The weather has been good. A trip to the gym on Saturday demonstrated that my cardio and weight conditioning had deteriorated during the funk. Had to take it all down a notch. Still working on walking 2 miles every day I'm not at the gym. It takes about 12 hours for the thigh to settle afterwards, so no more trying to walk at 7pm, as I did yesterday. It was not a restful night. I need a sleep-number mattress, I think, to adjust for whatever my leg/nerves are throwing at me.
New story is cooking. I'm wrestling with things that I wrestle with. Lots of notes, lots of scraps, lots of thoughts. But it all needs to come together and I need to know (really know) that it ain't going to be perfect in the first draft. Like, I'm not going to have all my techno-babble right or maybe my techno-puzzle. And that's ok.
Rodents have a way of getting back at you. I heard a sound that my brain said was someone taking out their garbage. Weatherdude was quicker on the uptake and knew it was the 'something' taking the lid off the chicken feed can. We were right outside the barn talking at the time. So he surprised the woodchuck, not a skunk. Who promptly ducked into the hole under the coop. And that was that, wasn't it? No. The next morning, when I went down to let the girls out, I discovered that there was a huge hole in the new bag of feed. At the bottom. Revenge!
And yesterday as I drove to walk, I watched the sky, not the road, which is a tad dangerous but there wasn't any other traffic. I think. A small bird that might have been a swallow was chasing a hawk. The hawk was trying to fly away. The smaller (tiny by comparison) bird was dive-bombing its tail feathers, chasing it. Oh, the nesting season, when birds do things that we would call insane. You go, little bird. Get 'em. I also love hawks, but you had to admire the sheer craziness of the attack.