I had to laugh when I saw that lovely picture of a treadmill desk on Jade Lee's post yesterday. I, too, had great expectations when I bought my own treadmill, but after seeking help from my chiropractor as to why my feet hurt so much, he hesitated a moment, cleared his throat and said, "I hate to say it, but your treadmill is the most likely cause of your problem."
Alas, in the days and months since then (it may even have been a year!), my treadmill has become the repository for shoes (some of them are at least new), conference-issue tote bags, and a waste basket. My Mr. Spock mousepad sits forlorn, promising me that if I will only climb aboard, I will surely live long and prosper. Lately, the desire to live long and prosper has been outweighed by the need for feet that don't make me want to scream.
The treadmill gets dusted regularly, and I do vacuum around it. I even drag it out of the way to clean underneath it from time to time.
But I don't use it.
While I was still gung ho enough to plug it in and turn it on, I did find that I could walk 2 miles per hour and still type with reasonable accuracy. I did most of my walking while critiquing chapters sent to me by my critique partners. I should at least try to do that, but transferring my computer to that little shelf is too much of an effort during these days of long nights, snowy fields, and icy winds. I prefer to ignore the treadmill, except on cleaning days, and pretend that I'm not getting any older, that my joints aren't any stiffer, that my weight is at least stable, and that my skin still has the elasticity it did at the age of twenty. And people wonder why I write fiction!
Today, I saw a huge rack of seed packets at the Rural King store when I went in to buy the biotin supplement for my horses so they won't have feet as sore as mine. I noticed a woman perusing the flower seeds with interest, and I considered stopping for a moment to commiserate, but thought it best to keep moving. I prefer to wait until at least February before I start collecting seeds or even pretending they exist. Usually by then, we at least have a hint of spring. Right now, it's only a dream.
Kinda like this book. The release date for Rebel isn't until July, but I received the copy-edited version to review last Wednesday. The edits were minor, and it took me away from winter in Indiana for a while, but it ended way too soon.
I may have to give in and read it again.
But, wait! The UPS man just brought the books I have to judge for RWA's Rita contest. Guess we all know what I'll be doing for the next few weeks!
How do you cope with the winter doldrums? Post a comment below and one lucky commenter will receive a free, signed copy of Wildcat!
"Scorching hot... a book that keeps you turning pages... 4 Stars" - RT Book Reviews
gives Jerden and Sara over two hundred pages to become real,
believable, and important to the reader before their relationship
evolves into a highly erotic sexual one." - Booklist
"Smoking hot... " - My Reading Obsession
"Cheryl Brooks has taken the Cat Star Chronicles to a new level... " - Night Owl Reviews
Only One Woman Can Tame Him
horse breeder Sara Shield encounters Jerden Morokovitz riding naked and
bareback, she's stunned by the magnificence of both man and stallion.
But Sara came to Terra Minor hoping to get away from all the men.
If She Can Give Up Her Fear...
murder of Jerden's lover by a deranged woman has left this former star
attraction of the Zetithian Palace brothel shattered in mind and body.
Jerden is sure that Sara can heal his anguish—but not unless he can find
the key to her heart.