Walking season hath begun: after a lot of contemplation (seriously, a lot a lot a lot,) I won’t be doing Avon this year. I have a horrible track record with it, and I really don’t want to be that person who does nothing but fundraise. So I’m only doing one, Philadelphia in early October. My teammates have a decent grasp on my limitations and they have my back, so it feels safe. I am starting to fundraise and I will be
There will probably not, however, be pink hair. This makes me a sad wabbit, but I am swimming in earnest now and who knows what pool water would do to a dye job.
Y’all also know, the right donation could make me risk it.
Y’all know, too, I am willing to walk in spandex for the right donation. Or not…I got a good one for St. Baldrick’s if I promised to not show up in skin tight psycho-clothing.
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Yelling at me to “ride on the damned sidewalk” is not going to make me ride on the damned sidewalk. I am not 5; my bicycle has just as much right to be on the street as your car. And I’m not in your way as it is. Go the fark around me, you sanctimonious blowhard.Yeah, I’m tired. I get cranky when I’m tired.
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If you and a couple other people want to dissect my work, please don’t include me. I know you think it’s a courtesy, but it makes me really uncomfortable.Hence, I rarely read my own reviews. The bad ones stick with me and make me question my abilities as a writer. Well, the "call a WAAAHHHHMBULANCE" review almost made me laugh. Almost.
There are only about 4 people who can point out the flaws in my work and I don’t mind, mostly because they’re reading it pre-publication and I can change things. Once it’s out there…if you like it, fine, please buy the next book. If not, fine, but please don’t pick over it with me.
Also, if you ask me what that book is about, the answer you’ll probably get is, “about 400 pages.”
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I seriously can’t do heat anymore. When we painted last weekend it was 73F outside and not much warmer inside. After we prepped, I painted just one wall and had to take a break because I was so miserably hot and nauseated. It wasn’t until the Spouse Thingy put the a/c on at around 70 that I was able to finish.It’s 74o in the house right now and I’m sweating and not very comfortable.
No, it’s not hot flashes. The Spouse Thingy thinks I’m just doing a slow burn instead and he might be right.
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He's in IKEA hell right now. Assembly of 3 wardrobes, a dresser, and a bookcase. I’ll help when he asks, but mostly my job is to stay out of the way. I will finally have a linen closet. It’s the simple things…
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Applebee’s Clubhouse Grille sandwich = 1200 calories.I wish I had known before I ate half of one. I’ve been trying to stick to about 1500 calories a day, but that’s not going to happen today. And since I am already over and a blow-out day is not a bad idea every now and then, I am also going to have ice cream tonight.
Ice cream = nasty digestive things. But so totally worth it. Pretty sure that makes it diet food, anyway.
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Maybe I’ll swim it off tomorrow. Holy fark, I’m loving the swimming.
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