I shouldn't post when I'm tired and in pain. Makes the posts come out come out in a bitter, defeated voice. Not really what I intended to say on Monday. The pain cleared up on Tuesday, which was good, since I didn't want to walk through it. Watched the TaeBo Flex workout last night. It goes slightly slower and each move has 3 sets. I won't finish the whole 45 minute workout the first time, but I shouldn't trip and fall on my face.
I got some decorating done Tuesday too. And Mustard didn't break it, phew. We already had the incident Monday morning where I put an open bottle of Diet Dr. Pepper on the nightstand closest to the mirror as I was measuring myself. Mustard takes a flying leap and the nightstand is his landing pad. Diet Dr. Pepper everywhere. The new rug soaked most of it up like a towel. I had maybe a fourth left in the bottle to drink.
I think there is something I'm calling "sleepy fumes" in my car. And no I don't think my car is leaking carbon monoxide into its interior, just that I'm wide awake at home or at the office but as soon as I get in the car, I can't stop yawning and my eyes want to shut. So no I don't think I'm being paranoid when I worry about ending up wrapped around a tree in my car. I should try to get to bed for 8pm, but when your sleep cycle gets messed up in the weekend it's a struggle to get it back right.
The fat is being stubborn and not going anywhere. I'm sure I'm in better shape. I got 2 miles in walking yesterday and I can touch my toes, but the numbers really aren't changing much and my clothes are still fitting the same bad way. *Sigh* I talked myself out of a chocolate milkshake twice yesterday only to have over my carbs at supper with yummy yeast rolls (white bread being the same as sugar for the body). But short of getting a Food Nazi to stand over me while I eat, I don't know how to develop the willpower to do what I need to do.
Homework: *headdesk* I don't really think I'm behind, but it feels like I am. However I am behind on Educators' Guide and Zy's Novel. *headdesk* In the middle of
As I Lay Dying, and there's only so much of the Bundrens you can take at a time.
And when are you old enough to have a conversation with your mother without feeling that judgement is being passed and you're coming up short? And it's nothing she says, just my hyperactive nerves reading something into every line. I'm really tired of them doing that and would like it to stop, but I'm thinking it'll have to be therapy to make it stop.
Usually when my insides are in turmoil, I get good writing out of it. I remember the Night Storm novel that became my hyperfiction novel that maybe become something else was fueled due to a guy I had crushed on but we remained friends suddenly showing his true face and was not my friend. 9/11 fueled me to finishing "Family, Friends, and Foes." Inside, I'm a seething mass of raw wounds, but writing lets me put all that away.
But I can't seem to do that now. Looking at in a detached sorta way, maybe because the wounds aren't real. Oh, the inner demon that is using them to snipe at me is glamouring them into a reality, but deep down in my core I know I'm fretting over smoke dragons and there's nothing to run into writing to run away from. So I should be able to work as if everything is fine and dandy. And then smoke dragon is in my face. And then I forget to take a deep breath and blow it away.
Pull out Heather Sellers, reread chapter on demons, and actually do some of the exercises!
Chastizing done. I'm going for more Diet Dr. Pepper so I can finish
As I Lay Dying and hopefully get some writing done.
And does anyone have a copy of the
Case of the Careless Kitten by Erle Stanley Gardner. It's a Perry Mason mystery, and I'm considering using it for a major project in History of the Book.
Read Free!
The BookWorm
There is a
new renaissance festival in Louisiana! Check out the
Acadiana Medieval Faire at:
http://www.acadianafaire.org/
