Baseball Theme Week enters day three with writings that involve: giants.
I picked up twenty pounds of blueberries from one of our fellow farmers market vendors yesterday and we got a start on freezing them last night. That continued today and we've probably got one more batch to go tomorrow.
Combine that with the ten pounds I bought last week and we should have enough in the freezer to get Max through the winter...
Nah, going to need at least another ten pounds next week.
Ivan never understood why everyone he met assumed he was stupid before he could even say a word. They were right, unfortunately, but that didn't make things less confusing to him.
His younger brother Igor, however, knew perfectly well what was going on. Born from the same parents, he was blessed with a similar, hulking physique to his brother, but he still had all the smarts as well. When Ivan was a young boy he was playing with his father's broadsword collection when one came free from its place on the wall and landed flush on his skull - he'd been a bit slow ever since.
But Igor knew that strangers had no knowledge of this incident. Instead they seemed to think that all of their energy and nutrition went into building towering, muscular bodies, leaving little or nothing leftover for the development of silly things like brain cells. Since this was not the case with Igor, and really should not have been the appearance for his brother, he found this incredibly aggravating and generally avoided dealing with other humans.
How, precisely, the brothers came into joint possession of three equally imposing wolves was not something anyone seemed too keen to investigate.
They had been accepted into their current sailing crew with open arms, which made Ivan girlishly happy and Igor deeply suspicious. At least at first. It wasn't long before he understood their appreciation for their ability to do the work of three men each, as well as the extra protection their friends (never, ever pets) brought with them.
After a few months the rest of the crew began to understand that Igor's quiet intelligence dwarfed their own and before he realized what was going on he had been promoted to First Mate. When their captain fell ill several weeks later he assumed that role until the old man's passing, at which point no other choice for the position was given any consideration whatsoever.
Captain Igor was still getting used to the title when his ship, in the midst of a mission given them by Padre Diego, encountered a stranded man on a tiny island. As he watched his brother row the man with the odd beard back to the boat he grew steadily uneasier. Partially because he saw that he was about to meet an equal... in rank only. He worried that his inexperience would make itself known through the wrong word or lack of ceremony.
But mostly his skin began to crawl because something was telling him that they should have left the man to his fate; that whatever circumstances had led to his being on that island, the end result was just.
That there was something not quite right about the man about to step foot on his ship.