The exercise:
In honor of Halloween, write a four line poem about something that is: spooky.
Not that there was anything spooky about my little Bob the Builder:
Though the way he transformed from Happy To Be Trick Or Treating Angel Boy to Give Me Another Sucker Or I'll Lie Face Down On This Floor In Public Demon Child was quite impressive.
I, uh, probably should have kept a closer eye on the clock so as to recognize when lunch time had arrived. Lesson learned for next year!
Mine:
We left him to guard our stash
And now the candy is all gone.
So I'm thinking that maybe
My Dada is running a con...
The exercise:
Write four lines of prose about: forcing the issue.
Took the car in this afternoon to get new winter tires put on. So it's that time of year, I guess.
We're more or less all set for Halloween here. I'm taking Max into town for the annual Trick or Treat Main Street event, which runs from 11 to 3 and is geared toward the littlest of the little kids. It's his first time trick or treating and he's pretty excited. The plan is to meet up with some of his friends and go as a group. We're hoping to have Natalie with us as well but the timing may not work out.
Oh, and don't worry. There will most definitely be pictures to share tomorrow.
Mine:
"You just couldn't let it go, could you?"
"Come on... you can hardly blame me for this."
"Oh, I can very easily blame you for this, seeing as it's your bloody fault we're in this mess!"
"I'm sure Sarah will change her mind soon; until then, can't we try to enjoy being in jail for the first time in our lives?"
The exercise:
Write about: the donkey.
Feeling very sleepy. Should get this written and my butt to bed before the usual happens.
Mine:
Richard was not your typical donkey. For starters, he never really seemed to care for hard work. He avoided it whenever possible and on those rare occasions we actually managed to get him to do it he wore an expression of such sheer, pure boredom that it was difficult not to laugh at him.
Play was not really his thing either. While the other donkeys were always keen to goof around with the farm hands, Richard would keep to himself. Usually not even watching the fun. But if he was? That same look of utter disinterest.
Was he smart? I suppose. It's not like we could give him an IQ test to prove it one way or the other. But if he did have any brains he sure did a fine job of keeping them secret.
Friendly? My goodness, no. Now don't get me wrong, it's not like he ever hurt anyone. On purpose. We think. He just clearly preferred his own company over the company of anyone else. I'd never say he was lonesome. Just comfortable and content in solitude.
None of this fully explains how different Richard truly was though. The thing that really marked him as an outsider, that made it clear that he was not, nor could he ever be, just one of the pack, well... you kind of had to see it to believe it.
I mean, honestly, would you just accept it as true if I told you that Richard walked around the farm on two legs?
The exercise:
Write something which takes place in: the lumber yard.
This afternoon Becky and I took Natalie and Max to the petting farm that's just north of Oliver (same one we visited back in March... oh man, that picture again). They're doing a Halloween theme this week, which mostly seemed to feature decorations around the farm house. Anyway, Adam was at work and Kat had a counselling client so we took the opportunity to go, seeing as Becky is working as a substitute teacher for the rest of the week.
It was a little rainy and cool, so we had the place to ourselves. We all had fun, though once again the kids were hellbent on playing with the toys and had trouble remaining focused on the, you know, animal portion of the tour.
I did manage to get this picture of the two cousins though:
They had even bigger bunnies but I guess they weren't interested in coming out to see visitors.
Mine:
"That's uh... that's a mighty big order you're picking up there."
I looked at the teenage boy offering this sage observation and blinked. Slowly. He looked down at the clipboard in his hand again and shifted his weight from foot to foot several times.
"It's just that... um... some of the guys in the yard have been, you know, wondering who put this one in."
"And whether or not I'd actually show up to collect it once it was ready?"
"Yeah, something like that. Just saying stuff like, Is this a prank? You know?"
"Well I'm glad to see my request was taken seriously enough for you fellows to put it together." I returned my attention to the forklifts loading the lumber into the five delivery trucks I'd rented. "If any of my vehicles get so much as a scratch you can expect an invoice before end of day."
"Yes, of course. My boss would have it paid immediately. Not that any of these guys would damage your-"
"Good."
"Yeah." He cleared his throat and dared a peek up at me. "So, uh... what's all this for? Like, what are you going to build?"
I remained silent as I watched the last of the wood get loaded into the trucks. The boy shifted and grimaced at my side the whole time. If that was torture for him, his curiosity must have been killing him. As the trucks began to drive away I finally relented.
"I am constructing a life-sized replica of King Kong."
The exercise:
Write two haiku about: acceptance.
My day-after-my-birthday celebrations... nah, I'm just messing with you. Party's over for this year.
For me, at least. Max's festivities are right around the corner.
Spent this morning in the garden, pulling out the remaining tomato plant stakes, and harvesting our beets, parsnips, and carrots. The veggies are all in storage now, for us to work our way through over the winter. Well, the remainder of fall and as much of the winter as they'll last.
Now I just need to pull up the remaining row marker stakes and harvest whatever remains of our peppers and we can till the whole thing in for another year.
Mine:
With all of these flaws
and shortcomings, I just want
to accept myself
* * *
The ground rules are clear:
spill an innocent's blood and
you are one of us.
The exercise:
Write something which takes place in: the coffee shop.
Had a quietly pleasant birthday. Max let me sleep in past 7, I had some time to myself this morning, I spent the afternoon with Max, watched some TV with Kat this evening. Throw in some nice birthday wishes from friends and family and it all makes for a very nice day.
Of course, I had to go and cut myself while doing dishes tonight. So typing is a little awkward, what with the band-aid on my right index finger.
I'll just get right to this writing stuff then, shall I?
Mine:
Max and I had the following conversation whilst at our favorite coffee shop this afternoon:
Max (while holding a carrot vegetable chip out to me): Say 'what's my name'!.
Me (after interpreting what he actually wanted me to say): What's your name?
Max: Carroty Carrot!
Me: Hi, Carroty Carrot. It's very nice to meet you.
Max (still speaking through the carrot chip): What's your name?
Me: I'm Max's Dada.
Max: Hi, Max's Dada.
Me: Hello...
Max puts the carrot chip into his mouth and starts chewing.
Me: Bye...
Max (with his mouth still full, still speaking through the chip): I'm in Max's mouth and I don't like it!
I honestly haven't laughed that loud in a public setting in a very, very long time. Best birthday present ever? Maybe.
The exercise:
Write something that takes place in: the brewery.
Had a very pleasant day-before-my-birthday day. Massage this morning (from a friend who we built up a credit with produce over the summer). Afternoon nap while Max was off playing with his cousin. Dinner out with Kat while Max was having dinner with his grandparents. Evening hanging out in front of the fireplace.
Tomorrow is going to have to try pretty hard to be a better day than this one. Although I suppose it does have the fact that it's my actual birthday going for it.
Mine:
"Mmm, I really like this one."
"More than the last one?"
"Yeah, definitely."
"And the one before that?"
"Um... I think so."
"What about the one before that one?"
"I... don't really remember how that one tasted."
"How about the one before that?"
"There was one before that?"
"There were three."
"Oh man, I think I'm starting to feel these beers."
"That's not a good sign this early, man."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean we've got another thirty-five varieties to taste before they'll let us out of here..."
