The exercise:
Write a four line poem about: the man who wouldn't stay.
I am enjoying my Friday/Saturday pairings. I don't know if that will become a regular thing or not, but I'm liking it for now.
Wedding was good times. We left Max with Kat's parents, heading out just after 2pm, and didn't get back home to pick him up until nearly 10pm. That was the longest we've both been away from him and he seemed to do really well with it.
He was even very nearly asleep when we got there, so that's an interesting development as well. He's never gone to bed at night for anyone besides Kat or myself. Maybe it's time to give that a try.
Mine:
A nomadic soul
From tip to toes,
When he is moving
His spirit glows.
Friday May 30th, 2014
The exercise:
Write four lines of prose about: the woman who wouldn't go.
Just felt like abusing the fact that I don't have to be specific when labelling my Friday posts.
All eight rows of the strawberries have now been weeded. We celebrated this evening by enjoying our first sample of the berries we've been working so hard to help thrive.
There are still two and a bit rows left to mulch but that's going to go a lot faster with two people working on it at the same time.
Day off tomorrow, as we'll be attending the wedding of one of Kat's high school friends. Seems like a decent reason to bother shaving this mess of a beard off of my face.
Mine:
I have asked her to leave, many times. Politely, insistently, with great and blustery anger. Nothing has worked, as you can see for yourself.
She lingers at the edges of my mind, hitching rides with innocuous thoughts, seemingly intent on haunting me for the rest of my days.
Write four lines of prose about: the woman who wouldn't go.
Just felt like abusing the fact that I don't have to be specific when labelling my Friday posts.
All eight rows of the strawberries have now been weeded. We celebrated this evening by enjoying our first sample of the berries we've been working so hard to help thrive.
There are still two and a bit rows left to mulch but that's going to go a lot faster with two people working on it at the same time.
Day off tomorrow, as we'll be attending the wedding of one of Kat's high school friends. Seems like a decent reason to bother shaving this mess of a beard off of my face.
Mine:
I have asked her to leave, many times. Politely, insistently, with great and blustery anger. Nothing has worked, as you can see for yourself.
She lingers at the edges of my mind, hitching rides with innocuous thoughts, seemingly intent on haunting me for the rest of my days.
Thursday May 29th, 2014
The exercise:
Write about something that has been: eliminated.
There's like half a row of strawberries left to weed, which feels pretty amazing. Planning on finishing that off tomorrow morning and then turning our focus to getting the remaining rows mulched.
Once that gets done... we might actually be able to do other things in the garden again.
Weird.
In sporting news, Montreal was eliminated from the playoffs this evening after a 1-0 loss to New York. My consolation, since they were only my temporary new team to cheer for, is that this is only disappointing, as opposed to soul crushing.
Mine:
I stand on the sidelines and watch the proceedings continuing on without me. How quickly I seem to have been forgotten. Left alone. By those I considered friends.
It was not so long ago that I was out there with them, part of the team. Chasing the same goal, working together, all that good stuff.
Now? They're too busy competing to even acknowledge a fallen comrade. I bet most of them don't know what happened to me.
Oh, here comes Eric. We've been best friends since Grade 2. Maybe I can catch his eye and get...
Nope.
Man, forget this. I'm calling my mom to come pick me up. Screw laser tag.
Write about something that has been: eliminated.
There's like half a row of strawberries left to weed, which feels pretty amazing. Planning on finishing that off tomorrow morning and then turning our focus to getting the remaining rows mulched.
Once that gets done... we might actually be able to do other things in the garden again.
Weird.
In sporting news, Montreal was eliminated from the playoffs this evening after a 1-0 loss to New York. My consolation, since they were only my temporary new team to cheer for, is that this is only disappointing, as opposed to soul crushing.
Mine:
I stand on the sidelines and watch the proceedings continuing on without me. How quickly I seem to have been forgotten. Left alone. By those I considered friends.
It was not so long ago that I was out there with them, part of the team. Chasing the same goal, working together, all that good stuff.
Now? They're too busy competing to even acknowledge a fallen comrade. I bet most of them don't know what happened to me.
Oh, here comes Eric. We've been best friends since Grade 2. Maybe I can catch his eye and get...
Nope.
Man, forget this. I'm calling my mom to come pick me up. Screw laser tag.
Wednesday May 28th, 2014
The exercise:
Our word of the day is: hurry.
There were storms swirling all around us today, with clouds weighed down by potential hail. We were fortunate enough to avoid all but a few drops of rain but we could see heavy precipitation to the south and north at various points throughout the day.
Hopefully other growers in the area were only visited by rain and not crop-destroying balls of ice.
Another row of strawberries weeded, leaving two more to go. I got a start on mulching the last two rows we did but there's still a long way to go with that.
Mine:
Hurry, hurry child,
There's a bad storm coming;
The horizon is black
And the wind is a humming.
Quick, quick boy,
A bad storm is brewing;
There's no time left,
Stop what you're doing.
Run, run girl,
This bad storm is howling;
Danger is near,
A fierce cat is prowling.
Go, go now!
The bad storm is growing!
No shelter will hide us
Now that fires are glowing!
Hurry, hurry dears,
This bad storm is gnashing;
Thunder is rolling,
Lightning is flashing.
No, no child,
The bad storm is winning;
We were much too slow -
In hellfire we're swimming.
Our word of the day is: hurry.
There were storms swirling all around us today, with clouds weighed down by potential hail. We were fortunate enough to avoid all but a few drops of rain but we could see heavy precipitation to the south and north at various points throughout the day.
Hopefully other growers in the area were only visited by rain and not crop-destroying balls of ice.
Another row of strawberries weeded, leaving two more to go. I got a start on mulching the last two rows we did but there's still a long way to go with that.
Mine:
Hurry, hurry child,
There's a bad storm coming;
The horizon is black
And the wind is a humming.
Quick, quick boy,
A bad storm is brewing;
There's no time left,
Stop what you're doing.
Run, run girl,
This bad storm is howling;
Danger is near,
A fierce cat is prowling.
Go, go now!
The bad storm is growing!
No shelter will hide us
Now that fires are glowing!
Hurry, hurry dears,
This bad storm is gnashing;
Thunder is rolling,
Lightning is flashing.
No, no child,
The bad storm is winning;
We were much too slow -
In hellfire we're swimming.
Tuesday May 27th, 2014
The exercise:
Write two haiku about: clarity.
So much weeding got done today. It was great. And if the weather doesn't rain us out even more will get done tomorrow!
I could get used to this.
In hockey news, Montreal won game five this evening, which kept their playoff run alive. They're still down three games to two in the series, but hopefully they're able to gain some momentum from this victory and string two more wins together in order to make it to the finals.
Mine:
I can see clearly
now, the pain is gone; I let
the booze choose what's next.
* * *
Clear as mud, they say.
Math is dumb, History lame.
I will make them see.
Write two haiku about: clarity.
So much weeding got done today. It was great. And if the weather doesn't rain us out even more will get done tomorrow!
I could get used to this.
In hockey news, Montreal won game five this evening, which kept their playoff run alive. They're still down three games to two in the series, but hopefully they're able to gain some momentum from this victory and string two more wins together in order to make it to the finals.
Mine:
I can see clearly
now, the pain is gone; I let
the booze choose what's next.
* * *
Clear as mud, they say.
Math is dumb, History lame.
I will make them see.
Monday May 26th, 2014
The exercise:
Write something which takes place at: the bus station.
Our helper, Genevieve, arrived this afternoon after a long bus voyage from Calgary. She was in a surprisingly upbeat mood after a trip like that and we're all very much looking forward to getting her acquainted with our strawberry plants tomorrow morning.
Also: it took a while to break the ice, but I'm pretty sure Max is in love.
Also, also: new internet connection tomorrow!
Mine:
A twenty minute stopover in the middle of nowhere at two o'clock in the morning. Really. Who's bright idea was this, pray tell? It better not be anyone travelling with me tonight, that's all I shall say on the matter.
No, actually, it isn't. Did the person responsible for this ridiculous schedule simply make a typo? In that case, he or she could be forgiven.
Of course I would then want that person's direct supervisor alone in a dark alley to discuss my feelings on the subject, and to possibly offer a few pointers on how to double check your subordinate's work.
Seriously, twenty minutes. For what? To make this miserable journey just a little bit more soul destroying?
Maybe the driver has a special lady friend he likes to visit. I couldn't blame him for that. I mean, look at the fat bastard! It's not like he's got too many options on the romantic front.
What's this now? Masked men boarding the bus, yelling and waving guns and knives over their heads? Well, at least now I know who gets to suffer the brunt of my anger.
Write something which takes place at: the bus station.
Our helper, Genevieve, arrived this afternoon after a long bus voyage from Calgary. She was in a surprisingly upbeat mood after a trip like that and we're all very much looking forward to getting her acquainted with our strawberry plants tomorrow morning.
Also: it took a while to break the ice, but I'm pretty sure Max is in love.
Also, also: new internet connection tomorrow!
Mine:
A twenty minute stopover in the middle of nowhere at two o'clock in the morning. Really. Who's bright idea was this, pray tell? It better not be anyone travelling with me tonight, that's all I shall say on the matter.
No, actually, it isn't. Did the person responsible for this ridiculous schedule simply make a typo? In that case, he or she could be forgiven.
Of course I would then want that person's direct supervisor alone in a dark alley to discuss my feelings on the subject, and to possibly offer a few pointers on how to double check your subordinate's work.
Seriously, twenty minutes. For what? To make this miserable journey just a little bit more soul destroying?
Maybe the driver has a special lady friend he likes to visit. I couldn't blame him for that. I mean, look at the fat bastard! It's not like he's got too many options on the romantic front.
What's this now? Masked men boarding the bus, yelling and waving guns and knives over their heads? Well, at least now I know who gets to suffer the brunt of my anger.
Sunday May 25th, 2014
The exercise:
Write about something or someone that has been: captured.
As I type this help is, quite literally, on its way. If the bus schedule is accurate then our incoming helper should be pulling into Lake Louise shortly.
Oh boy, are the strawberry plants looking forward to seeing her...
Mine:
It sits on a cluttered desk, collecting dust that is wiped clean once every month or two. Surrounded by books and scraps of paper littered with hastily written notes, it is a silent reminder. Of another time.
Of another life.
Unburdened by the weight of the meaning that has been placed on its shoulders, it is unremarkable. A lengthy examination would reveal no surprises, no hidden value. No secret beauty.
But it cannot be divorced from the memories that even a casual glance has been known to spark. It is one and the same with a laundry list of emotions he associates with it. He may neglect it for a time, may even forget that it waits for his attention, oh so patiently.
He will always come back to it. Sooner or later, he must.
For the seemingly simple photograph in that plain black frame captured a moment that he is not ready to lose.
Write about something or someone that has been: captured.
As I type this help is, quite literally, on its way. If the bus schedule is accurate then our incoming helper should be pulling into Lake Louise shortly.
Oh boy, are the strawberry plants looking forward to seeing her...
Mine:
It sits on a cluttered desk, collecting dust that is wiped clean once every month or two. Surrounded by books and scraps of paper littered with hastily written notes, it is a silent reminder. Of another time.
Of another life.
Unburdened by the weight of the meaning that has been placed on its shoulders, it is unremarkable. A lengthy examination would reveal no surprises, no hidden value. No secret beauty.
But it cannot be divorced from the memories that even a casual glance has been known to spark. It is one and the same with a laundry list of emotions he associates with it. He may neglect it for a time, may even forget that it waits for his attention, oh so patiently.
He will always come back to it. Sooner or later, he must.
For the seemingly simple photograph in that plain black frame captured a moment that he is not ready to lose.
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