January 26th, 2006

wayfaring wordhack

I think...er...know I should be in bed

After almost two weeks of feeling under the weather, I'm starting to get my energy back. I even went for a walk today. Came home and indulged in homemade toffee, so any benefits of said walk flew right out the window, but it's a start. Isn't it? (Don' t anyone disagree with that.) One of the lovely things about my village is that it is on a hill. One of the bad things about my village is that it is on a hill. Well, that is a bad thing when you are me and you don't mind walking down the hill, but you don't necessarily like hiking back up it to get to your house. Still, I did not chicken out and stay within the confines of the *flatter* village but wandered down amongst the vineyards where I could enjoy the fog graying the hills and cloaking the Loire. I found a walking stick (actually a small tree that had been uprooted) and it made me feel like a wizard, striding along with my gnarled staff of power. (I think we should keep my overactive imagination amongst ourselves. Some people might think I'm too old for pretend.)

On the writing front, I finished the novel crit that occupied me the past two days and then spent some time this afternoon/evening writing on my WIP.

Daily count: 1465
Monthly: 22751
Word's stupid suggestion of the day: But Bria had inkling...

And now I must bid you all bonne nuit as I stumble to my bed. Tomorrow is last day of my *weekend* so I had better make it a lazy productive one. Might even get a few crits done, too.

*Wanders off mumbling, "Yes, I think tomorrow will be an ugly day."*

Ugly day, for the uninitiated, is when Miquela pretends that she is not at home. (Yes, I'm aware that my Clio is parked right in front of my house, a dead giveaway that I haven't left town--unless of course, I left with someone else or took the shuttle to the train station. A-ha! Take that, Little Miss Slueth!) She doesn't open the shutters, and she doesn't feel compelled to answer the doorbell or phone, or make herself presentable to the outside world in any shape, form, or fashion.
wayfaring wordhack

whirling, skirling, blessed snow

Announced by all the trumpets of the sky,
Arrives the snow, and, driving o'er the fields,
Seems nowhere to alight: the whited air
Hides hills and woods, the river, and the heaven,
And veils farm-house at the garden's end.

--Ralph Waldo Emerson, "The Snow-Storm"

I had so hoped for more snow this winter. We don't get much here in Sancerre, but today, I got my wish and it looks like it should snow tomorrow, too. Now, if only it would stick and that rain that they are predicting for Saturday would pass us by. Because I enjoy the snow, I did not have an ugly day. that is to say, I *did* open the shutters and I *did* go out for a walk, but I respected the *ugly* bit and went out in my sweats with unbrushed hair and no makeup. Yay, winter!!! when one can put on a big coat and knitted cap.

In the spirit of falling snow, I will now sprinkle you with bits of information that you may or may not want to know:

What I'm currently reading: La Révolution des Fourmis by Bernard Weber
La Vie des Hommes de la Préhistoire by Brigitte et Gilles Delluc.

The last Very Bizarre Thing to happen to me: I was awoken at 3am by my neutered cat Tiboy frenetically humping by back. Thank God it is winter and I had a very thick duvet over me. Is this something only French cats do?

Movie I will never be ashamed of loving: The Goonies

Crits today: one offshop

Words written today: 600 (so far)

What I'm currently working on: chapter 46, in which I'm trying to convincingly convey Attraction

Reason for last night's insomnia: the blossoming of a delightful plan to get rid of a VAC (very annoying character)

My oddball observation of the day: The consumption of asparagus gives one's urine a funny smell.

The French word that I think everyone should know: fainéant adj: idle: unwilling to do anything ; noun: somebody lazy: somebody who is regarded as lazy

Writing fact about me: I am a putter-inner. It is a rare thing indeed for my revisions to entail the substantial cutting of wordage. My chapters always grow when I open them to give them a read-through for whatever reason.

The funnest thing I did today: Observed the different shapes of snowflakes falling on the Velux in my bathroom. Seriously.

Second funnest thing I did: cranked up my speakers and sang and played air guitar to Whiskey in the Jar by Metallica. Yes, frigg I know that is "so 80's" :o)

My most pleasurable moment: the hour and a half I spent floating in my bubble bath to the candle's flickering.

And a closing poetry snippet:

But pleasures are like poppies spread,
You seize the flow'r, its bloom is shed;
Or like the snow falls in the river,
A moment white—then melts for ever;

--Robert Burns from "Tam o' Shanter"