- Get on the treadmill (or equivalent exercise) daily
- Pace is fine at 30 min/mile, although I may up it on occasion
- Time range between 30 minutes and 1 hour per day
- Distance 1-2 miles per day
- Read the chosen book, which I won’t allow myself to read outside of my treadmill time, hopefully motivating me to reach or exceed the above goals (exception…at the end of the week where a book is highlighted, I will finish it off-treadmill so I can feature something new the next week)
Week 136: June 30, 2019 – July 6, 2019
|Sunday||30 min/mile||30:08 min:sec||1 mile|
|Monday||30 min/mile||30:08 min:sec (jinx)||1 mile|
|Tuesday||Mowed||1-1/2 hrs||Front & Back|
|Wednesday||30 min/mile||31:11 min:sec||1 mile|
|Thursday||30 min/mile||30:18 min:sec||1 mile|
|Friday||30 min/mile||30:54 min:sec||1 mile|
|Saturday||30 min/mile||32:22 min:sec||1 mile|
What I’m Reading
Note: Although I will try to avoid them, my weekly reading snippets may or may not contain spoilers, so read at your own risk.
What I #amreading: The Incorrigible and the Count (from the Trilogy) by Zakarrie C.
Twelvemonth or more stalking a certain stretch of road had reaped far more than Raff of the Rookeries counted upon. Far more than Camillo could afford to want, need…love. Padraic. A man for whom the term Rum Duke might have been coined. As inimitable as he was impossible—for whom Raff had done the inconceivable—unmasked himself. He had not planned on revealing far too much for comfort; his jealously guarded sister, Lady Lotte Ferretti. Raff’s fears proved unfounded, but their ‘friendship’ survived his fury. Whether it could survive the scrutiny of Society and a law that made love a crime, was quite another story… Its plot? As incorrigible as the miscreant who cooked it up.
My favorite lines this week…
✿✿ SUNDAY ✿✿
“When I first set foot in the Rookeries, I swore blind that I’d never again bow before a man. Yet, you brought me to my knees with barely a goddamn blink.”
✿✿ MONDAY ✿✿
“You are the only person I’ve ever met who would opine thus. Everything I said is poles apart from what is purported to be ‘romantic’.” Padraic sighed.
“Only if one considers romance and Romantic to be one and the same…I do not.” Raff snorted.
✿✿ TUESDAY ✿✿
“Hmm… I am a mite peckish…and partial to a sliver of cake. Might I hope that the indomitable Mrs. Jenkins’ baking skills are as adept as her aim with a skillet?” Padraic enquired, accepting the shirt Raff proffered his way.
✿✿ WEDNESDAY ✿✿
The next five and twenty months, masquerading as minutes, were filled with inconsequential pleasantries as they were served a splendid array of fayre. Delicious it may have been—Raff knew not and cared less—he had little appetite for it. While he may not have been wound too tight to eat, it was similar to electing to sup while waiting, watching; ears pricked, senses attuned in anticipation of an ambush.
✿✿ THURSDAY ✿✿
Ha. Padraic damn near indulged in a bit of a jig when the Lady Lotte’s golden skin was suffused with a rosy hue. A swoon—he might never bring about—but blimy, he’d begun to despair raising a real flush. No pretty pinking of cheeks, but rouge, par excellence.
“Your Grace. You are the most impossible Gentleman I have e’er had the fortune to meet.”
✿✿ FRIDAY ✿✿
When Padraic had pondered Raff’s probable responses? He’d run the gamut from volcanic rage, bitter invective, icy fury..to a flinty glint so formidable it made men (possessed with one iota of sense) quake, then hand over their goods with nary a quibble. he had not expected his explanation to be met by a wall of shuttered silence. Nor a stillness so absolute it seemed that Raff had turned to stone.
✿✿ SATURDAY ✿✿
In terms of sheer shock value; His Grace, the Potent Padraic had surpassed even himself.