Life returns!

Have sent the magazine to the printer, I may once again sleep and think of things that are not food, craft, health and beauty! HURRAH!

I sat down to do some edits for a friend last night (onto page 10, you know who you are!) and then went to bed with a notebook for a spot of old-school writing, at which point I began not the one Christmas story I need, but two. The first was a continuation of an earlier H/D and fine, the second leapt out of nowhere and was a Minerva McGonagall in WWII tale that was writing itself until I realised that I may have been Jossed by the new biographical details in Pottermore. Sure enough, she was allegedly born in 1935, which put paid to that one. JKR giveth, and she taketh away.

I was going to work on another Australian politics post, but the whole situation is so depressingly stupid that I am going to pretend it is not happening for a little while longer. In my fantasy world, Kevin Rudd, Malcolm Turnbull and Carmel Tebbutt form a breakaway party of slightly workaholic over-achievers who generally believe in reasonable things and sweep all before them.

Instead, today I continued my month-long mission to find the perfect bike, only to end up back where I started. Nothing has made me feel love like the Velorbis models, and now it's only down to choosing between the Victoria Classic (black) and the Dannebrog (red). I suspect the black one will be less likely to be stolen. They're a bit exxy, but I do not drive and usually walk everywhere, so they're much, much cheaper than a car. Both have a lovely upright frame and are far more visible bikes than my mountain bike, so I am less likely to die, even in vile Sydney traffic. Took the Victoria Classic for a test ride today and it was astonishingly delightful. So much nicer to be riding out in the world than on a stationary bike in the gym.

Though I have cracked the gym biking trick: never look at the TVs, because they slow you down, only look at your readouts and calculate performance splits (if you are a competitive type, otherwise the TV is fine) or close your eyes and ride with the imaginary cycling partner of your choice. It's been Richard Armitage the last two weeks, he is immensely supportive and encouraging, and has long legs, so I have to work hard to keep up. I'm thinking it might be Robert Downey Junior next week, he can make wise cracks and point out that despite the sweat and occasional stitch, my foot has been about four times better than at any time in the last eight years since I started gyming, which bodes well for continued non-surgically assisted walking. I tried Imaginary Virginia Woolf, but she was only fun when talking about Orlando and Vita, and otherwise I found myself riding away from her at speed.

And I can lift boy-level weights with my legs again! Let us not discuss my arms, it's embarrassing.

Finally, HAPPY LATE BIRTHDAY for the_gubette and dragonfly_lily, I hope that you both had utterly fabulous ones! Sorry about the tardiness, life has been happening to other people of late.

Life returns!

Have sent the magazine to the printer, I may once again sleep and think of things that are not food, craft, health and beauty! HURRAH!

I sat down to do some edits for a friend last night (onto page 10, you know who you are!) and then went to bed with a notebook for a spot of old-school writing, at which point I began not the one Christmas story I need, but two. The first was a continuation of an earlier H/D and fine, the second leapt out of nowhere and was a Minerva McGonagall in WWII tale that was writing itself until I realised that I may have been Jossed by the new biographical details in Pottermore. Sure enough, she was allegedly born in 1935, which put paid to that one. JKR giveth, and she taketh away.

I was going to work on another Australian politics post, but the whole situation is so depressingly stupid that I am going to pretend it is not happening for a little while longer. In my fantasy world, Kevin Rudd, Malcolm Turnbull and Carmel Tebbutt form a breakaway party of slightly workaholic over-achievers who generally believe in reasonable things and sweep all before them.

Instead, today I continued my month-long mission to find the perfect bike, only to end up back where I started. Nothing has made me feel love like the Velorbis models, and now it's only down to choosing between the Victoria Classic (black) and the Dannebrog (red). I suspect the black one will be less likely to be stolen. They're a bit exxy, but I do not drive and usually walk everywhere, so they're much, much cheaper than a car. Both have a lovely upright frame and are far more visible bikes than my mountain bike, so I am less likely to die, even in vile Sydney traffic. Took the Victoria Classic for a test ride today and it was astonishingly delightful. So much nicer to be riding out in the world than on a stationary bike in the gym.

Though I have cracked the gym biking trick: never look at the TVs, because they slow you down, only look at your readouts and calculate performance splits (if you are a competitive type, otherwise the TV is fine) or close your eyes and ride with the imaginary cycling partner of your choice. It's been Richard Armitage the last two weeks, he is immensely supportive and encouraging, and has long legs, so I have to work hard to keep up. I'm thinking it might be Robert Downey Junior next week, he can make wise cracks and point out that despite the sweat and occasional stitch, my foot has been about four times better than at any time in the last eight years since I started gyming, which bodes well for continued non-surgically assisted walking. I tried Imaginary Virginia Woolf, but she was only fun when talking about Orlando and Vita, and otherwise I found myself riding away from her at speed.

And I can lift boy-level weights with my legs again! Let us not discuss my arms, it's embarrassing.

Finally, HAPPY LATE BIRTHDAY for the_gubette and dragonfly_lily, I hope that you both had utterly fabulous ones! Sorry about the tardiness, life has been happening to other people of late.