The exercise:
Write about: the police officer.
Lineup at the door of the bakery this morning. 45 minutes of madness followed. By the end of it we were sold out of cinnamon buns (all 80 that were made this morning) and most of everything else, really. We ended up closing up around noon because there were only a few slices of carrot cake left as far as baked goods went.
I'm so glad I don't work Saturdays, which is easily the busiest day of the week there.
Max and I took a drive to Cawston this afternoon to visit the chicken farm of a fellow farmers market vendor. We stocked up on whole frozen chickens and picked up 4 dozen eggs as well. Before we hit the road for home Corey let us check out the chickens, which Max got a real kick out of.
Even with skipping the market this weekend there are blackberries to be picked, so I'll be doing that tomorrow morning. We'll see how many I get and then figure out where they're going (I suspect that at least some will be eaten fresh and frozen and made into jam).
Mine:
He protects his community
As best he can,
Even though all the kids just
Call him The Man -
Just an authority figure,
Never their friend.
A sometimes useful tool,
A means to an end.
He's never drawn his weapon
And hopes he never does.
He keeps his cool when they
Call him Pig or The Fuzz.
He walks his beat in the heat
And in the cold;
He cannot be bought or bribed
With sex, drugs, or gold.
He's a good, true man
Who does his best,
One small part of a team
Who outshines the rest.
They know his face all
Around this town -
So please tell me why you
Want to shoot him down?
Wednesday July 6th, 2016
The exercise:
Write about: the malfunction.
Had a pretty long lineup at the door when I opened up at the bakery this morning. The shop was basically full up for the next 45 minutes or so, maybe longer (I didn't exactly have time to check the clock). Wasn't much left by the time the initial rush subsided.
Then the second rush arrived.
The bakery is a very popular place, I will say that. Deservedly so, too. Glad there were two of us up front for the whole morning.
In other job news, I got a call to work the 9 to 5 shift at the community center this Saturday so I'll be doing that. We were already discussing skipping the market (both because the forecast was calling for rain and because we don't have much to offer right now) and that phone call sealed things for me.
This afternoon I stopped by the library to pick up a book for Kat and grabbed a few books for Max while I was there. When he saw them he was very excited. And then he asked me if I worked at the library today.
I think I might have too many jobs.
Mine:
"Is this working properly?"
"If you have to ask... probably not."
"That's... not a very reassuring answer."
"I'm not paid to reassure. I'm paid to fix things. I'm a repairman, that's what I'm trained to do."
"Well, you could do a little stretching beyond your very specific job description."
"Or I could just fix your busted junk."
"This is not junk!"
"Could have fooled me. Anyway, do you want me to fix it or not?"
"Well... I don't know if it's supposed to be doing this or not. I've lost the instruction manual, you see."
"... I'm pretty sure your electric toothbrush shouldn't be shooting out sparks like that."
"But what if it's a special model? Or a one of a kind edition? Wouldn't it be worth more as is?"
"Whatever, man. It's your mouth."
Write about: the malfunction.
Had a pretty long lineup at the door when I opened up at the bakery this morning. The shop was basically full up for the next 45 minutes or so, maybe longer (I didn't exactly have time to check the clock). Wasn't much left by the time the initial rush subsided.
Then the second rush arrived.
The bakery is a very popular place, I will say that. Deservedly so, too. Glad there were two of us up front for the whole morning.
In other job news, I got a call to work the 9 to 5 shift at the community center this Saturday so I'll be doing that. We were already discussing skipping the market (both because the forecast was calling for rain and because we don't have much to offer right now) and that phone call sealed things for me.
This afternoon I stopped by the library to pick up a book for Kat and grabbed a few books for Max while I was there. When he saw them he was very excited. And then he asked me if I worked at the library today.
I think I might have too many jobs.
Mine:
"Is this working properly?"
"If you have to ask... probably not."
"That's... not a very reassuring answer."
"I'm not paid to reassure. I'm paid to fix things. I'm a repairman, that's what I'm trained to do."
"Well, you could do a little stretching beyond your very specific job description."
"Or I could just fix your busted junk."
"This is not junk!"
"Could have fooled me. Anyway, do you want me to fix it or not?"
"Well... I don't know if it's supposed to be doing this or not. I've lost the instruction manual, you see."
"... I'm pretty sure your electric toothbrush shouldn't be shooting out sparks like that."
"But what if it's a special model? Or a one of a kind edition? Wouldn't it be worth more as is?"
"Whatever, man. It's your mouth."
Tuesday July 5th, 2016
The exercise:
Write two haiku about: the middle of the night.
There were 16 pints of blackberries ordered for this afternoon's pickup and we actually managed to get them all. Becky and Adam only got 6 on Friday so I was expecting to end up around 12, but the bushes gave us a pleasant surprise this morning.
Bakery'ing it again tomorrow morning. I should get some sleep.
Mine:
All is calm, all is...
bright? Hey, who forgot to turn
off the sun again?
* * *
The chaos of the
day is long gone, but still I
vibrate. Damned coffee.
Write two haiku about: the middle of the night.
There were 16 pints of blackberries ordered for this afternoon's pickup and we actually managed to get them all. Becky and Adam only got 6 on Friday so I was expecting to end up around 12, but the bushes gave us a pleasant surprise this morning.
Bakery'ing it again tomorrow morning. I should get some sleep.
Mine:
All is calm, all is...
bright? Hey, who forgot to turn
off the sun again?
* * *
The chaos of the
day is long gone, but still I
vibrate. Damned coffee.
Monday July 4th, 2016
The exercise:
Write about: the land of the forgotten.
This morning I weeded out our blackberry bushes (well, well past due) and harvested our garlic (only slightly past due). After that I was quite tired and ready for a nap.
But Natalie was coming over after lunch to play with Max, so instead I got caught up on comments on the blog a little bit while keeping an eye on them. I feel like I'm starting to get a bit of momentum with the blog for the first time in a while.
Hopefully I didn't just jinx myself.
Mine:
I do not belong here. I am not one of these castoffs or rejects. This is a mistake. An oversight, that's all. I have not been forgotten.
I mean, look at these people. Simple and plain all around, head to toe. Unremarkable. Nothings and nobodies. Clearly, I am in the wrong place. How could anyone possibly think otherwise?
Someone is responsible for this. I fill find them and I will extract answers from them. I will demand that this be put right, and I will insist upon recompense. This, I promise you, will not be a cheap fix. They will pay, and pay dearly.
For I am...
Well, I mean, of course, my name is...
Heh. Please, excuse my poor memory. I... must have been out late last night, drinking and partying and doing things of that sort. You know, famous people stuff.
Anyway, allow me to remind you of who I am. My name is... uh... um...
A little help here?
Write about: the land of the forgotten.
This morning I weeded out our blackberry bushes (well, well past due) and harvested our garlic (only slightly past due). After that I was quite tired and ready for a nap.
But Natalie was coming over after lunch to play with Max, so instead I got caught up on comments on the blog a little bit while keeping an eye on them. I feel like I'm starting to get a bit of momentum with the blog for the first time in a while.
Hopefully I didn't just jinx myself.
Mine:
I do not belong here. I am not one of these castoffs or rejects. This is a mistake. An oversight, that's all. I have not been forgotten.
I mean, look at these people. Simple and plain all around, head to toe. Unremarkable. Nothings and nobodies. Clearly, I am in the wrong place. How could anyone possibly think otherwise?
Someone is responsible for this. I fill find them and I will extract answers from them. I will demand that this be put right, and I will insist upon recompense. This, I promise you, will not be a cheap fix. They will pay, and pay dearly.
For I am...
Well, I mean, of course, my name is...
Heh. Please, excuse my poor memory. I... must have been out late last night, drinking and partying and doing things of that sort. You know, famous people stuff.
Anyway, allow me to remind you of who I am. My name is... uh... um...
A little help here?
Sunday July 3rd, 2016
The exercise:
Write about: the factory.
We drove up to Penticton with the boys this morning to do some grocery shopping that I never have time or energy to do after the farmers market. On the way back we stopped in to visit a friend of Kat's and her new (six weeks old) baby girl.
Speaking of number of weeks old, Miles will be turning 12 this Tuesday morning. One more week and he'll be 3 months old. Not quite sure how that's possible.
The weather has cooled off, as we're now seeing highs in the upper twenties instead of mid thirties. I am a big fan of this change.
Mine:
The noise of the machinery and clouds of pungent steam rising from the open vats made it very easy for me to move through the building without being spotted by security. A handful of workers noticed my presence but I wasn't worried about them. They either knew I was on their side or they had long stopped caring about sides.
I was headed for the manager's office, a wide room that could only be accessed by a long staircase at the south end of the factory. From there one had a perfect view over the workers - when they weren't obscured by the steam - and the only protection required was provided by a guard stationed at the top of the stairs.
I imagine they figured worst case scenario, should a revolt occur, he could empty his machine gun before retreating into the office and locking the door behind him. They probably had enough supplies in there to last weeks, if not months. The workers would simply die of starvation or dehydration and then they could emerge, have someone clean up the mess, and have them all replaced with fresh faces before the smell of their predecessors was completely gone.
Getting to the stairs was the easy part. The trouble would come in finding a way to get to the guard before he started shooting.
Nothing had come to me yet, but I still had a few minutes left before I'd have to cross that bridge. I was quite certain everything would work out fine in the end, once I figured something out.
Though, to be fair, that might have been the booze talking...
Write about: the factory.
We drove up to Penticton with the boys this morning to do some grocery shopping that I never have time or energy to do after the farmers market. On the way back we stopped in to visit a friend of Kat's and her new (six weeks old) baby girl.
Speaking of number of weeks old, Miles will be turning 12 this Tuesday morning. One more week and he'll be 3 months old. Not quite sure how that's possible.
The weather has cooled off, as we're now seeing highs in the upper twenties instead of mid thirties. I am a big fan of this change.
Mine:
The noise of the machinery and clouds of pungent steam rising from the open vats made it very easy for me to move through the building without being spotted by security. A handful of workers noticed my presence but I wasn't worried about them. They either knew I was on their side or they had long stopped caring about sides.
I was headed for the manager's office, a wide room that could only be accessed by a long staircase at the south end of the factory. From there one had a perfect view over the workers - when they weren't obscured by the steam - and the only protection required was provided by a guard stationed at the top of the stairs.
I imagine they figured worst case scenario, should a revolt occur, he could empty his machine gun before retreating into the office and locking the door behind him. They probably had enough supplies in there to last weeks, if not months. The workers would simply die of starvation or dehydration and then they could emerge, have someone clean up the mess, and have them all replaced with fresh faces before the smell of their predecessors was completely gone.
Getting to the stairs was the easy part. The trouble would come in finding a way to get to the guard before he started shooting.
Nothing had come to me yet, but I still had a few minutes left before I'd have to cross that bridge. I was quite certain everything would work out fine in the end, once I figured something out.
Though, to be fair, that might have been the booze talking...
Saturday July 2nd, 2016
The exercise:
Write a four line poem about: feeling left out.
I realized this morning that this was the first time the farm has gone to the market without me being there in about seven years. No wonder I was having trouble letting go of things.
From the sound of it things went fairly well, which I was pleased to hear. And, on my end of things, I quite enjoyed waking up after the market opened.
Max slept until almost 9, which nearly made up for him going to bed at 11:30 last night. He was definitely confused as to why both Mommy and Dada were awake and out of bed before him though.
Mine:
All the other kids
Are having so much fun.
I would join in but...
They know what I have done.
Write a four line poem about: feeling left out.
I realized this morning that this was the first time the farm has gone to the market without me being there in about seven years. No wonder I was having trouble letting go of things.
From the sound of it things went fairly well, which I was pleased to hear. And, on my end of things, I quite enjoyed waking up after the market opened.
Max slept until almost 9, which nearly made up for him going to bed at 11:30 last night. He was definitely confused as to why both Mommy and Dada were awake and out of bed before him though.
Mine:
All the other kids
Are having so much fun.
I would join in but...
They know what I have done.
Friday July 1st, 2016
The exercise:
Write four lines of prose about: the water fight.
They start and end the Canada Day parade here in Osoyoos with a water fight between the volunteer fire department and whoever wants to have a go at them (usually kids with squirt guns, with a few adults thrown in for good measure). Max was not impressed that he got a little bit wet on the first pass.
Thankfully there was a lot of good entertainment in between, as well as enough room behind us for us to escape before the water combatants returned. Here's Max with Natalie, waving their flags:
We watched the fireworks from Kat's brother's house tonight, all eight of us. Emersyn and Miles slept through it but Natalie and Max managed to stay up. Max really liked his first fireworks experience and I think he'll be talking about it for a while.
I'm taking a break from the market this weekend, as Adam and Becky are going up together tomorrow morning. They're going to be away a couple weekends from now, so I'll either be doing that one by myself or recruiting Kat's parents to help out.
Either way, this is going to totally screw with the days of the week in my head.
Mine:
My heart was racing as I watched the enemy's approach. The bucket at my feet was overflowing with heavy, impatient water balloons. They were ready to fly but I needed to wait just a little longer.
It was shortly after that the first salvo was fired and the rest of my memories of that day have been washed away by the fury of the waterfall that followed.
Write four lines of prose about: the water fight.
They start and end the Canada Day parade here in Osoyoos with a water fight between the volunteer fire department and whoever wants to have a go at them (usually kids with squirt guns, with a few adults thrown in for good measure). Max was not impressed that he got a little bit wet on the first pass.
Thankfully there was a lot of good entertainment in between, as well as enough room behind us for us to escape before the water combatants returned. Here's Max with Natalie, waving their flags:
We watched the fireworks from Kat's brother's house tonight, all eight of us. Emersyn and Miles slept through it but Natalie and Max managed to stay up. Max really liked his first fireworks experience and I think he'll be talking about it for a while.
I'm taking a break from the market this weekend, as Adam and Becky are going up together tomorrow morning. They're going to be away a couple weekends from now, so I'll either be doing that one by myself or recruiting Kat's parents to help out.
Either way, this is going to totally screw with the days of the week in my head.
Mine:
My heart was racing as I watched the enemy's approach. The bucket at my feet was overflowing with heavy, impatient water balloons. They were ready to fly but I needed to wait just a little longer.
It was shortly after that the first salvo was fired and the rest of my memories of that day have been washed away by the fury of the waterfall that followed.
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