The kids in my son's preschool class!
Who wouldn't want to read a book written by four-year-olds? I mean, it would be non-stop action, full of creativity, a conversational dream, and it would be full of so many plot twists, the Networks would sit up and take notice!
Monday, 1 June 2015
Sunday, 31 May 2015
Swimming with Little Old Ladies
Last week I was able to go swimming at the public pool before work. As in, Hubby had the day off, so I didn't have to take the kids to daycare, so I could have slept in, but instead I chose--chose--to be at the pool at 6:15 a.m. On purpose.
There arethree four types of people who are at the pool at opening time, and they can easily be identified by the lane or zone of the pool in which they congregate.
1. Dedicated, fit, "Advanced" swimmers who are able to swim an Olympic length over and over and over again without ever looking like it's an effort. These people are actually in the minority, and their zone is the Advanced swimming lane. That's not my group.
2. The Aqua-Fitters. These ladies are rocking the leisure pool with excellent coordination and range of motion, and they never look like they're going to expire at any moment. This isn't my group.
3. The "Intermediate" swimmers. The Advanced swimmers are way too fast, and the Leisure swimmers are way too slow. The Intermediate swimmers set a nice pace that is nothing too strenuous, but at the same time isn't a Sunday Drive. There may be a rest at the end of every lap or two, but the pace is steady and true. I thought this was my group. I was very, very, wrong.
4. The "Leisure" swimmers. Thesesharks little old ladies--and when I write little old lady, you should be reading Driving Miss Daisy--look like they are out for a Sunday Drive. No, really. They bob along the Olympic length of the pool doing something that is a cross between the doggy paddle and treading water. They are, in fact, quite literally treading water in an upright position, but their arms are paddling just enough that they are actually moving forward. This should be my group.
I walked to the lap pool, looked at the Leisure Lane, saw the bobbing, and thought to myself, too slow. I'll be mowing those poor women down.
Okay, maybe a little back story is in order: I remember being an awesome swimmer. I couldn't run to save my life, Sports Day at school was an embarrassing form of torture, I could maybe fake one push-up if I was on my knees, but put me in a pool and my weak little arms could pull me along faster than all the fit kids could swim. Swimming was easy.
So, I'm thinking, at this point, that just because a (tiny) broken bone in the bottom of my foot has kept me essentially immobile for the last two years, swimming should still be easy. I should be able to do a few front-crawling laps in the Intermediate Lane no problem.
I was wrong. I was wrong like a four-year-old is wrong when he thinks it's okay to teach his younger brother that it's okay to flush toilet paper rolls down the toilet (full or empty--either way). I was wrong like the Church was wrong when it excommunicated people for thinking that the Earth was round.
I was wrong like a fat, 40 year old woman who had two kids in her late thirties and whose life just kept getting more and more sedentary for various reasons is wrong when she thinks, hey, I used to ride my bike to the recreation centre, work out in the gym for an hour, then swim a few laps, then ride my bike home to do yoga on the lawn for half an hour or so, then maybe go horseback riding for a few hours, so how hard can this be?
I front-crawled for half a lap before my brain realized that I may actually drown in this really freaking big pool. There's a bit of a feeling of safety when your laps aren't Olympic length. When they are, and the "shallow" end is still over your head? The edges are so very far away. I had to back-stroke for most of my swim just so that I could breath!
I did manage two full laps (one lap being there-and-back), but I'm pretty sure that the little old ladies out-lapped me. The old men in my lane most certainly did.
I'm going again this week.
There are
1. Dedicated, fit, "Advanced" swimmers who are able to swim an Olympic length over and over and over again without ever looking like it's an effort. These people are actually in the minority, and their zone is the Advanced swimming lane. That's not my group.
2. The Aqua-Fitters. These ladies are rocking the leisure pool with excellent coordination and range of motion, and they never look like they're going to expire at any moment. This isn't my group.
3. The "Intermediate" swimmers. The Advanced swimmers are way too fast, and the Leisure swimmers are way too slow. The Intermediate swimmers set a nice pace that is nothing too strenuous, but at the same time isn't a Sunday Drive. There may be a rest at the end of every lap or two, but the pace is steady and true. I thought this was my group. I was very, very, wrong.
4. The "Leisure" swimmers. These
I walked to the lap pool, looked at the Leisure Lane, saw the bobbing, and thought to myself, too slow. I'll be mowing those poor women down.
Okay, maybe a little back story is in order: I remember being an awesome swimmer. I couldn't run to save my life, Sports Day at school was an embarrassing form of torture, I could maybe fake one push-up if I was on my knees, but put me in a pool and my weak little arms could pull me along faster than all the fit kids could swim. Swimming was easy.
So, I'm thinking, at this point, that just because a (tiny) broken bone in the bottom of my foot has kept me essentially immobile for the last two years, swimming should still be easy. I should be able to do a few front-crawling laps in the Intermediate Lane no problem.
I was wrong. I was wrong like a four-year-old is wrong when he thinks it's okay to teach his younger brother that it's okay to flush toilet paper rolls down the toilet (full or empty--either way). I was wrong like the Church was wrong when it excommunicated people for thinking that the Earth was round.
I was wrong like a fat, 40 year old woman who had two kids in her late thirties and whose life just kept getting more and more sedentary for various reasons is wrong when she thinks, hey, I used to ride my bike to the recreation centre, work out in the gym for an hour, then swim a few laps, then ride my bike home to do yoga on the lawn for half an hour or so, then maybe go horseback riding for a few hours, so how hard can this be?
I front-crawled for half a lap before my brain realized that I may actually drown in this really freaking big pool. There's a bit of a feeling of safety when your laps aren't Olympic length. When they are, and the "shallow" end is still over your head? The edges are so very far away. I had to back-stroke for most of my swim just so that I could breath!
I did manage two full laps (one lap being there-and-back), but I'm pretty sure that the little old ladies out-lapped me. The old men in my lane most certainly did.
I'm going again this week.
Monday, 18 May 2015
Monday's Muse 2015-05-18
The Voices in my Head.
They come up with some pretty interesting stuff.
Like, how to use "like" in a sentence properly, if you, like, grew up in, like, that decade that was like, a couple decades ago.
They also have this thing going in a New Adult novel where an assassin and an unaware innocent meet and fall in love and overcome all kinds of odds and emotional dysfunctions to make things work, except get this: the assassin is the girl!
Actually, I might get cracking on that one.
They come up with some pretty interesting stuff.
Like, how to use "like" in a sentence properly, if you, like, grew up in, like, that decade that was like, a couple decades ago.
They also have this thing going in a New Adult novel where an assassin and an unaware innocent meet and fall in love and overcome all kinds of odds and emotional dysfunctions to make things work, except get this: the assassin is the girl!
Actually, I might get cracking on that one.
Monday, 30 March 2015
Monday's Muse 2015-03-30
The lyrics of "Undisclosed Desires" by Muse.
Yep. Perfect storyline! My heroine is going to prove to the WORLD that her "temperamental" antagonist is worthy of everyone's love, not just hers!
Except, instead of temperamental we're going to describe him as mercurial to prove that we, like, have a good vocabulary.
And, we're going to be the new Fifty Shades.
This is going to sell!
Monday, 23 March 2015
Monday's Muse 2015-03-23
According to my Muse, there is an easy way to deal with writer's block! I'm not entirely sure that this should apply to the children's book I'm writing, but I'll trust her.
Tuesday, 3 February 2015
Monday's Muse 2015-02-02
I went through today's Amazon recommendations, and two of the stories are about plucky heroines that inherit a hotel/inn, and then try to not fall in love with the guy that thinks that he should have inherited, or the guy that broke her heart when she was sixteen and visiting Nana or whoever owned the inn beforehand.
Awesome! That sounds like an easy enough story to write, and since it's a guaranteed publishing in, done!
Monday, 12 January 2015
Intentions for 2015
Jennifer Crusie is right. New Year's Resolutions just put pressure on you to actually have will power, energy, and the ability to complete tasks.
Who actually has that?
Intentions are so much better.
I intend to write more.
Check. It only took ten days to complete this post. Actually, at the time of writing this very sentence, I cannot guarantee that I will actually complete this post.
I intend to have more sex with my husband.
Or with myself. Or with my BOB. Either way. Orgasms every day, please.
I intend to keep my house tidier.
Ha!
I have a 2 and 4 year old boy! I hope you didn't fall for that one!
I intend to enjoy every moment with my children and my husband.
Even when they're being whiny, throwing temper tantrums, and running their syrup-covered hands down the hall walls on the way to the bathroom.
My husband is in no way included in the sentence directly above this one.
I will lose some weight. And/or get into better shape.
I'd be happy with five pounds for the year, at this point, because let's face it: I gained weight in 2014.
I intend to paint the inside of my house this year.
Which leads me to:
I intend to get my house organized and de-cluttered.
Please see the third intention, above.
I intend to go camping with my family more.
And, not the kind of camping where you drag a house behind your truck, park it next to a million other trailers beside a major highway. The kind of camping where there's one other family camping on the other side of the lake, and you may hear a logging truck go by once in awhile. Oh, and you're sleeping in a tent, and if you're lucky, the floor to the outhouse won't be completely rotten, just a little rotten.
I intend to not let my mom's micro-management bother me.
Starting now.
Or maybe tomorrow.
I intend to laugh more, especially with my children and my husband.
This seems more reasonable than the fourth intention, above.
I intend to not let my whiny little bitch out.
I'd like to add ever on to the end of that, but I may have to give her one PMS day per month. But only one. Because, a week or two is probably driving everyone around me a little bit crazy. I know it's driving me crazy. And then I just feel guilty, so I cry more, etc. etc. Bitch.
Okay, she gets one day per month for the first six months (starting in February. Ahem.), then that's it. The skank is getting cut out of the family.
I think that these are all doable. And, I should be able to stay sane during the process.
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