The exercise:
Write something that takes place at: the nightclub.
Did not have the greatest day. Miles is still having a horrible time with teething (despite his first tooth finally breaking through his gum line... maybe ten more are on their way?) and Max did not have a good night's sleep last night, so he was generally cranky for the majority of it.
But now the boys are sleeping and the house is quiet, so Kat and I shall take the chance to recharge and refresh and get ready for another day full of who knows what tomorrow.
Mine:
"This place is appalling."
"Sir?"
"You heard me, Owen," Henri told his newest assistant Wendel. "Look around for yourself, why don't you? That bartender could be your mother, th-"
"I'm pretty sure that's a man."
"The waitresses must have put their makeup - and clothes, for that matter - on in the dark."
"I think you look lovely, ma'am," Wendel told the waitress who was delivering their drinks. She merely sneered at the both of them before whirling away.
"These drinks are... good God! Do they even know what a martini is?" Henri looked like he was going to toss his drink on the floor, then slid it across to his assistant instead. "Here, you can have mine as well Owen. I can't stand alcohol abuse."
"Abuse? Oh, you mean spilling it?" Wendel's face screwed up in confusion. "Was that a joke, sir?"
"And I'm afraid to even ask who they'll be dragging onto the stage for this evening's entertainment." Henri lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. "Appalling might be too kind a word, now that I've given it some thought."
"So, um... why did you choose to meet with your potential business partners here, sir?"
"I wanted to ensure that they thought as little of this place as I do. One word of praise for this hole in a landfill and the deal is history. Now drink up and look like you're enjoying yourself - they just walked in the door."
"But I already told you I'm allergic to gin!"
"Was that you? I thought that was Wendel. Anyway, drink up - I doubt there's any gin in that monstrous concoction anyway."
Saturday November 26th, 2016
The exercise:
Write a four line poem about: the prisoner in the tower.
More rest this morning (and comment catching up!), and early this afternoon as well. Then, with Max off with Kat's parents, Kat, Miles, and I went into town to do some Christmas and grocery shopping. We made a good start on the holiday shopping - now we just need to sort out what's left to get for who.
Nothing on the calendar for tomorrow, but I'm hoping for a combination of rest and getting outdoors for some fresh air and not too strenuous exercise.
Mine:
They threw me up here
For stealing the crown (twice);
The food is awful,
But at least the view's nice...
Write a four line poem about: the prisoner in the tower.
More rest this morning (and comment catching up!), and early this afternoon as well. Then, with Max off with Kat's parents, Kat, Miles, and I went into town to do some Christmas and grocery shopping. We made a good start on the holiday shopping - now we just need to sort out what's left to get for who.
Nothing on the calendar for tomorrow, but I'm hoping for a combination of rest and getting outdoors for some fresh air and not too strenuous exercise.
Mine:
They threw me up here
For stealing the crown (twice);
The food is awful,
But at least the view's nice...
Friday November 25th, 2016
The exercise:
Write four lines of prose that have something to do with: incubation.
Sat around doing not much this morning. By mid-afternoon I was feeling ready to get out of the house, so I took Max to the park - after making sure he understood I couldn't do much with him (especially pick him up or climb up on the equipment).
It ended up working out nicely, as one of the boys he knows fairly well arrived with his family not long after we got there. They played together great, so I was mostly able to stand around and watch.
It was really nice to get out and do something, even if it tired me out more than I care to admit. Hopefully another night of rest will allow me to do more tomorrow.
Mine:
It is growing, in width, in length, in strength. Safely out of sight, it gathers its resources and prepares for its coming delightfully dreadful emergence. Oh, how eager I am to see the looks of surprise, shock... astonishment on their faces when it reveals itself at last!
But not yet... for patience - yes, so very much patience - is required, as my creation is not yet ready to unleash its cruel beauty upon my enemies.
Write four lines of prose that have something to do with: incubation.
Sat around doing not much this morning. By mid-afternoon I was feeling ready to get out of the house, so I took Max to the park - after making sure he understood I couldn't do much with him (especially pick him up or climb up on the equipment).
It ended up working out nicely, as one of the boys he knows fairly well arrived with his family not long after we got there. They played together great, so I was mostly able to stand around and watch.
It was really nice to get out and do something, even if it tired me out more than I care to admit. Hopefully another night of rest will allow me to do more tomorrow.
Mine:
It is growing, in width, in length, in strength. Safely out of sight, it gathers its resources and prepares for its coming delightfully dreadful emergence. Oh, how eager I am to see the looks of surprise, shock... astonishment on their faces when it reveals itself at last!
But not yet... for patience - yes, so very much patience - is required, as my creation is not yet ready to unleash its cruel beauty upon my enemies.
Thursday November 24th, 2016
The exercise:
Write about: the prescription.
Inspired by my prescription for T3 that I'm not bothering to get filled (they made me quite nauseous the last time I took them... also: not in that much pain at the moment... knock on wood).
Was getting pretty restless by late afternoon. Hoping to be able to move around a little more tomorrow.
Lest I goes the crazies.
Mine:
"I'm sorry, you've got a prescription for what?"
"Two weeks bed rest."
"Really?"
"And daily foot rubs."
"Seriously?"
"And control over the remote, between dinner and bedtime."
"All that for stubbing your toe."
"Hey, I did hit it pretty hard. Like, really hard."
"And you got this from a doctor."
"... of sorts."
Write about: the prescription.
Inspired by my prescription for T3 that I'm not bothering to get filled (they made me quite nauseous the last time I took them... also: not in that much pain at the moment... knock on wood).
Was getting pretty restless by late afternoon. Hoping to be able to move around a little more tomorrow.
Lest I goes the crazies.
Mine:
"I'm sorry, you've got a prescription for what?"
"Two weeks bed rest."
"Really?"
"And daily foot rubs."
"Seriously?"
"And control over the remote, between dinner and bedtime."
"All that for stubbing your toe."
"Hey, I did hit it pretty hard. Like, really hard."
"And you got this from a doctor."
"... of sorts."
Wednesday November 23rd, 2016
The exercise:
Write some: notes from a sickbed.
Okay, it's not quite that bad. But I am going to be less mobile for at least the next few days.
This afternoon I went up to Penticton with Kat (and Miles - Max stayed with Kat's parents to make life easier/better for everyone) to the hospital to have a vasectomy. I was in and out in under an hour, though I wouldn't have minded having more time to linger afterward. Full recovery is 7 to 14 days (I'm pulling for 7, personally), with the first couple of days requiring very little movement. So I'm more or less glued to the couch or bed until Friday.
Kat and I knew Miles would be our last (heck, Max was a close call for a while there... but we finally agreed that we wanted him to have a sibling) and this is how we're making sure that's the case. And after Kat gave birth to our boys I figured I should take a turn on the pain train.
Feeling okay at the moment. Tylenol and ice packs are doing the trick so far. Hoping for a decent night's sleep tonight, but we shall see.
Anyway. Apologies in advance if I'm extra grumpy the rest of the week.
Mine:
* My life is passing me by fifteen minutes at a time. Ice pack on. Ice pack off. Ice pack on. Ice pack off. Ice pack on. Ice pack... is going to be used as a murder weapon at this rate.
* The nurse seems nice. Caring and understanding. That's important. I think she's not going to file charges. Ice pack off...
* My doctor is supposed to stop by to see how I'm doing. That's what they keep telling me anyway. Started telling that tale about an hour ago. I wonder if he can feel my rage through the walls. Might explain his reluctance. Ice pack on...
* On a scale of one to ten? I'd say my pain is around a twelve. How would you rate yours, doc? Ice pack off...
* I don't appreciate these handcuffs. Nor the officer stationed at my door. The staff is being very unreasonable all of a sudden. I'm pretty sure my doctor will make a full recovery. Not sure if I can say the same for myself, you know? Ice pack on...
* Oh, glory be. The routine has changed. Variety, spice of life and all that! Bag of cold water on. Bag of cold water off. Bag of cold water on. Bag of cold water off. Bag of...
* I don't think the pain medication is working. Or maybe it's working too well? Hard to say. I kinda like all of these pretty colors though. Might as well take another pill, see what happens. I'm not getting out of here anytime soon anyway...
Write some: notes from a sickbed.
Okay, it's not quite that bad. But I am going to be less mobile for at least the next few days.
This afternoon I went up to Penticton with Kat (and Miles - Max stayed with Kat's parents to make life easier/better for everyone) to the hospital to have a vasectomy. I was in and out in under an hour, though I wouldn't have minded having more time to linger afterward. Full recovery is 7 to 14 days (I'm pulling for 7, personally), with the first couple of days requiring very little movement. So I'm more or less glued to the couch or bed until Friday.
Kat and I knew Miles would be our last (heck, Max was a close call for a while there... but we finally agreed that we wanted him to have a sibling) and this is how we're making sure that's the case. And after Kat gave birth to our boys I figured I should take a turn on the pain train.
Feeling okay at the moment. Tylenol and ice packs are doing the trick so far. Hoping for a decent night's sleep tonight, but we shall see.
Anyway. Apologies in advance if I'm extra grumpy the rest of the week.
Mine:
* My life is passing me by fifteen minutes at a time. Ice pack on. Ice pack off. Ice pack on. Ice pack off. Ice pack on. Ice pack... is going to be used as a murder weapon at this rate.
* The nurse seems nice. Caring and understanding. That's important. I think she's not going to file charges. Ice pack off...
* My doctor is supposed to stop by to see how I'm doing. That's what they keep telling me anyway. Started telling that tale about an hour ago. I wonder if he can feel my rage through the walls. Might explain his reluctance. Ice pack on...
* On a scale of one to ten? I'd say my pain is around a twelve. How would you rate yours, doc? Ice pack off...
* I don't appreciate these handcuffs. Nor the officer stationed at my door. The staff is being very unreasonable all of a sudden. I'm pretty sure my doctor will make a full recovery. Not sure if I can say the same for myself, you know? Ice pack on...
* Oh, glory be. The routine has changed. Variety, spice of life and all that! Bag of cold water on. Bag of cold water off. Bag of cold water on. Bag of cold water off. Bag of...
* I don't think the pain medication is working. Or maybe it's working too well? Hard to say. I kinda like all of these pretty colors though. Might as well take another pill, see what happens. I'm not getting out of here anytime soon anyway...
Tuesday November 22nd, 2016
The exercise:
Write two haiku about: winter.
Spent the morning doing some more moving-in work for our friends up on the mountain. They're getting there, definitely, but there's still lots left to do. They'd have less to do if the previous owner's tastes in decor were a little less... pink... and 70's inspired.
As is, I did some work this morning to help them prepare to repaint their bedroom. Also rearranged some furniture and did some outside stuff to help get them ready for winter.
Big day coming up tomorrow, so I'm going to try to get some extra sleep tonight.
Mine:
Winter is coming.
He's almost here - can't you feel
his breath on your neck?
* * *
Autumn's glory fades
to gray and decay, until
white blankets us all
Write two haiku about: winter.
Spent the morning doing some more moving-in work for our friends up on the mountain. They're getting there, definitely, but there's still lots left to do. They'd have less to do if the previous owner's tastes in decor were a little less... pink... and 70's inspired.
As is, I did some work this morning to help them prepare to repaint their bedroom. Also rearranged some furniture and did some outside stuff to help get them ready for winter.
Big day coming up tomorrow, so I'm going to try to get some extra sleep tonight.
Mine:
Winter is coming.
He's almost here - can't you feel
his breath on your neck?
* * *
Autumn's glory fades
to gray and decay, until
white blankets us all
Monday November 21st, 2016
The exercise:
We return today to the first line prompt. That means we all get the same opening line, but then each of us takes it where our individual inspirations tell us to go. I'll get to the line in a minute.
This morning I finally got around to sowing our winter cover crop seed in the garden. So that, I think, means we're officially done with the farm until spring. Unless I'm forgetting something. Which I probably am.
Max and I were back at soccer class this afternoon (Kat and Miles stayed home so that he could nap... which he didn't). He had lots of fun and was even more excited to see that they're starting to put up Christmas decorations at the community centre.
So of course we ended up putting a few things up around our house after we got home.
Anyway. Let's get to the writing thing. Our opening shall be: Muriel picked up the newspaper and, as she had for the previous fifty mornings, turned immediately to the Classifieds and began perusing the Help Wanted ads.
Mine:
Muriel picked up the newspaper and, as she had for the previous fifty mornings, turned immediately to the Classifieds and began perusing the Help Wanted ads. She sipped her coffee as she did so - a lingering indulgence that she would not be able to justify (or afford) for much longer. At least, not if her job search continued to prove futile.
And at first it seemed like nothing would change that day. There were the usual assortment of ads for tech workers and fast typing receptionists (both categories stretching well beyond her current capabilities), along with the various minimum wage jobs that would never be enough to pay her bills: fast food counter person (could you imagine?), lawn maintenance (At her age? They'd die of laughter the moment she walked through the door!), gas station attendant (she didn't even like pumping her own gas), and farm workers (her knees no longer allowed her to work the garden in the back yard - the idea of weeding somebody else's veggies was almost enough to make her nauseous).
It was depressing, is what it was.
But then an ad caught her eye.
Wanted: One Henchman
You: Not squeamish. Discreet. Willing to do
whatever is required in order to get the job done.
Previous Henchman experience an asset.
Us: Well funded. Access to delicate information.
How to apply: Figure it out and the job is
practically yours already.
Well, Muriel thought as she set the paper aside. It had been a long time... but for the sake of a decent paycheck, she could see herself dusting off those old skills.
We return today to the first line prompt. That means we all get the same opening line, but then each of us takes it where our individual inspirations tell us to go. I'll get to the line in a minute.
This morning I finally got around to sowing our winter cover crop seed in the garden. So that, I think, means we're officially done with the farm until spring. Unless I'm forgetting something. Which I probably am.
Max and I were back at soccer class this afternoon (Kat and Miles stayed home so that he could nap... which he didn't). He had lots of fun and was even more excited to see that they're starting to put up Christmas decorations at the community centre.
So of course we ended up putting a few things up around our house after we got home.
Anyway. Let's get to the writing thing. Our opening shall be: Muriel picked up the newspaper and, as she had for the previous fifty mornings, turned immediately to the Classifieds and began perusing the Help Wanted ads.
Mine:
Muriel picked up the newspaper and, as she had for the previous fifty mornings, turned immediately to the Classifieds and began perusing the Help Wanted ads. She sipped her coffee as she did so - a lingering indulgence that she would not be able to justify (or afford) for much longer. At least, not if her job search continued to prove futile.
And at first it seemed like nothing would change that day. There were the usual assortment of ads for tech workers and fast typing receptionists (both categories stretching well beyond her current capabilities), along with the various minimum wage jobs that would never be enough to pay her bills: fast food counter person (could you imagine?), lawn maintenance (At her age? They'd die of laughter the moment she walked through the door!), gas station attendant (she didn't even like pumping her own gas), and farm workers (her knees no longer allowed her to work the garden in the back yard - the idea of weeding somebody else's veggies was almost enough to make her nauseous).
It was depressing, is what it was.
But then an ad caught her eye.
Wanted: One Henchman
You: Not squeamish. Discreet. Willing to do
whatever is required in order to get the job done.
Previous Henchman experience an asset.
Us: Well funded. Access to delicate information.
How to apply: Figure it out and the job is
practically yours already.
Well, Muriel thought as she set the paper aside. It had been a long time... but for the sake of a decent paycheck, she could see herself dusting off those old skills.
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