I'm now working every Friday night at the Community Centre, 4 to 9. That's often been bumped up to 12 to 9 for an 8 hour shift, plus I've been getting calls to fill in other times there (today I worked 12 to 9, next Wednesday I'm covering lunch from 11:30 to 1:30. So I'm slowly collecting more hours, in addition to the EI payments I'm getting.
Today's prompt was inspired by my attempts to kick four teams worth of volleyball players out of the gym at the end of my shift. Turns out they play until 9 every week, but nobody bothered to tell me that before hand. It was awkward and I felt stupid for a while, but then I went back in and talked to a few of them to clear things up and I left feeling better about things.
Max has been going to Learning Centre in OK Falls every Thursday and he's loving it. We've also got him enrolled in a new play school in Oliver, which he attends Mondays and Wednesdays (started mid-November) and he's loving that too. It's tiring him out, but he'll get used to it eventually.
Miles is now spending two mornings a week with Becky's mom (she takes care of Emersyn while Becky and Adam are at work, so now the littlest cousins get to spend more time together).
So I've got a bit of extra time on my hands and I'm finally starting to build some momentum with my writing project. Not being sick anymore helps a lot with that too.
I think that's everything for now! Thanks for continuing to stick with the blog in its new format (which I am also still getting used to).
@Marc: I wasn't suggesting you were getting lazy; quite the opposite! I think everyone of my suggestions involved much more work for you :) I miss your stories of handling the sportsmen in the gym, and the image of you taking on four volleyball teams by yourself is quite amusing! Still, it sounds like you managed to get a peaceable resolution by the end of it all, which is definitely a good outcome. It would be interesting if your next prompt was "from the hospital bed".... I'm sure you're happy handling a happily-tired Max at the end of the day! And I'm curious about the writing project too, is there anything you can share with us yet?
One against many The kitchen was busy: stainless steel counter tops were covered with pristine white flatware waiting for food to be artfully arranged on them, and steam rose from several stovetops around the room. White-clad men and women moved around as little as possible, focusing their efforts on cooking food and moving it to the plates, refusing to waste energy unnecessarily. The shift lasted nearly fifteen hours for all of them and was tiring enough. The sizzle of hot fat, the low hum of boiling water, the snick and snack of fridges and cupboards opening and closing created a hubbub of noise through which brief, terse comments from chef to chef cut. And finally the smells that rose from pots, pans, and just-opened boxes of food harmonised in places and competed in others so that walking through was like eating a six course meal as though your life depended on it. The waiter who crashed through the double-doors that separated the kitchen and the dining room was wild-eyed and his bow-tie was askew. He caught his breath, his chest heaving heavily, and took a moment to straighten his pristine white shirt that had pulled free from the waistband of his pleated black trousers. The Executive Chef glared at him. "I'm sorry," said the waiter, and he sounded almost tearful. "They're on the verge of rioting in there." The chefs on the kitchen floor stayed silent, and started moving, subtly and slowly, away from the Executive Chef. "But I am right," said the Executive Chef, his words as deliberate as the placement of micro-greens on his signature dish. "They... they're saying t-that t-there are more of t-them." Knuckles whitened, and the Executive Chef's neck reddened. "T-they s-say t-t-that it's m-m-many of t-them and o-only one o-of y-y-you." The waiter looked like he wanted the floor to open and swallow him up. The kitchen had now fallen silent except for the hiss of fat and bubble of water. "I. Will. Never." said the Executive Chef, his voice rising with each word. "Make a vegetarian beef wellington. No matter how many philistines demand it." His fist slammed down on the counter-top and plates bounced. "You tell them then," squeaked the waiter.
Things have actually been pretty calm so far. I'm lucky that they do pickleball (I know you love that that's a thing) on Friday nights instead of basketball now. Much easier to get those guys to leave.
In theory.
Hmm. I'll just that things are trending in a shareable direction. Still a long ways to go but I might feel okay talking about what I'm working on relatively soon.
I can't imagine that's a very satisfactory answer but that's all I've got right now.
Haha, wonderful details and atmosphere in this one. You really have a knack for bringing scenes to life and this one is no exception. I think the ending of your opening paragraph is my favorite part :)
3 comments:
Quick life update:
I'm now working every Friday night at the Community Centre, 4 to 9. That's often been bumped up to 12 to 9 for an 8 hour shift, plus I've been getting calls to fill in other times there (today I worked 12 to 9, next Wednesday I'm covering lunch from 11:30 to 1:30. So I'm slowly collecting more hours, in addition to the EI payments I'm getting.
Today's prompt was inspired by my attempts to kick four teams worth of volleyball players out of the gym at the end of my shift. Turns out they play until 9 every week, but nobody bothered to tell me that before hand. It was awkward and I felt stupid for a while, but then I went back in and talked to a few of them to clear things up and I left feeling better about things.
Max has been going to Learning Centre in OK Falls every Thursday and he's loving it. We've also got him enrolled in a new play school in Oliver, which he attends Mondays and Wednesdays (started mid-November) and he's loving that too. It's tiring him out, but he'll get used to it eventually.
Miles is now spending two mornings a week with Becky's mom (she takes care of Emersyn while Becky and Adam are at work, so now the littlest cousins get to spend more time together).
So I've got a bit of extra time on my hands and I'm finally starting to build some momentum with my writing project. Not being sick anymore helps a lot with that too.
I think that's everything for now! Thanks for continuing to stick with the blog in its new format (which I am also still getting used to).
@Marc: I wasn't suggesting you were getting lazy; quite the opposite! I think everyone of my suggestions involved much more work for you :)
I miss your stories of handling the sportsmen in the gym, and the image of you taking on four volleyball teams by yourself is quite amusing! Still, it sounds like you managed to get a peaceable resolution by the end of it all, which is definitely a good outcome. It would be interesting if your next prompt was "from the hospital bed"....
I'm sure you're happy handling a happily-tired Max at the end of the day! And I'm curious about the writing project too, is there anything you can share with us yet?
One against many
The kitchen was busy: stainless steel counter tops were covered with pristine white flatware waiting for food to be artfully arranged on them, and steam rose from several stovetops around the room. White-clad men and women moved around as little as possible, focusing their efforts on cooking food and moving it to the plates, refusing to waste energy unnecessarily. The shift lasted nearly fifteen hours for all of them and was tiring enough. The sizzle of hot fat, the low hum of boiling water, the snick and snack of fridges and cupboards opening and closing created a hubbub of noise through which brief, terse comments from chef to chef cut. And finally the smells that rose from pots, pans, and just-opened boxes of food harmonised in places and competed in others so that walking through was like eating a six course meal as though your life depended on it.
The waiter who crashed through the double-doors that separated the kitchen and the dining room was wild-eyed and his bow-tie was askew. He caught his breath, his chest heaving heavily, and took a moment to straighten his pristine white shirt that had pulled free from the waistband of his pleated black trousers. The Executive Chef glared at him.
"I'm sorry," said the waiter, and he sounded almost tearful. "They're on the verge of rioting in there."
The chefs on the kitchen floor stayed silent, and started moving, subtly and slowly, away from the Executive Chef.
"But I am right," said the Executive Chef, his words as deliberate as the placement of micro-greens on his signature dish.
"They... they're saying t-that t-there are more of t-them."
Knuckles whitened, and the Executive Chef's neck reddened.
"T-they s-say t-t-that it's m-m-many of t-them and o-only one o-of y-y-you." The waiter looked like he wanted the floor to open and swallow him up. The kitchen had now fallen silent except for the hiss of fat and bubble of water.
"I. Will. Never." said the Executive Chef, his voice rising with each word. "Make a vegetarian beef wellington. No matter how many philistines demand it." His fist slammed down on the counter-top and plates bounced.
"You tell them then," squeaked the waiter.
Greg - hah :P
Things have actually been pretty calm so far. I'm lucky that they do pickleball (I know you love that that's a thing) on Friday nights instead of basketball now. Much easier to get those guys to leave.
In theory.
Hmm. I'll just that things are trending in a shareable direction. Still a long ways to go but I might feel okay talking about what I'm working on relatively soon.
I can't imagine that's a very satisfactory answer but that's all I've got right now.
Haha, wonderful details and atmosphere in this one. You really have a knack for bringing scenes to life and this one is no exception. I think the ending of your opening paragraph is my favorite part :)
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