6/17
Post lost.
Writing or Exercise: Writing
6/18
Post lost.
This was the first time in memory there was a Saturday when I didn't go to the library. There was a reason, but I'm not sure what it was.
I went to the local thrift store, where I look for action figures and never find them, and saw a big deluxe release of the 1995 PRIDE & PREJUDICE mini-series. I took a selfie with it to send to Big Anklevich.
A dude saw me taking a picture with it and asked me what I was doing*, so I gave him a three-sentence version of my trials and tribulations with that movie. I must not have been too convincing, though, because he then commented, "She's right: you ARE a asshole."
Friendship is magic, kids.
Writing or Exercise: Exercise
6/19
It was Father's Day, and a bunch of family met up at my mom's house to celebrate. And because my brother and I don't have kids, we got to cook the food (he's got something called a smoker, which is like a barbecue grill, and my mom has one too). He told me about his trip to the cabin, shooting the big old woodchucks, and being surprised by how tough they were. He said he slaughtered seven of them, and not just the males, but the women, and the children. He hates them. And we'll see how many of them I find scurrying about on Wednesday. Also, he bought two new traps and laid them out where I said I saw the two badgers. That will be interesting too.
Well, this is vexing. I went to my blog file . . . and it was empty (it wasn't yesterday when I was writing on it, though). I've been writing in it every day for the past two months . . . and it's empty. I don't know how these things happen.
Guess I won't be catching up on my daily blog after all. I wrote about the new story idea I had, wrote about the list of names Big Anklevich gave me, wrote about watching a forgettable episode of "Star Trek" that was moving and excellent enough I thought I'd wax poetic about it for an hour or so, and wrote about the death of artist Tim Sale (who did me a Gwen Stacy sketch years ago for no charge).
The first time this sort of thing happened, I was heartbroken. The tenth time it happened, I was angry. Now that we're fifty times in, yeah, it sucks, but I'm pretty numb to it. I'm displeased that hours of my free time were wasted, but it doesn't affect anybody else, and it's really only me that cares whether I write or exercise every day. Maybe I'll just stop writing it up for a while, stew in my bitterness. Or maybe I'll just start writing my blog posts as individuals instead of one big thread.
Writing or Exercise: Exercise
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