Thursday June 30th, 2011

The exercise:

Let's write about: the funeral.

So. Bad Request Error 400. That's all I got from my repeated attempts to publish yesterday's post late last night. And when I just tried to log in to Blogger this morning before we hit the road. But then when I tried again tonight shortly after we returned, it worked just fine. Argh.

Anyway. Today marks the one year anniversary of our move to Osoyoos. Unfortunately we weren't really able to celebrate it, but hopefully we'll have time to reflect on it a bit more tomorrow.

Also: apparently June 9th was the third anniversary of this here blog. I almost forgot the one and two year anniversaries but managed to remember at the last minute. Not so this year. Oh well, happy belated birthday to you, Daily Writing Practice.

Mine:

It's been a bit of a rough stretch for both of our families recently. Kat lost her grandmother on her mother's side to a heart attack just before we left for our honeymoon in Jamaica, so we were out of the country for her memorial service. Right now my parents are over in New Brunswick for a service for one of my dad's brothers, which I really wish I could have attended.

And today we made the drive up to Kamloops for a service for one of Kat's mom's younger brothers, who passed away after an extended battle with cancer. It was an extremely nice celebration of his life and I'm glad we were able to be there with the rest of Kat's family on her mother's side.

It was only the third funeral I've ever attended, and the first in over ten years. Which is not bad at all, but if timing and logistics had worked out it could have been a lot more than that.

Kat's brother is getting married this August, so I think everyone is looking forward to having a happier occasion to bring us together. I know I sure am.

Wednesday June 29th, 2011

The exercise:

Let's go with: the trend.

It appears as though the strawberries are on a downward trend these days - only 15 pounds out of this morning's harvest. I think we peaked at 22 pounds, which seems like a decent amount. We've certainly had no trouble selling them all, that's for sure.

We're going to be away most of tomorrow, will write more about that after we get back.

Mine:

Carl studied the charts his underlings had tacked to the wall, his hands clasped behind his back and a grim expression on his face. Things were not looking good.

Sales had been decreasing every month for the last eight years, and costs were rising steadily. Some quick mental math told him that if this trend continued the company would be forced into cutting staff before the year was out.

The stockholders would not be encouraged by such news. Times were certainly changing, but that was no excuse.

"All right people," he said without turning around. "Start throwing ideas out on how to turn this mess around. For the next hour, no idea is too outrageous. Let's buckle down and figure out how to sell more of our special edition, fifty pound typewriters!"

Tuesday June 28th, 2011

The exercise:

Two haiku about: the manager.

We started pruning and tying tomato plants today. I can smell nothing but tomatoes right now.

Mine:

He jumps out of bed

each morning and spends all day

managing his time.

*     *     *

If you know how to

do this, then you can just do

it all for yourself!

Monday June 27th, 2011

The exercise:

Today we write about: the hole.

Very full day in the garden. We spent the entire morning harvesting for our local orders (most of that time was spent finding eighteen pounds of strawberries) and then I went back out in the evening to get another spray on our cabbages. It's an organic mixture that helps keep destructive bugs away, which is nice. But the ratio is 10 grams to 10 liters of water, which is... less nice.

On my shoulders, seeing as I'm carrying all this around in a pack strapped to my back.

Anyway. At least it only needs to be applied once a week, rather than every day. That would be a nightmare.

Mine:

"Fill that in."

Lemmy looked over at his supervisor for a moment before inspecting the surrounding area. He scratched his chin, squinted for a few breaths, then gave up.

"Fill what in?" he asked.

"The hole."

"What, the whole hole?" Lemmy was starting to get a headache.

"Are you provoking me on purpose?" his supervisor countered before pointing a rather intimidating finger in Lemmy's direction. "Now grab that damned shovel and get to filling, or I'll grab it and get to hitting."

"Yessir. Right away, sir." Lemmy took hold of the shovel and placed it safely out of his supervisor's reach. "Now, just so we're clear here... you want that hole filled in, wholly and completely?"

"Get to work before I decide to throw you down there and then do the job myself." 

His supervisor's tone made it clear that the fun and games were over. So Lemmy nodded his head and thrust his shovel into the mound of dirt on the edge of the meteor crater. This, he suspected, was going to be one very long day.

Sunday June 26th, 2011

The exercise:

How about we go with: the tower.

Quiet day off today, featuring rest and reading. Oh, and going out for gelato for after dinner dessert.

Mmm, Blackberry Merlot.

Mine:

It rose from the ground like a sickly old man without his cane, threatening to topple over at any moment and never reach for the sky again. Whenever the wind gathered strength and set against its walls I suspected that the end had finally come.

But still it remained upright.

No soul had been inside in recent memory, to my knowledge at least. Why someone didn't have it knocked down I never understood. Didn't they see the children playing around its base whenever the adults were too busy to watch them?

But still it stands.

Perhaps I shall destroy it myself. Not a finger would be raised to stop me. It's not like I believe in that silly old story about the last resident of the tower. Only little boys and girls are scared of curses these days.

But still I delay.

Saturday June 25th, 2011

The exercise:

Write a four line poem about: inconvenience.

Penticton had a special event going on this morning, so the market was moved up a block for one week only. It's a narrower block than the one we're usually on, which meant we had to unload the truck and then park it elsewhere.

Which meant getting to our spot in the morning, getting out after unloading, getting back to our spot after closing, and then getting out again. Not one of those four trips was even remotely easy.

But! It was nice having other stalls all around us, as we're usually at one end of the market and feel a little apart from things. It felt more like a community today.

Mine:

I'd rather you hadn't said that,

I'd rather you weren't on bended knee.

I'm wishing you wouldn't stay here,

I'm wishing you could just stop loving me.

Friday June 24th, 2011

The exercise:

On this 1,111th day in a row of Daily Writing Practice, give me four lines of prose that have something to do with: one.

My fingers were numb again tonight, but for a very different reason: we harvested our strawberries for tomorrow's market in a windy downpour. I could barely feel the berries by the time we finished. Thankfully a warm shower solved that issue.

Mine:

I stood in the doorway and surveyed the damage. The glass coffee table had been shattered, forks had been used to carve nursery rhymes on the wall, and all of my bowling trophies had been hammered flat. A sigh and a shake of my head were the only responses I could muster.

The one time I forget to give the kids their medication...