Write something that takes place in: the valley.
I'm scheduled for a three hour training shift at Town Hall tomorrow afternoon, which is the first assignment I've had since my run of work at the community centre a couple weeks back. It'll be nice to get off the farm and have my mind on something beside the ticking baby clock for a while.
Speaking of the farm, we went out to the garden this afternoon to seed some peas, kale, and other greens. The weather is supposed to get much warmer starting tomorrow, so we'll see how long it takes for things to start peeking through the soil.
Edit: If you happened to see the Tuesday post for however long it was up on the blog, my apologies. I'm not sure what happened there, but as of right now... no labour action is happening. So that one's been reverted to being scheduled.
"This place makes me feel claustrophobic," Kim said, wrapping her arms around herself as she stared up at the surrounding mountains.
"We're in the great outdoors," I told her, "not downtown New York. Get a grip."
She shot me a glare but said nothing. I shook my head and went back to preparing dinner. The campfire was about to bring the pot of water to a boil and I was ready to toss in the package of instant noodles. I just needed to remember what I'd done with the flavoring pouch. I think it was beef.
"I think I'd feel this way no matter where I was," Kim blurted out. "Even in the middle of the prairies. Weird, right?"
"Nah," I said. But I was thinking, Totally.
"It's all in my head anyway. I know that. It's like there's no room in my brain, it's so full of thoughts elbowing each other out of the way. So what does my physical location matter when I got this junk going on up here?"
"It's like they say," I said, patting empty pockets and beginning to be concerned about our imminent meal. "Wherever you go, there you are."
"Exactly." She watched me for a few moments, her expression unreadable. "Exactly."
"So what are you thinking about right now?" I asked, feeling suddenly uncomfortable in the spotlight of her attention.
"Right now?" she asked, her lips twitching upward into a ghost of a smile. "I'm thinking our dinner is going to taste like cardboard unless you figure out you're sitting on the flavor pouch."