular vet is there, we decide that we really don’t have time.
We drop little brother at home along with Sita and Mosha, who had joined us for the short trip, and then immediately head back out again to go in the opposite direction towards town.
The Chinese bazaar is the first shop we visit. Mugs and glasses have shattered repeatedly during the course of the past months, so we need to acquire new ones. Along with tea towels and some wooden spoons. Unless kitchen utensils are made of steel, they really don’t last longer than a few weeks around our dogs, but luckily the simple wooden ladles come cheap.
That done, we turn towards the center of town in hopes of reaching a small computer store run by a South African man who usually has good bargains on laptops.
Regretfully little brother’s computer gave the spirit a few days ago, so we’re obliged to find a new one for him at an affordable price.
Due to the three kings festival, we are waylaid halfway into town, and are forced to make an about-face instantly. All around families are gathering for the impending parade and thus getting to the store is pretty much impossible. Traffic police is all over the place, rerouting traffic and preparing for the festivities.
Thwarted in our plan we head for the Parque Miramar, where we buy a supply of frozen goods–vegetables and such–at Iceland and make a quick pass through the large domestic electric goods store, in hopes of finding a laptop on sale. No such luck, so once again we climb into the car and make our way to the large European supermarket.
There are quite a few sales, which will come in quite handy in the near future, so with those piled into the truck bed we resume on our way.
Up next is the major department store several miles down the road, and we hit up on both sections where computers are sold.
We see a nice one that is discounted due to some missing parts, but when we hear that the main missing part is the adaptor, and that the salesman can’t supply us with another, we don’t dare take the risk.
Disappointed, and starting to get a little weary from going up, down, east and west on a multitude of occasions without actual results to show for it we’re just about ready to call today’s foray a bust.
The last store’s up at last and we head into it with two shopping carts, only to find that we need another one, due to the fact of bargain prices for dog blankets and a DVD player for under € 35, which is really good since ours is on the fritz. We even buy a spare one, just in case. The machine won’t last for more than a year or two, we’re sure, but since an expensive brand will give the same problem–experience taught us as much–we are willing to take the risk.
It takes quite some time to get everything loaded into the truck, and when we do the bed’s filled to full capacity. Bags and boxes are piled high; the supplies for a group of nine people and over ninety dogs being nothing to laugh about.
I’m pretty much running on empty by the time we get home, dreading the prospect of unloading, but luckily the younger sibs are already waiting by the carport when we arrive, ready to start lugging the multitude of supplies down to the house.
Quickly I change back into my warm–the chill up on the mountain is considerably colder than it was down in town–clothes, and return to the car to grab four full bags and carry them with me into the house.
It is practically impossible to get inside with the heavy bags and the barrage of dogs welcoming us, but as usual we somehow manage and start putting everything away.
Pleased with the end result of full shelves, a filled fridge and freezers and properly stocked drawers, I shove one of the frozen pizzas in the small oven and plunk down on a chair to catch my breath.
For the rest of the night I’m unable to do much more. Somehow grocery day takes a lot from all of us, and I sit there, barely able to follow “Bones” and whatever show came afterwards, until I finally settle in one of the arm chairs and put on “Casino Royale” for about half an hour of entertainment.
At long last the day has come to an end, and I can head up to my quarters feeling flushed and chilled at the same time, and more than a little tired.
I AM going to get to bed in time today. I must!
Monday, January 5, 2009
Forum distractions. Hah!
Not much time today to write a Blog, I got terribly distracted on the forums, which is turning out to be a horrible addiction, for as far as time is concerned.
Let’s see, I cheated again this morning, so I’ll start there.
Once I let the dogs out, I flop back in bed and snooze for another forty minutes before I head on out to the house, carrying my laundry with me and knowing full well that it is a good thing that today is not a workout day for me.
There’s a chilly wind coming from the north, drying the air and thus the laundry on the lines, promising me a full hour of taking it all down, folding it and hanging a new batch that will hopefully be dry tomorrow, because the piles near the laundry machine has been piling up considerably during the past few days when nothing would dry.
It actually takes me up to seventy minutes to get it all done, even with big brother pitching in with the folding, but in the end I manage to feed Yadzia, have a quick bite myself and then set the computer up for today’s editing session.
I find myself having a hard time concentrating, even though the story is lovely and big brother did a good job of converting it to the 3rd person narrative. My mind keeps drifting and it allows me to only edit about seven pages during the course of the afternoon.
Since there’s enough of yesterday’s pizza left, I don’t need to cook today, but stop messing with the computer anyway at the usual time.
Having decided that today is going to be a rest day of sorts, preparing for the coming week where lessons need to be followed, groceries need to be got and another visit to the vet’s is looming, I have a feeling we’re going to need it.
We watch four action packed, recorded episodes from the latest “Prisonbreak” season, thoroughly enjoying the ongoing tale of Michael Scofield and Lincoln Burrows before I finally drag my butt out of my seat and head for the kitchen to do the dishes and prepare the continuation of the last project: The storage closet.
Using and old shelve that came off the wall, I place it in the corner where the closet is going to hang, and then continue to prop canned goods under it until the heavy piece of furniture reaches the height I want it to have.
Next, I drill holes through the wood, remove the closed and drill holes in the brick corner, before big brother comes to help me prop the thing off so we can bolt it to the wall.
Middle sister comes down to help me paint the closet with primer, and the evening draws to a slow end that has me heading up to my cabin around my usual time.
Like I said at the beginning, I get distracted on the forums. They are a lot of fun, and when a subject, which is certainly one that I take to heart, comes up, I just have to throw in my bit…which turns out to take up a page or two. Hah.
Shame on me, but it’s so much fun. This particular subject was about romances, and being an avid reader of it, while writing in the genre as well, I couldn’t keep my mouth shut…or fingers still, in this case.
So here’s what had me distracted:
”Ooookay, this romance bit needs a separate post for sure. You guys won't believe it, but I've got an opinion about it that which is just chomping at the bit to come out. LOL. I know it hardly ever happens, but there it is. ;-)
Right...I'll call this my rant, then. *snort*
First of all, a good love/sex scene that fits into a story, is tastefully done, meaning not just about A going to B (or in this case into...ehm, you get my drift) can really add to a good developed story, so basically I have nothing against them.
I've been reading romance novels for up to fifteen years now, you could say I'm slightly addicted, and yeah some of "the scenes" are totally awesome, but I have been noticing some disturbing changes of late in the genre of romance novels.
They're getting more explicit, like instead of...okay going into an analogy here...instead of sitting in a cozily lit living room, with atmospheric lights that make everything look, well, pretty, the romances are now going on in what I can only describe as fast-food joint lighting. Instead of welcoming you in, it just slams you in the face, and makes you want to leave ASAP...detailed scenes, often without a single emotional motivation.
Now, I admit that there is a place and time for anything, and a steamy, gritty scene against the wall, in the bathroom and who-knows where can fit into a story just fine but when I get details about bodily fluids going every which way (I know, gross example, but I did read it on occasion...and it wasn't in "another genre" *clears throat*), basic natural urges being satisfied and then described as "love" I'm like...Huh? Where did that come from? The characters just had head-banging sex after exchanging their names and they're talking about love? Uh-huh. Ooohkay. Whatever you say. Very unromantic if they've been had at "Hello". LMAO.
Also, I don't particularly like the new trend that's going on with "accurate" naming of A and B. I mean, I didn't like the "his throbbing lance" scenes any better, but at least that was remotely literary. It got the idea across just fine, rather than forcing me to open a medical lexicon in order to get a clear description. LOL. It's also very unromantic, IMO. A wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am with a complete stranger who "looks really hot" doesn't really get me...ehm...involved, if you get my meaning?
That isn't to say I want a romance to follow the cliche trail of, boy meets girl (or the other way 'round), they date, get married and do the deed on their wedding night, (described or not) but awesome sex does not automatically mean romance to me...since we're talking about romance novels, hehehe...there are exceptions, of course, but they are rare and far in between.
The best example for me is C. Feehan. She was always pretty descriptive, and in the Carpathian stories it did have it's place, even when I didn't entirely agree with it, but now...OMG! Might as well read hard porn...and they're getting longer, too, which is like. TMI! TMI! All that sticks in my mind is "the scene" rather than a story that is pretty darn awesome, which sorta ruins the effect.
I'm no prude and I've pretty much read anything there is to read about the theme, but there are times when the blatant exposure of a variety of anatomically correct body parts makes me long for the "they kiss, the door closes and...the next morning" type of stories. Not often, but sometimes. ;-)
It's a bit hypocritical of me, I know, since I too write...ehm...explicit scenes sometimes, but I do always try to give it some emotional impact too, which a lot of today's romance novelists appear to forget in their latest works. There seems to be an overall fashion trend that there needs to be "more" of everything, more detail, more explicit description, which takes away a bit of the magic...for me anyway.
It leads to a dead end of sorts, I guess. Once one has reached the top there's only one way to go, and that's just basic physics in the end.
That isn't to say I want the "love" scenes out of books, which was probably the purpose of your post, now that I think of it, ::-) sorry, got on a roll here. *sigh*
I don't want them out of romances, I just want the return of some atmospheric lights.”
Like I said, fun! So I thought I might as well post it here as well, even though the writing style is very different.
Ah well, it allowed me to put in a full post without taking as much time as I usually do, so…on to bed.
Let’s see, I cheated again this morning, so I’ll start there.
Once I let the dogs out, I flop back in bed and snooze for another forty minutes before I head on out to the house, carrying my laundry with me and knowing full well that it is a good thing that today is not a workout day for me.
There’s a chilly wind coming from the north, drying the air and thus the laundry on the lines, promising me a full hour of taking it all down, folding it and hanging a new batch that will hopefully be dry tomorrow, because the piles near the laundry machine has been piling up considerably during the past few days when nothing would dry.
It actually takes me up to seventy minutes to get it all done, even with big brother pitching in with the folding, but in the end I manage to feed Yadzia, have a quick bite myself and then set the computer up for today’s editing session.
I find myself having a hard time concentrating, even though the story is lovely and big brother did a good job of converting it to the 3rd person narrative. My mind keeps drifting and it allows me to only edit about seven pages during the course of the afternoon.
Since there’s enough of yesterday’s pizza left, I don’t need to cook today, but stop messing with the computer anyway at the usual time.
Having decided that today is going to be a rest day of sorts, preparing for the coming week where lessons need to be followed, groceries need to be got and another visit to the vet’s is looming, I have a feeling we’re going to need it.
We watch four action packed, recorded episodes from the latest “Prisonbreak” season, thoroughly enjoying the ongoing tale of Michael Scofield and Lincoln Burrows before I finally drag my butt out of my seat and head for the kitchen to do the dishes and prepare the continuation of the last project: The storage closet.
Using and old shelve that came off the wall, I place it in the corner where the closet is going to hang, and then continue to prop canned goods under it until the heavy piece of furniture reaches the height I want it to have.
Next, I drill holes through the wood, remove the closed and drill holes in the brick corner, before big brother comes to help me prop the thing off so we can bolt it to the wall.
Middle sister comes down to help me paint the closet with primer, and the evening draws to a slow end that has me heading up to my cabin around my usual time.
Like I said at the beginning, I get distracted on the forums. They are a lot of fun, and when a subject, which is certainly one that I take to heart, comes up, I just have to throw in my bit…which turns out to take up a page or two. Hah.
Shame on me, but it’s so much fun. This particular subject was about romances, and being an avid reader of it, while writing in the genre as well, I couldn’t keep my mouth shut…or fingers still, in this case.
So here’s what had me distracted:
”Ooookay, this romance bit needs a separate post for sure. You guys won't believe it, but I've got an opinion about it that which is just chomping at the bit to come out. LOL. I know it hardly ever happens, but there it is. ;-)
Right...I'll call this my rant, then. *snort*
First of all, a good love/sex scene that fits into a story, is tastefully done, meaning not just about A going to B (or in this case into...ehm, you get my drift) can really add to a good developed story, so basically I have nothing against them.
I've been reading romance novels for up to fifteen years now, you could say I'm slightly addicted, and yeah some of "the scenes" are totally awesome, but I have been noticing some disturbing changes of late in the genre of romance novels.
They're getting more explicit, like instead of...okay going into an analogy here...instead of sitting in a cozily lit living room, with atmospheric lights that make everything look, well, pretty, the romances are now going on in what I can only describe as fast-food joint lighting. Instead of welcoming you in, it just slams you in the face, and makes you want to leave ASAP...detailed scenes, often without a single emotional motivation.
Now, I admit that there is a place and time for anything, and a steamy, gritty scene against the wall, in the bathroom and who-knows where can fit into a story just fine but when I get details about bodily fluids going every which way (I know, gross example, but I did read it on occasion...and it wasn't in "another genre" *clears throat*), basic natural urges being satisfied and then described as "love" I'm like...Huh? Where did that come from? The characters just had head-banging sex after exchanging their names and they're talking about love? Uh-huh. Ooohkay. Whatever you say. Very unromantic if they've been had at "Hello". LMAO.
Also, I don't particularly like the new trend that's going on with "accurate" naming of A and B. I mean, I didn't like the "his throbbing lance" scenes any better, but at least that was remotely literary. It got the idea across just fine, rather than forcing me to open a medical lexicon in order to get a clear description. LOL. It's also very unromantic, IMO. A wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am with a complete stranger who "looks really hot" doesn't really get me...ehm...involved, if you get my meaning?
That isn't to say I want a romance to follow the cliche trail of, boy meets girl (or the other way 'round), they date, get married and do the deed on their wedding night, (described or not) but awesome sex does not automatically mean romance to me...since we're talking about romance novels, hehehe...there are exceptions, of course, but they are rare and far in between.
The best example for me is C. Feehan. She was always pretty descriptive, and in the Carpathian stories it did have it's place, even when I didn't entirely agree with it, but now...OMG! Might as well read hard porn...and they're getting longer, too, which is like. TMI! TMI! All that sticks in my mind is "the scene" rather than a story that is pretty darn awesome, which sorta ruins the effect.
I'm no prude and I've pretty much read anything there is to read about the theme, but there are times when the blatant exposure of a variety of anatomically correct body parts makes me long for the "they kiss, the door closes and...the next morning" type of stories. Not often, but sometimes. ;-)
It's a bit hypocritical of me, I know, since I too write...ehm...explicit scenes sometimes, but I do always try to give it some emotional impact too, which a lot of today's romance novelists appear to forget in their latest works. There seems to be an overall fashion trend that there needs to be "more" of everything, more detail, more explicit description, which takes away a bit of the magic...for me anyway.
It leads to a dead end of sorts, I guess. Once one has reached the top there's only one way to go, and that's just basic physics in the end.
That isn't to say I want the "love" scenes out of books, which was probably the purpose of your post, now that I think of it, ::-) sorry, got on a roll here. *sigh*
I don't want them out of romances, I just want the return of some atmospheric lights.”
Like I said, fun! So I thought I might as well post it here as well, even though the writing style is very different.
Ah well, it allowed me to put in a full post without taking as much time as I usually do, so…on to bed.
Sunday, January 4, 2009
Imagination becoming reality.
I feel weird when I wake up this morning, my head is somewhat fuzzy, and I’m feeling completely disoriented when the monster wakes me five minutes before the alarm goes off.
Off balance, I debate my actions as I toss the dogs out of the cabin and then decide to crawl back into bed for forty minutes extra, hoping that the lethargy I’m feeling will get less debilitating from some more sleep.
My head hits the pillow and the next thing I know the alarms screeches, announcing that I was off the world the moment I closed my eyes. There were no dreams, the dogs are gathered around my bed looking up pitifully, envious of those that managed to get on, and I get up to dress for the day. I hate being unconscious in a nap that serves best when slumbering in dreams. Slumber allows time to drag on, while unconsciousness makes me feel as if I haven’t slept at all.
Workout day: I was thoroughly in the mood for it last night, and yet for some reason that mood has evaporated during the night, making me drag my feet as I head for the house and prepare for today’s session. It isn’t until warm up is over and done with that I finally get into the spirit of things, attacking the boxing-bag full force.
The thing sways back and forth helplessly, noisy thuds mixing with squeals of the metal hooks that keep it attached to the ceiling while I punch, kick and pounce my way through today’s workout.
Out of breath from the five-jab session, I take several minutes to regain it, and then move on to the lightweights. With the final knee-pull-ups from the bar that hangs on the ceiling beside the bag, the day’s workout comes to an end and I can head on over to the shower for several minutes of scorching hot water, washing away perspiration.
Pleasantly weary, I make Yadzia a quick breakfast and then have my own before I start on today’s writing. It took a lot of cutting into the original story, but I finally manage to get the first draft done and chuckle my pleasure when I press the punctuation mark that announces the ending.
Finishing a story is always a pleasure, and even yesterday’s horridness can’t change the satisfaction of being able to say, “done”. I’m regretful of the scenes I had to leave out, in particular because they were so damn sweet, but I have a feeling that it works out pretty well in the end. It’s more compact now, basics that will make for an interesting read, without adding a lot of information that is beautiful, yet not required for the story.
Who knows, I might actually work my way back to the original story some day, and then do a full edit on the 1st person style, rather than 3rd person, just to see what the responses will be.
Though the novellas are quick and fun writes, there is a definite downside to them, I’ve found. You get that depressed feeling often due to finishing a story so fast. With a full-length novel it can take years to come to a conclusion of a tale, and therefore the blues will stay away. Ah well, diversity keeps it all interesting, I suppose.
With the novella done, I decide to treat myself with a quick visit to the forums and chat for a bit, thanking everyone for their kind words about Bala’s untimely demise, and get distracted by the younger sibs who wish to know what I intend to cook today.
Considering that I hadn’t even intended on cooking today that question takes me aback for a moment, before I cover it with the rather smart remark, “I was going to check out what’s in storage before I decide.” Hah. No one notices, and after some debate little brother suggests that I make pizza–and enough of it to see us through the weekend, now that our supplies are low, to boot. There simply isn’t enough of it to allow for another cooking session.
Little brother and sister have already started cutting veggies, and by the time I join them, I scrounge through the cabinets to find canned goods to get enough for the toppings. Within record time little sister and I get about two yards of pizza done and thirty minutes later the first portions get served.
There is still the matter of getting used to the gas oven, however, there are some scorched places and the crust is a bit too firm, but the taste is excellent and we go through at least half of the offering before everyone’s stuffed.
Having promised myself to take things easy today, I actually watch the full episode of “The Closer” this evening, before I move on to the kitchen where, with yesterday’s acquisition of wood, the final kitchen storage closet is to be constructed.
I’m actually looking forward to building this thing, wanting to keep my hands and mind busy at the same time.
Middle sister joins me, and within three hours the walls, shelves and top make a wonderfully large storage place that is going to need painting and everything, but is now standing in the kitchen.
We finish around twelve thirty in the night, and I head on up to my cabin to finish the day with the usual Net visits.
I’m in the midst of my session when my computer warns me for a virus. It startles me quite a bit, and after getting off-line for a bit so I can start up my anti-virus program to do a thorough check. The program runs through the files for a solid hour, coming up on five friggin’ worms that have somehow made their way into my computer. Dratted things. Whoever thinks them up is just mean.
I get thoroughly distracted when big brother suddenly calls.
He’s been reading the new story and was curious about the area I wrote about.
Little did he know I’d made it all up, but he is fully excited about my accuracy. I’m quite stunned when he describes the land–he’s looking at images–the wildlife and everything that is mentioned in the book, which fits perfectly in my story.
Who’d have thought that my imagination was even remotely accurate, hah.
At long last we finish talking over the house phone and exchanging Internet addresses that show me the images I’d seen in my head alone for quite some time, until the night draws to an end, and it’s time for me to get ready for bed.
Tomorrow I’ll probably start working on the 1920’s story, so that should be interesting.
Off balance, I debate my actions as I toss the dogs out of the cabin and then decide to crawl back into bed for forty minutes extra, hoping that the lethargy I’m feeling will get less debilitating from some more sleep.
My head hits the pillow and the next thing I know the alarms screeches, announcing that I was off the world the moment I closed my eyes. There were no dreams, the dogs are gathered around my bed looking up pitifully, envious of those that managed to get on, and I get up to dress for the day. I hate being unconscious in a nap that serves best when slumbering in dreams. Slumber allows time to drag on, while unconsciousness makes me feel as if I haven’t slept at all.
Workout day: I was thoroughly in the mood for it last night, and yet for some reason that mood has evaporated during the night, making me drag my feet as I head for the house and prepare for today’s session. It isn’t until warm up is over and done with that I finally get into the spirit of things, attacking the boxing-bag full force.
The thing sways back and forth helplessly, noisy thuds mixing with squeals of the metal hooks that keep it attached to the ceiling while I punch, kick and pounce my way through today’s workout.
Out of breath from the five-jab session, I take several minutes to regain it, and then move on to the lightweights. With the final knee-pull-ups from the bar that hangs on the ceiling beside the bag, the day’s workout comes to an end and I can head on over to the shower for several minutes of scorching hot water, washing away perspiration.
Pleasantly weary, I make Yadzia a quick breakfast and then have my own before I start on today’s writing. It took a lot of cutting into the original story, but I finally manage to get the first draft done and chuckle my pleasure when I press the punctuation mark that announces the ending.
Finishing a story is always a pleasure, and even yesterday’s horridness can’t change the satisfaction of being able to say, “done”. I’m regretful of the scenes I had to leave out, in particular because they were so damn sweet, but I have a feeling that it works out pretty well in the end. It’s more compact now, basics that will make for an interesting read, without adding a lot of information that is beautiful, yet not required for the story.
Who knows, I might actually work my way back to the original story some day, and then do a full edit on the 1st person style, rather than 3rd person, just to see what the responses will be.
Though the novellas are quick and fun writes, there is a definite downside to them, I’ve found. You get that depressed feeling often due to finishing a story so fast. With a full-length novel it can take years to come to a conclusion of a tale, and therefore the blues will stay away. Ah well, diversity keeps it all interesting, I suppose.
With the novella done, I decide to treat myself with a quick visit to the forums and chat for a bit, thanking everyone for their kind words about Bala’s untimely demise, and get distracted by the younger sibs who wish to know what I intend to cook today.
Considering that I hadn’t even intended on cooking today that question takes me aback for a moment, before I cover it with the rather smart remark, “I was going to check out what’s in storage before I decide.” Hah. No one notices, and after some debate little brother suggests that I make pizza–and enough of it to see us through the weekend, now that our supplies are low, to boot. There simply isn’t enough of it to allow for another cooking session.
Little brother and sister have already started cutting veggies, and by the time I join them, I scrounge through the cabinets to find canned goods to get enough for the toppings. Within record time little sister and I get about two yards of pizza done and thirty minutes later the first portions get served.
There is still the matter of getting used to the gas oven, however, there are some scorched places and the crust is a bit too firm, but the taste is excellent and we go through at least half of the offering before everyone’s stuffed.
Having promised myself to take things easy today, I actually watch the full episode of “The Closer” this evening, before I move on to the kitchen where, with yesterday’s acquisition of wood, the final kitchen storage closet is to be constructed.
I’m actually looking forward to building this thing, wanting to keep my hands and mind busy at the same time.
Middle sister joins me, and within three hours the walls, shelves and top make a wonderfully large storage place that is going to need painting and everything, but is now standing in the kitchen.
We finish around twelve thirty in the night, and I head on up to my cabin to finish the day with the usual Net visits.
I’m in the midst of my session when my computer warns me for a virus. It startles me quite a bit, and after getting off-line for a bit so I can start up my anti-virus program to do a thorough check. The program runs through the files for a solid hour, coming up on five friggin’ worms that have somehow made their way into my computer. Dratted things. Whoever thinks them up is just mean.
I get thoroughly distracted when big brother suddenly calls.
He’s been reading the new story and was curious about the area I wrote about.
Little did he know I’d made it all up, but he is fully excited about my accuracy. I’m quite stunned when he describes the land–he’s looking at images–the wildlife and everything that is mentioned in the book, which fits perfectly in my story.
Who’d have thought that my imagination was even remotely accurate, hah.
At long last we finish talking over the house phone and exchanging Internet addresses that show me the images I’d seen in my head alone for quite some time, until the night draws to an end, and it’s time for me to get ready for bed.
Tomorrow I’ll probably start working on the 1920’s story, so that should be interesting.
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