Saturday June 30th, 2012

The exercise:

Write a four line poem about: the anniversary.

There was a surprise 40th anniversary party for Kat's parents here this evening that went off pretty smoothly, despite the near constant rain. I think the grand total was twenty-one people, all relatives from both sides of the family.

This morning's market started off with a pretty impressive downpour and very few customers. Thankfully the rain eventually stopped, then the sun and the crowds arrived. Overall another successful market for us.

I was there with Kat's brother Adam, as Kat stayed here to rest and prepare for the evening's festivities. He seemed to enjoy himself, even with the weather, so I might be able to convince him to come again some time.


For one day each year
We gather to celebrate
You, your triumphs, and
Your bond with your special mate.

Friday June 29th, 2012

The exercise:

Write four lines of prose about: the party.

More cherries and berries are set for the long weekend market (Sunday is Canada Day). Hoping for good weather, but refusing to look at the forecast since they've been more incompetent at the weather office than usual lately.

Sorry about neglecting the comments the last couple of days, just haven't had the time or energy. Hoping to get back on track either tomorrow evening or Sunday.


He stood leaning against the wall in the living room, empty beer bottle in hand. At regular intervals he would bring it to his lips and pretend to sip. Then he would return to nodding his head in time with the too-loud music as he eyed the other attendees.

And all the while he silently counted down the seconds until he could leave without being viewed as the old man he knew himself to be at the tender age of nineteen.

Thursday June 28th, 2012

The exercise:

Write about: the body.

Took the car in this afternoon to get the brakes checked out. Turns out they need to be replaced, so I should probably spend all of tomorrow picking strawberries to sell at the market to pay for that.

Restaurant harvest went fairly well this morning, though I was once again too rushed to make the delivery to get a picture of our haul. Perhaps things will calm down once I set fire to the strawberries are finished for the season.


Detective Anderson approached the crime scene on weary feet, one eye on the approaching storm clouds. The team would have to work quickly if they hoped to find any useful evidence, but they were all running on fumes by that point.

Five dumped bodies in less than two days. Had to be a record of some sort, though no one seemed interested in confirming it.

Anderson stopped a few feet away from the man and woman huddled over the nude corpse, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets to protect them from the chill in the air while he waited for them to complete their photography session. His nostrils caught a hint of cherry bubblegum in the air and he wondered which junior officer was about to get dressed down for that lapse in judgement.

"All yours, Detective," the woman told him as she rose from her crouch and began to pack up her camera equipment. "Hope you haven't had dinner yet."

"No time to eat these days," Anderson said with a ghost of a smile. "Thanks guys."

He waited for them to clear the area before stepping closer. In the distance a crow squabbled with its mate as the detective got his first clear view of the most recent victim's face. A brief flex of his jaw muscles was the only indication of his inner thoughts.

At the rate the bodies were piling up, Anderson thought, it was only a matter of time before I had to deal with one I had cared for.

Wednesday June 27th, 2012

The exercise:

Today we write about: the sale.

We received the results from last week's ultrasound this morning and everything is looking as it should. We had no real reason to think otherwise - but plenty of first time parent imaginings and fears - so it was nice to have it confirmed.

Harvesting for the restaurant tomorrow morning, since we were in Penticton today during the time we usually pick for them. I shall have strawberry scented nightmares tonight.


"Are you sure you don't want any? They're doing a two for one sale!"

"Why would I care about that? I don't even want one of them."

"But it's a really great deal. Just think of how much you'd be saving if you picked up two or four or ev-"

"I'd rather think about how much I'm saving by not spending money on something I don't want. Come on, put those down. We're going home."

Tuesday June 26th, 2012

The exercise:

Write two haiku that are, or are about something: positive.

In celebration of me finally finding out my blood type, which turned out to be A positive. Unfortunately that means that Kat gets to take a couple of shots - one at 28 weeks and another within three days after delivery - in order to avoid potential future complications should we choose to have a second child.

So, um, sorry about that, dear. I tried to think negative thoughts when they were taking my blood!


Things are looking up,
I can feel it in my bones -
Summer is coming.

*     *     *

Another A Plus
on my report; even my
blood's smarter than you.

Monday June 25th, 2012

The exercise:

Write about something that is: endless.

Spent most of the morning picking strawberries in the pouring rain. Good times. This is June, right? In Osoyoos? Yes?

Well then, could someone please inform the weather?


The road appears to end, just a few, lumbering steps ahead. There is nothing beyond that point except for a complete, total darkness. No sounds escape from it, no scents, no life.

Upon reaching this seeming end point, everything goes black, as expected. There is a time of waiting, its length unmeasurable. Eternity beckons, but movement is impossible. There is no going forward or back, there is only this one place and nothing more.

At length a voice is heard, giving instructions and encouragement. Then a pinprick of light slices through the murk and begins to grow larger. It draws nearer, with increasing warmth and the rumbling of an oncoming storm.

It passes through and around, leaving a new road in its wake. With no alternative presenting itself, the endless journey continues once more.

Sunday June 24th, 2012

The exercise:

Today we write about: the puzzle.

Enjoyed a relaxing and refreshing day off. Expecting to use all that energy up during tomorrow's harvest.


"There's got to be a way out of this. I just have to figure it out, that's all."

"You've said that ten times in the last hour," Sarah observed, not moving from where she was slumped against the wall, "and we are no closer to this fabled solution now than we were when we first got here."

"Perhaps we would have made some progress if you stopped moaning and groaning about our imminent doom and started helping me escape from it instead."

"No, I don't reckon that would've changed a single thing."

"Obviously not. So I can assume that should I find an exit I shouldn't bother informing you?"

"Oh for... there's no way out! How many times do you need to hear that before you accept it?"

"Very well then. It's been... not quite a pleasure. Good day."

"Whatever, Nate." Sarah scratched at the back of her left hand, gritting her teeth against the pain. Looking up, she intended to fire a few more choice words in her companion's direction, but instead found herself alone. "Nate? Nathan!"

Saturday June 23rd, 2012

The exercise:

Write a four line poem about something or someone that is: erratic.

Because that's the only word I can think of to describe the weather today. Raining, sunshine, cloudy, repeat. Every now and then mix in a little rain with sunshine to keep things interesting.

Thankfully it's not the word to describe our sales this morning. All the berries went to good homes, there was about ten pounds of cherries leftover, and all the shelling and snow peas sold. It was a very good, very busy market for us.


She walks in the room,
And my heartbeat scatters;
Suddenly deep breaths
Are real hard to gather.

Friday June 22nd, 2012

The exercise:

Write four lines of prose about: the patch.

We have about 200 pounds of cherries, 50(!!) pints of strawberries, and other, less numerous things, to sell at the farmers market tomorrow morning. The forecast is currently calling for a 40% chance of rain, with not too much of it expected to fall.

I would very much like for that to become 0%, with a nice dose of sunshine to bring the crowds out. Please. And thank you.

Currently there is an impressive thunder and lightning storm going on outside, so hopefully the weather is just getting it all out of its system now. Also, the power has gone off and on three times in the last hour, so if this is late getting published, that'll be why.


I have spent far, far too much time in our strawberry patch this week. Four hours on Monday, two more on Tuesday, another four on Wednesday, and at least six today (I refuse to make an accurate tally, for fear of losing my mind).

The only reason that I can stand up straight right now, rather than being confined to a wheelchair or permanently attached to a massage table, is that Kat is a trained yoga teacher who knows plenty of tricks to keep my back in shape.

So at this moment, I am deeply grateful to her.

Thursday June 21st, 2012

The exercise:

Today we write about something or someone: extra.

Kat's sister-in-law arrived this evening, with our little niece in tow. They'll be in Osoyoos for the next week and a half, and Kat's brother will be joining us next Thursday for the last few days of their visit. It'll be great to have them around.

But that's not what my mysterious news of the last couple days is about.


Kat and I went up to Penticton on Tuesday afternoon for the twenty week ultrasound. Which means we got to see our baby for the first time.

The ultrasound tech was showing us the baby's head, arms, hands, legs, and feet and it was pretty amazing. It was at this point that Kat decided to ask if the tech was able to tell what the gender was.

Now, we'd been told that they're not supposed to tell, but that a few do anyway. So while we were hoping to find out, we weren't really expecting to be told.

But she said yes.

And then she showed us the, as she put it, 'extra bit'.

And just like that, baby went from being called 'it', to being called 'he'. And just like that, I'm going to have a son.

This is going to take some time to sink in.

Sorry for the delay in sharing the news, by the way. We wanted our immediate families to know before spreading the word far and wide, but Kat's brother is away for a work conference so we weren't sure how to get a hold of him. His wife's arrival here tonight took care of that though.

Anyway. Once I get my head around this, the next challenge will be: finding a few boys names that both Kat and I actually like.

Wednesday June 20th, 2012

The exercise:

Write something about: twisting.

Looks like I jumped the gun yesterday, sorry about that. I'll definitely share tomorrow though. I don't mean to be all mysterious about this!

Another big harvest morning, as we picked for the restaurant and a local order of strawberries. I rewarded myself for all that hard work by sleeping most of the afternoon away.


The wind gathers strength as it races across the meadow, barreling toward the forest without fear of the coming impact against bark and leaf. It carries with it the scent of wildflowers and rain and something somber, something more foul.

As it nears the trees it seems to slow, as though hesitant to enter the darkness of the woods. But there is no stopping, no going back. There is only onward.

And so the air flows between branches and over roots, through leaves and bushes. It brushes reluctantly up against clothing and skin, setting the hanging bodies to twisting this way and that.

Forward the wind travels, never looking back, hoping for happier destinations ahead.

Tuesday June 19th, 2012

The exercise:

Two haiku about: the photographer.

Have something I can't talk about until tomorrow. Nothing else seems worth mentioning at the moment, so I'm just going to get to my writing now.


Watching our mad world
through his camera's eye, he
captures history

*     *     *

L.A. photog, she
moves in beautiful circles
while feeling ugly

Monday June 18th, 2012

The exercise:

Let us see what comes from: the pit.

While Kat harvested all the greens we needed, I spent almost the entire morning picking strawberries. I'm in danger of getting sick of them already.

The first box program day went really well, though. I'm quite pleased that we got off to such a good start. Hopefully things continue to improve as we settle into a routine and figure everything out.


The Pit was never hard to find, for those of us who had any interest in entering its hazy confines. You only had to follow the smoke.

Exiting the back doors, it was across the soccer field and just beyond the tree line. There weren't enough trees to call the area a forest, or even a grove, but the evergreens kept some of the rain off on stormy days.

Wasn't much to the place, really. Just a leaning picnic table with suspect legs and a garbage can. But it was off school property, by a mere crucial foot or two. That was enough, though, for those stray souls who were too cool to care about the cancer they were placing on their tongues and sucking into their lungs.

I never set foot in The Smoker's Pit, but I knew where to find it. We all did. You only had to follow the smoke.

Sunday June 17th, 2012

The exercise:

Glory be, I'm able to use Blogger in Firefox again! I'm in such a festive mood that I think I'll do some more unfavorable comparisons. Join me in the fun, won't you?

We had Kat's parents down for a BBQ on our deck to celebrate Father's and Father-to-be's Day. Kat's dad brought his BBQ down earlier in the afternoon and I grilled up some burgers, salmon, and asparagus. Kat, meanwhile, created this:

Thankfully the weather was in an agreeable mood, so things went great. We've got a really big harvest lined up for tomorrow morning, as there are several local orders to pick for on top of our initial box program day.

Fingers crossed we won't have to do it in the rain.


I wouldn't say my son's room should be declared a disaster area. I'm sure the mice and germs find it perfectly hospitable.

*   *   *

He's got the brains of a goldfish, and the kissing technique to match.

*   *   *

Well, I can't say I'd rather be buried alive than date your sister. The feelings are just too similar.

*   *   *

He'd lose a popularity vote against cancer.

Saturday June 16th, 2012

The exercise:

Write a four line poem about something or someone that is: unwanted.

It rained all the way to Penticton this morning, but thankfully it stopped right around opening. Clouds kept the sun away the rest of the time, but at least they didn't insist on dumping rain on us.

The berries went quickly, as expected, and the plants sold decently. Overall it was a pretty good market, all things considered.


I am flattered,
I must admit it...
But hourly flowers?
You have to quit it!

Friday June 15th, 2012

The exercise:

Write four lines of prose about: the message.

We collected thirteen pints of strawberries this morning, two unexpected pints of raspberries this evening, and a few bags of greens to go with our (still too large) collection of plants to bring to the market tomorrow. Hopefully we won't be bringing too much of it back home!

This afternoon I went for my quarterly blood test, which I plan on actually staying on top of for once now that I a) have a family doctor, and b) actually like her. Anyway, on top of that I'm also getting my blood type tested since Kat is O negative. I wasn't aware of this before, but apparently if mine is positive she'll need to take a shot of some sort if we have any interest in having another baby.

One of the people at the medical lab told me that a hundred years ago we wouldn't have even been allowed to marry with conflicting blood types. So, um, hurray for modern times?


I reach for my phone the moment the man in the black suit enters my office and my heart sinks when I discover there's no dial tone. He is carrying a duffel bag in his black-gloved hands and without a word places it on my desk.

He unzips it slowly and begins to unpack it; my breathing becomes ragged and sweat breaks out all over my body at the sight of the hammer, pliers, and toothpicks.

"Good evening, Mr. Sanchez," he says as he picks up the hammer, "our mutual friend Mrs. Matthews has asked me to deliver a message to you."

Thursday June 14th, 2012

The exercise:

Stealing (and tweaking slightly) a prompt from tonight's local writer's group meeting, your word to work with today is: again.

It's late and I'm tired, so I'll just share what I wrote at the meeting.

Between us, Kat and I got a lot of weeding, seeding, and yard work done today. Tomorrow we're back to the market prep before returning to the farmers market on Saturday morning.


"Darn it, you've done it again!"

I brought my hand to stillness and breathed silently through my nostrils. My eyes blinked of their own accord as I searched for words of calm and reason.

When none came I resorted to my standard fallback plan: anger and confrontation.

"Done what again, exactly? Done what you've told me you wanted me to do? Followed your every instruction, no matter how insane it may have been? Please, do tell: what have I done wrong?"

"Don't you take that tone of voice with me, young man! Didn't your mother ever teach you to respect your elders?"

"My mother taught me plenty. How to stand up for myself. How to speak my mind, how to know when enough is enough."

"So what, are you quitting on me, is that it?"

"Quitting isn't the word I would use."

"Sure it isn't. You've probably got twenty fancy words that all mean the same thing. But at the end of the day it's all loser talk."

I stared at the tip of the wrinkled finger she was pointing at my face and considered my options. Reaching out, grabbing it, and breaking it seemed the most satisfying. Also, the most likely to land me in jail.

Instead I rose from my chair and began to pack up my supplies. As she began to gather wind for another assault on my character, I spoke first.

"I'm done here, Mrs. Rockford. You'll just have to find someone else to paint your portrait. Though I should warn you: whoever you get to replace me is very likely to, as you put it, make you look fat. Because you are. Hideously so, in my opinion."

With that I wished her the best of luck and left.

Wednesday June 13th, 2012

The exercise:

It's been long enough since the last time (also, I am very tired and can't think of a prompt), so today we're doing: continuations.

Just pick up the story where the last person left it and carry it onward for a little while.

We harvested for the restaurant this morning. Came away with: two pounds of swiss chard, two pounds of spinach, two pounds of salad blend, just over two pounds of snow peas, five pounds of rhubarb, and four and a half pounds of strawberries.

I was planning on getting a picture but by the time we finished I was running a bit late for the delivery. I'll try to get one next week.


The shadows are creeping closer. I shrink away from their touch but there is no escaping their relentless pursuit, their gloomy grip. Day is stepping aside and night is eager to assume control once more.

Life becomes simpler now, more focused. I suppose I should be grateful for that. The many complications and decisions that call for my attention during daylight hours melt away, leaving me with a single thought, a solitary purpose.

Survive until dawn.

Tuesday June 12th, 2012

The exercise:

Write two haiku about: symptoms.

Helped Kat's parents put the nets on their cherry trees today. Not my favorite job, but it needs to be done if we want any sort of crop out of them. The birds had already done a number on a lot of the trees by the time we were finished.

Fighting a losing battle with technology tonight. I'm going to bed.


I don't need doctors,
these hallucinations will
clear up on their own

*     *     *

I am not crazy.
If you don't believe me, ask
my dog. He talks now.

Monday June 11th, 2012

The exercise:

Today we write about: the sisters.

Wanted to mark the occasion of The Sisters Brothers joining the ranks of my Recommended Reading page, but saw that I'd already used 'brothers' as a prompt. This was the next best option.

We had a pretty big harvest this morning for local orders, with 21 bags of various greens going out to good homes. And we'll be starting with the restaurant on Wednesday, which is exactly a month earlier than last year.

Plus the sun was shining. All day!

Also: happy birthday to my Dad. I'm sure Mom spoiled you to bits today.

Can't ask for much more than that out of a Monday.


Eliza watched her sister as she approached the coffee shop, purse clutched tightly against her stomach. It was difficult not to shake her head in disgust, but Eliza managed it. Her third cup of the afternoon helped greatly in this endeavor.

"Over here, Daisy," she called out once her sister was safely off the sidewalk.

"Oh, thank goodness you're here," Daisy said as she slumped into the chair on the far side of the table. She took a few deep breaths before she was able to continue. "There was this strange man following me for the last five blocks. I just know he was planning on robbing me, or worse!"

"Of course he was," Eliza said with a sympathetic smile. She was going to need another coffee to keep this up. "You poor thing."

"I don't know how you stand living in this insane asylum of a city," Daisy whispered, glancing around to make sure there was no one close enough to overhear. "Are you on some sort of medication to handle the anxiety? Can I have some?"

"Indeed I am, and indeed you can," Eliza said, taking a long sip before getting the barista's attention. "Two more of these, fast as you can please!"

Sunday June 10th, 2012

The exercise:

Write something that has to do with: hats.

The sun actually returned today! It was glorious.


Uncle Ted owned three cowboy hats, all black. Originally, at least. By the end only one could legitimately lay claim to that color.

The first was his work hat. This he wore in the fields and stables, and was by far the most used - and loved, I've always suspected. Over the years it collected more and more dirt, until it was in danger of being lost forever if it was dropped on bare earth.

The second he liked to call his Town Hat. A trip to the store or bank or pub wouldn't have been complete without it. Sunshine turned that one a mottled grey.

Last came his formal hat, only dusted off on serious or solemn occasions: weddings, funerals, and visits to his wife's parents in New York. Remained as black as it was the day he first brought it home.

When Uncle Ted passed on there was some debate as to which hat should accompany him to the hereafter. In the end common sense did finally prevail, I'm glad to report.

We buried him with all three.

Saturday June 9th, 2012

The exercise:

Write a four line poem about: the receptionist.

I thought I'd celebrate the fourth anniversary of this blog by buying a new laptop!

Well, no, but that's what I ended up doing today. I suppose it was time for an update anyway, but it didn't rate very highly in the Affordability and Excellent Timing categories.

But still, happy fourth birthday, Daily Writing Practice. June 9th, 2008 feels like a long, long time ago.


She welcomes your questions
With a big plastic smile,
And notes all of your faults
In her thick secret file.

Friday June 8th, 2012

The exercise:

Four lines of prose about: reflections.

Laptop might have died this afternoon. If you're reading this then it still hasn't been fixed - I'm scheduling this post from the library.

Fingers crossed it isn't an expensive or prolonged problem.


The water is as still as a grave, reflecting the storm brewing overhead as though it were a liquid hand mirror. A man sits on the grassy shore, knees drawn up to his chest, his unfocused gaze on the pond.

Thunder rumbles in the distance, louder and more threatening than the previous grumbled warning.

And the man thinks, It won't be long now.

Thursday June 7th, 2012

The exercise:

Let us see what comes from: the tombstone.

Woke up to sunshine, which was nice. It was raining again less than two hours later, which was less nice.

Currently seriously considering skipping the market this Saturday, as the weather has quite effectively pressed pause on our strawberries. Also, the crowds are always significantly smaller on rainy market days, which is what the forecast is currently calling for.

This has been a very poor start to June, but I'm hopeful that it will pick up soon.


The two men moved slowly through the graveyard, the taller one leading the way while muttering constantly. Following close behind, the second man appeared to be trying to look in every direction at once.

"I don't see why they don't just put them all in alphabetical order," the tall one said after inspecting yet another tombstone.

"Ah, well," his partner said, "that's not really how these places work, exactly. It's more li-"

"Or, you know, maybe they could at least provide a bloody map!"

"Well, if we were to come during the day, while it's actually open to the public, I'm sure they'd be happy to provide one."

"Don't be a fool, Irving." The first man had stopped and turned to face the second. "We obviously would not be able to do what we need to do while there are watching eyes about."

"Yes, or course, Gerald. It's just th-"

"This is taking too much time," Gerald announced after consulting his watch. "We're going to have to split up."

"Ah, I don't think that's quite nec-"

"You go that way. Whistle twice if you find the tombstone, and I'll do the same. Good luck!"

This last was said over his shoulder as Gerald strode off in the direction opposite to the one he'd instructed Irving to take. His partner stood motionless for some time, flashlight held in a hand that was growing ever more tremulous. At length, after one last look around, he moved to follow his orders.

"If I hear or see anything that even remotely resembles a ghost," he told himself firmly, "that tyrant can find the damned tombstone on his own!"

Wednesday June 6th, 2012

The exercise:

Write about: the prospector.

It didn't rain very heavily today, so I did manage to get out to the garden this afternoon to do some weeding. As long as I focused on what I was doing and not what was left to be done, it was fairly enjoyable.

I'm currently reading The Sisters Brothers, which is what inspired today's prompt. Haven't reached the end yet, but I'm pretty sure it'll find itself on my Recommended Reading page once I get there.


In a gold-crazed daze,
He forgets to eat.
With a bloodshot gaze,
He can't see his own feet.

His clothes worn and torn,
Loose teeth turning black,
He would be forlorn
If he saw what he lacked.

His claim has no fame,
No gold to be found;
But he'll play the game
Til he's placed in the ground.

Tuesday June 5th, 2012

The exercise:

Two Haiku Tuesday brings us: forgiveness.

Miserable weather outside produced progress on inside work today, both indoors and in the greenhouse. Hurray for us taking advantage of the rain to get stuff done that would otherwise be delayed by work in the garden, I suppose.

Finger still hurts, therefore typing is still awkward. It would appear I got it pretty good yesterday. And that the knife I used to cut it is darn sharp.


I carry the weight
of your betrayal with me;
only I suffer.

*     *     *

This burden grows old,
my hourglass more empty;
let us opt for peace.

Monday June 4th, 2012

The exercise:

Write about: the tattoo.

Sliced open the end of my right ring finger while doing the dishes after lunch. Now trying to avoid using it while typing, as it hurts like hell even through the band-aid.

If we didn't have to harvest for our local orders this morning we probably wouldn't have seen the garden today. With the forecast calling for more rain the next two days, I can see things getting a little out of hand out there this week.

Not having much success thus far with the whole typing pain-free thing.


He finishes his meal and sets his cutlery on his plate noiselessly before reaching for his water. The glass has not yet returned to its place on the table before the waitress reappears at his side.

"All done there?" she asks and he nods his confirmation. "How was everything?"

"Oh, excellent, thank you." He speaks the lie without effort, his face betraying nothing. Truthfully, he'd rather have eaten a stray dog. One that was still alive and had some fight left in it.

"Wonderful," she says as she collects his dishes. "Can I tempt you with some dessert to top things off?"

"Absolutely! I think I'll have a slice of your apple pie." It seems the least likely item on the menu to be butchered as badly as his main dish had been. "And a top up of my water when you have the chance would be great."

He'd kill for a cup of coffee, but he fears the version they serve here might have the same dark intentions toward him. As the waitress moves away he steals another look at the tattoo peeking out from under her shirt at the base of her neck. But the lighting is so poor that he finds himself still unsure.

A resigned moan escapes his lips after she disappears into the kitchen. He's not certain that this assignment will be worth the damage the food is unleashing upon his body; he can only hope that a positive ID won't require seconds of whatever concoction is about to appear before him.

Sunday June 3rd, 2012

The exercise:

Let's see what happens with: the exit.

Bit of a cloudy, dreary day. I did manage to get some good resting done though. The first set of deck stairs were begun, hopefully to be completed tomorrow night.

Weather permitting, all of a sudden. I'd like my sunshine back now, please and thank you.


Although it obviously had not been thought all the way through, at least its location had been clearly marked. Large red letters, four signs pointing in its direction - including one on the ceiling - and black bootprints on the floorboards leading to it.

You could hardly miss the damned thing.

The problem was that it opened out directly into the dispensing area of a gas station. One that, it was loudly whispered, was always on the verge of being shuttered by the city for a laundry list of safety violations.

And seeing as anyone fleeing from the workshop through the emergency exit was very, very likely to be on fire, one might hope a better placement could be found.

Saturday June 2nd, 2012

The exercise:

A four line poem about: waste.

Pretty decent market this morning, with the sun making a surprise and very welcome appearance. Probably the nicest weather for a market so far this year.

Taking most of the day off tomorrow (ooh, what luxury), probably ending things off with adding stairs to the deck.


So much potential
Just flushed straight down the drain,
All because he chose
To shoot toxins in his veins.

Friday June 1st, 2012

The exercise:

Four lines of prose about: customs.

Back to the market tomorrow morning. In other words, I should already be in bed.


"These people have some danged strange customs," Hank told his wife as they prepared for bed in their cramped hotel room. "They spit at you when you try to ask a question, they yell at you just for walking down the sidewalk, and I swear that big fella was reaching for a knife when I ordered a beer in the bar downstairs!"

"That's one explanation, I suppose," Betty said, climbing into bed with a quiet groan. "But have you considered that maybe they just don't like you very much?"