Thursday August 31st, 2017

The exercise:

Write about: a victimless crime.

And just like that, we're done with August for the year. Hard for me to believe we're welcoming the beginning of September already.

There's a big forest fire burning to the south of us and we could see the smoke coming our way this afternoon. Blue sky overhead, wall of grey sky approaching from the south. Hopefully the wind disperses some of that and we're not totally inundated tomorrow.

Speaking of tomorrow, back to work I go...


Go on, take the money -
Who will ever know?
Ain't nobody watching,
From above or below.

What about your conscience?
Man, who even has those anymore?
This is your chance! You've been knocked down,
Now it's time to get up off the floor!

Just think of all your bills: paid.
All those creditors: gone.
Your life's been out of tune, man,
It's time to sing a sweeter song.

Go on, take the money,
Who will ever know?
You've been rained on for so long,
Let this be your rainbow...

Wednesday August 30th, 2017

The exercise:

Write about: the misery factory.

I have used that term, at various points, to describe both my sons. Usually when they're teething, but not always.

Anyway, with Miles commencing his latest round of mouth pain I figured it was as good a time as any to use it as a writing prompt.


Smoke stacks, rusting and cracked, pump thick black filth into the ever-grey sky overhead. Hunched over workers can be seen as they pass broken glass windows, their moans of pain seeping out again and again. The encircling fence and its gates await repair by a maintenance crew who have never been there.

Inside the machinery is loud like a crowd of giant metal robots fighting, the lighting is flickering where it works at all, and the halls are stained with mud, sweat, and blood. The assembly lines have never ceased, at least not in recent memory. Despite their missing gears they continue to belch out suffering and fear.

Somewhere an alarm sounds, a report prints, a worker reads it and frowns. It doesn't seem fair, not by a hair, but he knows it's not his plan - it's out of his hands. He has one job to do and that's to see it through.

He brings the tattered paper to the required booth. The man there is uncouth - but very good at his job. So all too soon Baby Miles will begin to get another tooth...

Tuesday August 29th, 2017

The exercise:

Write two haiku about: users.

Went to the Osoyoos Museum with the family this morning. First time for all the boys, first time in a long time for Kat.

Would have been a lot more enjoyable if Miles had been less insistent on walking around and trying to get into all the exhibits. Was still interesting, from what I was able to see. Would like to go again with just Max.

Local orders this afternoon went smoothly. Only had a handful of orders and everyone managed to get there by 5:15. Not sure how much longer we'll keep going with them now that berries are done for the season, but I guess it will depend on how much interest there is in our apples.

All right, night night.


When something breaks I
get the call to fix it but
I can't fix stupid

*     *     *

I know she's using
me. It's not that hard to see.
So why can't I leave?

Monday August 28th, 2017

The exercise:

Write about: the musical.

Had some time to recoup this morning before taking the boys for the afternoon. Caught up on a few comments on the blog, started reading a new book.

Speaking of which, fair warning: it's John Connolly's Wrath of Angels. That means my writing might get a tad darker for a little while, as my favorite author tends towards grim writing.

Anyway. On with tonight's writing before sleep is the victor once again.


"This must be a misprint."

"What, in the playbill? The show's been on for months now, that doesn't seem likely."

"Maybe I'm the first one to actually read this stupid thing. It's almost as long as a novel, after all."

"Fair point. Okay, what's the problem?

"See? Right here? It says this is a musical."

"Yeah... that's because it is. Didn't you know that?"

"You can't be serious."

"Dude. You are the one who cannot be serious. This thing has been selling out since day one. I practically had to kill a man to get us these tickets. How could you not know it's a musical?"

"But, man... it's a play about Hitler!"

Sunday August 27th, 2017

The exercise:

Write about: the puddle.

Got a bit overambitious with what I thought I could get done before lunch today and ended up rushing around rather unnecessarily. Took things more slowly this afternoon and felt a lot better about things.

Now to enjoy four days off.


On the floor
Is a muddle
Of a puddle
Of a mess
Of the dress
That you wore,
That you swore
Would never touch my floor -
But all that changed
Once I got you through my door.

I offer you a beer
But you say you gotta jet
And you're full of regret
But I bet,
Despite all you say
Now that it's day,
I'll see you here
Once again my dear
Whenever you need
A nice, warm body near.

Saturday August 26th, 2017

The exercise:

Write a four line poem about: the tow truck driver.

The beach volleyball league that plays its games at the main beach in Osoyoos held their end of season event/tournament/I don't know exactly what was going on today. That meant there were a lot more people around than there have been recently, which meant a return to the busyness of the washrooms.

It was challenging to get the ladies side done this afternoon, but not excessively so. Plus I was expecting worse, so that ended up helping. The rest of town was pretty manageable so all in all it wasn't too bad.

Day four tomorrow, already. Then only six more four day shifts remain in my contract.


Nobody knows my name,
But they all know my truck.
I'm the one who tows them
When they park like stupid... ducks.

Friday August 25th, 2017

The exercise:

Write four lines of prose about: the contractor.

It was actually chilly this morning - I even had a sweater on while eating breakfast. I think the high was around 25 this afternoon and it was utterly perfect.

So of course it's going to get hot again.

But! I will take this while it lasts.


"Hey, do you have a second to chat?"

"What? Obviously not - can't you see that I'm busy building your new house?!"

"Yes, well, that's the thing - I only asked you to make a new tool shed..."

Thursday August 24th, 2017

The exercise:

Write about: the arsonist.

First day back went well. No major issues (or minor, actually) and I didn't have too much trouble getting back into the rhythm of the job.

Feeling very sleepy right now though, so I best get to it.


No. I don't do that anymore. That's not me. I'm a good boy.

I don't play with matches now. They are not toys. I know better. The nice men taught me that. No more tiny little fire sticks for me.

Gasoline? Stinky stuff. Gets everywhere. All sloshy and spilly. Bad news. Bad, bad news. Leave it alone.

The nice lady at the store won't sell me fireworks anymore. We have an understanding. It's so dry out there in the woods. Hasn't rained in so long. Bad idea.

I'm a good boy, can't you see? No more fires for me. I... what? No, you're wrong. Maybe you're crazy? I don't know. Don't look at me like that. That's not nice. Point those mean eyes at somebody else.

Nuh uh. I don't know what you're talking about. I don't smell no smoke.

Wednesday August 23rd, 2017

The exercise:

Write about: faith.

Spent my day hanging out with the boys so Kat could get some counselling work done. Challenging at points but I like to spend as much time as possible with them before I essentially disappear from their lives for four days.

Forecast is calling for cooler temperatures (high twenties instead of low thirties) for the next couple of days. I am hoping it will be correct.


Have you no faith in me?
What would it take
For you to believe
Without being fake?

Can't you see the good?
Others can see through
Your words and actions,
Why can't you?

Can't you understand
That all this pain
And struggle you've b-
Oh, shut up, brain.

Tuesday August 22nd, 2017

The exercise:

Write two haiku about things that are: in the water.

Took the boys to the splash park this morning. It's amazing how into Miles is. He'll just go right in there and get soaked and start laughing. Jet of water to the face? Hilarious to him.

Max is getting there. I think Miles' enthusiasm helps.

I've been mixed up on my days my whole weekend. Feels like I should be going back to work tomorrow but I get one more day off. It's nice. Different, but nice.


I can do you in
with just the sight of my fin...
what about my grin?

*     *     *

A sunken ship at
the bottom of the sea, home
to rust, gold, and... ME!

Monday August 21st, 2017

The exercise:

Write about something that is: green.

We had local order pickup this afternoon but I didn't have to do too much work, as we're almost finished with berries. Didn't even put them on the list, actually, but we had a customer who wasn't around last weekend who wanted blackberries so we got her some, plus we had a favorite farmers market customer come down from Penticton so we got her some raspberries because we know how much she loves them.

Other than that it was just weighing up peaches, nectarines, and apples and then waiting for customers to arrive.

Or not arrive, as the case may be.

Only one this week. Still one more than I want to deal with. Hopefully she's coming tomorrow to get her stuff though.


It's mine.
Don't you think otherwise.
Back off!
Take your eyes off my prize.

It's clear
For everyone to see:
That girl
Is coming home with me.

Sunday August 20th, 2017

The exercise:

Write about: wings.

Had a mostly quiet morning to myself to rest and recover from the last four days. Spent the afternoon with the boys so that Kat could do the same.

It's been much cooler the last few days, which has been an appreciated change. As the days grow shorter heading toward fall the length of the hottest portion of the day grow shorter as well.

Generally it's just a whole lot nicer than those days of 40 plus degrees, and I am clearly looking forward to fall already.


My muscles ache, unused to the demands that I must now make of them. I know they will grow stronger, adjust to the new movements and additional weight, but it will take time.

Patience as well, but I have precious little of that resource to begin with.

It is an honor; I must keep reminding myself of that. I have earned these wings. Through the sweat of hard work and whatever blood shed was required. Those born with wings on their backs have not paid the same price.

But they were born this way, and as such have had a lifetime to grow accustomed to them. To push their limits. Discover their secrets.

I am well behind them now, but I will make up ground quickly. Through hard work, of course. And blood shed?

Yes, almost certainly.

Saturday August 19th, 2017

The exercise:

Write a four line poem about: a hard life.

Day got off to a bit of a rough start, having to clean up broken (more like shattered) beer bottles at Lions park. Around a car that was illegally parked in a handicapped spot. Surrounded by several more empty cans. Also found two empty 24 can beer boxes in the ladies washroom.

It was still parked there early afternoon (now with a fashionable parking ticket accessory). I'm pretty sure whoever it was got so drunk last night that they forgot where they left their car. I like picturing them still wandering around town right now.

Anyway. Things improved from there and I got most things I needed to do done before lunch. Made for a relatively relaxed afternoon. Good way to head into my weekend.


Living on the streets,
How did I end up here?
Ah, what do you care?
Pass me another beer.

Friday August 18th, 2017

The exercise:

Write four lines of prose about something that is: unprecedented.

This morning seemed to be one of transition. The beaches and parks were extremely quiet, while the roads were extremely busy. By the afternoon traffic had settled down and the beaches and parks had filled up again.

It all worked out fine in the end, was just a bit of a different sort of day.

Day four arrives tomorrow, followed by my weekend. Looking forward to it.


I arrived this morning at the washrooms at our main beach to find something completely unexpected: I could have left without doing any cleaning. The floors and toilets in both the men's and women's sides were okay (that happens occasionally), all four paper towel dispensers didn't need replacements (happens more often than not), and not a single new roll of toilet paper was required (that's 24 rolls between the two sides - that has never happened for me before, not even back in April). I was stunned - delighted, but stunned.

I cleaned both sides anyway, as first thing in the morning is the only time I get to do a proper, full clean without being interrupted, but it was much quicker than usual... and I will gladly take a break like that in mid-August.

Thursday August 17th, 2017

The exercise:

Write about: late breaking news.

Work was pretty good. The day passed very quickly at any rate. No major adventures, just trying to stay on top of things.

Also trying to keep the comment backlog here reasonable but that's proving to be a challenge.


Good evening all.
Just a quick heads up:
The world is ending...
So you best get spending.

Buy all that you want:
The cars, the bling, the toys.
The price don't matter now,
So forget the why and the how.

Unaffordable? Who cares?
Soon there will be no one left
To knock on your door to collect
Your massive, out of control debt.

Anyway. Farewell to you
Watching at home -
It's been a wild and crazy ride,
But now it's time to say goodbye...

Wednesday August 16th, 2017

The exercise:

Almost back in the first half of the month, we're returning to The Dream Kingdom today.

Work went fairly well today. Blue skies returned for another visit, which helped a lot. Kind of forgot how hot the sun is when it's not being filtered through a nice, dense layer of smoke though.

Better get this done before sleep wins yet again.


Dylan woke to the sound of his heartbeat pounding in his ears. He opened his eyes slowly, feeling dirt and tree debris falling away from his eyelashes, and found himself flat on his back looking up at misshapen trees.

No, not misshapen, he realized. Broken. By me. By my fall.

He sat up carefully, groaning as pain shot up his arms when he pushed himself away from the ground. He looked down at his hands and saw that his fingers were still bleeding from where the flying carpet had punctured them.

Stop it, he thought firmly. Stop bleeding.

To his surprise, they did just that.

"Huh," he said. Or tried to. Mostly he just mumbled out bits of the terrain he had landed on. He spent a few moments spitting and wiping his mouth clean. "Bleh. What's that noise?"

The hammering of his heart was still loud in his head but he had finally noticed that there were other sounds nearby. A grinding cacophony was coming from his right, along with what sounded like a waterfall. As he got up to investigate a surge went through his body and he wondered if he was going to faint.

He remained conscious, though he swayed unsteadily for several seconds. Once he felt mostly confident that he could walk, he began to do so. The pounding in his head was unrelenting, and now it felt as though wild electricity was shooting through his veins.

When he reached the crest of the hill he looked down to see an escalator, of sorts. He shook his head to clear his vision but the severely out of place contraption remained. Shortly after that he realized that Olivia, Josh, and Nystor were riding up toward him. He raised his arm to wave to them but then one of the armed statues behind them came to life and began climbing after them. And then another. And another.

"Watch out behind you!"

The three turned and he could hear his friends scream. Maybe Nystor did too. Dylan knew he had to do something to help them, and fast. He looked down at his empty hands.

"Sword." He said it with a confidence that felt out of place in that strange landscape and he felt a tingling like electric shock in his fingertips. Nearly instantaneously a long, heavy sword flickered into existence in his right hand. "Lighter," he grunted and it became easier to hold. He looked toward his friends again to see there were now six armed statues pursuing them. "Another sword."

Armed with blades in both hands he took a deep breath. Just before he began to descend he remembered to imagine one more item into place.


Tuesday August 15th, 2017

The exercise:

Write two haiku about: sleep.

As hinted at in Monday's post, the smoke returned to the valley this morning. It's not as bad as it was before it left for a couple days, but it was still rather depressing to look out the window this morning and see the gray again.

Hopefully this visit will be short lived and the next departure will be lengthier. Much, much lengthier.

Back to work tomorrow. Those four days went quick.

As usual.


She says I'll sleep when
I'm dead. Well, good news my dear:
that shouldn't take long...

*     *     *

Just need to keep my
eyes open... a little long..
I wake to neck pain.

Monday August 14th, 2017

The exercise:

Write about: the babysitter.

Took the boys to the park for the first time in a long time this morning. So nice to have fresh air to breathe again.

It was quite busy, which wasn't at all surprising, but not overly so. Miles had fun walking around and going on the swing and Max was climbing here, there, and everywhere.

I wish I wasn't writing this Tuesday night so that I could be more enthusiastic about the lack of smoke. You'll understand when I get Tuesday's post published.

Oh, before I forget - aiming for Wednesday for the yearlong prompt. Might be a bit ambitious for my first day back at work, but I'm going to try.


"Um... is your brother allowed to play with that?"

"With what? Oh, yeah, that's fine."


"Yeah, Mommy says he can have it as long as it keeps him out of the kitchen when she's trying to make dinner."

"Oh. I see."

"You can call her if you don't believe me."

"No! It's not that. I trust you."

"What's the problem then?"

"I'm just... I don't know... I'm not super comfortable with the way he's swinging that mace around the house..."

Sunday August 13th, 2017

The exercise:

Write about: the meteor shower.

Happy to say everybody came to pick up their local orders this afternoon - even if two customers arrived late. But late will always be better than not at all in this case - I was especially relieved when the lady who had ordered forty pounds of fruit (twenty pounds of peaches and twenty pounds of nectarines) showed up, as I was not keen on putting them away and then having to get them back out again for whenever we would arrange for her to come by.

Had a bit of wind last night and some rain early this morning and... suddenly we can see clouds and blue sky again. It's honestly pretty amazing.

Hopefully the smoke stays away for good.


Max wanted to stay up late tonight to watch the Perseid meteor shower - he was even willing to have a nap this afternoon in order to do so. He napped for almost two hours and was ready to go.

We had clear skies, which was nice. Lots of stars and satellites... but not a whole lot of meteors, unfortunately. But that was okay, because Max was just excited to be up late and watching the night sky.

Plus we had many entertaining exchanges. I can't remember all of them, but by far my favorite was this one:

Max: Where are all the meteors?

Me: I'm not sure. We just have to keep watching for them.

Max: Let's make music and sing for them so that the meteors will come down and dance on our table.

I'm not entirely convinced he fully understands what a meteor is.. but I'm good with that for now.

Saturday August 12th, 2017

The exercise:

Write a four line poem about: what happens next.

Inspired by Greg's comment last Saturday, mine is a continuation of my previous four line poem. Feel free to do something similar or take this prompt as its own thing.

Picked blackberries this evening with the family for tomorrow's local order pickup. Got all 19 pints we needed, so all that's left to do is weigh out fruit orders and get everything together in time for people to come get their produce.

Managed to get a new phone this morning. Still working on getting it setup, but so far I'm generally pleased with my iPhone 6.


The highway is cracked and littered
With broke down cars and shattered glass,
But the driver is undeterred -
He's got the school bus moving fast...

Friday August 11th, 2017

The exercise:

Write four lines of prose about: the bat.

Sigh. I do not like bats.

Or, as I like to call them whenever Kat insists on tyring to tell me they're flying around, night birds. Because there are no bats around here. Nope, nope, nope.

I am not certain I'm going to be able to do this in just four lines, but I shall do my best.

Happy to have gotten through this week intact. Hoping for a more restful, less interesting weekend than the last one.


Earlier this year there was a bat hanging around the washrooms on Pioneer Walkway but it disappeared over the summer. It has, as you may have already guessed, reappeared.

Wednesday morning it was hanging off the wall in the upper corner of the men's stall, and that's where it still was Thursday morning. We agreed to ignore each other but when I unlocked the men's side this morning it was on the wall directly in front of the door... so it had to go... through the urging of a broom (held very much at arm's length) and a whole lot of swearing.

Thursday August 10th, 2017

The exercise:

Write about: the globetrotter.

Definitely starting to feel the lack of sleep lately today. My third day on tends to be the hardest day to get through in general though.

Back to cleaning the fire hall tomorrow. I think I will appreciate the air conditioning and being out of the smoke.

And! Looks like we might finally be getting some rain and cooler temperatures this weekend. Not something I would have expected to be happy about in August, but here we are.


My alarm drags me kicking and screaming away from a dreamless sleep. It's a ringtone I don't recognize, which means it's my first morning in a new city. Anything to bring a touch of order to my chaotic life.

So, where am I? Madrid? Montreal? Milan? It's one of the M cities, I'm fairly certain. Looking around my hotel room doesn't help jog any memories so I stumble to the window and throw back the curtain.

Ah, Mexico City. Right. Well, at least it's not Moscow again. Not that I'm convinced they would let me back there after that last mix up.

Okay, I know where I am now. So... what am I doing here? Meeting someone, obviously. That's what I do everywhere I go. Who is it? Man or woman? Age? Business they're representing? Come on, brain. Give me something to work with.

I close my eyes and an endless stream of faces appears. Friends, colleagues, taxi drivers, strangers. They all intermingle and jumble together and...

I open my eyes before they merge into one, hideous monstrosity of a human being that never has and never will exist. I've seen that horror too many times in my sleep recently. I don't need it to haunt my waking hours as well.

Right. Who is waiting for me in Mexico City? Better check my phone. Where did I put it before I collapsed into bed last night? It's not on the bedside table. Not in my jacket. Not in my duffel bag. Not... anywhere.

And my wallet seems to be equally absent.

Great. I've been robbed.


Wednesday August 9th, 2017

The exercise:

Write about: pity.

Had a slightly more competent day of work today. Maybe if I get another decent sleep tonight I can be basically capable of doing my job tomorrow?


Smoke continues to be miserable. Getting far more used to not being able to see across the lake than I care to.


I ain't got time
To pity no fools -
I'm too busy
Stealing their jewels.

Go on, judge me,
Act like you'd never.
Til times get hard,
Then who's more clever?

Oh, we'll see then,
Of that I'm quite sure,
That I'm the one
Who's built to endure.

Tuesday August 8th, 2017

The exercise:

Write two haiku about: the evacuation.

Got through work on about 2 hours of sleep.

Going to aim big and try to get more sleep than that tonight.

Oh, pictures. Here's one of the fire, taken from our deck:

Here's how things looked this morning when I left for work, from around the same spot as the first picture:

Good times.


Quick! What's important?
What can we not leave behind?
We were not prepared.

*     *     *

Get out! Get out now!
But wait - where are we going?
It doesn't matter.

Monday August 7th, 2017

The exercise:

Write something which takes place in: an occupied city.

Spent most of the day with Max and Miles so that Kat could get some work done. Hard being stuck inside for most of it due to the smoke, but Max and I did make it out to the garden to pick some veggies for the house late afternoon.

Met up with bakery folks for a couple drinks and some dinner tonight. Was good fun and I hope to do that again soon'ish.

Back to town work tomorrow. Not excited about the smoke.

Edit: well. That was interesting.

Had some people yelling and shaking our gate to get my attention somewhere around 12:30. Was pretty sure they were drunk... right up until they told me there was a fire in the hills behind my house.

I'll share a picture or two tomorrow, but long story short: woke up Kat, we packed up some things, the fire was getting closer, we woke up the boys and drove up to Kat's parents house to wait it out there. Were up there for maybe fifteen minutes before it became apparent that the firefighters had things under control, so came back home.

Just finished getting the boys back to sleep. It's now 3 am and I need to be up in about three hours for work. So... good night.


It is a delicate balance, living in the sort of conditions I find myself in these days. Be polite to the soldiers, but not friendly. Don't want the neighbors thinking I'm working with the enemy. But certainly not hostile, either. My city, my home, my life is in their hands. No need to antagonize them.

I try to go about my daily business as usual, though every fibre of my being screams for me to stay inside and hide. Keep out of sight, keep out of their way. They would not see it that way though, would they? I would rouse their suspicions, perhaps they would think that I am working against them.

It's a fine line. I am still learning to walk it nearly two months after these men took over my city. I hate the line, and I hate them. I hate how powerless I feel in the face of it all.

I know others are trying to do something about it, but I am too frightened. The price for getting caught is... well, it's too horrific to contemplate. Better to keep myself to myself and wait for this nightmare to pass.

It will pass, right? We will be liberated. Even now our soldiers and our allies must be working to regain our freedom.

It is only a matter of time.

So I shall wa-

Who could be knocking on my door at this hour?

Sunday August 6th, 2017

The exercise:

Write about: the treasure hunt.

Pretty fun family day. Definitely got off to a good start...


When we were tying to get Max out of diapers we struggled for a long time with getting him on the potty. At first he wasn't interested, then he was scared, then... I don't know. He just didn't want to?

Anyway, we tried a lot of different things. At one point I created a 'potty path', which was basically a hand drawn path that we put on the bathroom wall with squares to represent each time he used the potty. Every time he did he got to put a sticker on the next square of the path, and every fifth square there was a reward of some sort.

I designed it at a time when my expectation was that he'd be putting a sticker up once a day, maybe twice a day as he got more comfortable.

It sat on the wall for a very long time with only one sticker on it. I was getting ready to throw it out. Then, rather suddenly, he took to it.

And he was off to the races.

I think he finished the path in just over a week. Two weeks tops. That meant a lot of rewards had to be arranged in a much shorter period of time than I was expecting. Which meant some rewards had to wait a long time. Like, months.

This morning I finally got to the last reward I hadn't taken care of yet: a treasure hunt around the farm.

It started with a map and a note. The map lead him to treasure number one (a bubble wand), a second map, and a second note. This lead to treasure number two (buckets, shovels, and other beach toys), a third map, and a third note. This lead to a final treasure (a map of our solar system to put up in his room) and a final note.

I apologized afterward for it taking so long to get to it, while also telling him how happy I was that he enjoyed it so much.

At bedtime tonight he told me 'Maybe tomorrow we can do another treasure hunt with different toys.'

Which left me feeling grateful that he liked it so much... and thinking that maybe he enjoyed it a little too much...

Saturday August 5th, 2017

The exercise:

Write a four line poem about something that has been: compromised.

Kat and I picked blackberries for local orders this morning while the boys were with her parents. Got the 22 pints we needed, plus another 10 pounds for the bakery, plus an extra 5 pints to have at the table when people came to pick up their orders.

Sold two of those, plus an extra twenty pounds of peaches. Almost made waiting around in the heat and smoke worth it.

I should probably stop complaining about the smoke, seeing as I've heard nothing to indicate that it will be going away any time soon...


The perimeter has been breached
By persons we do not know.
Quick! Pack everything up, children -
It is time to hit the road.

Friday August 4th, 2017

The exercise:

Write four lines of prose about: the grey.

Tried to get a new phone this morning. Lineup was too long for me to deal with, as I had a chiropractor appointment just before lunch. Was hoping to get there right when the phone store opened but apparently getting there ten minutes after opening is much, much too late.

I can't even blame the long weekend, as I'm pretty sure everybody in front of me was local.

Guess I'll try again... hmm. Maybe next Saturday?

Smoke was bad again today. Feeling pretty much done with it.

It, unfortunately, doesn't seem to be at all done with us.


They move in the twilight, features obscured by the encroaching darkness and their grey, hooded robes. Silent as death, they go about their grim business with delicate fingers and practiced ease. They are not bothered by the forest fire smoke that envelops the valley - they have made their peace with it.

And soon, so shall you and I... whether we wish to or not.

Thursday August 3rd, 2017

The exercise:

Write about: the long weekend.

Monday is a holiday here in BC and the tourist hordes started arriving after lunch. Traffic was backed up on Main Street as I drove back into town, I almost got into an accident before my first stop, and I saw at least five more incidents of seriously questionable driver/pedestrian decision making in the following two hours.

So, so glad I'm not working this weekend.


"Bobby, could you come see me at my desk please?"

"Sure, be right there."

"Now, Bobby."

"Coming, coming..."

"Put down the glue and glitter, Bobby. We need to talk."

"Yes, Mr. Jimmy. Coming."

"For the last time, it's Mr. Lee. Jimmy is my first name."

"... okay?"

"Anyway. We need to go over the proposed schedule you submitted for next term."

"Is something wrong with it?"

"Yes, I should think so. Especially your expectations for February."

"More like Fe-boo-ary, right?"

"... yes. In particular, you have apparently planned for a long weekend..."

"That's right!"

"... that lasts twenty seven days."

Wednesday August 2nd, 2017

The exercise:

Write about: to catch a thief.

Work went pretty smoothly today, even with the heat and smoke. Just one more day to go until my weekend begins once again.


"What are you... wh... what. Just... what."

"You know what they say."

"... about what, exactly?"



"Yes, that's right."

"That's right... what?"

"You know what they say about thieves!"

"Um... remind me?"

"To catch a thief, you have to think like a thief! I can't believe I have to spell that out for you!"

"Ah. So that's what's going on here."


"I'm afraid you may have taken that saying a little too far, dear."

"How so?"

"Well, for starters, the police are at the door wanting to speak with you..."

"What, again?"

"Ag... yes. And, secondly, our basement appears to be full up with things that do not belong to us."

Tuesday August 1st, 2017

The exercise:

Write two haiku about: the White House.

Another smoky day. Hard on the eyes and nose, but at least it kept it a few degrees cooler than what the forecast had called for.

Going to try to get this posted before the sleepiness wins yet again.


Chaos swirls and whirls
through the halls. What should we do?
Just fire them all...

*     *     *

Men of dignity
and intelligence once ruled
here. Not anymore.