The Bitch is Back in Town

And that, my friends, is what happens when Nyx finally shows back up.

Damn, that was rough going for awhile.

I'm thinking it may end up running a tad long. Will print out what I've got tomorrow, but I think I'm through the worst of it.

Problem

The problem is, the book stops when Nyx is out of commission. These people can't slap their asses with both hands without her. Or, rather, there doesn't appear to be any narrative without her.

Once I push past this part, it's smooth sailing (which is why I skipped ahead and wrote those parts already), but this whole Nyx being out of the picture thing just fucks up the whole book.

I'm going to need to do a lot of revision once I have a draft. But I guess that was expected. Still.

I fucking hate this book, haven't I mentioned that enough times yet?

Got another 300 words. I need at least a thousand before I'm allowed to sleep tonight. That leaves me tomorrow to print it out and pull the last of it together.

I'm going to need more pancakes for this in the morning, seriously.

When this fucking book is done I will have seriously earned that month of WoW reward.

Blah blah blah emote emote emote

This book doesn't have enough fight scenes.

Parasite Induces Host to Suicide

Ways our behavior is altered by parasites, starting with the humble grasshopper.

Guns of All Sorts

Guns, quirky.

An Open Letter to Baristas Everywhere

When I say I'd like sugarfree syrup, it's not because I'm being an annoying hippie. Please do not give me regular instead and tell me it's sugarfree.

The next time I test my sugar and it comes up, inexplicably, over 200, it's you I will thank, vociferously.

Thank you.

Molasses

That was a bloody hard-fought thousand words, man.

The problem with getting to the end of this book is, I've already written all of the big fun scenes, and now my entire word count consists of all the boring but necessary transition scenes and touchups where I'm stringing them all together.

It's like swimming through amber.

More words will be written shortly. Time for a pancakes-for-dinner break.

Sunday Swimming

10 minutes of swimming sounds really easy when you see it on your training schedule, especially when you've done 20 min jogging followed by 20 min biking twice the week before.

But whoa boy, seriously.

I haven't done more than the 5 min of lap swimming I did last week since... since... I was about 11 years old and still doing swimming lessons. Biking I do everyday, and I'm not a total stranger to jogging. But lap swimming? Damn.

I subtracted 2 units of insulin from my morning pancakes dose, which I though might be overkill because, hey, 2 units is what I kick off when I'm doing 40 minutes of cardio. But better safe than sorry, right?

I forgot that swimming is a full body exercise, and there's a reason that Phelps eats 12,000 calories a day.

After clawing through the last of my laps, I came home and tested my sugar, expecting that I would have to do a correction.

Oh, no.

I was a perfect 95.

After only 10 minutes of swimming.

When I get up to 20 minutes I'll be subtracting *4* units of insulin from breakfast in order to get through it. That's pretty awesome.

I love that I can judge energy output entirely based on how much or how little insulin I have to shoot myself up with.... heh heh. My life measured in units of insulin.

So: swimming was embarrassingly tough this morning, but I got there, I did it, and the ear plugs made a big difference. As did the moment when my old swimming instructor's voice came back to me, "Kick kick kick!" and I realized I wasn't kicking enough. Things went much more smoothly and quickly after that.

I also need to figure out how to rotate instead of just plowing through while horizontal, which is one of the reasons why it's so fatiguing right now. I'm wasting a lot of movement and losing my balance.

It's been a long time since I've done this, seriously.