The exercise:
Write a four line poem about: teamwork.
As of today, Max is officially 3.5 years old. Not sure where the time has gone.
Speaking of 3.5, that's also how many weeks old Miles is. As if the passage of time didn't have little enough meaning already...
Max and I spent the morning working in the garden. I mulched the strawberries while he sometimes helped and sometimes did his own thing (he brought some of his tools out there with him). Did more of the same after dinner, and now we're down to the last row needing to be mulched.
Which is good, considering Adam found the first two ripe berries this afternoon while he was doing some mulching himself.
Mine:
Teamwork is not always
Exactly as it seems.
You think we suck but really
We're just on different teams...
Friday May 6th, 2016
The exercise:
Write four lines of prose about a place: where the streets have no name.
It was good to be back at the bakery this morning. My voice held up pretty well, with only the last half hour or so being a struggle.
I ended up spending most of the afternoon resting. Still working on catching up on comments, but at least I've made it into April now. Baby steps!
The plan is to get some garden work done tomorrow. The strawberries are coming on fast - we'll likely be doing our first farmers market of the year in two weeks - and I need to get out there and do my part to make sure the rows are mulched and weeded.
Mine:
It's pretty fun, sitting here watching the tourists wander in confused circles and asking each other for directions and tearing their maps into shreds. This isn't why I did what I did but it's a fantastic bonus.
No, I did it for the money, plain and simple.
If this city wants all their street signs returned they're going to have to pay me big bucks to dig them out of my basement.
Write four lines of prose about a place: where the streets have no name.
It was good to be back at the bakery this morning. My voice held up pretty well, with only the last half hour or so being a struggle.
I ended up spending most of the afternoon resting. Still working on catching up on comments, but at least I've made it into April now. Baby steps!
The plan is to get some garden work done tomorrow. The strawberries are coming on fast - we'll likely be doing our first farmers market of the year in two weeks - and I need to get out there and do my part to make sure the rows are mulched and weeded.
Mine:
It's pretty fun, sitting here watching the tourists wander in confused circles and asking each other for directions and tearing their maps into shreds. This isn't why I did what I did but it's a fantastic bonus.
No, I did it for the money, plain and simple.
If this city wants all their street signs returned they're going to have to pay me big bucks to dig them out of my basement.
Thursday May 5th, 2016
The exercise:
It's been awhile since last time, so let us return to the Random CD prompt.
Pick a song as randomly as you like, use its first line as your own, and take it from there. Credit where it's due, of course.
I'm heading back to the bakery tomorrow morning. My voice isn't 100% yet, but it's close enough. And maybe with another night of sleep it'll come the rest of the way back.
Mine:
Cucurucu by Nick Mulvey
Softly, in the evening dusk, a woman is singing to me. At least, I think she is. We don't speak the same language, so I can't be certain. Maybe she's just singing to herself. A song she heard on the radio in the afternoon that won't get out of her head. She doesn't seem irritated though. She looks content, with that small smile on her lips that vanishes behind her long hair every time she bends to wash a table with long, slow circles of her slender arm. The cloth in her hand doesn't seem to be gripped very tightly but she has yet to adjust her hold on it.
I want to get her attention, ask what the song is about. But I also don't want to interrupt. The heat of the day is rapidly departing and the cool air is soothing. Her voice is almost hypnotizing. I know I have an early morning meeting tomorrow but I don't want to get up, don't wish to break this spell she's casting over me.
And what if she is singing to me? She's young and beautiful and exotic and I'm a world away from home. It's not like my marriage is a happy one. It's not like anyone would miss me if I never returned. Work would have a warm body in my seat before I hung up the phone after telling them I'm done with this miserable job.
Well, not so miserable that it doesn't require trips like this one to warm, magical islands in the sun two or three times per year. Though this is definitely the first time I've had a local girl sing to me as the stars began to appear high above us.
I look down and am reminded of my bulging belly and pale, hairy legs. My scrawny, hairy arms. The sweat pooling in places I'd rather it didn't. I remember all the young local boys around her age I've seen the last few days, how athletic and smooth and potent they all seem.
Yeah, she's not singing to me.
But nobody here can tell me she's not. So I might as well stay a while longer and let this daydream live on. Maybe for another drink in the bar across the way. The bar filled with young men who could break my face without breaking a sweat.
Yeah, she's not singing to me.
I should get back to my hotel before she's forced to ask me to leave her cafe in broken English. Let's just avoid that awkward departure, shall we? I should call my wife, make sure she hasn't forgotten about me. Remind her that I'll be back in three days.
Because this young beauty can't possibly be singing to me.
It's been awhile since last time, so let us return to the Random CD prompt.
Pick a song as randomly as you like, use its first line as your own, and take it from there. Credit where it's due, of course.
I'm heading back to the bakery tomorrow morning. My voice isn't 100% yet, but it's close enough. And maybe with another night of sleep it'll come the rest of the way back.
Mine:
Cucurucu by Nick Mulvey
Softly, in the evening dusk, a woman is singing to me. At least, I think she is. We don't speak the same language, so I can't be certain. Maybe she's just singing to herself. A song she heard on the radio in the afternoon that won't get out of her head. She doesn't seem irritated though. She looks content, with that small smile on her lips that vanishes behind her long hair every time she bends to wash a table with long, slow circles of her slender arm. The cloth in her hand doesn't seem to be gripped very tightly but she has yet to adjust her hold on it.
I want to get her attention, ask what the song is about. But I also don't want to interrupt. The heat of the day is rapidly departing and the cool air is soothing. Her voice is almost hypnotizing. I know I have an early morning meeting tomorrow but I don't want to get up, don't wish to break this spell she's casting over me.
And what if she is singing to me? She's young and beautiful and exotic and I'm a world away from home. It's not like my marriage is a happy one. It's not like anyone would miss me if I never returned. Work would have a warm body in my seat before I hung up the phone after telling them I'm done with this miserable job.
Well, not so miserable that it doesn't require trips like this one to warm, magical islands in the sun two or three times per year. Though this is definitely the first time I've had a local girl sing to me as the stars began to appear high above us.
I look down and am reminded of my bulging belly and pale, hairy legs. My scrawny, hairy arms. The sweat pooling in places I'd rather it didn't. I remember all the young local boys around her age I've seen the last few days, how athletic and smooth and potent they all seem.
Yeah, she's not singing to me.
But nobody here can tell me she's not. So I might as well stay a while longer and let this daydream live on. Maybe for another drink in the bar across the way. The bar filled with young men who could break my face without breaking a sweat.
Yeah, she's not singing to me.
I should get back to my hotel before she's forced to ask me to leave her cafe in broken English. Let's just avoid that awkward departure, shall we? I should call my wife, make sure she hasn't forgotten about me. Remind her that I'll be back in three days.
Because this young beauty can't possibly be singing to me.
Wednesday May 4th, 2016
The exercise:
Write something that has to do with: Star Wars.
Because I had to cave in to the whole "May the 4th be with you" thing eventually. Plus I've never written anything to do with this setting, so I thought maybe it's time to do that.
Took Miles up to Penticton this afternoon for our second to last midwife appointment. He's at 9 pounds 6 ounces now, up another pound in the last 8 days. Everything's looking good so far.
Max stayed here with my parents and it sounds like they had a pretty great time together. They're heading back home tomorrow morning and I know we'll all miss them being here. Planning on going out to see them in August, so hopefully that works out.
My voice is starting to come back to me. I think tomorrow it should be back to normal. Or close, at least.
Mine:
A walker across the sky,
You're like a god among mortals.
Through windows I see other worlds,
While you go straight through the portals.
They say the Force is strong with you,
Like no one who has come before.
Others may fear your shadow,
But I want you as my mentor.
Teach me your secrets and ways,
Show me the path to true glory!
So that one day the scholars
Will be writing down my story.
Why would you refuse my request?
Are you scared of what I can do?
Fine, I'll find another master...
And then come looking for you.
Write something that has to do with: Star Wars.
Because I had to cave in to the whole "May the 4th be with you" thing eventually. Plus I've never written anything to do with this setting, so I thought maybe it's time to do that.
Took Miles up to Penticton this afternoon for our second to last midwife appointment. He's at 9 pounds 6 ounces now, up another pound in the last 8 days. Everything's looking good so far.
Max stayed here with my parents and it sounds like they had a pretty great time together. They're heading back home tomorrow morning and I know we'll all miss them being here. Planning on going out to see them in August, so hopefully that works out.
My voice is starting to come back to me. I think tomorrow it should be back to normal. Or close, at least.
Mine:
A walker across the sky,
You're like a god among mortals.
Through windows I see other worlds,
While you go straight through the portals.
They say the Force is strong with you,
Like no one who has come before.
Others may fear your shadow,
But I want you as my mentor.
Teach me your secrets and ways,
Show me the path to true glory!
So that one day the scholars
Will be writing down my story.
Why would you refuse my request?
Are you scared of what I can do?
Fine, I'll find another master...
And then come looking for you.
Tuesday May 3rd, 2016
The exercise:
Write two haiku which have something to do with: speechless.
Let me tell you guys, having laryngitis for the first time in my life while living in a household with a toddler and a newborn is just, like, such good times. Such, such good times.
I had to get Kat to call in sick to the bakery for me. I've been booked off for tomorrow and Thursday. Fingers crossed I'll be up to doing my shift on Friday.
Because I'm not sure how much more of this I can take.
Mine:
Naked but for a
well-placed cauliflower head?
You've left me speechless...
* * *
The coronation
is about to begin! Where
is my speech writer?
Write two haiku which have something to do with: speechless.
Let me tell you guys, having laryngitis for the first time in my life while living in a household with a toddler and a newborn is just, like, such good times. Such, such good times.
I had to get Kat to call in sick to the bakery for me. I've been booked off for tomorrow and Thursday. Fingers crossed I'll be up to doing my shift on Friday.
Because I'm not sure how much more of this I can take.
Mine:
Naked but for a
well-placed cauliflower head?
You've left me speechless...
* * *
The coronation
is about to begin! Where
is my speech writer?
Monday May 2nd, 2016
The exercise:
Write something which has to do with: vikings.
Yeah, not sure how I've not used that prompt before.
Still difficult to speak. Maybe one more good sleep will do the trick?
Max had a lot of fun with my parents today. It's wonderful having help keeping him entertained, especially with me being sick.
Mine:
They arrive under the cover of a night sky filled with star- and moon-obscuring clouds. The longboats slice through the sand and they are out and running before the beach has brought their crafts to a complete stop. Swords and axes and spears in hand, shields and iron helmets providing protection they don't seem to need.
Especially on this night.
They are expecting a village of vulnerable weaklings, of elders and women and children. Ripe for the plundering. Utterly unprepared for an attack.
Except look at them. Going from house to house, the confusion on their faces growing more prominent with each empty discovery. They are gathering in the square now, talking in their harsh language, but quietly. Looking around, at each other. But not up.
That's good. We are hidden here, in the highest branches of the surrounding trees, but I would not want them to look too closely, even at night. Because we are weak, and elderly, and far too young. Our warriors are far away, on a raid of their own. But we are not unprepared.
We were warned, and we have heeded that warning.
They linger for a few moments more before beginning to return to their boats. Is that fear I see on a face or two? Even better. They are less likely to pay us another visit if they believe our absence is magical or divine.
We do not wish to see them again. For if we do, we will not have the benefit of the warning we received this time. Not that he would have been able to tell us what they plan next without returning to their company, but the scout we captured has already been put to rest.
We watch them as they return to the sea. We breathe easier as they disappear into the darkness from which they came. We remain in the trees until dawn comes once more. Just in case. And only then do we return to the ground and our routines and tasks and try not to look to the sea between each heartbeat in our chests.
Write something which has to do with: vikings.
Yeah, not sure how I've not used that prompt before.
Still difficult to speak. Maybe one more good sleep will do the trick?
Max had a lot of fun with my parents today. It's wonderful having help keeping him entertained, especially with me being sick.
Mine:
They arrive under the cover of a night sky filled with star- and moon-obscuring clouds. The longboats slice through the sand and they are out and running before the beach has brought their crafts to a complete stop. Swords and axes and spears in hand, shields and iron helmets providing protection they don't seem to need.
Especially on this night.
They are expecting a village of vulnerable weaklings, of elders and women and children. Ripe for the plundering. Utterly unprepared for an attack.
Except look at them. Going from house to house, the confusion on their faces growing more prominent with each empty discovery. They are gathering in the square now, talking in their harsh language, but quietly. Looking around, at each other. But not up.
That's good. We are hidden here, in the highest branches of the surrounding trees, but I would not want them to look too closely, even at night. Because we are weak, and elderly, and far too young. Our warriors are far away, on a raid of their own. But we are not unprepared.
We were warned, and we have heeded that warning.
They linger for a few moments more before beginning to return to their boats. Is that fear I see on a face or two? Even better. They are less likely to pay us another visit if they believe our absence is magical or divine.
We do not wish to see them again. For if we do, we will not have the benefit of the warning we received this time. Not that he would have been able to tell us what they plan next without returning to their company, but the scout we captured has already been put to rest.
We watch them as they return to the sea. We breathe easier as they disappear into the darkness from which they came. We remain in the trees until dawn comes once more. Just in case. And only then do we return to the ground and our routines and tasks and try not to look to the sea between each heartbeat in our chests.
Sunday May 1st, 2016
The exercise:
Write about: the plague.
Why, yes, I do have a cold right now. Why do you ask?
I'd almost lost my voice by the time I had to read Max his bedtime story tonight. So maybe I should get to bed myself and maybe try to feel better in the morning?
My parents got into town this evening. Had a short get together with them here after dinner and we're planning on meeting them at the park tomorrow morning.
Assuming I'm still alive.
Mine:
We thought we would be prepared. That all the policies and procedures would keep our country safe. Keep us safe. Quarantines. Medicine and doctors of the highest quality. We thought we would see it coming.
We were not prepared.
Not for this.
How could it remain dormant within the carriers for so long, yet remain so unrelentingly contagious? Why would it do that? For maximum dispersal and impact, certainly. But was it purposeful?
Does it have intelligence?
Does it know what it's doing?
Is it trying to wipe us off the face of the Earth?
Well, it's doing a bloody fine job of it so far...
Write about: the plague.
Why, yes, I do have a cold right now. Why do you ask?
I'd almost lost my voice by the time I had to read Max his bedtime story tonight. So maybe I should get to bed myself and maybe try to feel better in the morning?
My parents got into town this evening. Had a short get together with them here after dinner and we're planning on meeting them at the park tomorrow morning.
Assuming I'm still alive.
Mine:
We thought we would be prepared. That all the policies and procedures would keep our country safe. Keep us safe. Quarantines. Medicine and doctors of the highest quality. We thought we would see it coming.
We were not prepared.
Not for this.
How could it remain dormant within the carriers for so long, yet remain so unrelentingly contagious? Why would it do that? For maximum dispersal and impact, certainly. But was it purposeful?
Does it have intelligence?
Does it know what it's doing?
Is it trying to wipe us off the face of the Earth?
Well, it's doing a bloody fine job of it so far...
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