Heather Shaw
Cafe RambleflowerA Tasty Place to Visit
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Of writing, weights and whirlwind visits
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This shall be one of those entries where I just say whatever, ok? If it has form, it will be an accident.
First of all, read this fabulous journal entry on writing by Barth Anderson. God, he gets my heart beating when he talks about writing like that. I'm all "Yes! Yes! Sing it, my brother!" This is the best description of how to take risks with your fiction that I've ever read. Not that it's something that you can really be told how to do, but Barth's entry there just might put you in the right mood to figure it out yourself.
It was a fabulous weekend. I don't think I've quite had a weekend so glowy and lovely since the Oregon Writer's Workshop last summer. Friday Tim and I spent cleaning the house, shoving piles into corners and sweeping up cat fur balls so that we could feel comfortable having an overnight guest over.
Saturday Tim and I picked up some sushi and headed up to Locus for a party. It was a younger crowd (overall) than usually attends Charles' parties, so there were lots of people I know fairly well and felt comfortable around, which was lovely.
After the party, we gathered up Jenn and brought her home with us. What a treat it is to have a Jenn staying overnight in our home! Both Tim and I are very comfy around her, and she has great energy, so our normally skittish cats were allowing her to pet them before the night was out. We sat on the couch, chatted, ordered pizza (I took lactose pills, but it still probably wasn't a good idea; oh well) and just generally stayed up too late having a lovely time. We all went out to brunch at Mama's (Jenn treated; thanks again, Jenn!), then wandered a bit on Piedmont, which is our old neighborhood. I admit I drove her slowly back to her car, blatantly suggesting she stay another night, but she had to get back. Sigh. I suppose it would have been bad form to kidnap her, not that I would have been successful, with her being trained in martial arts and all that.
Anyway, once she left, exhaustion set in. Seriously, I had to take a freakin' nap Sunday afternoon, I was so tired. It was a good tired, the kind you get when a wonderful, close friend has just blessed your home with her presence for a little while...
(See, I knew I was going to gush about Jenn and embarrass myself here. Heh. She just rocks.)
So, I worked out for the 7th time (since beginning my new regime) last night. It's been going pretty well -- I feel GREAT for days after lifting weights, which makes me want to go again, though I am usually more hungry than usual for 24 hours afterwards. (Eating turkey is a godsend; I don't know how I ever lifted weights without eating meat before.) I've been taking it slowly -- only going twice a week, starting off with just a few exercises instead of a full suite, working my way to more reps, more weight. I'm told muscles have memory, and the fact that I was lifting weights regularly a few years ago accounts for the fact that I'm quickly able to increase my weight load & reps this time around.
Though I may have overdone it just a tad last night, with the weird foam 22lb bar I did chest presses with. The bar is uniform -- there are no weights at the end -- but I think it's too wide for me to get a good grip on, as it ended up really hurting my wrists and forearms. I'm going to switch back to the regular 20lb barbell next time and, if it feels too light, just do a third set of reps.
Fascinating stuff, I know.
And, last, but not least, allow me to remind all you talented writer-types reading this that it's Flytrap season. Send me your weird short fiction! Send it before March 15th! I even have a first reader (mind if I out you?) whose tastes are slightly different from my own and he's opening my eyes to a broader range of stories (I'm still reading all of them, I just have his opinion as well as my own to help me make decisions). I was told at the party on Saturday that there's a "buzz" (hee!) around Flytrap (this was said with some surprise, which was gratifying), so I'm pretty sure it's a cool 'zine to be in, even. Check out our guidelines and send us something!
That is all for now.
First of all, read this fabulous journal entry on writing by Barth Anderson. God, he gets my heart beating when he talks about writing like that. I'm all "Yes! Yes! Sing it, my brother!" This is the best description of how to take risks with your fiction that I've ever read. Not that it's something that you can really be told how to do, but Barth's entry there just might put you in the right mood to figure it out yourself.
It was a fabulous weekend. I don't think I've quite had a weekend so glowy and lovely since the Oregon Writer's Workshop last summer. Friday Tim and I spent cleaning the house, shoving piles into corners and sweeping up cat fur balls so that we could feel comfortable having an overnight guest over.
Saturday Tim and I picked up some sushi and headed up to Locus for a party. It was a younger crowd (overall) than usually attends Charles' parties, so there were lots of people I know fairly well and felt comfortable around, which was lovely.
After the party, we gathered up Jenn and brought her home with us. What a treat it is to have a Jenn staying overnight in our home! Both Tim and I are very comfy around her, and she has great energy, so our normally skittish cats were allowing her to pet them before the night was out. We sat on the couch, chatted, ordered pizza (I took lactose pills, but it still probably wasn't a good idea; oh well) and just generally stayed up too late having a lovely time. We all went out to brunch at Mama's (Jenn treated; thanks again, Jenn!), then wandered a bit on Piedmont, which is our old neighborhood. I admit I drove her slowly back to her car, blatantly suggesting she stay another night, but she had to get back. Sigh. I suppose it would have been bad form to kidnap her, not that I would have been successful, with her being trained in martial arts and all that.
Anyway, once she left, exhaustion set in. Seriously, I had to take a freakin' nap Sunday afternoon, I was so tired. It was a good tired, the kind you get when a wonderful, close friend has just blessed your home with her presence for a little while...
(See, I knew I was going to gush about Jenn and embarrass myself here. Heh. She just rocks.)
So, I worked out for the 7th time (since beginning my new regime) last night. It's been going pretty well -- I feel GREAT for days after lifting weights, which makes me want to go again, though I am usually more hungry than usual for 24 hours afterwards. (Eating turkey is a godsend; I don't know how I ever lifted weights without eating meat before.) I've been taking it slowly -- only going twice a week, starting off with just a few exercises instead of a full suite, working my way to more reps, more weight. I'm told muscles have memory, and the fact that I was lifting weights regularly a few years ago accounts for the fact that I'm quickly able to increase my weight load & reps this time around.
Though I may have overdone it just a tad last night, with the weird foam 22lb bar I did chest presses with. The bar is uniform -- there are no weights at the end -- but I think it's too wide for me to get a good grip on, as it ended up really hurting my wrists and forearms. I'm going to switch back to the regular 20lb barbell next time and, if it feels too light, just do a third set of reps.
Fascinating stuff, I know.
And, last, but not least, allow me to remind all you talented writer-types reading this that it's Flytrap season. Send me your weird short fiction! Send it before March 15th! I even have a first reader (mind if I out you?) whose tastes are slightly different from my own and he's opening my eyes to a broader range of stories (I'm still reading all of them, I just have his opinion as well as my own to help me make decisions). I was told at the party on Saturday that there's a "buzz" (hee!) around Flytrap (this was said with some surprise, which was gratifying), so I'm pretty sure it's a cool 'zine to be in, even. Check out our guidelines and send us something!
That is all for now.
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