Three weeks of pain
The good news is I just weighed myself and only weighed 80.9 (a gain, but a manageable one). That means I need to lose just 2.9 kilos to supposedly be inside the healthy weight range. I can almost certainly achieve that in three weeks.
The bad news is it means hunger, and pain, and no chocolate backing me up.
Beginning today is fairly good timing – it’s exactly the right part of my cycle, and my huge mass of extra work has just one hour to go. My workload now will actually be a little light – which is good. Only one disadvantage: birthdays. I have three parties in the next ten days, and CJ’s birthday soon after that. Out of the four, I reckon I can be “wagonning” (that is, absolutely no junk food) for two. The other two will challenge my moderation skills.
Reporting faithfully back here will help. So will being able to go swimming again (I still get nauseous sometimes, but I believe it’s food allergies – something to deal with by elimination dieting at another time).
To kickstart all this, I will be eating no unhealthy snacks whatsoever for seven days (with the exception of sugar free fizzy drinks at party # 1, which will help enormously). It won’t be pretty.
Next Friday’s weigh-in should definitely be within the 70s at last.
Yay for Auntie Flo (caution: mild female content)
Auntie Flo (aka the red baron, aka my “special time of the month” aka “the red shirts of my reproductive system” aka. . . you’re probably with me by now) arrived today.
It’s terribly exciting, because she arrived the EXACT day I was hoping she would – meaning my cycle is probably going to be extremely regular (extremely handy for both everyday life and for predicting my ovulation cycle, which will be super useful when CJ and I decide it’s time to breed).
I’ve always been a fan of the reproductive system – especially the female half, because men are predictably straightforward by comparison. CJ and I had the following discussion as I finished another book on what to do in preparation for (one day) having a baby.
Fel: “My egg is only viable for twelve to twenty-four hours. But it’s okay – the sperm can sit around waiting.”
CJ: “Typical. Men always have to wait around for women to finally be ready.”
Fel: “And if women wait for men they’re doomed to die waiting.”
I’ve always had PMS, but sometimes I get happy PMS. Strange but true. And for me, one of the symptoms of PMS is wanting to talk about it.
But since I only went off the pill two cycles ago (it wasn’t working super well for me, plus my being sick was making it less effective, so ultimately there was no point continuing), my last bout of PMS lasted a ridiculously long time. This time was fine, so I’m happy.
Today I have four hours of work, but there are four factors helping me cope with the extra hour:
1. Two of the hours are with one person (less driving is good).
2. There’s a big break between the first and second lots of two hours (I can fool myself into thinking it’s two days of work).
3. CJ and I are going to see “Iron Man 2” tonight, so I get an instant reward (it may backfire and turn into an extra source of stress, but oh well).
4. I’m eating some chocolate today (the good mood that comes wrapped in foil).
The fish are great. There are still some worrying factors (the tetras prefer Sherlock’s food to their own, and Watson has suspicious white splotches that he didn’t have before), but the tank as a whole has a wonderful balance to it. The plants need the fish’s waste to live. The snail needs the plants. Sherlock needs the snail eggs. The plants need Sherlock. *repeat*
It’s great visually as well, especially with Sherlock and Gandalf interacting with one another, and the perpetual beauty of the tetras.
Bottom Feeders Rule
On Monday I went to a fish shop to see if they had a fish that might eat the ominous white fuzz that’s been growing in my tank. Their main comment was, “Woah, that’s WEIRD, man!” which wasn’t super helpful. I asked to look at a sucker fish, but they were clear that the sucker fish only eats algae, so I reluctantly left it there.
The thing is, that sucker fish was BEAUTIFUL. It was a bristlenose catfish, and in Gollum’s immortal words, “I wants it!”
Algae-eating fish are generally recommended, so I figured I’d wait a bit (to make sure the white fuzz wasn’t killing everyone), and then probably cave in and get one.
Yesterday, as I mentioned, I had a lot of work (preceded by a day of even more work). Shortly after writing yesterday’s blog I felt my mania beginning to fade, and decided on Ae Cunning Plan – to buy a bristlenose catfish, stat! This is a fine example of mania leading to over-sponteneity, over-optimism, and selfishness (since this lot of fish haven’t even outlived the last lot yet, so the chance of death is high).
So I went to the Belco Markets Pet Barn (my favourite fish shop, definitely) to buy a bristlenose. (I’d called earlier that day about the white fuzz, and they suggested it might be because of overfeeding, but they weren’t sure.) Bristlenoses also need special food, and special wood (plastic wood just doesn’t cut it). I bought a beautiful wood-with-plant arrangement, and a tiny, perfect catfish. Before I left the store, however, one of the staff arrived back from lunch – someone everyone else described as “the fish guru”. So I asked him about the white fuzz, saying I had neon tetras, a plant, and a fighting fish. He asked several questions, then made a startling declaration.
It’s snail eggs.
I have a tiny snail that came in with the first plant (I’d noticed it, but never suspected it of foul play). Apparently they breed way more efficiently than rabbits.
“But there’s this really cool fish over here,” he says, and shows me another bottom feeder, a pakistan, that eats snail eggs.
So I bought two cleaning fish – one that eats bad plants, and one that eats bad animals. Brilliant!
And because they’re semitropical, they’re beautifully shaded. The bristlenose is shaped like a comma, with a fast-flicking tail and beautifully-drawn tiny white dots all over his back. He likes to suck on the glass with his sucker-mouth, which is just as bizarre as I could hope for. Every so often he’ll actually swim a little way, then THOOK! he’s flat against the glass again, like a cartoon character who’s just run into a brick wall. Here’s some bristlenose pictures (not mine):
The carniverous one has beautiful leopard spots stretched into stripes. My fighting fish is a similar size (perhaps three cm long), and is utterly fascinated. The new fish alternates between hiding/peering out of our fake hollow log, and rushing about, madly sucking at the wall.
I spent considerable time thinking about how to name them. They’re so incredible, so naming them after a person should be flattering – but “bottom feeder” is such a negative term. What to do?
I considered calling them Flollop and Buck (after the way they move), Jack and Jill, Gollum and Smeagol. . . or naming them after politicians. In the end, and based on the carnivore’s manic behaviour and the catfish’s ability to disappear so completely at least three hundred times a day – we named the carnivore Sherlock Holmes and the catfish Watson.
Someday I’ll get a picture of whatever breed Sherlock is.
And now for something completely different.
I stumbled across a brilliant writing competition. It’s run by Publisher A (who still hasn’t replied to my email inquiry, but this could be a way to get back into their good graces – assuming I have indeed used them up), and the prize isn’t money or publication – it’s editing. But of course the chance of publication is much improved by the process, since it’s THEIR editors working with you – and for a whole week. The best book for it is “Waking Dead Mountain” or “The Monster Apprentice” (“Sol the Sea Princess” would be good except it needs a rewrite of the opening chapters), both of which are tied up with publishers.
But just in case it helped, I emailed Publisher E. They replied, and said they hadn’t been able to open the file I sent it with, so they’d asked me to resend it. . . last year. (FYI: This is the third time one of my books has been lost – and by three different publishers.)
It doesn’t particularly matter whether they stuffed up or I did, the important thing is that I can send a beautifully polished and ready manuscript to this great competition – which closes next week. Time to send my publication attempts in a new direction.
Vote “yes” for Global Warming
I’m allergic to Winter. Specifically, I’m allergic to clothing. All of it. Wearing sunglasses makes me feel trapped. My very-comfy pajama top is giving me rashes simply by existing near my skin. Socks either fall off my feet or cut off my circulation. And then there’s my cold hands and feet due to poor circulation. And of course bills, which hurt a lot when I don’t even earn enough to cover rent.
So let’s band together and either make the Earth wamer or move Canberra to the tropics. Personally, I don’t mind which. I’m not fussy.
Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we may diet
The good news is that I found a BMI calculator that says I can be 78 kilos and still inside the healthy weight range. The bad news is that I gained two kilos in the last week. I’m eating well for most of this week, beginning yesterday (and I’ve lost .7 of a kilo already, so I’m feeling a little better than I did then).
Yesterday was a tough day because of work (plus of course the blind rage that accompanies a lack of chocolate), and tomorrow will be tough too (I’ll be seeing one student from 8-10pm). But today is good – only two hours, and I finish at 4:40, which means I have time to cook.
In less than a week, it will be three months since I last heard from the “Stormhunter” possible-publisher, so I’ll send them an email. I predict their reply will be, “We’re so sorry. We’ll get onto that as soon as possible. Feel free to send it to other publishers in the meantime.”
I was in contact with Marianne DePierres (a rather well-known young adult author who has read the first chapter) and she reassured me that “polite but persistent” was the right path.
One of the funny things about the Australian publishing industry is that everyone knows everyone else – which means “polite” is the rule, no matter what. Because you won’t ruin your chances with just one publisher, but with all of them.
But why not be polite anyway? The reason I’m not sending “Stormhunter” elsewhere is that that particular possible-publisher gives me REASONS when they reject my books. Generally that kind of information (from a professional) costs up to $700.
I do have another possible-publisher in mind, however.
Aieee!! F%#*!
Have had some internet/work issues this week. (The subject line is a summary thereof.) Nothing too serious though.
I’m writing from my parents-in-laws’ house (hi Barb). Today I phoned the “Farting my ABCs” possible-publisher again and. . . . left a message on the answering machine. Arg!
I didn’t quite make my weight goal, but caved in on Wednesday and bought a huge pile of candy anyway. After three kilos, it’s not a fail – it’s a temporary suspension of success.
http://twittertales.wordpress.com is doing a roaring trade, which makes me feel that I really am getting somewhere. It’s wonderful to know so many people are reading my inane babbling. I love this millennium.
One-Legged Lady
Using my patented stand-on-one-leg method of weighing myself, I was able to clock in at 80.2 today. There’s a tiny chance I’ll be able to eat chocolate tomorrow, but Thursday’s a fairly good bet. I feel good enough about myself to post a rather unflattering photo on http://twittertales.wordpress.com later today.
If I don’t hear from the “Farting My ABCs” publisher by Thursday, I’ll call them then. It’s possible I misunderstood – they said something like, “According to our records, that reply should have happened ages ago.” I interpreted that as, “Your rejection was lost in transit” but it may have been, “Why yes we ARE taking forever – we’ll get right on to that.” So maybe there’s hope after all.
My main blog (this is not it) is doing remarkably well. Since I began the program of Daily Awesomeness, the average population of readers multiplied about ten times. Last week it doubled again, and today I was put on a blogroll at http://www.yesandyes.org/. It’s extremely therapautic to have something to do for myself and my career while waiting for the publishers to reply.
Best of all, the long weekend is over. AND school holidays (when I sometimes earn nothing for a fortnight).
. . . Monday Morning
I hate public holidays. No mail. (For a while this morning I felt quite good, because a new week had begun and publishers would be back at work. And then I remembered it’s a public holiday. Oh, foccacia.) Plus I generally lose income, because I work casually (or I have to work, like today, which is silly too). Those who read http://twittertales.wordpress.com will know I crashed especially badly last Friday. It felt very chemical (rather than “I am legitimately sad”) even at the time, so it’s probably to do with switching contraceptives. I’ll keep an eye out at this time next month.
Today I weigh 80.7. The weight loss has slowed to an agonising crawl (which is also how I’m currently moving around, since I’m feeling hungry again) but at least it’s going SOMEWHERE. Each day I expect a nice surprise (because I’ve earned it) but it hasn’t happened yet. When I do get under 80, I’m going to the lollyshop in Gungahlin – the one near Cockington Green.
On the up side, yesterday I put my cat in a fish tank. For those too lazy to click over to http://twittertales.wordpress.com, here’s all the pictures I took:
That may just have been the best two minutes I ever spent.
3, 2, 1. . .
I weighed 80.9 this morning. That “0” was a delight to see. I’ll be smart and not weigh myself for a few days, because there’s no way I’ll continue losing .2 every day. Once I’m under 80, I’ll chill for a bit (without going back to a daily binge). Hopefully that day will be next Wednesday.
Gandalf lives, and I’ve released him into the main tank now, but decided to wait another week before getting more fish. You may recall the point of starting over was to get it right and not kill any more living creatures.
I had the water tested for ammonia, nitrate, and a few other things, and it was fine. So it was probably the lack of the blue crystals that was my only issue.
If you’ve been reading this blog and not the other one, you’ve missed some fun. Yesterday’s entry (“Frolic in a Fountain”) was especially enjoyable. I do recommend you go look at it: http://twittertales.wordpress.com/2010/04/20/124-frolic-in-a-fountain/
Fart Fail
I’ve heard back from the “Farting my ABCs” possible-publisher. . . here’s what happened.
As usual, my ears pricked at the sound of a low-grade motorbike. I was near the front door, so I opened it, and actually saw the postman at our neighbour’s mailbox (which is good, because it means that even if there’s nothing in the box, I know the postie has already been). I emptied the hoover bag, and went to the letterbox. There was an envelope. A big one. For me. From that publisher. I could feel that it had about twenty pages in it, which is another Bad Sign. It meant they’d returned the manuscript.
I walked inside, put the vacuum cleaner away, and sat down at my computer, ready to immediately document the results.
It was a rejection, and very clearly a form letter (always disappointing to get no feedback, even though feedback is EXTREMELY rare – in my case, I only get it when I have a contact in the company). I sighed and opened up the blog ready to write.
Then my eye fell on the manuscript itself. It isn’t “Farting my ABCs” after all. It’s the first few chapters of a different book (one I sent to them in November, and which wasn’t written specifically for them – so not something I was holding my breath about).
So I’m still waiting. I’ll let you know when “Farting my ABCs” gets an answer. It’s still probably a “no”. Even “Stormhunter” (best chance this year) is probably a “no.”
Following on from yesterdays blog. . .
Probably the most useful things I discovered from the baby book were:
1. Colick isn’t hereditary (CJ and a cousin of his were both very colicky babies, so that lessened my sheer abject terror slightly).
2. Roughly when to start on solid food, and when kids are old enough to begin destroying things.
3. You need to change nappies 5-10 times a day for the first little while after getting home from hospital (that would have freaked me out).
Felicity Banks 