I did not mean for that last post about the big break to be the last post for two weeks, but I temporarily forgot my password and couldn’t log in. Heh. :) I defied my cold (and probably common sense) and went out to dinner with friends last night. I managed to be late because I stopped to do my makeup and missed the train, so I was pretty annoyed with myself. OTOH, it did provide the pretty amusing moments where, as I approached the table, one of the two…
Nearly 8 years ago now I started the ‘war room’, a chat room for writers to log into and keep each other company while we write. It’s a combination of support group, inertia-breaker, guilt-inducer, and social space. People log in from all over North America and Europe (I don’t think we have any other continents checking in), and it works really well. (Michelle Sagara dedicated the latest Elantra book to us. ♥ :)) I wish I could figure out a way to make something similiar for more off-line activities work.…
I woke up feeling really ambitious this morning, between the head cold and 6 hours of sleep: I decided Ted should start working out and get in shape like The Rock. (honestly, i have no idea where that came from but it’s so hysterical i thought it was worth sharing. i liked how *i* wasn’t gonna do this shit, no way. it was an ambition for TED. a really really extreme one! in retrospect, i thought, y’know, getting in shape like chris pratt would be a sufficiently impressive ambition. :))…
A cold attacked me on Sunday. One minute I was fine, five minutes later I had a raging sore throat and completely stuffed sinuses. Monday I sat on the couch and watched Farscape. Tuesday I went to Dublin, which was clearly an overtaxing of my ability, but I was glad I went. I went to bed at 7:30pm on Tuesday night (Indy tucked me in and read me a story &heart;), woke briefly at 11 and thought “yay I’m a lot better!” and went back to sleep…and woke up at…
I have Ambitions about the garden. My Ambitions probably require a wood chipper, a chainsaw, a tiller, whatever one uses to pull (reasonably small, because I wouldn’t try to deal with the big trees) stumps/roots out, and as many willing bodies as is feasible, to accomplish. See, half of it garden is gone to wild, and was before we moved in here. I don’t even necessarily mind that it’s wild. It’s that it’s murderous, full of brambles (which at least produce blackberries) and nettles (which don’t). I’d like to reduce…