Saturday September 30th, 2017

The exercise:

Write a four line poem about: a poor response.

Ah, Trump.

Hard to believe we've come to the end of September already. Hoping things might slow down a little bit once my contract finishes up, but I suppose that's unlikely.

Back to work tomorrow, just for the day. Weather is supposed to be pretty chilly, so I imagine things will be fairly quiet.

Max helped me make apple sauce this afternoon while Kat and Miles napped. Looking forward to having more time and energy to do things like that this fall and winter.


Thinking of a trip to San Juan?
You shouldn't.
What would I do if I lived there?
I wouldn't.

Friday September 29th, 2017

The exercise:

Write four lines of prose about: the fruit pickers.

Look at me, all caught up on comments. Pretty sure it's been at least six months since I could say that.

Planning on making some changes so that I can keep it this way. I'm quite done with getting so far behind on replying to comments. Thank you for your patience while I've been such a poor host.

Had the morning to myself (thus the comment catch up). Spent the afternoon with the boys. Sunshine. Good first day off.


"Well, I'm done for the day."

"It's not even noon!"

"Yeah, but look at all the apples I've picked!"

"What, barely half a bin... and there are bite marks in all of these."

Thursday September 28th, 2017

The exercise:

Write about something that is: illuminated.

Another day down. Eight remain.

I've got the next two days off, then I'm working Sunday for Tammy (it's her anniversary and her husband is taking her to a concert in Kelowna), I'm off Monday, then back Tuesday and Wednesday. Tammy's taking Thursday for me, then I've got Friday.

After all that convoluted nonsense, I'll have my final four days off in a row, then work my final four days in a row.

Max had another good day at learning centre today. Looking forward to being able to take him once work finishes up, as I'd really like to meet his teacher and classmates.


The light bulb
Above your head
Is burned out.
You're all out
Of ideas but
Chock-full of doubt.

There's no doubt
You'll burn bright
Again one day,
But it's hard today
To see you with
Nothing to say.

Wednesday September 27th, 2017

The exercise:

Write something which takes place at: the birthday party.

We had a StrongStart field trip at our farm this morning. Obviously I missed out on it, but it sounds like it went well. Max loves being the farm tour guide so I'm sure he was fully in his element.

With the sun shining all day there were more people out and about once again but it has yet to result in much additional work for me.

Sounds pretty ideal, actually. More of the same tomorrow?

Yes, please.


The birthday boy is bawling
And throwing a fit since
His cake is splattered all over the
Guess he wasn't quick enough
To blow out the flames
Before the dynamite candles went

Tuesday September 26th, 2017

The exercise:

Write two haiku about: the blackout.

Weather was quite nice today, so the parks were a bit busier than they have been recently. By early afternoon I was wishing I'd brought shorts to change into. With more of the same expected tomorrow I think I'll just start the day with shorts and suffer through the early morning cold.

Only ten days of work to go!


Sitting in the dark
pining for a candle as
the monsters draw near

*     *     *

The wind rattles the
windows as another tree
topples in the yard

Monday September 25th, 2017

The exercise:

Write about: the protest.

Things just get more and more interesting to the south. Who knows when and where and how this will all come to an end.

Another quiet day at work. Still not a complaint.


A show of silent unity,
Against a loud-mouthed bully,
That some people don't seem to get -
At least not fully.

They kneel, they sit, they link their arms,
And ignore those who cry folly!
Determined to win this battle
Without firing a volley...

Sunday September 24th, 2017

The exercise:

Write about something that goes: above and beyond.

Back to work I go, tomorrow.


Whenever I've worked the weekend before having to clean Town Hall on Monday, I've tried to get some cleaning done ahead of time. The washrooms at minimum, anything beyond that when I've had the time. Anything to make the end of day clean on Monday more manageable.

On weeks when I work Sunday but not Monday, I've tried to get a few things done for Tammy as well. And when it's the other way around I usually ask her to do whatever she can over the weekend to make life easier for me, because it really is much too big of a job to do in the less than two hours we get to do it in.

Anyway. We've been texting each other at the end of our shifts to let the person coming back to work know of any issues or anything that might need extra attention. This evening when Tammy sent her text she slipped this one in as though it were no big deal: I cleaned Town Hall completely. You might want to check the upstairs kitchen garbage tomorrow though, just to make sure it doesn't get too smelly.

I replied back: You cleaned all of Town Hall? Above and beyond, milady.

So now, all of a sudden, I'm (pretty much) done with the office that's been the biggest pain to clean all summer. What a great, totally unexpected way to start my work week.

Saturday September 23rd, 2017

The exercise:

Write a four line poem about: the obstacle course.

Max got a free ticket to do the Freak'n Farmer obstacle race through learning centre (and he's been very excited to do it ever since we explained what it was), so we headed up to Covert Farms this morning for him to do the 'mini' course. Which, at 1.5 km, didn't seem super mini by the end.

Anyway. He rocked it. Over balancing obstacles, climbing up and down obstacles, running full out from station to station, getting wet and muddy, swinging over a pile of tomatoes (seriously) - he did it all. We were very proud of him.

Here he is with the medal he got after crossing the finish line:

It's my favorite picture of the day, partially because most of my pictures of him doing the obstacles were taken from so far away (because he was out there doing it without us). He can't wait to do it again. And I just might have to do the adult version next year.


Look at him doing it
Without a single piece of armor!
Go my little man go -
You are a damned fine Freak'n Farmer!

Friday September 22nd, 2017

The exercise:

Write four lines of prose about: the liaison.

Took the boys to StrongStart this morning, then Max spent the afternoon with Kat's parents. Miles joined him after his nap, so I was able to get some rest.

I can feel myself losing the battle with sleep as I type this, so I best get on with the show.


You're confused, that's easy enough to tell. You know I hate my job, yet I do it so very well. You think there must be a story here, some wild and crazy tale.

But really, it's all because Henri has me in constant fear of revealing to the world his blackmail...

Thursday September 21st, 2017

The exercise:

Let us make use of the Random CD prompt once again, shall we? Go find a song as randomly as you're able to and borrow its first line for the opening of your writing today. Then... take it from there! Credit goes where it's due, as always.

Hung out with Miles today while Kat spent the day in Penticton after dropping Max off at learning centre. Kat was able to get a few things done, Max had another great time in OK Falls, and Miles and I kept ourselves entertained with grocery shopping, a visit to the bakery, and playing around the house.

Tomorrow... is Friday, right? Okay. That means I've got both the boys all day so that Kat can get some work done. We shall see what sort of trouble we can get up to.


Sunsets For Somebody Else by Jack Johnson

I know I've seen your face somewhere. But where? When was it? A long time ago, surely - I would remember if I saw you more recently. My memory is not so terrible as that.

And I am very good with faces. Always have been. One of my precious few gifts is the ability to match names to faces. So know that I speak from a position of authority when I say that this is not a case of misplaced familiarity. You don't have one of those faces, as they say.

It is unique in ways both pleasing and... unsettling. I blame your eyes for that. There is a darkness there that... well, that I'd rather not find there. They have borne witness to things better left unseen. I wonder... were those dark deeds done by your own hands?

I hope not.

And I wonder, too, if my inability to place your face is due to only seeing it partially before now. Was it hidden beneath a downturned hat? Concealed by shadows? Were you trying to escape my notice, stranger who may not be quite as strange as I might hope?

Why would you do that? What possible interest might my goings on be of to you? To anyone, really. I am not that interesting, not that important. Just ask my ex-wife. Any of them. So why keep a watchful eye on little old nobody me?

Bah. It is getting late. I must stop asking questions of your photograph before it begins answering me back. That would surely guarantee me a sleepless night.

For if it did that, I would most certainly not like its replies...

Wednesday September 20th, 2017

The exercise:

Write about: the misnomer.

Beautiful, sunny yet cool morning. Really pleasant walking around collecting not a lot of litter.

This afternoon dark clouds came blowing in and things were not quite so nice out there.

I guess it's that time of year.

Happy to have reached my third to last weekend with this job.


"Sir? Can you please sit down? The folks behind you can't see."

"Lucky them."

"Sir. I don't appreciate that. At all. I've worked very hard on this presentation."

"Doesn't show though, does it? I mean, come on guys, I can't be alone on this one."

"I believe that you are. And I invite you to leave so that everyone else may enjoy this information session without interruption."

"Enjoy, Mr. Aldim? I see you're aiming high. I suppose there's something to be admired about that."

"Please leave, sir. I beg of you."

"No need to beg, Mr. Aldim - I was just going anyway. Forgot my cigarettes in my room. Penthouse suite, by the way. In case any of the ladies in attendance were wondering."

"This is highly ina-"

"I mean, other than you two. You ladies were very definitely wondering."

"Monsieur Henri, get -"

"Oh, please don't call me that. You sound like you've got a mouthful of worms when you sat it like that."

"Out! Get Out!"

"I just said I was leaving! Weren't you listening, Mr. Aldim?"

"And that is not my name!"

"It's not?"

"It's Mr. Albright and you know it!"

"Yes, well, from what I've seen and heard tonight, that is very definitely a misnomer..."

Tuesday September 19th, 2017

The exercise:

Write two haiku about: the pioneer.

I was cold for most of the day at work, even with a sweatshirt on over top of my longsleeve shirt. I am still getting accustomed to the fall weather.

Miles has had a fever for the last couple of days so Kat brought him to the hospital in Oliver to get him checked out late this afternoon. I joined them after I got off work, by which time they'd already been waiting an hour in emergency and Miles was mostly feeling better. There would be another hour to wait before the doctor could see him, so of course he was basically back to normal by then.

He wants to check him for a bladder infection, just to be sure, but hopefully we're already out of the woods on this one.

Kat's dad had already gotten Max to sleep by the time I got home, so the only time I saw him awake today was when he woke up just before I left for work. Which is better than not at all, I suppose.

One more day and then weekend time.


He blazes trails with
no concern for direction -
he's not going back.

*     *     *

I will conquer this
wilderness and make it my
own... or die trying.

Monday September 18th, 2017

The exercise:

Write about something that is: unsteady.

A long overdue return to the Wastelands is in order (thanks Greg for the nudge in the comments a while back). I am feeling inspired at the moment, so hopefully the next installment will not have to wait so excessively long.

It was cold enough today that I had to wear pants instead of shorts to work. First time since... May?

I even was rained on for a little bit in the afternoon.

Only 14 days of work remain.

Fall has arrived.


I study the items in Master Francis' supply closet by the light of a fluttering, unsteady candle. My left hand is shakier than I would like it to be, but I've regained enough strength to do what I require. I think.

The sack at my feet is already mostly full of the supplies that I need but I am still in need of weapons. I am not impressed by what I've found in the closet. I grab one of Master Francis' needles and test its weight. Running from my fingertips to my elbow, it is certainly intimidating. I'd rather not get close enough to make use of it, but better safe than sorry.

I drop it into the sack and frown at the remaining options. Maybe I should have started with the tool shed where -

"Sebastien!" The automaton's form nearly fills the doorway between the workshop and the hallway leading to the bedrooms. I remind myself that I am doing nothing wrong. Well, not especially wrong.

"Xavier." A few moments of whirs and clicks pass before he speaks again. "Are you intending on killing Master Francis in his sleep?"


"Because I must inform you that I cannot allow that."

"No, of course not! Why would I do that? Why would you think that?"

"Then what are you doing with Master's things in the middle of the night? You should be asleep. You still need to recover from your injuries."

"I have recovered enough." Close enough, anyway. "I am going to find the North Ridge Brigands."

"And what do you plan to do once you find them?"

"Blow one of their ships from the sky." The candle is shaking badly now, so I set it down on a nearby workbench. "With as many of them aboard it as possible."

"Ah, you wish to avenge the deaths of your friends."

"I had no friends aboard my ship," I tell him and it is true. I respected Captain Miranda but we rarely spoke. The crew meant little to nothing to me. They were a means to an end, that was all. "This is about the principle of the thing. A man cannot be blasted out of the sky and then walk away without a proper response. That would be cowardice."

"I see." A lengthier pause this time, filled with grinding and clicks. I'm beginning to wonder if Sebastien has malfunctioned when he says, "I will go with you."

"What? You can't abandon Master Francis like that."

"I will reprogram Scout V42 so that it can perform my duties for our Master during my absence. I have done it before."

"Okay... but why would you want to help me?"

"The Brigands are not good people, Xavier. They have done harm to many innocent men and women... and automatons. I will not miss an opportunity to see them pay for their misdeeds. If you are able to get even with them in the process, all the better."

"Oh, I do not intend to get even, Sebastien," I say with a grim smile. "I intend to come out of this well ahead. Those bastards owe this pilot a ship."

Sunday September 17th, 2017

The exercise:

Write about: the omission.

Had a really nice time at the fair today. The whole farm family was there, so Max and Natalie got to go on the rides together again while Kat's parents helped with keeping an eye on Miles.

Max went horse riding again and did great:

We were all pretty tired as we headed for home, but we caught a break with Miles napping for most of the drive.

It was a good tired though.

Still not looking forward to getting up tomorrow morning to go to work.


He claims it was an error of omission but I know he's just wishing I don't look too closely because I won't like what I see. A bit of unintentional forgetting, nothing too upsetting, that's what he'd have me believe.

Well forget THAT. I'm going on the attack. I'm grabbing my microscope, my telescope, hell even my periscope. I'll use my magnifying glass to examine his ass. No lies will escape my eyes.

His coronation will not survive the devastation of my investigation.

Saturday September 16th, 2017

The exercise:

Following up on last Saturday's prompt, today we shall write four line poems about: your outside voice.

Work went by quickly today, which is always nice. Very much looking forward to the fair tomorrow.


I can see that you really need to go -
It must be so hard to wait, I bet.
But I do still need a few more minutes,
This washroom is just not clean quite yet...

Friday September 15th, 2017

The exercise:

Write four lines of prose about: fractions.

Managed to get both Max and myself haircuts this afternoon, as Miles napped for the first time in... three or four days. All three of us are now much better off because of it.

Back to work for a day tomorrow, then off for the Rock Creek Fair, then back for three more days.

I am so not going to have any bloody idea what day it is by the time this stretch is over.


Things are only half seen in the land of in between. Noises, from the softest whispers to the most savage of roars, are only heard in thirds. And distances are much shorter - perhaps only a quarter of what they ought to be.

There is a way to escape this place, but less than an eighth keep their faith long enough to find it...

Thursday September 14th, 2017

The exercise:

Write about: the learning centre.

As mentioned yesterday, today was a big day.


It's been clear to us for a while now that Max would not enjoy attending regular school. He would always tell us that there were too many kids when he visited Natalie's kindergarten class last year. He is remarkably stubborn and it's difficult to imagine him doing what a teacher wanted him to do if he had no interest in doing it. He does so, so much better outside than in.

But most of all, he has such a massive enthusiasm for learning that we did not want to see diminished in a typical classroom setting. The thought of him getting lost in a crowded class, being forced to do things that he didn't care about, with minimal individual attention... none of that sat well with us.

Despite all this, the decision to homeschool Max was not exactly a slam dunk. It's going to take a lot of time and effort on our part. Dropping him off at school in the morning and then picking him up in the afternoon would have been easy (assuming he didn't put up a huge fight every morning). Essentially returning to being parents of one child for most of the day is undeniably appealing.

But that wouldn't have been in his best interests. And we really, really want to see him thrive as he learns and grows.

And we knew we'd need help.

The learning centre that Kat worked with in OK Falls was an obvious choice. We'd hoped to get enough kids signed up locally to start a new centre here in Osoyoos but we couldn't quite get the numbers for this year. We're still optimistic that will happen in the next few years.

But for now we'll be taking Max up every Thursday to attend class. With eight students and one teacher (as opposed to twenty-something students and one teacher at the local elementary school). Every other Friday there will be an optional outing/event/special lesson. At each class one parent of the students will be volunteering to help the teacher, so parents will be much more involved than in a traditional setting (which we're pretty sure Max will also appreciate).

Kat took him up for his first morning at learning centre this morning. Next week he'll begin full days (9 to 2:30). We, of course, wanted to get a picture before he left. Kat made the mistake of asking him to smile. I waited out his usual scrunched up, super fake smile, and then he opted to go with an excited pose. I liked that one much better:

I sent a text after class was done, asking how he liked it. Kat reported back that he said it was really, really fun fun fun and that he wanted to go again tomorrow.

I'd call that a win.

Wednesday September 13th, 2017

The exercise:

Write about: the complex.

Had my usual post work morning of rest today and, as is often the case, it was not nearly long enough. Felt a little more productive than other mornings though.

Spent the afternoon with Miles while Max hung out with Kat's parents. Our youngest seems to be in the process of giving up his afternoon nap. It'll be nice in the end I'm sure, but this in between period of will he or won't he today is not great.

Big day tomorrow. Should get some sleep.


"Honey, you look worried. What's on your mind?"

"It's Lester..."

"Again? What now?"

"Have you watched him playing with the other kids at the park lately?"

"Watched is probably too strong a word. More like glanced at in between sips of coffee and checking ou... uh... checking my phone."

"Can't you see it in the way he interacts with them?"

"See what?"

"He's developing an inferiority complex!"

"Well, they're a bunch of three and four year olds - he is inferior."

"You're not helping!"

"He's still not even one!"

Tuesday September 12th, 2017

The exercise:

Write two haiku about: saints.

It's remarkable how much slower things have become in town so quickly. Even the washrooms at the main beach hardly need much attention.

This is a good thing, by the way. Kinda feels like my reward for getting through the summer months.

My niece Natalie turned six years old today. Had a little farm family get together at her place for dinner, which I managed to be not super late for thanks to an easy office cleaning to end my work day. Feels a bit strange to think that she's six already.

The again, Max isn't all that far away from turning five...


Pick a saint to pray
to? That's easy, Daddy! It's
Jolly Old Saint Nick!

*     *     *

His smile disguises
his guile but it's clear to me
that he is no saint

Monday September 11th, 2017

The exercise:

Write about something that is: stagnant.

So it turns out I shouldn't have had to take away all that lobster garbage yesterday. It was in their agreement to use the park that they would take care of the garbage. Apparently they did this last year as well, so they'll be getting a phone call from the director of my department about it.

Which I find rather satisfying at the moment.

One more day to go and then my shortened weekend begins.

Why shortened? Because I'm trading my Sunday for Saturday with Tammy so that I can go with my family to the Rock Creek Fair this Sunday.


"I'm worried about Lester."

"What's he done now?"

"More like, what is he not doing?"

"... okay, so what is he not doing now?"

"I just think he's not progressing like he should be. He's lost all momentum and he's just... stagnating."


"That's right."

"Honey, give it some time. He's not even a year old yet."

Sunday September 10th, 2017

The exercise:

Write about: lobsters.

The below was one side of my morning. On the other was blue skies and sunshine. Each had their moments, though the below won out pretty much every time I was at the main beach today.

Back to starting at 7 tomorrow morning. With the long weekend during my last shift, I've started at 6 for my last five work days (I work 6 to 5 on weekends, 7 to 6 during the week). Ready for that extra hour of sleep.


One of the local groups had their annual Lobster on the Beach fundraiser last night. Lobsters were flown in from Atlantic Canada, tents were set up in the park next to the main beach (right next to the washrooms, which had me a little concerned about how they would be this morning... but they were fine). It ran from 6 pm until 1 am and was sold out (I think I saw somewhere that there were 150 tickets).

Anyway. I'm sure it was a lovely event and yadda yadda yadda blah blah whatever.

My problem with it? When I showed up to clean the washrooms this morning there was a pile of about twenty garbage bags waiting for me.

That stunk of lobster.

And a lot of them were ripped and leaking.

Normally I'd leave something like that for whoever is doing the town garbage run that day, but now that we're past the busy season they've stopped doing runs on the weekend. And I wasn't about to let that sit there until tomorrow morning, especially with the sun going to be on it by early afternoon.

So I got half the bags on my truck (dripping I don't want to know what all over it), cleaned the washrooms, and drove to the nearest town dumpster and got rid of them. Then I came back to get the rest.

At this point I was already pretty pissed off. I knew the truck was going to stink like lobster for the rest of the day (at best). And I didn't really think it should have been left up to me to take their garbage away (I wasn't told it would be at any rate).

When I got back there was a crew working on packing up the tables and chairs and tents and cleaning up whatever was left to clean up. I will gladly admit to glaring at anyone in sight. Then a guy came over to add another bag to the pile.

"Sorry, I tried not to make too big a mess for you guys."

Guys? It's just me.

"Yeah," I said, without really looking at him, "the bags ripped."

"Well, there's whole lobsters."

I think I probably glared at him at this point as he walked away.

The event is called Lobsters on the Beach. Of f'n course there are whole lobsters. What were you expecting to be throwing away? Moose carcasses? Why would you not (at least) double bag that stuff? Or better yet, I don't know, maybe use heavy duty bags?

At the very minimum maybe don't stuff them so full that a) I hurt my back lifting them into the truck, and b) the bags are tearing apart because they cannot support that much weight.

Anyway. Dumped the second load. Hosed out the back of the truck. Mopped the back of the truck. Sprayed odor destroyer on the back of the truck.

Could still smell lobster in the back of the truck.

I did not return to the main beach until I was absolutely certain they would be done packing up and be long gone. No good would have come of me seeing them again.

Saturday September 9th, 2017

The exercise:

Write a four line poem about: your inside voice.

Because some things are better left unsaid. Not inspired by anything in particular, by the way. Just a general feeling I've had on occasion while working.

It actually rained this morning. First time in months, I think. And then the sun even came out for a little while in the afternoon - blue sky and everything!

After which I sent Kat a text that concluded with I think the world is ending.

Anyway, it was nice to have things cool off and the air freshen up a bit, even if the smoke never went completely away.


You waste of human space,
This ain't a single word of a lie:
If you just up and died
I'd be the happiest man alive.

Friday September 8th, 2017

The exercise:

Write four lines of prose about: the lawyer.

Long day with the boys. Miles didn't nap and didn't go to bed particularly early either. Max might be coming down with a cold so he was pretty cranky by the end of the day. Hopefully a good night's sleep helps to put everyone back to rights tomorrow.

Me included. I'm back to day one with the town, so I'm heading for sleepy time night nights now.


This case file is getting out of hand. The defense attorney is trying to bury me under six feet of paperwork and he might just do it - I think I strained my back carrying the damned file from my cabinet to my desk. Clearly he cares more about winning the case than his client's obvious guilt in this matter which, I suppose, I can't blame him for.

But it's days like this that I find myself wishing I'd skipped law school and signed up for vigilante training instead...

Thursday September 7th, 2017

The exercise:

Hey, how about we get the yearlong prompt back into the first week of the month again? Sound good? All right then, to The Dream Kingdom we go.


Dylan thought for a moment, then focused his concentration on his armor's crest. After a few seconds of flickering (and a brief, horrifying return of Hello Kitty) the emblem transformed into the Q logo from the Quake video game series. Nodding to himself in satisfaction, he returned his gaze to Nystor.

"Now what...?" Nystor began but Dylan cut him off.

"It's not important. What matters now is just: where to next? I'd have to think our arrival here has not gone unnoticed."

"Right," Olivia added, her katanas now in scabbards which formed an X across her back. "We need to keep moving. I, um... think walking would be our safest mode of transportation now."

"Yeah, great plan," Josh said from where he was seated on the ground. He tapped his leg with the palm of his right hand. "Maybe we could take care of this thing first though?"

Nystor knelt beside him and checked the transformed leg once more. Finding it mostly unchanged from his previous inspection, he looked up at Dylan and Olivia. "Are you having any difficulty maintaining your weapons and armor?"

"No," they replied in unison. Hidden in the safety of his helmet Dylan felt his cheeks grow hot. Well, hotter. It was stifling in there. He tried to imagine a cooling breeze flowing through the armor and was successful enough to relieve the worst of his discomfort.

"Then I should be able to restore your leg to its rightful form. Hold very still Josh and pray that nothing in this chaotic wilderness decides to interfere."

"Hold on, I don't like the ssss-aaaaaaaaah!"

"What are you doing?" Dylan shouted. He moved to stop the old man but Olivia grabbed his arm to hold him back. "Let go! He's hurting him!"

"I think he has to," Olivia told him calmly. "I think it's like a doctor resetting a broken bone. Except in this case it's probably a lot more than just one."

Dylan didn't like it but knew she was right. Watching his friend writhe in agony was almost as bad as being tortured himself. Maybe it was even worse. When Nystor finally took his hands away and sat down heavily beside Josh, sweat flooding both of their brows, Dylan released a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding.

"Are you okay?" Olivia asked at the same time as Dylan asked "Did it work?"

"Yes and yes," Nystor replied. "Though we will both need some time to recover."

"Time? We don't have much of that to spare," Dylan said before bending down to scoop Josh up in his arms. "So... which way are we heading?"

"Sure, take the lighter one," Olivia muttered as she lifted Nystor up.

"The nearest village lies... that way," Nystor said, pointing weakly to the west.

"And what are we going to do once we get there?" Dylan asked as he began to walk in the indicated direction.

"Capture a native," Nystor said. "And then make him - or her - talk."

Wednesday September 6th, 2017

The exercise:

Write about: the interrogator.

Had a nice family morning, thanks to there being no berries needing to be picked for local orders today. All I had to do was weigh up some apples and nectarines this afternoon and then wait for a few customers to show up.

Anyway, we went for a walk at Haynes Point then did a bit of shopping for the boys. Came home and had lunch together before Max (and then a bit later Miles, after we realized he wasn't planning on napping) went to Kat's parents house until dinner time.

I've got the boys tomorrow while Kat gets some work done, so I should probably rest up.


What? No, no. What a horrible word. Please don't call me that. I much prefer interviewer. It has so many fewer... negative associations with it.

Sure, I have a talent for uncovering truths which people wish to keep hidden. But that is my job. You cannot hate me for doing it well.

You want results? I get you results.

My methods? Inconsequential. Don't be so concerned for my vic... for the people I interview. These are no innocents. They would not end up in my care if they were. They have done wrong and it is my duty to reveal those wrongs.

Maybe you should stop asking so many questions. You don't look like you have the stomach for the answers.

That's okay, though. That's what I'm here for.

Just, please, don't call me an interrogator. It's such an... unpleasant term. I am an interviewer, that's all. I ask the questions which need to be asked. I get the answers we require. That is all.

That is enough.

Tuesday September 5th, 2017

The exercise:

Write two haiku about: slivers.

Caught up on some of the comment backlog this morning. I'm getting there, slowly but (somewhat) surely.

Had a chiro appointment this afternoon, where I discovered that my chiropractor will be retiring at the end of the month. She's got a young couple getting ready to take over her practice though, so that's good. I've got one more appointment before she's done, then I'll be in their hands.

Just a few local orders to deal with tomorrow, so hopefully it won't be too hectic of a day.


A sliver of truth?
I'm certain that you left one
around here somewhere...

*     *     *

These invisible
wood daggers pepper my poor
fingers with fierce glee

Monday September 4th, 2017

The exercise:

Write about something that is: all-knowing.

Made it through the long weekend. Was feeling pretty tired this afternoon but having the end in sight helped a lot.

Looking forward to not waking up at 5 tomorrow morning.


Miles has many nicknames around the house. Smiles, Monkey, Babykins... plenty more that I can't think of at the moment. Yesterday he got his latest: Miles the All-Knowing.

I guess when he's upset Kat has a tendency to say 'I know' to him, usually two or three times in a row. It would seem he has picked up on it.

He likes walking around the house saying I know, I know, I know. Often prompted by a careless I know on our part. Or Max saying 'Miles! I know! I know, Miles! I know!" until he sets him off. Because he thinks it's hilarious.

Miles also likes to combine it. If he wants up he'll say 'Up I know'. Only it usually comes out more like Upiknow. Down is Downiknow. He'll even occasionally say Alldoneiknow when he's finished with something (usually whatever he's eating).

Anyway, he was doing his usual circuit of the house yesterday, with I know on repeat, when I told Kat that he's Miles the All-Knowing.

I like it and I hope it sticks.

Sunday September 3rd, 2017

The exercise:

Write about something that: beckons.

Washrooms were, rather unexpectedly, basically fine this morning. Quite a bit of litter in the parks, but that was manageable. Hopefully (fingers crossed) past the worst of things now.

Regardless, just one more day before my weekend commences.


The figure in the woods is not real. I know this. It can beckon me all it likes, it can move from shadow to shadow like a child doing a poor job of hide and seek. I still understand that it is not really there.

I say it with intention. Male and female does not apply to this... thing. It is sexless, just as it is ageless and nameless.

Well, it may have had a name, once. But that was long ago. I doubt it would recognize its given name if I were to call it out to it. Too much time has passed. I can feel how ancient this thing is. Just as I can sense that its intentions toward me are as dark as its current form. Without question, it wishes to do me harm.

I know all this, just as I know that it is not really out there, beckoning and moving and beckoning again.

I understand on a level which lurks far below my skin, deep beneath all conscious thought.

I know, and I understand, and yet I follow it anyway.

Saturday September 2nd, 2017

The exercise:

Write a four line poem about a: pit bull.

There was a little girl (like 1.5 years old, tops) running around by the washrooms at the main beach this morning. It really sounded like the parents, who were usually chasing after her, were calling her Pit Bull.

Like, "Get back here Pit Bull!"

And, "Where are you going Pit Bull?"

While I am fairly confident that wasn't what they were saying, I have been unable to figure out what her actual name is. So... writing prompt it is!

Town was very busy this afternoon, main beach in particular. Not sure I'm looking forward to seeing the results of all that busyness tomorrow morning.


I don't think she barks or bites -
She's just a little tyke!
Just wait till she gets hungry...
Or sleepy... or inexplicably angry...

Friday September 1st, 2017

The exercise:

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

First day back went well. Pretty quiet all around. Not sure how much of that can be attributed to the smoke, but we shall see. It's the final long weekend of the summer before school resumes next week, so I'm sure I'll be kept busy for the next three days one way or another.


Jeeez, this job is soooooo lame. All this lifting and walking and bending an-aaahhhhh!

Oh god, my hamstring!

Great, now I'm lame too.