Getting Back In

So, I'm headed back to training tonight. Before all of you freak out and decide to lecture me about resting my back etc., do note that I'm only going for Tai Chi. One hour only, twice a week. If it goes well, I'll increase the time. For now, however, it'll just be two hours a week.

I have permission from my physiotherapist.

And that constitutes the entirety of my exciting news.

I'm editing for a doctoral candidate. Which is a laugh, since I've gotten no further than a Bachelor of Arts. The topic is fascinating, actually, so I'm really enjoying it. I'm still on target for NaNoWriMo. Actually, I managed 4 000 words yesterday. Go me! I have to get writing on that, actually. If the computer would just start working properly, I might actually reach my target today.

Until tomorrow, then!

Wive

To marry. This word is not quite obsolete. Wive and thrive is a common solloquialism. "Her, whom the first man did wive."

- Charles Mackay's Lost Beauties of the English Language, 1874

I Was a Peruvian Farmer

True story. I was. Yesterday. And you can read about it on Rita's blog here.

As for the declaration that I was going to begin writing ahead of schedule. It's not happening. Pottermore.com has sucked me into a world of make-believe and I am currently trying to master the exact science and subtle art that is potion-making.

Oh, and spell-casting is horribly tricky as well.

When it works, it works well. I wish it would work more often.

Training is going very well. Wednesday nights K.C. and I have started working with the body pads (padded chest/body protectors so we can actually hit each other - getting hit still hurts, by the by. I shudder to think what it feels like with out the pad!). I'm uncoordinated and K.C. is very kindly keeping the drills simple for me. Still, it's wicked fun.

M.D. came over last night. She's in town from Saskatchewan ... or was is Saskatoon. One of those. It was lovely to see her again in any case. She's looking well and she's awesome as always.

Have you seen the Game of Thrones teaser trailer? I have. I can't wait for it to start!

On the subject of T.V. shows, there are two slated to premier soon, and I can't wait to see them. Grimm and Once Upon A Time. It's so wonderful to see faerie tales coming back into story-telling. I'm a huge fan of faerie tales.

Right, nothing else to report, so I'm going to Hogwarts now. Potions starts soon and I don't want Snape to get mad at me...

Nothing's Nest

A nonentity. "He's a nothing's nest."

- G.F. Northall's Warwickshire Word-Book, 1896

Waving Back.

Hi Jen! Thanks for following.

There is absolutely nothing interesting going on right now. The last night in the training week is tonight. I'm so covered in bruises I look like I have some strange skin-eating disease. I haven't written anything in a whole day.

And it's fraying on my nerves a little. I might be a little OCD when it comes to writing. But I shall endeavour to give myself the time I need to properly rest up. I'll probably start writing again soon, though.

Since there is so very little to note, I'll let you all get on with your day then, shall I?

Catlings

The strings of a violin or lute, they being formerly made of the intestines of a cat and usually called cat-gut. Shakespeare's Troilys and Cressida.

- William Toone's Etymological Dictionary of Obsolete Words, 1831

Stringed instruments.

- Sir James Murray's New English Dictionary, 1893

... I'm pretty sure I've seen on Qi that violin strings weren't made of cat gut at all - it was a myth started by violin makers who wanted to keep their secrets. I'm not certain though, so I'll have to double check and get back to you.

Chillaxing

Good morning!

Is it a good morning because:

a) The first, most difficult week of training is over. It'll only get easier from here,

b) I slept really well last night,

c) Today is my first ever violin lesson,

d) My muscles have ceased to ache quite so much, or

e) All of the above.

If you answered e), you are correct. Reward yourself with a square of rich dark chocolate and a small glass of port. Trust me. It's a reward.

Oh, I do have to tell you, in training last night, we were supposed to do as many chin-ups as we could. I am so ashamed to say, I cannot do a single one. I am very tempted to put a bar up in my doorway and practice at home so I don't look like such a fool the next time around. Oh well, there's only one way to get to doing a chin-up... I'll look the fool a few classes longer, I suppose. Until I can do a chin-up again.

I used to be able to do them. What the hell happened?!

I didn't, sadly, make my daily 3 000 yesterday. I made 2 000 (still a good haul, when I think about it). So today will be spent writing that final 1 000, then goofing off. I'll still be on target, and Monday will see me hit my goal! Yay!

Of course, the book won't be finished. There's the prologue and epilogue to write, and then a cursory format and edit, before I tuck it away and celebrate by goofing off for the rest of the month.

Ahhh.... today is a good day!

Anthropotomist

One who studies human anatomy.

- Sir James Murray's New English Dictionary, 1888

One who cuts up or dissects a man; [from Greek] anthropos, man, and tomis or tomes, one who cuts.

- Edward Lloyd's Encyclopaedic Dictionary, 1895.

Sore and Satisfied

Owie. Owie. Owie. Owie.

Owie.

I am so sore in every single part of my body. I ache all over.

And it's wonderful! These past two days of training have really helped me calm down and focus. And sleep. That's always a bonus.

Writing wise, well, I'm almost there. I just need to keep at it, and I should reach my target on schedule. Go me!

And that is all I have to say. I have to limp away now and do some office photocopying. Have a wonderful Wednesday, everyone!

Philopena

Another, and highly reprehensible way of extorting a gift, is to have what is called a philopena with a gentleman. This very silly joke is when a young lady, in cracking almonds, chances to find two kernels in one shell; she shares them with a beau; whech ever firest calls out 'philopena' on their next meeting, is entitled to receive a present from the other; and she is to remind him of it till he remembers to comply. So much nonsense is often talked on the occasion, that it seems to expand into something of importance, and the gentleman thinks he can do no less, than purchase for the lady something very elegant, or valuable; particularly if he has heard her tell of the munificence of other beaux in their philopenas.

- Eliza Leslie's Behaviour Book, 1854.

Well, That Was...

... interesting.

Training last night was incredible. I had so much energy and I worked so hard for all three hours. Then I threw up.

For the first time in my lazy life (no, seriously. I pretty lazy when it comes to the physical stuff), I worked so hard at a physical activity, I made myself ill. I've heard of this happening. I've seen people run out of class because of this. I've never, ever experienced it myself.

And now I have.

Although, thankfully, my stomach waited until some time after the end of class before turning.

The funny thing is, I did nothing different this time prior to training. I ate my snack before heading off, drank tonnes of water before and during. However, it was extremely hot and humid, and I was non-stop for the full three hours (usually I'm a bit lazier and give myself long, sometimes permanent breaks before the three hour mark).

The really funny thing is, prior to the completion of class, I was thinking that I should start swimming in the mornings because I had so much energy and was feeling so good I wanted to step up my game.

That'll learn me.

Right, so I have to get writing. There's another 3 000 words that need to be put down today. So I'll leave you now. Instead of an awkward pause, have some Forgotten English:

Gleeamy

Of the weather, hot and sultry, with alternating showers.

- Thomas Darlington's Folk-Speech of South Cheshire, 1887

Showery, with bright intervals. From gleam, a hot interval of sunshine between showers; a ray of sunshine.

- Joseph Wright's English Dialect Dictionary, 1898-1905

A Good Kind of Utter Exhaustion

Man am I tired! My muscles hurt like they haven't in a long time, and I could just curl up in bed right now and go back to sleep. It would form a bad habit, though. I'm already having trouble waking up, most especially if the cat curls up with me. For some reason, I find her weight against me so soothing that it sends me into the deepest, most untroubled kind of sleep providing the most comic, unwelcome, damn-it-I'm-late kind of wake up.

Luckily, the buses are running, and I got to work on time. I even managed to take out the rubbish this morning... though I forgot the recycling. Damn.

In any case, I'm here. I'm sore, and I'm tired, but it's the best kind of sore and tired. The right kind of muscular pain can be quite satisfactory. In my case, I feel like I've accomplished something - hours of really good training, for example.

Mentally, I'm not even a little fatigued. My imagination has been going strong, and my fingers are struggling to keep up. In the happiest news in a long time, I'm almost a quarter of the way through writing Puppet Master. A quarter! In just ten days of writing.

That's crazy amounts of progress.

I'm not sure how I managed it, or even what the quality is like - I'll find out when it comes time to edit, I'm sure - but I'm really enjoying the writing at the moment. I feel like I can just turn my brain off and let my fingers fly. That might not last, however.

So, though I'm well ahead of where I need to be, I'll keep striving for 3 000 words to save up some time-off should I ever need it. That way, I can take the time I need and not stress that I'm falling behind my deadline (albeit self-imposed).

Speaking of, I should get back to it, so here's today's Forgotten English:

Dead-Nip

A blue mark in the body, not produced by a bloc, contusion, or any known cause ... sometimes called a witch's nip.

- John Jamieson's Etymological Dictionary of the Scottish Language, 1808

Bruised Knuckles

Last night during training, my good friend K.C., whose Kung Fu is really very good, came up with some drills that required body pads ... no gloves. These drills were straight out of the forms we learnt and couldn't really be executed with boxing gloves on. I didn't have MMA gloves (those fingerless ones), and after getting K.C.'s fingers caught in my wraps, I removed them.

That meant hitting the body shield without any protection whatsoever. It felt AWESOME!

The side-effect is, of course, that I now have bruised knuckles on my right hand. The bruise is faint, and will probably vanish without becoming all that visible. I can see it, though. It amuses me.

But this is supposed to be a blog about my writing, which, incidentally has been going very well. I wrote another 4 000 yesterday. It means that I only have to write 1 000 today to be up to speed. That, however, might be something of a struggle for two reasons:

a) I exhausted my imagination yesterday, and I might need a little break to rest up and charge it again, and

b) I've hit a small depression. No, not the atmospheric type. Those who follow this blog know that every so often I get into a low or two for a little while. Sometimes these personal lows fuel my writing. Other times, they kill it dead. I have a feeling it's the latter this time around.

Of course, we'll have to see. I often say that I don't have it in me to write, and then end up writing a whole whack of stuff. Incidentally, a character I was fond of died yesterday, so that's what may be making me feel all sad.

Le sigh.

Well, you don't need to hear me complain about feeling down. So instead, I give you today's Forgotten English:

Chuffy:

Haughty, proud, puffed up; fat and fleshy. In some parts, clownish.

- M. Courtney, Glossary of Words in Use in Cornwall, 1880

Fussy, proud, conceited.

- Sidney Addy's Glossary of Words Used in Sheffield, 1888

Churlish, rude, surly, morose.

- Sir James Murray's New English Dictionary, 1893.

I use a variation of this - chuffed - meaning proud or pleased (with myself). For example, 'I got a good review and am now quite chuffed.' I got the expression from my maternal Grandmother, whose family (I think) were Cornish. Incidentally a chough (pronounced 'chuff')

is a bird similar to a crow that lives in the UK. Well, the red-billed chough does anyway. It has associations with a Welsh folk hero - Bendigeidfran (the blessed crow), who was, according to the folklore, a King. I wonder if the association between the crow/chough and the meaning of chuff have anything to do with one another.

Never mind me, just musing aloud.

Righty-o. I should probably open my story so I can stare blankly at the page in an effort to try and write. 1 000 words shouldn't be that hard, right?

Calmer Now

Feeling much better about the world after my rant yesterday. Hanging out with good folk like my Kung Fu brothers and sisters does that!

So does punching stuff for an hour.

I love training.

In other, writing-related news, I'd finally managed to make the 3 000 word mark yesterday. I don't know how far behind I am now, but it doesn't matter all that much, since I'm writing primarily for myself.

Also, the very terribly sad ending for Puppet Master (Book 5) came to me yesterday. The scene is already written, but it appears in Book 6. The idea hit very suddenly, and dug up a whole swath of past hurts. I actually teared-up.

I shall leave it hanging there for you, though I'm sure the cleverest of you will figure out which scene it is exactly.

Before I leave, however, there's today's Forgotten English word/phrase of the day:

Sport Ivory:

If [someone smiled, he sported ivory.

- Morris Marples' University Slang, 1950