![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
leahbobetJanuary 13, 2007 Progress Notes:
The Patron Saint of Nothing
Words today: 1250.
Words total: 22,250 MS Word.
Reason for stopping: My head is hurty again! Although this time it might be one of those Eating Food issues.
Liquid Refreshment: Water.
Munchies: There was to be lasagne tonight, but I was thwarted by my lack of mozzarella. So it'll be pasketti bolognese instead. Lasagne day is moved to tomorrow.
Exercise: Two hours' walking while I did the groceries.
Mail: Nomail.
Darling du Jour: Case curled up as small as he could between the walls of the canal-boat, under the seats. He smelled it now, a bitter wild smell like a stove gone uncleaned for years and years and then stuffed full of the worst summer rubbish you could get. It caught in his throat; he tried to clear it and that just bought him a look dirtier than the stove.
Tyop du Jour: N/A
Words MS Word Doesn't Know: gravitas
Mean Things: Qara and Sakhile, Rogue Xenobiologists: Hits on the head! Getting escape dangled in front of them and snatched away! Creepiness of trees!
Case: Something in his home district is burning. It might be his house. :D
Lyss: Y'know, it really sucks when you finally get up the guts to ask the guy who's been courting you home and he says "no, too tired".
Research Roundup: History of blood transfusion. Apparently this killed a lot of people back around 1550-1800, but since Charybdis is pretty much gaslight era right now I'll let them have that one for free.
Books in progress: Katherine Mansfield, Selected Stories; Catherynne M. Valente, The Orphan's Tales: In the Night Garden; Jay Lake, Trial of Flowers; Textbooks.
The glamour: St. Lawrence Market! For the first time in a long while. I decided I was tired of paying through the ear for meat from Cumbrae's (yes, city's most expensive butcher, conveniently located around the corner from me) and hiked down there to get the groceries. I have cowflesh and chickenflesh and cheese(flesh) and basil lasagna noodles and strawberries and raspberries for muffins, and a few other things I needed like more olive oil and yeast for baking. I remembered everything, actually, except the mozzarella. *headdesk*
Day Eight:
Thank you god we are through the riot. And add in one more transition tomorrow and we're through Chapter Four, the Chapter That Dare Not Speak Its Suck, as well. Qara and Sakhile get demerits for monopolizing almost 4000 words of action in a row.
I needed a quiet day today, I think. Well, a Being To Myself day: wasn't exactly quiet. Went out and got more groceries than I could carry -- cabbed home sheepishly -- and read for Patriarchy Class, wrote, puttered around the kitchen some, about to start dinner. I suspect I will want to be to myself tomorrow too, and it occurs to me that I have Monday off, since the tutorial I have Monday afternoons doesn't actually start until next week. When I will miss it, being in Florida. Oops. *g*
Yes, I am going to Florida. Friday to Monday. The story of that trip goes like this:
(Scene: Early December.)
Phone: *ring ring*
Me: Hello?
My Mom: Hi. It's cold and grey and it sucks here. D'you want to go to the beach in January?
Me: Um, sure. Can we coordinate that around everyone's schedules?
My Mom: No, just you and me. We'll laze in the warmness and play card games and read books and drink margaritas and eat fresh lobster that they just took out of the ocean five minutes ago and do things like that.
Me: ...oh, oh no, twist my arm harder.
So I am going to Florida. *g* I have ordered a bikini for this from the internets, since this summer I revisited the bathingsuits I got when I was 17 (scene of my last bathingsuit purchase) and...well...no. Just no. It's not happening. I'm currently hoping the nice grey bikini with sparkles shows up before I get on a plane. It might be a near thing.
I still haven't decided what this'll mean for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
novel_in_90 wordcount. Clearly, LIKE SHIT am I working when I go to the beach. I guess I'll make it up a little before, a little after?
And oh yes, ping me with a snail-mail address if you want a silly postcard while I'm there. :p
Now I am going to make my dinner before I expire and never make it to Florida.
The Patron Saint of Nothing
Words today: 1250.
Words total: 22,250 MS Word.
Reason for stopping: My head is hurty again! Although this time it might be one of those Eating Food issues.
Liquid Refreshment: Water.
Munchies: There was to be lasagne tonight, but I was thwarted by my lack of mozzarella. So it'll be pasketti bolognese instead. Lasagne day is moved to tomorrow.
Exercise: Two hours' walking while I did the groceries.
Mail: Nomail.
Darling du Jour: Case curled up as small as he could between the walls of the canal-boat, under the seats. He smelled it now, a bitter wild smell like a stove gone uncleaned for years and years and then stuffed full of the worst summer rubbish you could get. It caught in his throat; he tried to clear it and that just bought him a look dirtier than the stove.
Tyop du Jour: N/A
Words MS Word Doesn't Know: gravitas
Mean Things: Qara and Sakhile, Rogue Xenobiologists: Hits on the head! Getting escape dangled in front of them and snatched away! Creepiness of trees!
Case: Something in his home district is burning. It might be his house. :D
Lyss: Y'know, it really sucks when you finally get up the guts to ask the guy who's been courting you home and he says "no, too tired".
Research Roundup: History of blood transfusion. Apparently this killed a lot of people back around 1550-1800, but since Charybdis is pretty much gaslight era right now I'll let them have that one for free.
Books in progress: Katherine Mansfield, Selected Stories; Catherynne M. Valente, The Orphan's Tales: In the Night Garden; Jay Lake, Trial of Flowers; Textbooks.
The glamour: St. Lawrence Market! For the first time in a long while. I decided I was tired of paying through the ear for meat from Cumbrae's (yes, city's most expensive butcher, conveniently located around the corner from me) and hiked down there to get the groceries. I have cowflesh and chickenflesh and cheese(flesh) and basil lasagna noodles and strawberries and raspberries for muffins, and a few other things I needed like more olive oil and yeast for baking. I remembered everything, actually, except the mozzarella. *headdesk*
Day Eight:
| |
6,650 / 67,500 (9.9%) |
Thank you god we are through the riot. And add in one more transition tomorrow and we're through Chapter Four, the Chapter That Dare Not Speak Its Suck, as well. Qara and Sakhile get demerits for monopolizing almost 4000 words of action in a row.
I needed a quiet day today, I think. Well, a Being To Myself day: wasn't exactly quiet. Went out and got more groceries than I could carry -- cabbed home sheepishly -- and read for Patriarchy Class, wrote, puttered around the kitchen some, about to start dinner. I suspect I will want to be to myself tomorrow too, and it occurs to me that I have Monday off, since the tutorial I have Monday afternoons doesn't actually start until next week. When I will miss it, being in Florida. Oops. *g*
Yes, I am going to Florida. Friday to Monday. The story of that trip goes like this:
(Scene: Early December.)
Phone: *ring ring*
Me: Hello?
My Mom: Hi. It's cold and grey and it sucks here. D'you want to go to the beach in January?
Me: Um, sure. Can we coordinate that around everyone's schedules?
My Mom: No, just you and me. We'll laze in the warmness and play card games and read books and drink margaritas and eat fresh lobster that they just took out of the ocean five minutes ago and do things like that.
Me: ...oh, oh no, twist my arm harder.
So I am going to Florida. *g* I have ordered a bikini for this from the internets, since this summer I revisited the bathingsuits I got when I was 17 (scene of my last bathingsuit purchase) and...well...no. Just no. It's not happening. I'm currently hoping the nice grey bikini with sparkles shows up before I get on a plane. It might be a near thing.
I still haven't decided what this'll mean for
novel_in_90 wordcount. Clearly, LIKE SHIT am I working when I go to the beach. I guess I'll make it up a little before, a little after?And oh yes, ping me with a snail-mail address if you want a silly postcard while I'm there. :p
Now I am going to make my dinner before I expire and never make it to Florida.
