Sunday September 24th, 2017

The exercise:

Write about something that goes: above and beyond.

Back to work I go, tomorrow.

Mine:

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.

Mine:

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.

Mine:

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.

Mine:

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.

Mine:

"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.

Mine:

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.

Mine:

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?"

"What?"

"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."