The exercise:
Write two haiku about: the road not taken.
Had a pretty great getaway, overall. The hikes were the clear high points for me. Here's a few pictures I took along the way:
Monday June 29th, 2020
The exercise:
Write about: the moose.
Hey, seemed reasonable at the time I scheduled this. Be back tomorrow!
Sunday June 28th, 2020
The exercise:
Write about: the cabin.
We're off to the mountains for a couple nights for a much needed getaway. I've scheduled this post and one for tomorrow as well. I'll be back with pictures on Tuesday.
Sunday June 21st, 2020
The exercise:
Let us celebrate Father's Day by writing about: a father figure.
Had a good day with my family, featuring nice weather and good food. We hosted Kat's family for dinner, which is the first time we've all been together since the pandemic began. It felt refreshingly normal.
Wednesday June 17th, 2020
The exercise:
Write about: the ground below.
Which is also the title of one of the tracks on Run The Jewels newest album which... well, I'll just say it arrived at a good time. Oh, a language warning, I suppose, is in order.
Monday June 15th, 2020
The exercise:
As per Greg's request, today's prompt is: leaving Colorado.
Consider me intrigued.
Sunday June 14th, 2020
The exercise:
Hindsight, June Edition.
Mine:
I woke up, back next to the phone again, in a fog of black smoke. My head hurt, from where it had hit the wall, and my chest and arms and legs hurt from where the chairs had hit them. It took a few seconds for me to remember what had happened.
Well, what was still happening. There was a heck of a lot of smoke in that suite.
"Serena?"
When she didn't answer I thought for sure she was dead. Or at the very least unconscious. I managed to get to my hands and knees and crawled around looking for her. After checking everywhere she could have reasonably been, I headed for the door. By that point, between the smoke and the alarm and where I'd hit my head, I was starting to feel genuinely horrible.
I don't think I even really noticed that the door was already open.
There was still smoke in the hallway, but not as intense as in the suite. I used the door knob on the room opposite ours to haul myself to my feet. People were coming out of their rooms and running for the stairwell and so I, not having anything better to do, followed. But like, not running. It was more of a sliding my shoulder along the wall in a dazed shuffle.
I'd like to think the trail of blood I left in my wake saved at least a few lives. Kinda like how we'd mark trees in the woods when we were kids so that we could find our way back. Except that time we lost Ricky because it got dark and he... well, I mean I guess that was more about the bear than us forgetting to mark a few trees.
Anyway.
As people pushed and shoved their way down the stairs there was a lot of talk. Panicky nonsense, mostly, but what I remember most were the other people who had come from our old hotel. A few said it in a what a crazy world kind of way. One lady said it in a very, very angry kind of way. Most of them, though, said it in a very superstitious kind of way.
No. Suspicious. That's how they said it.
Whatever way they said it, they were all saying the same thing:
Another fire? What are the chances?
And, well, that got me to thinking...
Tuesday June 9th, 2020
The exercise:
Since this blog began twelve years ago today, write two haiku about: the dirty dozen.
Tuesday June 2nd, 2020
The exercise:
Write two haiku about: Donald Trump.
It occurred to me last night that with the amount of bullshit this man spews out on a daily basis, I could easily use this as a prompt every Tuesday and we would have more than enough new material to work with every time.
But then it also occurred to me that I don't want to make this festering pus of a human don't-ing a regular feature of the blog so... don't worry, I came to my senses on that one pretty quick.
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