I do feel like smiling and laughing again. Father's Day weekend pics are PROOF!
|My hubby (with halo) and me.|
I really love what the wind did to my hair here.
I wonder how I'd replicate this retro look?
Hair combs? French braid? I like it, though.
|Windy-curly smile. Jungle Red lips.|
|Love the stone with my dress and hair|
My signature colors: red, black, white.
I stepped on the scale today after the weekend of eating a bit more: 181.6
Well, like I said, wobbly transition. Exercise has been....laughably minimal.
I downloaded THIS BOOK to my Kindle. I figure it will remind me to keep on top of calories, as maintenance requires it. And ease off the sugar-free chocolate. The preview for it was very interesting, and I like science-ey stuff.
The writing: Well, I sat down and wrote nine paragraphs. Okay, so some were only one-liners. But hey, I wrote. Yay, me.
Doesn't sound like much, does it? But nine paragraphs raise a story question, introduce a character with a special trait, add a deviation from the norm, and maybe make you want to read more, even if it's preliminary, warm-the-brain-up crap after 5 years of writing pretty much bupkis.
Behold the rough crap:
Luisa was used to seeing what others missed. Hurrying to the office on an early summer morning, she couldn’t help but notice them.The beautiful ones faced eastward, every single one.Whether dressed in suits and ties or shorts and tees, whether masculine or feminine or that intriguing androgyny that smiled from the space between, all sat or leaned or stood in postures of expectation. This one stood bowing a bit forward on muscular feet, and the only thing that kept him from tumbling into the gutter was a tanned hand balanced lightly on a parking meter. That one with sat with a Cuban pastry untouched on a paper plate in front of her, head tilted to the right, utterly white hair a frothy cascade against the black of her black jacket. Another sat with elbows on bare knees, an expression less patient than his comrades. And that one there, he (or perhaps she) paused in sipping her (or his) latte, lips parted, as if already caught by some wonderful matter only they-- these assorted staring beauties --could see.
They did not read newspapers or novels or the faces of passersby hurrying to work, as Luisa had been. They did not type or swipe on gleaming gadgets du jour.They stood out, even among the usual mix of attractive residents and workers. They drew attention, and didn't care. They ignored everything other than what they look at that way…east.Luisa stopped walking--fine, so she was late already, a few more minutes didn't matter-- and followed their gazes.Nothing struck her as stare-worthy in the regular sights from the parking garage to her office: inviting eateries and freshly-opened shops catering to the younger, urban, vigorously trendy crowd that had moved in over the last couple years. Nouveau or vegan or organic or fusion whatnot.Nothing out of the ordinary.But there they were, those exquisite creatures with their unwavering attention to--what?
Yes, my rusty brain is being asked to create. It's not easy going from nil movement to acceleration creatively; but it was actually, I dunno, let's say I felt this sense of, "Oh, that's right, this can feel good and tingly!"
The paragraphs may or may not be relevant. It may simply be an 'oiling the machinery' exercise. But it still felt good to overcome inertia and WRITE SOMETHING. My intention is to go back to one of my two preferred fantasy manuscripts and enter those worlds again. But this might end up a story. Ya never know.
Okay, that's it for the update. Be well, folks. Let me know if you get the book! (Or if you're writing fiction, too.)
Oh, and you may note that I changed the blog's name and subtitle. It's no longer Two Years to Happy Weight After....