The exercise:
Write about: the picnic.
Today Kat and I celebrated our sixth wedding anniversary by picking up 70 pounds of blueberries (hopefully our winter's supply) and having a big family dinner at her parents house (was supposed to be a picnic at the beach but howling winds gently suggested that something indoors would be a better idea).
We're actually going out for dinner, just the two of us, tomorrow night. Max and Miles will be hanging out with Kat's parents. Fingers crossed that all goes well.
Speaking of Miles, he rolled over from his back to his belly for the first time Friday morning (while nobody was watching, naturally). Today he went from his belly to his back for the first time.
At this rate he's going to be running around in no time.
Mine:
"Woah! Look at this spread!"
"There's gotta be enough food here to feed a small army!"
"I don't even know where to start. How about cake first?"
"Dessert before your meal? How naughty."
"Well I d-"
"Stop talking and get me a piece."
"Hah, that's what I thought. Let me just break a bit off here, make sure you get some icing..."
"AHHHH! ANTS!!"
"Oh great, I see the humans have returned."
"Just in time to ruin our picnic, as always."
Saturday July 30th, 2016
The exercise:
Write a four line poem about: uncertainty.
Came home from a very hot market with only ten pounds of nectarines, four peaches, and about twenty pounds of a new variety of nectarines (we only brought about forty pounds to begin with). The new ones aren't as nice looking and were not ripe enough to eat, so I'm not surprised that they had trouble competing with our main variety.
Anyway. Point is: that was another good market.
Adam and Becky are away next weekend and it's also the Peach Fest Parade on Saturday, which means unloading your vehicle, parking elsewhere, and then after closing going to get your vehicle and packing up again. So, since I don't want to deal with that on my own, I'll be skipping it as well.
The following week... well, the remainder of the season is likely full of markets that won't be worth splitting three ways. So, at most, we'll be alternating weekends with Adam and Becky. At least... I could be done with farmer markets for the year. We shall see.
Mine:
Is this the end?
How will I know?
Will someone come
To tell me to go?
Write a four line poem about: uncertainty.
Came home from a very hot market with only ten pounds of nectarines, four peaches, and about twenty pounds of a new variety of nectarines (we only brought about forty pounds to begin with). The new ones aren't as nice looking and were not ripe enough to eat, so I'm not surprised that they had trouble competing with our main variety.
Anyway. Point is: that was another good market.
Adam and Becky are away next weekend and it's also the Peach Fest Parade on Saturday, which means unloading your vehicle, parking elsewhere, and then after closing going to get your vehicle and packing up again. So, since I don't want to deal with that on my own, I'll be skipping it as well.
The following week... well, the remainder of the season is likely full of markets that won't be worth splitting three ways. So, at most, we'll be alternating weekends with Adam and Becky. At least... I could be done with farmer markets for the year. We shall see.
Mine:
Is this the end?
How will I know?
Will someone come
To tell me to go?
Friday July 29th, 2016
The exercise:
Write four lines of prose about: the recluse.
So hot. Brain all melty.
Going to the farmers market with 24 crates of nectarines, 12 crates of apples, 6 crates of peaches, 22 pints and 11 quarts of blackberries.
Hopefully long weekend make good.
Night night now.
Mine:
I've heard the raucous bells on Christmas Day. I've seen the gaudy fireworks on New Year's Eve. I've smelled the sickly sweet roses on Valentine's Day.
Go on and enjoy them, if you must... just leave me be.
Write four lines of prose about: the recluse.
So hot. Brain all melty.
Going to the farmers market with 24 crates of nectarines, 12 crates of apples, 6 crates of peaches, 22 pints and 11 quarts of blackberries.
Hopefully long weekend make good.
Night night now.
Mine:
I've heard the raucous bells on Christmas Day. I've seen the gaudy fireworks on New Year's Eve. I've smelled the sickly sweet roses on Valentine's Day.
Go on and enjoy them, if you must... just leave me be.
Thursday July 28th, 2016
The exercise:
Write about: reconstruction.
This afternoon Max helped me put his crib back together, as Miles has gotten big enough to need it. So we almost lasted nine months without it being setup. At least this time when it comes down it will be done for good.
Bakery wasn't quite as crazy as usual this morning, but we were still closed before I left at 12:30. Cinnamon buns and croissants both survived the initial rush, which is a rarity, and the lineup never got excessive. It was just steady, steady, steady... oh, everything's gone.
Hoping to get up early to start picking blackberries for the long weekend's farmers market, as it's going to be another hot one tomorrow.
Mine:
"Okay," I said after pausing to count to ten. "Then what happened?"
"Well, after the delivery truck started spilling them golf balls everywhere, that's when the penguins showed up."
"The penguins?" I reminded myself that these people had just been through a seriously traumatic experience. That they needed my patience and sympathy. "What penguins?"
"I guess they mighta escaped from the zoo?"
"Maybe they thought them golf balls were ice or snow or hail or something?"
"Yes," I said. "Or something."
"So them penguins were all over the place and I had to swerve pretty hard to avoid hitting them."
"Yup, couldn't go hitting penguins in front of the kids. Not right after they'd been watching Happy Feet in the backseat, you know?"
"That is indeed an excellent reason not to run over penguins." I could feel the headache coming back again. "And then...?"
"Well, what with the car jerking around like that, I got car sick."
"And then so did the kids."
"And then so did I."
There were just some days that I regretted the life choices that had resulted in my becoming a traffic collision reconstructionist.
Write about: reconstruction.
This afternoon Max helped me put his crib back together, as Miles has gotten big enough to need it. So we almost lasted nine months without it being setup. At least this time when it comes down it will be done for good.
Bakery wasn't quite as crazy as usual this morning, but we were still closed before I left at 12:30. Cinnamon buns and croissants both survived the initial rush, which is a rarity, and the lineup never got excessive. It was just steady, steady, steady... oh, everything's gone.
Hoping to get up early to start picking blackberries for the long weekend's farmers market, as it's going to be another hot one tomorrow.
Mine:
"Okay," I said after pausing to count to ten. "Then what happened?"
"Well, after the delivery truck started spilling them golf balls everywhere, that's when the penguins showed up."
"The penguins?" I reminded myself that these people had just been through a seriously traumatic experience. That they needed my patience and sympathy. "What penguins?"
"I guess they mighta escaped from the zoo?"
"Maybe they thought them golf balls were ice or snow or hail or something?"
"Yes," I said. "Or something."
"So them penguins were all over the place and I had to swerve pretty hard to avoid hitting them."
"Yup, couldn't go hitting penguins in front of the kids. Not right after they'd been watching Happy Feet in the backseat, you know?"
"That is indeed an excellent reason not to run over penguins." I could feel the headache coming back again. "And then...?"
"Well, what with the car jerking around like that, I got car sick."
"And then so did the kids."
"And then so did I."
There were just some days that I regretted the life choices that had resulted in my becoming a traffic collision reconstructionist.
Wednesday July 27th, 2016
The exercise:
It has been, as usual, far too long since I last made use of the First Line Prompt. So today we all get the same opening, and then each of us gets to take it from there, wherever inspiration directs. And that opening shall be:
Callie frowned as she looked over the checklist in her hands - there was still one more box that needed to be ticked before she could head home for the day.
Productive day for me today. Worked a busy shift at the bakery this morning (they were closing up when I left at 12:30 as all the loaves and treats were sold out), finished off the garlic this afternoon, managed to shave this afternoon, and did a few errands in town just before dinner.
And now I'm very tired and needing to sleep. So...
Mine:
Callie frowned as she looked over the checklist in her hands - there was still one more box that needed to be ticked before she could head home for the day. And Darren was nowhere to be found.
She had looked in the staff cafeteria. She'd sent emissaries into each of the men's washrooms. She had even checked the weight room, despite its general level of disgustingness and the extreme unlikelihood that he would be there.
No luck on all counts.
The one place she hadn't bothered with was his desk. The man was never there, it seemed, so what was the point? But time was running out and she had exhausted all other options... so she might as well. Perhaps he'd need to grab his car keys before heading home?
"Callie!" Darren's expression told her all she needed to know. Well, that and the crumbs scattered across his desk which appeared to have come from at least four different fruit pies. "What are yo... I mean... how can I help you?"
"Darren." Callie smiled but it was not a pleasant one. "So glad I could catch you before you clocked out for the day."
"Yes, well, I d-"
"Or did you even clock in to begin your day?" Callie consulted her checklist and clicked open her pen with enthusiasm. "Actually, now that I think of it, when was the last time you did some real, honest to goodness work around here?"
"I, uh... well th-"
"You have three reports due by the end of the month," Callie reminded him, her pen tip hovering over that final, unmarked box. "I will expect two of them done by the end of the week. Understood?"
"The end of the week! But I can-"
"Excellent." Callie glanced down before returning her gaze to Darren's face. "I will check in with you tomorrow afternoon to make sure things are progressing as expected. See you then."
She whirled away without another word, and as she strode away she ticked off the final item on her day's checklist: Scare Darren so badly that he wets himself.
It has been, as usual, far too long since I last made use of the First Line Prompt. So today we all get the same opening, and then each of us gets to take it from there, wherever inspiration directs. And that opening shall be:
Callie frowned as she looked over the checklist in her hands - there was still one more box that needed to be ticked before she could head home for the day.
Productive day for me today. Worked a busy shift at the bakery this morning (they were closing up when I left at 12:30 as all the loaves and treats were sold out), finished off the garlic this afternoon, managed to shave this afternoon, and did a few errands in town just before dinner.
And now I'm very tired and needing to sleep. So...
Mine:
Callie frowned as she looked over the checklist in her hands - there was still one more box that needed to be ticked before she could head home for the day. And Darren was nowhere to be found.
She had looked in the staff cafeteria. She'd sent emissaries into each of the men's washrooms. She had even checked the weight room, despite its general level of disgustingness and the extreme unlikelihood that he would be there.
No luck on all counts.
The one place she hadn't bothered with was his desk. The man was never there, it seemed, so what was the point? But time was running out and she had exhausted all other options... so she might as well. Perhaps he'd need to grab his car keys before heading home?
"Callie!" Darren's expression told her all she needed to know. Well, that and the crumbs scattered across his desk which appeared to have come from at least four different fruit pies. "What are yo... I mean... how can I help you?"
"Darren." Callie smiled but it was not a pleasant one. "So glad I could catch you before you clocked out for the day."
"Yes, well, I d-"
"Or did you even clock in to begin your day?" Callie consulted her checklist and clicked open her pen with enthusiasm. "Actually, now that I think of it, when was the last time you did some real, honest to goodness work around here?"
"I, uh... well th-"
"You have three reports due by the end of the month," Callie reminded him, her pen tip hovering over that final, unmarked box. "I will expect two of them done by the end of the week. Understood?"
"The end of the week! But I can-"
"Excellent." Callie glanced down before returning her gaze to Darren's face. "I will check in with you tomorrow afternoon to make sure things are progressing as expected. See you then."
She whirled away without another word, and as she strode away she ticked off the final item on her day's checklist: Scare Darren so badly that he wets himself.
Tuesday July 26th, 2016
The exercise:
Write two haiku about: difficult choices.
Becky and I managed to harvest all 37 pounds of blackberries that local customers ordered. We'd decided to offer deals for three and five pound boxes because we knew there were so many berries out there and people were happy to take advantage of that.
Pretty sure we've never had this many blackberry orders in previous years. Typically by this time in the season we start thinking about shutting down Tuesday orders but we're still going strong this year.
Back to the bakery madness tomorrow morning.
Mine:
Hmm. Her, her, or her?
But how can I choose just one?
Can't I have them all?
* * *
That guy is a creep.
Yeah, but he's the only dude
checking me out, so...
Write two haiku about: difficult choices.
Becky and I managed to harvest all 37 pounds of blackberries that local customers ordered. We'd decided to offer deals for three and five pound boxes because we knew there were so many berries out there and people were happy to take advantage of that.
Pretty sure we've never had this many blackberry orders in previous years. Typically by this time in the season we start thinking about shutting down Tuesday orders but we're still going strong this year.
Back to the bakery madness tomorrow morning.
Mine:
Hmm. Her, her, or her?
But how can I choose just one?
Can't I have them all?
* * *
That guy is a creep.
Yeah, but he's the only dude
checking me out, so...
Monday July 25th, 2016
The exercise:
Write about: the middleman.
Managed to get about two-thirds of the garlic taken care of this morning, with some help from Max. He enjoyed trimming the excess roots, or giving the garlic a haircut as we were putting it. Probably another half hour or so worth of work remaining... so hopefully it doesn't take me another week to get back to it.
No shaving though. Nor did I start on the blackberries, as a thunder storm was rolling around after dinner. Also: Kat needed some extra help with the boys tonight, so I'll be trying to get up early tomorrow to get going on the pick before it gets too hot.
Reached a milestone with Miles this evening, as I gave him his first bottle. We'd tried before (I can't remember if I'd mentioned it at the time) about a week or so ago? Something like that. Anyway, it did not go well. So it was nice to have this attempt go quite smoothly.
Hurray for a little more freedom for Kat!
Mine:
From my table at the rear of the bar I have a better view of the rest of the patrons than I care for. It's necessary, clearly, but I'd still rather not know that Baldy Sr. just ate peanuts that he picked up off the floor, or that Jock Number Two has been chugging Jock Numbers Three and Fours' beers every time they hit the can to take a piss.
I won't even get started on what I can see the bartenders doing. There oughta be a law. Well, there probably is one. Maybe somebody should stop in and enforce it.
Anyway. I need to be able to see what everyone is doing in here because the man I represent is more paranoid than I care to think too deeply about. If I start down that road I might start stressing out about my job security and I've got enough worries already, thanks very much.
The man he has asked me to meet here is yet to arrive, but that's probably because I'm an hour early to the party. It's a good thing the drinks here are basically alcohol flavored water, otherwise I might get myself into a bit of trouble trying to fit in.
Turns out, I'm only on my second 'rum' and coke when he shows up. With two bodyguards. That was not the agreement.
"Good evening," I say without getting up. No need to let them see the gun in my lap just yet, you know? "Mr. Herman and Misters...?"
"Misters Noneovyergawdambizness," the guard to my right says with a sneer. The guard on the Mr. Herman's other side chuckles without enthusiasm but with plenty of obligation. I decide that I like him immediately.
"Easy boys," Mr. Herman says as he waves his dogs off to the nearest table. Baldy Jr. was sitting there but he decides, all on his own, to go find somewhere else to take in the evening's sights and sounds.
"Were they really necessary?" I ask, feigning hurt. "I thought we're all friends here."
"In my line of business," Mr. Herman replies as he sits down across from me, "they are always necessary. Sadly."
I nod my sympathies but remain silent until the waitress takes his order and moves on. My left hand, the one that's resting on the gun's grip, is sweating profusely. I remind myself that I'm unlikely to need it - that I've only had to use it once in the last five years - and give Mr. Herman my best smile.
"Mr. Cortez sends his kindest and warmest regards," I tell him, the lie obvious to both of us.
"Tell Mr. Cortez that I... actually, you won't need to tell him anything," Mr. Herman replies.
"What does that me...?" My confusion lasts just long enough for Mr. Herman's guards to seat themselves on either side of me. Before I can move one of them grabs my left wrist and twists it until my gun hits the floor. Then he lets go and pats me on the head.
"It means," Mr. Herman says with the smile of a snake, "that you're in for a very, very long night."
Write about: the middleman.
Managed to get about two-thirds of the garlic taken care of this morning, with some help from Max. He enjoyed trimming the excess roots, or giving the garlic a haircut as we were putting it. Probably another half hour or so worth of work remaining... so hopefully it doesn't take me another week to get back to it.
No shaving though. Nor did I start on the blackberries, as a thunder storm was rolling around after dinner. Also: Kat needed some extra help with the boys tonight, so I'll be trying to get up early tomorrow to get going on the pick before it gets too hot.
Reached a milestone with Miles this evening, as I gave him his first bottle. We'd tried before (I can't remember if I'd mentioned it at the time) about a week or so ago? Something like that. Anyway, it did not go well. So it was nice to have this attempt go quite smoothly.
Hurray for a little more freedom for Kat!
Mine:
From my table at the rear of the bar I have a better view of the rest of the patrons than I care for. It's necessary, clearly, but I'd still rather not know that Baldy Sr. just ate peanuts that he picked up off the floor, or that Jock Number Two has been chugging Jock Numbers Three and Fours' beers every time they hit the can to take a piss.
I won't even get started on what I can see the bartenders doing. There oughta be a law. Well, there probably is one. Maybe somebody should stop in and enforce it.
Anyway. I need to be able to see what everyone is doing in here because the man I represent is more paranoid than I care to think too deeply about. If I start down that road I might start stressing out about my job security and I've got enough worries already, thanks very much.
The man he has asked me to meet here is yet to arrive, but that's probably because I'm an hour early to the party. It's a good thing the drinks here are basically alcohol flavored water, otherwise I might get myself into a bit of trouble trying to fit in.
Turns out, I'm only on my second 'rum' and coke when he shows up. With two bodyguards. That was not the agreement.
"Good evening," I say without getting up. No need to let them see the gun in my lap just yet, you know? "Mr. Herman and Misters...?"
"Misters Noneovyergawdambizness," the guard to my right says with a sneer. The guard on the Mr. Herman's other side chuckles without enthusiasm but with plenty of obligation. I decide that I like him immediately.
"Easy boys," Mr. Herman says as he waves his dogs off to the nearest table. Baldy Jr. was sitting there but he decides, all on his own, to go find somewhere else to take in the evening's sights and sounds.
"Were they really necessary?" I ask, feigning hurt. "I thought we're all friends here."
"In my line of business," Mr. Herman replies as he sits down across from me, "they are always necessary. Sadly."
I nod my sympathies but remain silent until the waitress takes his order and moves on. My left hand, the one that's resting on the gun's grip, is sweating profusely. I remind myself that I'm unlikely to need it - that I've only had to use it once in the last five years - and give Mr. Herman my best smile.
"Mr. Cortez sends his kindest and warmest regards," I tell him, the lie obvious to both of us.
"Tell Mr. Cortez that I... actually, you won't need to tell him anything," Mr. Herman replies.
"What does that me...?" My confusion lasts just long enough for Mr. Herman's guards to seat themselves on either side of me. Before I can move one of them grabs my left wrist and twists it until my gun hits the floor. Then he lets go and pats me on the head.
"It means," Mr. Herman says with the smile of a snake, "that you're in for a very, very long night."
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