I have been observing with interest the “solar-powered people” phenomenon as it’s gotten lighter out earlier. Three months ago I was happy to sleep until 9am, because that was when the light arrived through the bedroom window. Now it’s arriving by 6, and I’m waking up around then with a fair degree of regularity. I would no doubt be able to man through it and continue to sleep if my bladder didn’t usually really require me to get up then.

I would be more pleased about this whole scenario if there were any gyms in Cork that opened before 7:30am. The Irish Do Not Get Up Early. At All. So getting up at 6:30 doesn’t so much mean I can leap out of bed and go forth to the gym and exercise and feel virtuous as it means I can leap out of bed, put my contacts in (oh, lord, how I miss wearing contacts all the time, but most especially I miss that wake-up splash of cold saline solution in my eyes), and then…sit around getting sleepy until it gets close enough to 7:30 that I can walk to the gym.

But lo! you say. Lo, you could go for a walk early in the morning instead of going to the gym! Hah! you say. Hah, take that!

And you would be right. Except the walk I’m most fond of is on a gated trail which doesn’t open until half eight. And if I walk out along the roads, then the walk home is very unpleasant because it’s full of traffic and noxious fumes, or includes the bonus terror of narrow Irish roads and drivers coming at you at eleven hundred miles an hour. Tomorrow I may go explore whether the other Lovely Walk is ungated at all hours (they’re doing construction there, so it may not be), but today’s a gym day.

I can already tell I’m going to *badly* need a nap later. But now it’s 7am, and so I’m going to take the long way ’round to the gym, but first I’ll leave you with a story of nudity, Catholic school girls, and butter (which is, strangely enough, *entirely* work safe).

miles to Minas Tirith: 393.8

currently: awake

I decided last night that I was going to the gym this morning, but this morning I couldn’t find my gym pass, so I went for a walk instead. On the way back, I saw a little black kitten, maybe 4 months old or so, in one of the parks. Ted and I had seen him on Monday, and were concerned about him, but weren’t sure if *maybe* he belonged to somebody, although he certainly didn’t look like he did. But we had no way of capturing him at the time, and, well, he might’ve belonged to somebody.

I got a better look today and I’m sure he doesn’t. I also was stopped by a girl who’d stopped to cajole him, who wanted to know if I’d seen him before and if he was perhaps a stray, because she has a friend with a cattery who also rehabilitates ferals, and she wasn’t armed to catch a kitten at the moment, but if he was in fact a stray she was going to come back and try to catch him after work, or possibly in the morning. When Ted and I saw him it was in exactly the same area, only in the afternoon, so probably he’ll be there. I hope she catches him. I think maybe tomorrow morning I’ll go by at the same time and see if I can’t find her and perhaps exchange mobile numbers in case it turns out catching a kitten is a two-person job.

…ok, the TPC manuscript has been reduced by slightly more than half in size via line spacing, font size and margin-mooshing, and has been printed out double-sided through careful maneuvering and breath-holding, with an end result of not more than 35 pages wasted in screwed-up printing. It’s 155 double-sided pages, 310 in total (down from 654 in its original format), and lacks a final two chapters. However, in printing and glancing at words and phrases that popped out, I feel reasonably confident that while it needs a _lot_ of work, there are parts of it that are actually good. :) I tell you, I’ve never been this *cheerful* about hitting a wall and having to go back to fix things. I hope it’s not a Very Bad Sign. :)

All right, I have just managed to do three things that I’d been totally dinking around on doing, so go me! And now I’m going out of the house for the third time today (which is rather amazing, for me) and…will no doubt post more later. :)

(Where ‘later’ means “in the same post”, because I forgot to hit ‘publish’ before leaving…)

We were out for coffee in a highly-mirrored cafe, which caused me to look at my pretty but plump face and think, “Ok, this has to stop.” I’m tired of being tubby. I am certainly capable of doing something about it (although there seems to be a high “overwhelming workload/fully aware of diet sabotage but not caring enough to stop” ratio). Maybe today’s observation will be enough to actually make me do something about it.

Ted, while bringing me a pile of dishes to wash, suggested tonight be RomCom Night at the Murphy-Lee household. I asked if this proposal was born of not wanting to be killed for bringing me more dishes to wash, but he says not. So I’m going to go watch some fluffy romcom with my hubby now. :)

ytd wordcount: 182,400
miles to Minas Tirith: 296

currently: good

I’m a genius!

I actually went to the gym this morning, which was quite satisfying. John, the guy who runs the Curves here, had said something about women from there changing to a different gym “because they weren’t sweating”. I grant you, I sweat at the drop of a hat, but if you’re in averagely good shape (which I am, as opposed to being in good shape or very good shape) and you put some effort into it, I don’t know why you wouldn’t sweat doing one of those workouts. I still vastly prefer free weights, but it’s not a bad workout at all.

Anyway, that has nothing to do with my genius. The genius part of me is the part where I’m usually STARVELATING after a workout, and it struck me on my way out the gym door that there was a green grocer just down the road from the gym, and I could stop and get an apple or an orange and have something that was both good for me and would stave off the STARVELATING. I feel very smug. :)

(Ok, so it doesn’t take much. Hush!)

Good news: the edits on Firebird Deception are in fact light, and I’m going through them pretty quickly. This is not my favorite part of writing. OTOH, once it’s done, hey, the book is pretty much put to bed, and that’s grand.

Other good news: Mom and Dad had a fantastic time in Venice. *beam*

Arright. I’m gonna go meet Ted and we’re going to shop, and then I’m going home for lunch, work, and eventually to come back out to the internet shop again. Rumor has it that we’ll have net on Feb. 3. This time we’ve at least got an order number, which is an improvement over all the other times when they’ve promised us net.

This means, mind you, that COYOTE DREAMS had better be done by Feb. 3. :)

miles to Mount Doom 352

I’m going to have some more minor edits to do after this pass on HoS is done, but I think this is the last major revision pass I’m going to have to do. The middle of the book got rewritten a lot in the last pass and it’s solidified up nicely. I’ve got a bunch of work to do to the last four or five chapters still, but if the ones between–20 through 24 or so–aren’t too bad, the end is in sight and I’m feeling quite smug about all of this. Gotten a lot done the last few days, despite having been all over hell and breakfast in that time.

I went down to Curves today, which actually was “go down to Curves, discover I’ve gotten there just after the lunch hour’s begun, go for a two+ mile walk down the Barrow Way, return, find they’re still not open, then meet a very tall man who was struggling with Athy traffic (which is really rather bad) to get back to the shop on time, then spend a good solid 40 minutes talking to him about many things that have nothing to do with Curves”. :)

After looking around, I decided two things. One: it’s not really my kind of place. Two: I’m going to go ahead and join anyway. Amazingly, one does not need a utility bill to do this. There’s a not-too-reprehensible initiation fee which he knocked down another thirty percent because he felt guilty about it starting in January if he didn’t tell me about it, and I can pay monthly, which is good since we don’t know if we’ll be here for more than 6 months. Here in Athy, I mean.

I’m going to join despite it not really being my kind of place because I’d really like to do strength training of some sort, and I think I’ll *use* it, even if it’s not really what I’d prefer. Right now I’m feeling like wanting to do weights (in whatever format) is a larger want than a specific kind of weight gym. Which isn’t available anyway. :)

Arright. Heading home now. Maybe I’ll go swimming tonight.

miles to Mount Doom: 285

“We’re lost, aren’t we?”

“We’re not lost. I just don’t know exactly where we are at the moment.”

“Belgarath, that’s exactly what the word lost means!”

My clever plan to go forth to Temple Bar, find the comic shop and movie theatre, then to go back to Grafton Street for some shopping was partially successful.

For example, I found the movie theatre. I went there very much like I knew what I was doing, in fact. Mind, Dad had brought me over there a few days ago, and I’d been confused because it really didn’t look at all like the theatre I’d been to fifteen years ago.

Today I found out that was because it *wasn’t* the theatre I’d been to fifteen years ago. *That* theatre was the Savoy, and I found it accidentally during the hour I spent wandering back and fucking forth trying to get myself reoriented so I could get home. It was *incredibly* frustrating, because I was pretty goddamned sure that I was within a couple of blocks of where I needed to be, but I just could not for the life of me *get* there. After an hour of trying–which was after the hour of walking around with less purpose in mind–I finally gave in and called for help, because I just could not get myself pointed the right direction. As it happened, Dad was two blocks away and came and got me and yes, yes, I was within two freaking blocks of where I wanted to be, and the moment I got on the right street and could see the fucking bridge, I knew where I was and how to get home. :P

Having spent the last half hour glowering at maps of Dublin, it appears I was facing completely the opposite direction that I thought I was, and that I should have. Fuck. *grumpy face* I still have essentially no idea how I got that turned around. Dammit. Anyway, Dad rode up on a white horse and rescued me, which was very nice of him. :) AND he showed me where one of the comic shops is, so tomorrow I think I’ll go visit it.

I did manage to get hair dye and saline solution and lotion, which was one of my intentions for the afternoon. I didn’t get anything else, but I guess that’s just how it goes. It was, overall, an exercise in frustration.

Or, perhaps more accurately, an exercise *and* frustration.

miles to Mount Doom: 239

hell. handbasket. let us not discuss the doom of baskin robbins.

yes yes, i admit, i was WEAK!

…which reminds me of some years ago when my family were sitting around the table Christmas night playing Spoons, a card game where the idea is to get 4 of a kind while passing cards as fast as possible and not holding more than 5 in your hand at once. There are 1 fewer spoons on the table than there are players, and you’re supposed to take a spoon when you get 4 of a kind. Then you either frantically seize a spoon, or sneakily seize one and continue playing until someone notices a spoon is missing, at which point there’s usually a mad bloody leap for the remaining spoons. The key word here is “bloody”; rings must be taken off before playing this game, and it’s best if nobody has fingernails worth mentioning.

So we were playing Spoons, my parents and sister and I. Someone–Dad, I think–got 4 of a kind, and took a spoon. No one noticed, and then Mom noticed, leaving one spoon left for Deirdre and me.

We lunged for it. It spun out of control, whipping toward the end of the table. And then it was airborne, and so was I, *flinging* myself in a literal bellyflop across the table, reaching, reaching, reaching–

–and Deirdre *threw* herself across Dad’s lap, snatching the spoon from the very jaws of my victory! She thrust her hand into the air, brandishing the spoon triumphantly, and sounded her cheer of domination!

Crushed, I collapsed back into my chair and said, in bitter disappointment, “I was weak!”

It pretty much reduced us all to tears of hysterical laughter, and we still occasionally say, “I was *weak*!” when we’ve gone to great effort for no avail. :)

Going to bed now that I’ve given myself a good giggle. :)

Oh, but first, congratulations to Merlin, who won Jenn’s auction! Awesome!

miles to Mount DOOOOOM: 136

brain…derailing me…mouth…wants chocolate…must…stay strong.

miles to Mount DOOOOM: 133

I’ll be darned. I made my exercise goal for August after all. In fact, I even made the one I’d originally set (33.5 hours) instead of just the one I readjusted to. I managed just a smidge under 35 hours. I’m very pleased about that.

I’ve been exercising too much the last few days, though. My knees are tired, and stairs seem rather insurmountable. They’re not, but they seem that way. I’ve walked 5 miles a day for the last … six days, it looks like, and now my head thinks I have to walk 5 miles every day. I don’t walk particularly fast, so this gets time consuming, especially if I also go to the gym.

OTOH, I’m sure sleeping well. :)

miles to Mount DOOOOOM: 110

Boys will probably want to skip this entry. It’s all about bras.

…okay, maybe that means you want to read it. I donno. :)

So I get this biking gear catalog from Terry Bicycles. I was flipping through it the other day and found this sports bra that nobody could resist: it’s called Damn The Torpedos. It is specifically made for Women With Boobs; they advertised it as being designed for C and D cups.

Naturally, I bought one immediately.

It has a zip front and velcro adjustable straps to ratchet up the squish factor with. It arrived today, and if it weren’t so smoky out, I’d go dashing out for a bike ride to give it a real test run. It is smoky, though, so I just spent several minutes bouncing around in the bedroom, during which time I determined that it is probably the most comfortable sports bra I’ve ever put on, and furthermore that it seemed to do an excellent job of reducing bounce. It clearly works under the “flatten and squish” principle rather than the “lift, separate and squish” principle that some sports bra manufacturers go with. It’s possible the latter works if you’re not a C cup or better, but in my experience, “squish them flat” is about as good as it gets when you’re looking for a bra that will prevent you from having to clutch your chest to run up stairs (or anywhere else).

The other one I bought (in a large) claims to be wearable from 36A through 38B, and while the ribcage measurement is just fine, the actual cup size does not accomodate a C cup and so is not to be recommended. For an A or B cup, though, who wants a sort of casual sports bra thing, it’d probably be very good–it was comfortable, overlooking the slopping over the sides bit.

They also have another one I want to try, but I have to wait til they get my size in. Hrmph. And there’s another zip-front sports bra which looks a lot like the Damn the Torpedos bra, but doesn’t have the keyhole back and doesn’t claim to be specifically made for C&D cup women, so rather than trying it I think I may just get myself a second DtT bra.

You all now know far more about my bust size than I’m strictly comfortable with, but that’s something I’m just going to have to live with, in the face of sharing information about good bras. :)

I’ve just added it up. I’ve exercised (in a quantifiable fashion) 144 out of the available 190 days so far this year. Why aren’t I thin yet?

It’s vurry nice out. Biked 15 miles. Can’t decide if I’m starving now or too full of water to eat, or both. I think both.

Halfway through the edits on FD. Going pretty well. Ted’s parents’ll be here tonight, and I’ll be a horrible daughter in law because I’ve got to get this thing finished and out the door. :/ (Actually, they’re very understanding about the whole working from home thing. Good peoples.)

Hee. Deborah apparently read IMMORTAL BELOVED, which evidently prompted in her the urge to go watch lots of Highlander. Her husband was pained by this urge. :) She also had all the right reactions to the story. (People generally seem to.) I really do love that book. It could stand a good editing (which it will probably never get) but I do love it. :)

Shower now.

miles to Rauros Falls: 338
miles to Hobbiton: 286.7