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Two causes for rejoicing.
First, I have sold my first short story of the year: Futurismic wants to buy "Erasing the Map." I like getting the first sale in January, not even too far into the middle of January. I like enthusiastic acceptance letters. I like finishing stories that percolate and percolate and finally go, and then other people like them too. In fact, I really have a hard time thinking of anything I don't like about this.
(Note to self: write more stories.)
And second, the jeans I ordered arrived, and they fit, so in the wash they go. And there was much relief. The booty dancing required to determine that jeans realio trulio fit and are not going to become SuperSpy jeans (creeping up silently behind their enemy) or suddenly gape at the waist enough to store your reading material for the next week* is not really all that much fun in fitting rooms with vertigo, particularly when the vertigo has caused me to go from having strong legs to having warrior princess thighs!!!, so a lot of the jeans available there are not fitting the different bits of me equally well. (How does vertigo do that, ask the latecomers and the people who didn't write it on their scorecards? Well, vertigo brings nausea. Nausea brings not eating. This is a problem. People need to eat--this is a long-held and deeply-felt philosophical position of mine. And so far just about the only thing that cuts through the nausea consistently enough to let me eat, like ya do, is going from 45 minutes of biking on the big sturdy recumbent bike 4-5 days a week--plus PT and yoga and Pilates--to doing about 90 minutes of biking on the said recumbent bike 7 days a week--still plus PT and yoga and Pilates. Fear the might of my vertigo-powered legs. Srsly. F34r. If I wasn't so tired, I could totally crush Tokyo, or any other monster-movie-hosting city. If they'd give me something to hang onto while I did it.) So being able to do the requisite booty dancing while holding onto my very own dresser--as a barre, as it were--was very useful, go internet, go jeans, go elaborate dance of denim-verification.
It's been a rough week around here, for an assortment of reasons, some of which you will be able to come up with yourselves if you think hard. But here we are Friday, and there's a story sale, and there are jeans, and![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
markgritter is coming home, and while I only managed lunch by telling myself I didn't have to think about lunch, I just had to eat lunch, I did eat lunch, and it was nice. In fact, I commend it here to you: red quinoa cooked in broth (mushroom broth is favored; other broths will do) with pecans and dried sour cherries. It has a wide variety of nutrients and is warm and savory and tastes interesting without being difficult if you're not very sure of this food thing at the moment.
So yah. Story. Quinoa. Jeans. Stuff.
*I have said, haven't I? that my mother's first exposure to Neal Stephenson was as a measure of clothes that don't fit me. I have said, "I could stick the complete works of Neal Stephenson in this waistband with me--in hardcover!" more times than she or I could count, when we were clothes shopping together.
(Note to self: write more stories.)
And second, the jeans I ordered arrived, and they fit, so in the wash they go. And there was much relief. The booty dancing required to determine that jeans realio trulio fit and are not going to become SuperSpy jeans (creeping up silently behind their enemy) or suddenly gape at the waist enough to store your reading material for the next week* is not really all that much fun in fitting rooms with vertigo, particularly when the vertigo has caused me to go from having strong legs to having warrior princess thighs!!!, so a lot of the jeans available there are not fitting the different bits of me equally well. (How does vertigo do that, ask the latecomers and the people who didn't write it on their scorecards? Well, vertigo brings nausea. Nausea brings not eating. This is a problem. People need to eat--this is a long-held and deeply-felt philosophical position of mine. And so far just about the only thing that cuts through the nausea consistently enough to let me eat, like ya do, is going from 45 minutes of biking on the big sturdy recumbent bike 4-5 days a week--plus PT and yoga and Pilates--to doing about 90 minutes of biking on the said recumbent bike 7 days a week--still plus PT and yoga and Pilates. Fear the might of my vertigo-powered legs. Srsly. F34r. If I wasn't so tired, I could totally crush Tokyo, or any other monster-movie-hosting city. If they'd give me something to hang onto while I did it.) So being able to do the requisite booty dancing while holding onto my very own dresser--as a barre, as it were--was very useful, go internet, go jeans, go elaborate dance of denim-verification.
It's been a rough week around here, for an assortment of reasons, some of which you will be able to come up with yourselves if you think hard. But here we are Friday, and there's a story sale, and there are jeans, and
markgritter is coming home, and while I only managed lunch by telling myself I didn't have to think about lunch, I just had to eat lunch, I did eat lunch, and it was nice. In fact, I commend it here to you: red quinoa cooked in broth (mushroom broth is favored; other broths will do) with pecans and dried sour cherries. It has a wide variety of nutrients and is warm and savory and tastes interesting without being difficult if you're not very sure of this food thing at the moment.So yah. Story. Quinoa. Jeans. Stuff.
*I have said, haven't I? that my mother's first exposure to Neal Stephenson was as a measure of clothes that don't fit me. I have said, "I could stick the complete works of Neal Stephenson in this waistband with me--in hardcover!" more times than she or I could count, when we were clothes shopping together.
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Coming soon, THE monster movie of 2009.
She had Warrior Princess Thighs, and she wasn't afraid to use them
The
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Do I go on to Mangle Mogadishu in 2010, with only half the original actors, one of whom was supposed to have died in the first movie?
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(Real Montreal movies don't do subtitles, because isn't everyone bilingual ?)
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Congrats on the sale!
Warrior Princess Thighs
Congrats on the sale. Income is good.
Re: Warrior Princess Thighs
Re: Warrior Princess Thighs
Re: Warrior Princess Thighs
Re: Warrior Princess Thighs
Re: Warrior Princess Thighs
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Die inexpensive model Tokyo die!
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P.
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Have you read Robin McKinley's The Hero and the Crown? Because I was reading it and I thought the description of what happens to Aerin after eating a surka leaf is a bit like your description of vertigo. She gets over it with physio, though in her case, practicing with a sword.
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Isn't that what the skyscrapers are for?
Yay jeans that fit! I have shared the Neal Stephenson bits with
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{In my head: "....and that was Mrissa, the first woman to sail past all the men to yellow jacket in the Tour de France. and she did it wearing jeans to boot.}
This, of course, is overshadowed by the story sale! WOOHOOO! Because you may have mighty thighs, but they do not hold a candle to your mighty pen. :)
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Thrud gave up on jeans that fit and started using the gap as storage space. This means that a lot of the time when she is wandering around looking for the light bill, the recent volumes of manga, or the portable chess set, the relevant item is in fact in her pants. Which she is wearing. Only she can't tell what is in her pants because she can't see behind her well enough.
This is one of those details I am probably not going to be able to use in fiction because it is not sufficiently believable.
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In fact I would love it if you wrote stories with them as your tonal model and your household as your thematic model. That would be keen.
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COme to think of it I probably should have asked you before the last pants order; that was the one when I was trying to figure out how to accommodate *both* the Warrior Thighs of Erg and long underwear, since I'll be in northern Sweden next week. I solved it by getting corduroys a size up, but then they do tend to want to fall down when I'm not wearing the longjohns.
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And yah, the vertigo is exhausting, but in some ways the bike factor helps with that, because it brings the kinds of exhaustion in line with each other, if that makes sense. The vertigo is mentally exhausting and exhausting in some very physical ways, but "intense aerobic exercise" is not on the list.
(When something goes on for more than a year, it's hard to refer back to personal norms with any degree of confidence any more. Hence the quotation marks.)
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I am settling for acceptable jeans, because even that is a step up from what I'd found for a couple of years.
I may try the quinoa sometime.
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