The exercise:
Write about: the selection.
Apparently the temperatures today peaked at 35 degrees. It still feels like 30 right now (apparently it's 23... but feels like 28, so I'm not far off).
I weeded around our squash, potatoes, and zucchini this morning, as well as pruned and tied some tomato plants. Kat went out after dinner and continued on with our attempts to salvage our carrots. Max, for the third evening in a row, tried to eat as many raspberries off the canes as he could get his hands on.
Ripe, unripe, who cares? Just get in my belly.
At least Kat's dad has been around to convince him to leave the garden to go play by their house until one of us comes to collect him.
I'm ridiculously behind on comments once again. I should do something about that.
Mine:
The candidates are not perfectly equal, but they might as well be. One's weakness is the other's strength and, inevitably, vice versa. The first has youth and exuberance, the second age and experience.
It hardly seems fair to choose one over the other, regardless of how I do it. I'd hire both but the men who control the purse strings have made it very clear that there is only enough money available for one.
Maybe they should pick the winner then.
No, that's my job. This is my job. If I hand over the decision to them I might as well request my walking papers at the same time.
So. Who to choose? Either one will be an excellent fit with the company, so there's no losing here. Not for us, anyway. Just for the one I don't hire.
I can feel the ulcer forming in my stomach already. I need to get this over with. Oh well, here it goes.
Eeny, meeny, miny...
3 comments:
Wow, those temperatures sound uncomfortable! We're getting highs of about 25 here, and even then they tend to cool down at the weekend (when it also conveniently rains!) so it's only a couple of days a week.
I think Max has excellent taste in his fruit picking ;-)
Hmm, your story sounds like a tough choice to be made; I hope the narrator is happy with his pick after his little rhyme!
The selection
The catalogue contained pictures of over forty different clowns, all shown in full-page headshots with their make-up on. Clarice turned through the pages, suppressing shudders as she looked at them, wondering if this was actually an illustrated guide to serial-killers. Some of the clowns, for all their lips were twisted upwards, really didn't feel like they were smiling to her.
She pushed the catalogue over to Stevie, her son, who was sat at the table and banging his feet enthusiastically on the legs of the chair. He was still too short for his feet to reach the floor, but it never seemed to bother him.
"Pick one," she said. Stevie looked at the catalogue with curiosity, though a shadow of horror soon crossed his face. "Pick one," she said, sighing. "Your father said you can pick the one clown from there who won't come to your birthday party."
The Selection
I walk into the old-fashioned ice cream emporium with my granddaughter and we both pause to take in the sight. A bar extends the length of the store with people sitting on stools eating dozens of different flavors from cups and cones. Along the opposite wall are display cases filled with candy of all types. The place is a sugar-lover’s haven.
“Can I get some candy?” she asks as she eyes the treats arranged artfully in the cases.
“I think that’s a good idea. You can pick out one candy; anything you like.” I look down at her and smile at the excitement on her face.
I always feel a little concerned when I allow her a single choice from such a wide array of delights. Will she pick something that she has enjoyed before, making a safe choice? Or will she venture out and try something different, and risk not liking her one chance? Will she pick something bright and colorful, or will she go for the biggest one she can find?
As she progresses down the length of display cases, I watch her face. She points to different candies and from her expression I can tell that she is practically tasting each one. She licks her lips when she sees the milk chocolate haystacks, then wrinkles her nose when she sees the licorice.
“Grandpa, can I have that one?” she asks and points to some almond bark.
“That would be fine,” I say as I gesture for the sales lady to come over.
“Which one would you like?” she asks my granddaughter and watches through the display case to see which item she is pointing at. “This one?”
My granddaughter nods solemnly and the lady glances at me for confirmation. I nod as well and pull out my wallet.
As I pay I consider her choice. “So have you tried this before?” I ask. She shakes her head. I take my change and the small bag with the candy.
I hand her the bag and ask, “So what made you pick it?”
“I thought you might like it,” she grins. “Do you want to share?”
Greg - that sounds like a very creepy catalogue, and I'm not sure I'd get past the second page!
Poor Stevie :(
Aholiab - wonderfully atmospheric piece, and a deft touch handling a surprisingly tender moment. Nice work, as usual :)
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