I is sore.
It's not a bad sore, for the most part. I earned it, and I deserve it. My wrist was aching earlier, rather unexpectedly--I haven't had carpal tunnel twinges since my divorce* but ibuprofen took care of that, and now it's just my back and shoulders and pectorals and rear that are doing the accusing stab.
In other news, I have slain the wily Pest Bob! At least one of them, anyhow. Liberal application of a substance called "Joe's Juice" (a little TOO liberal, frankly...they said "apply a small amount" but they gave me a really BIG syringe, and since my syringe technique recently has been "shove in cat mouth, shoot at high speed" it was kind've...enthusiastic.) turned the biggest one into a bleached rag dangling in the breeze, and I haven't seen any of the others at all. We'll see how it goes...
(Why I was doing this in the middle of the night wearing nothing but a single latex glove is probably best left for the ages. The absurdity of killing anemones in the nude didn't really strike me until I caught the beagle looking at me funny. And Kevin insisted I start wearing gloves to put my hands in the tank, after Cmar started listing off the horrible diseases I could catch from the tank. Piscine tuberculosis! Who knew that was real!?)
I am about two two-thirds done with Ninjabreath, and starting to slow down. I knew this would happen, though, so I've got over a month to finish the final third. It took me multiple books to learn to plan for my own artistic exhaustion, but I think I've finally learned!
Time to go do a Digger, run some prints, and then maybe a little more of what made me sore in the first place...
*Not that I blame my ex-husband for my carpal tunnel--or my sleep paralysis, or the acid reflux, or the heart palpitations, or any of the other sundry ailments that mysteriously vanished afterwards--I think it's just that when you internalize stress for a prolonged period, even if you're not really aware of the stress, everything starts to fall apart at a much higher speed. My acid reflux is slowly creeping back, but that's mostly hereditary--Dad used to chug a bottle of Maalox a day when he was my age. Also, I've been hitting the Coke Zero way too hard, and that's no good. (They make a fabulous drug that fixes it right up. Unfortunately it's over a hundred bucks a month, so it's easier just to take Tums and not eat so much Mexican.)
It's not a bad sore, for the most part. I earned it, and I deserve it. My wrist was aching earlier, rather unexpectedly--I haven't had carpal tunnel twinges since my divorce* but ibuprofen took care of that, and now it's just my back and shoulders and pectorals and rear that are doing the accusing stab.
In other news, I have slain the wily Pest Bob! At least one of them, anyhow. Liberal application of a substance called "Joe's Juice" (a little TOO liberal, frankly...they said "apply a small amount" but they gave me a really BIG syringe, and since my syringe technique recently has been "shove in cat mouth, shoot at high speed" it was kind've...enthusiastic.) turned the biggest one into a bleached rag dangling in the breeze, and I haven't seen any of the others at all. We'll see how it goes...
(Why I was doing this in the middle of the night wearing nothing but a single latex glove is probably best left for the ages. The absurdity of killing anemones in the nude didn't really strike me until I caught the beagle looking at me funny. And Kevin insisted I start wearing gloves to put my hands in the tank, after Cmar started listing off the horrible diseases I could catch from the tank. Piscine tuberculosis! Who knew that was real!?)
I am about two two-thirds done with Ninjabreath, and starting to slow down. I knew this would happen, though, so I've got over a month to finish the final third. It took me multiple books to learn to plan for my own artistic exhaustion, but I think I've finally learned!
Time to go do a Digger, run some prints, and then maybe a little more of what made me sore in the first place...
*Not that I blame my ex-husband for my carpal tunnel--or my sleep paralysis, or the acid reflux, or the heart palpitations, or any of the other sundry ailments that mysteriously vanished afterwards--I think it's just that when you internalize stress for a prolonged period, even if you're not really aware of the stress, everything starts to fall apart at a much higher speed. My acid reflux is slowly creeping back, but that's mostly hereditary--Dad used to chug a bottle of Maalox a day when he was my age. Also, I've been hitting the Coke Zero way too hard, and that's no good. (They make a fabulous drug that fixes it right up. Unfortunately it's over a hundred bucks a month, so it's easier just to take Tums and not eat so much Mexican.)