Time on Treadmill: 30 minutes.
Exhaustion level: Better after my three-hour nap

Sometimes it helps to remind myself that I’ve done things like the parking job pictured at left. That’s in a British rental car, mind you, so it’s the “wrong” side of the road for me and there were literally less than eight inches of space between my car and the other two when I was done. Ramón was so astounded, he insisted that I take this picture for posterity to prove that I can achieve the impossible.

On days like this, I need that reminder. The day was not nearly as rewarding as I would have liked (no fault on anyone for this — it was just the nature of the venue), and the one book I sold pretty much paid for my gas, lunch, and drink on the way home. Oh, wait, I had to pay tolls, as well. So I was out of pocket on this event.

On the other hand, I managed to come home. Eighteen people who went to a Walmart in El Paso didn’t. So in the grander scheme of things I had a pretty damn good day. Also, please support background checks for gun purchases because this shit is out of control.

Time on Treadmill: 30 minutes.
Stress level: Would punch Misha Collins.

I love Misha, I really do. He’s a good man who does stuff for so many people and works so hard to be a force for love and good in the world. But if he showed up now and asked me to join GISH with that delightfully goofy smile of his, I’m afraid violence would follow.

To attend any sort of writing conference, I normally bring all of my books, my Nicola Cameron banner, a bank (cash so that I can sell the books in case people want some), stands for the books, a business card holder, a sign indicating how much the books are so that people don’t have to ask, and a tablecloth.

For a writing conference that’s also allowing me to sell my jewelry, I have to do all of the above PLUS sort out which pieces I’m going to bring, put chains on all the silver pendants because people seem more likely to buy them if they’re ready to wear, write prices on tags and attach them to each piece, load up all the jewelry, the display equipment, my tools in case I need to adjust something on the fly, and the makings for copper Viking knit tubes so that I can sit there and demonstrate how it’s done (since I’m supposed to be talking about making jewelry to anyone who comes to my table).

I managed to melt an earring last night and a bezel today, I’m dripping with sweat from working in a freaking hot garage, I have maybe 95% of the stuff that I need for the show packed, I still have to go upstairs and get the Viking knit stuff and print off business cards for both me and Belaurient Arts, and somehow I have to get to sleep before midnight because I need to be up at 6 AM in order to leave the house at 7:15 AM to get to Burleson, TX by 8:30 AM to set up my table. Crap, and I need to make sure I have clean clothes ready for tomorrow as well, bugger.

Still managed to get my time in, though, so that’s something.

Time on Treadmill: 10 minutes.
Stress level: Would duck out on meeting Misha Collins.

Remember all that writing stuff I do as well as make sparklies? Well, I’m trying to get everything put together so that I can attend WORDFest SW on Saturday (with my books and jewelry), plus finish one last labradorite pendant, pay the car insurance, and do all the other things that keep this place running.

As a result, I did not get my usual thirty minutes in today. I’ll try to make it up over the weekend, but frankly I doubt that’s gonna happen unless a miracle occurs. In better news, Ramón has gotten some promising info on the job front so we have hopes, and we celebrated his first day of leisure by going to see Once Upon a Time … In Hollywood. I have to admit, I liked it, and I didn’t see the ending coming until I realized, oh, wait — this is a fairy tale. Okay, now I get it.

I also think this one one I’ll be buying because for some reason I was getting serious nostalgia vibes from it (which makes little to no sense as I was three and nowhere near LA when this movie was set, but that’s my brain for you).

Time on Treadmill: 30 minutes.
Bemusement status: Moderately boggled.

Compared to last night’s debate, this one so far is somewhat eh. Harris’s voice is somewhat shaky, Biden looks sad, the mikes are not what I would call professional, and Andrew Yang seems to be the only one who came charged (although Di Blasio just got finished trouncing all over Bennet over Medicare For All). Don’t know what’s going on in Detroit tonight, but it feels like they all got some sort of bad news that they’re trying to ignore while dealing with the debate.

In other news, I’m re-hydrating after one hell of a hot afternoon in the garage working on a larimar and aquamarine pendant. If this thing comes out the way I think it will, it’s going to look amazing, but I know not to promise anything until I finish the final bit of polishing. I’ll also be trying to finish another pendant and a pair of earrings before I attend a show on Saturday (WORDFest SW) — I’ve got jewelry that will be in the Art Show at Armadillocon, as well. If I can sell a bunch of jewelry and books this weekend, I would be a very happy camper.

Time on Treadmill: 30 minutes.
Annoyance status: Would push a small child out of my way.

It’s just one of those days when I’m trying to work and Ramón has decided to update the refurbed PC laptop he bought for me (for my new intermittent contract work) in the kitchen, which is less than eight feet from where I’m sitting. Which means he’s talking to himself, carrying the laptop over to me so that I can set passwords and security questions, and generally being distracting.

Now, I am very grateful that he bought me a laptop, and he’s setting it up like the in-house tech resource he is, and he’s a wonderful man whom I love very much. I just can’t work with him in the same room. I may have to rethink the office arrangement and see if there’s some way I can fix the office chair so that it doesn’t sink down to child level within five minutes of me sitting down and completely wrecking my knees in the process.

Time on Treadmill: 30 minutes.
Head status: Thick and snotty. Thank you, tree sex.

People think that freelance workers don’t have the Monday blues. Ha. Ha ha ha. What we don’t have are weekends, or evenings, or holidays, or vacations. Don’t get me wrong, it’s lovely to be able to work from home in a pair of leggings and a t-shirt, but there’s also the tendency to just keep working even after business hours (or your work hour quota, however you’re arranging it). One of the things I have tried to do time and time again is set specific hours when I’m working, and then stop after that time is up.

But it’s kinda hard to do that when you have to run errands, or someone decides that they want to talk to you even though you have fingers on keyboard and are typing away, or the cat’s puked in the living room once again and you need to get the steam cleaner out, or mirable dictu you get stuck into a project and don’t want to stop, or… Well, you get the idea. Because I’m at home I keep getting interrupted all throughout the day, so my actual work day lasts far longer than that of someone who spends eight hours in an office.

So, yeah, Monday sucks for all of us. In more pleasant news, I finished my birthday present to myself, a rather tasty pendant set with a carnelian and with a flame surround. Mind you, sawing out those flames was an adventure, but man, the end result is worth it.

Time on Treadmill: 30 minutes.
Cleanliness: Squeaky and sweet-smelling

I made a command decision today. I have a pendant on the bench that is a really lovely two-tone carnelian oval cabochon in a sterling setting where the bezel has been ringed with tiny hand-sawn flames.

And I’m keeping it. It’s my birthday, I bought this cab for myself, I wanted a sun/flame pendant to celebrate the fact that I’m a Leo born in July, and now that it’s all together and sitting in the pickle waiting for its bail to be attached, I’ve decided screw it, I want it for myself. I have more than enough stuff for next weekend (I’m going to be at WORDfest SW in Burleson, TX, if anyone wants to stalk me or buy books and jewelry), and I still have at least two more pairs of jewelry and another pendant to make before then, so I can afford to keep this one. It’s mine, and I shall treasure it.

And yes, I’ll post pics when it’s done. Seriously, this one is going to be so damn cool.

In writing news, I’m back at work on both King of Blades and Uncertainty Principle, and Blades should be available by the end of August while Uncertainty should be available by late September.

In health news, the bad knee is still acting up after my lark with interval training last weekend, so I think I’m going to maybe give that a miss for a few more weeks. On the plus side, however, Aunt Flo left the building on Friday in one of the briefest periods I have ever experienced, so I’m hoping that the end is near and I’ll be in full-fledged menopause by 2020 or sooner. I know women can look on that with horror, but having my PCOS’ed ovaries finally go into hibernation will be a blessing for me. I can always get HRT if I need it — hell, I’m already using progesterone cream. Best of all, the retained water is already coming off, and I suspect I’ll hit a new milestone sometime this week, which will be fabulous.

Time on Treadmill: 30 minutes.
Pain level: Much reduced, thank you.

Oh, the difference a day (and a dose of prednisone) makes. Not only did I stay up all night working on these feather pendants (two oxidized silvers, one oxidized copper, and one fire-painted copper), I then had a fantastic eight hours of sleep, woke up and cleaned the kitchen, did some laundry, put the feathers on cord necklaces, moved the bench and surrounding items in an attempt to find the aquamarine cab that bounced off the table yesterday (couldn’t find it, but that’s okay — I can get another one on Monday), went out for a lovely Mediterranean dinner with Ramón, my editor, and her husband where we discussed the suckiness of the looking for work situation, replaced a fritzy socket in a table lamp (even better, it turns out the old socket was for three-way bulbs — once I put in the new single-intensity socket, the lamp became much brighter), and now I think I’m gonna put on my jammies, take my meds and go to sleep early because I can. dammit.

Also, my jawline is becoming more pronounced. That’s kinda cool.

Time on Treadmill: 30 minutes.
Temptation to blow it all off and stay in bed: Immense.

Things came to a head today when I seriously just wanted to stay in bed and die, I felt so crappy. With me, allergies don’t just mean aching sinuses and lots of mucus going down my throat — it also hits my joints, and man, today was a seriously bad pain day.

But I don’t have time for that because I have things to do, tra la, so I went out and got a bottle of Flo-Nase (which I’d run out of a few days ago, bad Nicola, no new laptop) and popped one of my few, treasured Prednisone pills. Can’t take it all the time because it’s horribly corrosive, but I have a prescription that I can dole out if and when I really, really need it.

Today, I really, really needed it. A half hour later I felt moderately human again and was able to get stuff done in the garage (making some pendants for my family) and knock out time with Chuck. Hopefully it’ll last long enough to let me get some decent sleep tonight, because I could definitely use it.

Time on Treadmill: 30 minutes.
Desire to pour Drano into my sinuses: Rising.

Oh, Texas. I really don’t know why you don’t post a sign on your borders that reads, “Welcome to Texas — here are your adult onset allergies.” I never needed antihistamines on a regular basis until I moved here, and climate change has made all of that even worse because it’s humid as hell down here now. Needless to say, the plants absolutely love this and are pumping out tons of pollen in celebration.

To make matters worse, it’s affecting the cats. Poor Jessie and Jaz keep sneezing, a number of them keep throwing up big puddles of mucus, and JJ (AKA Mr Sensitive to EVERY Allergen) is overgrooming again which means I get to stick half a Chlor-trimeton down his throat every day to give him some relief. I can live with aching sinuses and feeling like crap, but I don’t want to see the furkids dealing with this, as well.

Oh, and dealing with this while working in a hot garage? So much fun. I wear a mask because I deal with a lot of particulate matter and fumes from heating metal, but I still tend to come in with a sore throat and aching ears. But at least I have pretty jewelry as a reward, so that’s something. Now if people would only buy it…