boom de yada!

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Jun 282008
 

I was going to rip through yet more of the book today but, after the joys of the baby mines this morning, and my brother's farewell this afternoon, I hereby declare today a day off. Sometimes, you gotta take a break.

So instead I stalked the internet for an ipod-compatible version of the discovery channel commercial, to keep the dark moments at bay, and now I am a happy lil camper.

Boom De Yada!

I may well spend the rest of this afternoon teaching Spawn how to say that. So far she's mastered boom, although it does sound suspiciously similar to cow to me. But then, what would I know? I always thought gone and door sounded markedly different, but Spawn assures me otherwise.

call me back when the war is over, call me back when your boyfriend's gone

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Jun 252008
 

State of the push-ups:

Week one, day two, and I can now hold the form properly. Can't actually move far while holding the form and thus, for now and until I build up my arm strength, my push-ups are quite shallow. I suspect I shall have to repeat week one. But! progress.

Although sneezing now hurts my abs.

State of the scar:

Today a woman at the beauticians was complaining to me about the basal cell carcinoma she needed to have cut off her face. Guessing (from her constant repetitious complaining) she was feeling a touch worried about the surgery's outcome, I volunteered the information that I'd just had surgery on my face, and pointed out my scar, which she hadn't noticed.

Sadly, it turns out she hadn't noticed because she was a self-centred moron who only wanted to win at the strange game MY CANCEROUS SKIN LESION IS SCARIER THAN YOURS. I kid you not. She told me, in all seriousness, that doctors wouldn't bother to cut off freckles, there was no such thing as a Hutchinson's melanotic freckle, and all but accused me of lying about the scar. Heaven knows why she thinks I'd have a Z cut into my face. For shits and giggles, perhaps? To lift ONE cheekbone slightly higher than the other? Because I'm some kind of obsessive melanoma fangirl?

State of the copyedits:

I am just over halfway through, according to my count, although that doesn't include today's efforts yet.

What with the renumbering of chapters, conversations between my editor and I are getting tricky, and leads to emails like: I've just sent you old chapter three, which is now new chapters nine through thirteen. Also, I had to change old chapter two — I added some material from old chapter four, which is now in new chapter seven (old chapter two).

It's doing my head in.

Onward and upward!

an update in points

 journal  5 Responses »
Jun 232008
 

Spawn turned 2 recently, so for the family party we took her back to the animal farm where she first discovered turkeys. This time, she got to bottle-feed week-old lambs:

Brutus meanwhile discovered the overpowering joys of cupcakes:

Who needs hands, eh?

Meanwhile, on a whim, the other day I decided to test how many push-ups I can do. To make it challenging, I tried the proper form, not the on-the-knees form for girls, which is oh so much easier.

Ready for the answer?

One.

That's right. ONE proper-form push-up had my arms shaking and me unable to do any more. Guess it goes to show that computing, no matter how fast I type, does very little for upper body strength. Whodathunkit?

So today, I started the hundred push-ups regime. Wish me luck! Maybe by the time I've finished the copyedits, I'll be able to do more than one proper form push-up! ;)

it's your oldest trick and your cheapest one

 journal  6 Responses »
Jun 192008
 

I present to you: Deb, the badass version, complete with scar:

Actually, as it turns out, not so badass. Just my luck, eh? Along comes a chance to acquire more of a "don't mess with me" look, and I can't even manage that.

This is two weeks (to the day) since the surgery, so I imagine the scar will only get paler and finer and more invisible as time goes on, which is a pretty amazing thought given it's actually nigh impossible to spot now. (The scar looks more noticeable in the photo than it does in real life, thanks to the flash.)

and the money i save won't buy my youth again

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Jun 182008
 

It's times like this when I realise, yet once more, I am not a fast writer.

The copyedits continue, and this is about the time I start to wish I didn't have a dayjob because all I want is to finish this edit, and having to get up and go do other things is getting in the way of that. Even if said other things involve earning the money to pay for my food and internet connection and can therefore be said to be, you know, essential.

Tomorrow or the next day, if I can find the time to dig out my camera, I will treat you all to a snapshot of the new scar. (I know, I know, can't wait, can you?) Regardless, I promise I'll stop neglecting you all soon.

today i am homesick for travelling

 journal, shadow queen, writing life  2 Responses »
Jun 112008
 

A trip to Sydney yesterday (six hours round travel time for, I kid you not, about five minutes with the surgeon) saw the dressing removed and the stitches removed.

I am now the proud bearer of a pink backward-Z-shaped scar across my left cheek and temple. It's a good three inches long and frames my eye rather nicely, and I am definitely going to be telling people it's the result of a knife fight, or a duel with Zorro, or some other such fancy. (I reserve the right to change the story as and when it suits me. I don't wear make-up, so this little sucker is going to be drawing comments for quite some time, and there is no crime more heinous than boringness, right? Right.)

Photos later, when the steri-strips come off.

While visiting said surgeon, I also received the bill for his services. Yowser. Some of it will be covered by medicare and by my health fund, but more of it will not. This is separate to the bill from the hospital and the anaesthetist and the assistant, so I am currently wondering precisely what I can sell to cover the shortfall. It would be ironic, not to mention bad practice, to have to sell a body organ to pay for my face, wouldn't it? :|

In the meantime, the copyedits continue, and the deadline loometh. In fact, the deadline do much more than loometh. So I shall be scarce round these parts for the next little while.

save the night for weeping

 asides, journal, shadow queen, writing life  Comments Off
Jun 092008
 

I'm feeling just the slightest bit melancholy tonight.

I suspect this is in large part due to the fact that, for the last four days, I have not been able to take a shower without strapping a plastic bag over my face, and let me tell you, that novelty wears off sharpish.

So, to continue the no-true-content-while-the-edits-are-breaking-me spree, have two of my absolute favourite xkcd comics:

(For those of you who've never discovered xkcd before, first: where have you been hiding? I mean, by the time I discover something on the internet, everyone knows about it! and second: don't forget the mouseover text is part of the magic.)

not waving, drowning

 asides, shadow queen, writing life  2 Responses »
Jun 082008
 

I am rapidly coming to the conclusion that I hate the copy-edited manuscript, and copyediting, and if I never quibble with myself again over where a comma should sit, or how best to conjugate a precise verb in a particular instance, it will be far too soon.

In the meantime, have a quote I love:

Carving is easy, you just go down to the skin and stop.Michelangelo

poor (zombie) mudpuddle

 journal  2 Responses »
Jun 062008
 

Publicity photos taken (and because I didn't get a chance to clean the make-up off pre-surgery, I found mascara in my ear this morning), and home from the surgery, which thankfully I slept through (the upside to being sensitive to drugs is that a dose which should make you drowsy in fact puts you straight to sleep), with half my face bandaged like some kind of new-made zombie.

I am miles and days and weeks behind on the copyedits, so in the meantime, have one of my favourite poems:

I am too alone in the world, and yet not alone enough
to make every hour holy.
I am too small in the world, and yet not tiny enough
just to stand before you like a thing,
dark and shrewd.
I want my will, and I want to be with my will
as it moves towards deed;
and in those quiet, somehow hesitating times,
when something is approaching,
I want to be with those who are wise
or else alone.
I want always to be a mirror that reflects your whole being,
and never to be too blind or too old
to hold your heavy, swaying image.
I want to unfold.
Nowhere do I want to remain folded,
because where I am bent and folded, there I am lie.
And I want my meaning
true for you. I want to describe myself
like a painting that I studied
closely for a long, long time,
like a word I finally understood,
like the pitcher of water I use every day ,
like the face of my mother,
like a ship
that carried me
through the deadliest storm of all.
— Rainer Maria Rilke, The Book of Hours

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