I Live in My House

Finally, we are living in our house. We have searched, found, closed, and started to paint. Here it is:


The inside is not pretty. We've been painting the upstairs so that we can move all our belongings up there. Then we'll gut the kitchen and open up the spaces on the first level. The house sits back on the property so that there isn't really a backyard, but there is lots of privacy from the street. The patio area (pictured here) is situated between the garage and the house, and has lots of potential to become the fairy-garden I've always wanted.

The work we've put in has been very rewarding so far. I can't wait to have everything put in order, to walk through it all and think "I can do whatever I want here."

And, finally, I'll be constructing my writing room over the next year. It will need a new desk, some inspirational colors and textures, and some cozy sitting places. The ultimate goal is to create a sanctuary that neither television nor general laziness can penitrate. I'm convinced that once I have the writing room I'm thinking of, the room will do half of my writing for me. In fact, I'm blogging in the room right now, and I'm pretty sure the view from the window urged me to write some words, anything at all. "Don't argue," it said, "just write."

My Life is a Cycle



pedal pedal pedal pedal pedal pedal pedal pedal pedal pedal pedal pedal pedal pedal



That is what my life is all about right now. I wake up and walk Oscar (walking motion is very similar to pedaling), and then I eat breakfast while watching the Tour de France (lots of men pedaling), and then I go pedal my bike. I practice efficient pedaling. It is my weakness right now, because I have just discovered how to use all my leg muscles to pedal and now I have to train myself not to pedal the way I have been pedaling my whole life. Ultimately, it will help me climb up all those mountain passes on August 4th, the day that is looming ahead, and the one that worries me on a daily basis.


Thank you, "Pigs Eat Corn," for calling me The Man, because it is a male dominated sport, and maybe if I think more like a man, I'll get through all this just fine. However, I have included a picture of one man who didn't know when to quit. May I never wind up like him (although my rear is way cuter).



I rode 20 miles today, I thought of it as my warm-up ride. Tomorrow I'll kick it up a notch and aim for 30, and this weekend I'm doing a 50 mile ride. This is all good, except that those of you who have been to Denver might have noticed how flat it is. I need some mountain training. Someone, please, call me King of the Mountains? I think I can trick myself into believing it, especially since I look good in polka dots.

So Close, Yet...

Tomorrow is my last day of class ever. I've already blogged about this. But I still have one more paper left to write, and that's really wearing me down.

I was supposed to get started on this paper two weeks ago. I was supposed to work on it all last week. I was supposed to research it and begin writing it Saturday. I was supposed to finish writing it yesterday. Did any of those happen? No. Of course not. In the true spirit of procrastination, I am doing this final paper correctly--at the last minute.

Tonight, I am supposed to finish my paper. I do believe this will happen, since I am not one to turn in late assignments. However, I also have two other assignments due, and those are currently taking a back seat (as if there is another back seat left on this procrastination bus).

So here's to old habits, excuses, and plain ol' not wanting to do homework. Wish me luck, I have a long night ahead of me (all nighters are sooo undergrad).

My Life Continues

I just turned in my thesis. The weight of the past two years has finally been unchained, and I can move and flex and walk and...oh, what should I do with myself?

I've been looking forward to some feeling of freedom. Like, what will it be like to come home from work and not have to pull out my laptop and write a paper? What will it be like to travel on the weekend with a book I chose to read myself? What excuse will I think of to get out of keeping the house clean (because really, that is my biggest concern)?

But I also hope that the weight of the past two years continues to exert itself from time to time. I don't want to forget what it's like to work on my writing. I don't want to forget how good it feels to finish a story and think that someone else might like to read it. That, more than obtaining an official looking degree, is what I went to school for. I needed discipline, and I really hope that part of that lesson sunk in and became a part of me.

The celebrations have not yet begun. David offered to throw a party, but my inclination is not to have one. My first big deadline has come and gone. There will be many more. This is my new life, and I hope it's a hardworking one.