The exercise:
Write about: the discount.
Did a little more work on the deck today with Kat's dad before the rain brought things to an early end. We're hoping to get a good chunk of it done next weekend, weather permitting.
Mine:
A few days after we brought Max home I received my usual monthly notification on my cell phone for my next bill. I was rather shocked to see the amount due, as it was about twice as much as what had previously been my most expensive month.
I went online to view the details and soon saw why: it covered the 6th (day Kat went into labour) and 7th (day Max was born). On those two days a whole lot of phone calls and texts were sent and received, well over what I'd normally use and, not surprisingly, well over what my plan covers.
Not really wanting to start off parenthood with an unexpectedly massive bill, I figured it was worth a shot to contact the phone company and explain the situation. I was hoping for a small discount on the charges incurred over those two days, if I was lucky.
I received a whole lot more than that.
A representative emailed me today to let me know that he'd tweaked the bill here and adjusted charges there, as much as he was able to. Grand savings?
More than sixty percent. Off the entire bill.
I was shocked. Still am. Struggling to put together the proper words to respond. Thanks seems... terribly insufficient.
I guess I'll sleep on it and see what inspiration tomorrow brings. The bottom line though is that I'm very grateful for such kindness that, in all reality, they had absolutely no obligation to show me.
And to think, I almost didn't even send the question in the first place.
Saturday November 17th, 2012
The exercise:
Write a four line poem about: rainy days.
Today was a grey, rainy, miserable sort of day.
In other words, the perfect sort of day to have our septic tank pumped out!
Ah well, at least that's done now. Plus they managed to fully clear a partial plug in the pipes that had been causing us some issues recently. Apparently it was right where it went into the tank, so there wasn't much hope of us fixing that on our own.
Mine:
Grey sky pressing down,
Spilling tears with steady drops;
Soaking those below,
We who fear it never stops.
Write a four line poem about: rainy days.
Today was a grey, rainy, miserable sort of day.
In other words, the perfect sort of day to have our septic tank pumped out!
Ah well, at least that's done now. Plus they managed to fully clear a partial plug in the pipes that had been causing us some issues recently. Apparently it was right where it went into the tank, so there wasn't much hope of us fixing that on our own.
Mine:
Grey sky pressing down,
Spilling tears with steady drops;
Soaking those below,
We who fear it never stops.
Friday November 16th, 2012
The exercise:
Write four lines of prose about: lions.
Went up to Penticton for an appointment late this morning. Max is still putting on weight like a champ and everything else is coming together slowly but surely.
On the way back home we stopped for coffee in OK Falls, where we ran into the manager for our farmers market. She was very excited to meet the new addition to our family. Then we dropped by the bakery here in town, where Max was introduced to our friends there, as well as their four month old son.
The difference in size between the two of them was kind of amazing. Strange to think our son will be that big so soon.
Mine:
While the blazing afternoon sun attempted to melt the horizon, we dozed in the shade of misshapen trees. A rotating watch was established so that we wouldn't miss our opportunity, with the youngest among us eagerly volunteering for the duty.
Finally, with night closer than any of us would have liked, the safari jeep was spotted approaching from the west.
Dinner was served.
Write four lines of prose about: lions.
Went up to Penticton for an appointment late this morning. Max is still putting on weight like a champ and everything else is coming together slowly but surely.
On the way back home we stopped for coffee in OK Falls, where we ran into the manager for our farmers market. She was very excited to meet the new addition to our family. Then we dropped by the bakery here in town, where Max was introduced to our friends there, as well as their four month old son.
The difference in size between the two of them was kind of amazing. Strange to think our son will be that big so soon.
Mine:
While the blazing afternoon sun attempted to melt the horizon, we dozed in the shade of misshapen trees. A rotating watch was established so that we wouldn't miss our opportunity, with the youngest among us eagerly volunteering for the duty.
Finally, with night closer than any of us would have liked, the safari jeep was spotted approaching from the west.
Dinner was served.
Thursday November 15th, 2012
The exercise:
Today we're writing about: the man in white.
Halfway through November already, though I'm not sure I can fully account for the last eight days. I suspect Max has something to do with this recent blurring together of night and day and night and... what day is it again?
Though I must say I'm starting to feel a little more normal these days. Certainly it is a new normal, but I feel like things are shifting in a positive direction.
Also: there appears to be something powerfully soothing about having a sleeping baby on your chest. Or maybe I'm just really tired this late in the day.
Either way: another night, another backdated post.
Mine:
Dressed all in white
He's curled up on my chest,
Convinced he's found
The perfect little nest.
His warmth, his breaths,
Are lulling me to sleep.
The door opens
And in the Sandman creeps.
I can't fight it,
Try as hard as I might.
He's pure magic,
This tiny man in white.
Today we're writing about: the man in white.
Halfway through November already, though I'm not sure I can fully account for the last eight days. I suspect Max has something to do with this recent blurring together of night and day and night and... what day is it again?
Though I must say I'm starting to feel a little more normal these days. Certainly it is a new normal, but I feel like things are shifting in a positive direction.
Also: there appears to be something powerfully soothing about having a sleeping baby on your chest. Or maybe I'm just really tired this late in the day.
Either way: another night, another backdated post.
Mine:
Dressed all in white
He's curled up on my chest,
Convinced he's found
The perfect little nest.
His warmth, his breaths,
Are lulling me to sleep.
The door opens
And in the Sandman creeps.
I can't fight it,
Try as hard as I might.
He's pure magic,
This tiny man in white.
Wednesday November 14th, 2012
The exercise:
Write about: the records.
Went in to see the local Public Health Nurse this afternoon to get Max weighed (among other things). It went well (other than Max deciding to soil his diaper right before she put him on the scale, which was directly after I'd told her it was dry because I'd changed him just before we left home).
Anyway, he's regaining weight at the upper end of the normal scale, so he'll be back to his birth weight in no time.
They grow up so fast.
Also: the slight delay in getting this posted was brought to you by a sleeping baby on my chest, who somehow managed to trick me into falling asleep as well.
Mine:
"If you wish to access the records vault," Miss Vandenbeeker told the visitor in the tattered trench coat, "you must know the password."
"This is a matter of life and death!" Blood flew from his lips as he spoke, spattering across the elderly curator's glasses.
"I can understand that," Miss Vandenbeeker said, taking a cloth from her breast pocket and using it to clean her glasses. She did this with an efficiency and serenity that indicated this was not the first time she'd been forced to do so. "That does not, however, mean that I can simply cast aside the sacred duties of my position in order to allow any and all fools inside that hallowed room."
"Sacred?" the man shouted, looking around in disbelief. "Hallowed? Are you insane?"
"Provide the password," Miss Vandenbeeker said calmly as she returned to the romance novel she'd been reading before this most recent interruption, "or go away."
"Unlock that door or suffer the consequences!"
"Nice try, dear," Miss Vandenbeeker said without looking up, "but that's not the password."
Write about: the records.
Went in to see the local Public Health Nurse this afternoon to get Max weighed (among other things). It went well (other than Max deciding to soil his diaper right before she put him on the scale, which was directly after I'd told her it was dry because I'd changed him just before we left home).
Anyway, he's regaining weight at the upper end of the normal scale, so he'll be back to his birth weight in no time.
They grow up so fast.
Also: the slight delay in getting this posted was brought to you by a sleeping baby on my chest, who somehow managed to trick me into falling asleep as well.
Mine:
"If you wish to access the records vault," Miss Vandenbeeker told the visitor in the tattered trench coat, "you must know the password."
"This is a matter of life and death!" Blood flew from his lips as he spoke, spattering across the elderly curator's glasses.
"I can understand that," Miss Vandenbeeker said, taking a cloth from her breast pocket and using it to clean her glasses. She did this with an efficiency and serenity that indicated this was not the first time she'd been forced to do so. "That does not, however, mean that I can simply cast aside the sacred duties of my position in order to allow any and all fools inside that hallowed room."
"Sacred?" the man shouted, looking around in disbelief. "Hallowed? Are you insane?"
"Provide the password," Miss Vandenbeeker said calmly as she returned to the romance novel she'd been reading before this most recent interruption, "or go away."
"Unlock that door or suffer the consequences!"
"Nice try, dear," Miss Vandenbeeker said without looking up, "but that's not the password."
Tuesday November 13th, 2012
The exercise:
Write two haiku about: diapers.
Hey, I'm not going through this alone.
Though I suspect most of you have had to deal with these things at some point or another. Which means there should be more than enough inspiration to go around, right?
And the gradual conversion from writing blog to baby blog continues apace...
Mine:
Happy when they're full,
concerned when empty too long.
What's happened to me?
* * *
Who designed these things?
I suspect the answer is
a child-hating crone.
Write two haiku about: diapers.
Hey, I'm not going through this alone.
Though I suspect most of you have had to deal with these things at some point or another. Which means there should be more than enough inspiration to go around, right?
And the gradual conversion from writing blog to baby blog continues apace...
Mine:
Happy when they're full,
concerned when empty too long.
What's happened to me?
* * *
Who designed these things?
I suspect the answer is
a child-hating crone.
Monday November 12th, 2012
The exercise:
Write something to do with: ancient magic.
Woke up to snow this morning. It's mostly gone now, but I did manage to get a few pictures before the melting became too serious. Like this one:
Can't say what Max thought of it all, as he was completely oblivious to anything that didn't involve eating, sleeping, or dirtying his diaper.
Mine:
There was a change in the air after the words had been spoken, as though something previously slumbering had awoken and had begun breathing deeply. A newly arrived breeze brought with it the scents of damp earth, burned wood, and rotting fish.
A sense of unease crept its way through the gathered men, their hooded heads turning this way and that. Searching for the source of this atmospheric alteration. For that which they had summoned.
They did not have to wait long.
Beneath their feet the earth began to shake, causing the less agile among the men to fall to the ground with muffled curses. Anxiety shifted to excitement as the knowledge that they had succeeded in their attempts dawned on each participant in the ceremony.
But then all returned to stillness, the air back to its normal state. The fallen were lifted back to their feet. Confusion blossomed. Accusations soon followed.
A mistake had been made, some minor detail overlooked. Someone would be held accountable. Perhaps a public flogging would be required.
Or perhaps not. Perhaps, instead, there was a great rushing of water and cracking of stone and the earth opened wide to swallow the men whole. Perhaps their screams were muted by the rejoining of soil, leaving no trace of their ever having been there.
Yes, perhaps.
Write something to do with: ancient magic.
Woke up to snow this morning. It's mostly gone now, but I did manage to get a few pictures before the melting became too serious. Like this one:
Can't say what Max thought of it all, as he was completely oblivious to anything that didn't involve eating, sleeping, or dirtying his diaper.
Mine:
There was a change in the air after the words had been spoken, as though something previously slumbering had awoken and had begun breathing deeply. A newly arrived breeze brought with it the scents of damp earth, burned wood, and rotting fish.
A sense of unease crept its way through the gathered men, their hooded heads turning this way and that. Searching for the source of this atmospheric alteration. For that which they had summoned.
They did not have to wait long.
Beneath their feet the earth began to shake, causing the less agile among the men to fall to the ground with muffled curses. Anxiety shifted to excitement as the knowledge that they had succeeded in their attempts dawned on each participant in the ceremony.
But then all returned to stillness, the air back to its normal state. The fallen were lifted back to their feet. Confusion blossomed. Accusations soon followed.
A mistake had been made, some minor detail overlooked. Someone would be held accountable. Perhaps a public flogging would be required.
Or perhaps not. Perhaps, instead, there was a great rushing of water and cracking of stone and the earth opened wide to swallow the men whole. Perhaps their screams were muted by the rejoining of soil, leaving no trace of their ever having been there.
Yes, perhaps.
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