Lost another 1.5 pounds this week, bringing me to a grand total of 10 lost since that fateful day in mid-March when I stared at the scales in the doctor's office and decided enough was enough. My goal has been a pound a week, so I'm right on target. The secret so far seems to be lots of veggies, daily walks, and a daily allowance of chocolate to waylay any binging tendencies. I'm sure the increase in my thyroid medication has probably had its effect, too, as well as the change for the better in the weather. I seem to have finally shaken the winter blues, thank God. Yeah, I know, the depressive tendencies always come back sooner or later. Damned if I won't enjoy the days they take a vacation, though.
The boys had their next-to-last week of school for this school year. The homework load has yet to let up much, but when I compare the way they handle it now as compared to the beginning of the school year, I'm pretty pleased. Michael especially has come a long way this year--it no longer takes him two hours to do his 45 minutes worth of homework.
I spent most of last weekend hemming and hawing about what direction to go with my writing--stick to my original goal of grinding out a story to enter in the WotF contest each quarter or sidetrack to follow where "Sacrifice" was taking me? "Sacrifice" has obstinately grown far beyond its original boundaries and will never be short enough to qualify for the contest, and in my heart I want to see where it will go with no artificial limits placed on it--so sticking to my original goal means coming up with a different story for the contest, with only a month and a half until the deadline. I'd spent the week before last trying to build a new story, but it just wasn't reaching out and grabbing me. Oh, woe is me, what to do, what to do?
So, last Sunday morning, while the kids were downstairs and the hubby was at work, I popped in a random CD, which turned out to be Pat Benatar's "Go," while I emptied the dishwasher and fiddled with other domestic duties. I caught myself staring out the back window at the swing set while "I Won't" ("I'd rather die than love you...") blared at me from the window sill.
Bam. Story idea. I fought it at first, because it seemed kind of trite and unoriginal, but I dutifully opened a new file and jotted down the scene snippets that had come to me. It felt good--it had that little hum of potential emotional power--but intellectually I still had my doubts. By Monday morning, I had some new insights on how to deal with my doubts. By Friday, I had over 2,500 words of a rough draft that seems reasonably good and notes on what I should do in a second draft to shore up the weak points.
In short, it was a pretty good week. Here's hoping next week follows suit.
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