Wednesday, November 29, 2006


Y'all, that's about all I have time for today.

Stupid deadlines.


Oh, if you haven't done so, please go to the Wordsmiths homepage and see if you'd like to join in the fun and games. I've got some idea for my story already, and I promise that no matter what you may THINK the guidelines for this month's challenge say, my story will probably be very different from what you'd expect.

Yes, it's yet another peek into my childhood, and my stars, it's not pretty.


Fitness update: 850 meters in the pool today in 28 minutes. I've increased the efficiency of my frog kick (yes, the one you do when you're breaststroking in the POOL, cause I know one or the other of you is going to make some joke about breastroking. I expect nothing less, you prurient little perves! But hey, on thinking about it more, I suppose if you wanted to frog kick while having your breasts stroked or while stroking someone else's breasts while you're on dry land it's up to you, but mind you, you won't get very far no matter how vigorous your kick and you may well end up injuring someone or something! Now, back to the sentence....) by a pretty good margin - it takes me 24 kicks to get the length of the pool vs the 32 it did 2 weeks ago.

Somebody (Q, I'm looking at YOU!) do the maths on that one and tell me in percents what the improvement is. Is it 25%?

Also, I'm regularly doing the length of the pool in 17 full strokes, down from 19-20.

With a moderate amount of effort, I can create a wake.

I don't need to stop to rest every 2 lengths.

This makes me happy, but there is far far to go.


Spent some time helping Thing 2 with homework last night. 'Twas an "imaginative" story that had to have the ending line "was I surprised to find the police at my front door."


First - all the "imaginative" gets thrown to the curb if you're bringing COPS into it. Way to give the dream some cement boots, teach!

Second - hello? Options for imagination that would call the police to your door? Drugs? Loose women? A loud party? Not the stuff of fourth-grade imaginations.

Soooo, after Thing 2 rejected my ideas of flaming unicorns, ballet-dancing pirates, chocolate-covered indians, and some other HIGHLY imaginative stuff, we (um, "he") wound up with a story that involves flying monkeys who brandish diaper machine guns. Imaginative, offensive, and violent, all at once! Brills!

A side note: I expect an "A" on the story. Anything less will draw my irrefutably imaginative ire.

No comments: