Tag Archives: commute

Random Friday babbling, before I start writing

I saw another bald eagle along the Boise River. These have always been good omens for me. They seem to indicate success in whatever I'm striving for at the time. Looking forward to accomplishing some small goal this week.

I talked to my employer, and we're going to see if the city will come haul the trash out of the stream behind the office. I wrote my vignette and have no more use for whatever old chicken coop it turns out to be. They like to remove anything that impedes the flow, because of flood potential. They may clean up some of the branches where the wood ducks hang out too, but the ducks can find new ones.

I seem to have timed my commute this week so I fall behind a lady from Canyon County. She likes to hold down the fast lane, and guarantees our safety by driving below the speed limit. Cars flow around her like a bolder in the stream, but on the right hand side. This is dangerous. I have no problem with her anchoring the fast lane, but she should at least drive the speed limit. Even then, she'll be the slowest person on the road, but at the speed limit, I really can't complain. (I still will, but it won't be justified.)

Larissa N. Takahassi followed me this week. (Again) She seems to follow me about every two weeks. Larissa has an online makeup store of some kind. I don't buy a lot of makeup, so I don't follow her back. Seems to me that, barring WordPress disasters, you only have to follow me once.

This is a game. She's out there following people at random, possibly to get those who automatically follow back. Then she unfollows. I suspect this is a game designed to eventually sell her online makeup store and use the number of online followers to indicate value.

I checked this morning, and she is not among my followers today. Maybe she didn't like this week's posts. Maybe I should exorcise her by writing her into a horror story.

Otto is snoring beside me in my recliner. He usually gets restless and jumps down after about twenty minutes of poodle time. That gave me a chance for this random babble. Then I need to saddle up my yak and head for the steppes.

Maybe a progress report later today, if the eagle omen works out.

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Well, that was strange

Today is my flex day off, kind of. Otto let me sleep until six, and I shouldn't gripe since my workday starts at 4:00. By the time I had breakfast and fed him, it gave me a small amount of time to get something accomplished. I dedicated it to email and some social media.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't play with Otto. Having a puppy is too darned much fun. They grow up fast and puppy play should not be put off.

I had to take him for his last puppy shots at 9:00. We decided to go back to our old vet, because we love him. We tried the local guy, but didn't like the way he treated us. He liked to take the dogs in back, do something, return them, and refuse to tell us anything that went on. Everyone at the old shop came to pet the bulldog puppy, and his butt was wiggling like crazy. The vet sat on the floor and gave Otto the once over while Otto ate his tie. Didn't bother this guy one bit, he thought it was funny.

The issue lies with the 20 mile one way trip to get him there. Boise isn't huge by city standards, but our 8:00 traffic can rival the best of them. The point being that I lost available time here. Otto is perfect, by the way. He weighs 38 pounds today. That's a lot of growing from the 10 pound baby we got the day before Memorial Day. I checked his records on the way out, and Otto was born on April first. Seems fitting for him to be born on April Fools Day.

I had to return to the office for an important meeting this afternoon. My office is about two blocks from the vet, so another 40 mile round trip had to fit into the schedule.

At the end of the day, I didn't get a lot done. I hoped to do some reading, and maybe work on a short story. Didn't happen.

I did manage to work on some spots for Lisa Burton Radio, so hopefully those will come together according to schedule. It isn't much, but that was my big accomplishment today. If I keep squeezing little things in, it seems to add up. It's like the folks who write a thousand words per day. Those words add up to a novel in fairly short order.

Okay, maybe I'm giving myself a sales pitch. It is what it is, but I got some small things done.

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I don’t even know where I’m going with this

I have a full hour for lunch today, and thought I’d share a sad story. It doesn’t matter in the larger scheme of things, but it offers some insight into the nature of humans. Maybe I can use that in a story one day.

I live by the alarm clock during the work week. Animals seem to live by the solar clock. There are days during the year where we sync up. That has been the case for the last few weeks.

I start for work on a semi busy road called Star Road. It’s only busy during the commute, and still isn’t as bad as downtown. Where I turn, there is a hobby farm across the street from a wheat field. Every morning I see two domestic ducks the other side of the stoplight crossing the road. One is the typical white duck, the other bears mallard colors. They cross the street into the wheat field.

I imagine them like two old men spending their day in the wheat. The white one could be a female, for all I know. People give them the right of way, and they’re kind of cute. The white one started limping about two weeks ago. The mallard colored one always waits for him, and quacks for him to hurry up.

In some ways they remind me of the retired farmers who still go to the coffee shop every morning to gossip with the active farmers.

Today, these ducks were splattered all over the road. Not just the white one, but the best friend too. I can just see the greenhead quacking for his friend to watch out. It bothers me to a degree.

I’m not overly sentimental. I eat tasty animals, and that includes ducks. I’ve even harvested my own game, slaughtered chickens, and butchered beef. I know where my pork chop comes from, and that beaver fur in my cowboy hat probably wasn’t donated by the beaver. Leather belt and shoes, check, alligator wallet, check.

Those deaths happened for a reason. They were planned, and had purpose. Nobody benefited from the death of these ducks. They weren’t marauding sheep killers, poisonous snakes, or someone’s supper. It would have made more sense if someone stole them for dinner.

Somebody’s text message was too important. Perhaps someone accelerated and declared how many points they were worth. Humans are strange, and perhaps my feeling on this is strange too.

It doesn’t surprise me at all. I once had a guy pass me on the right, because I stopped for a blind man with a guide dog in a crosswalk. There is a school for the blind right downtown. This driver wasn’t concerned for a disabled person, he would have no problem running down a duck.

So I don’t know where I’m going with this. Maybe I can use this as a character trait one day. Maybe my own thoughts about this are usable too someday.

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She’s at it again…

Lorelei* was in the parking lot after work tonight. I unlocked the door and let her in the truck.

It was a junior blizzard on the commute. We never spoke for the first ten miles. In fact she spent most of the time texting someone else. A Muse doesn’t need to do anything special to inspire. It just, kind of emanates from her.

Characters formed in my head, one Victorian era, one from the netherworld. There was a group of futuristic kids with a big problem, and another group from a dystopian society.

They talked, but most of them didn’t hit it off. The Victorian woman got along well with the person from the netherworld. I wondered if she might fit into a futuristic society.

The kids had an awesome problem, but I don’t know where it might lead. One of the dystopian girls had a ton of conspiracy theories, but it felt like author intrusion.

I had to pull over for an emergency vehicle, and asked, “Why are you doing this? I still have to solve Patty’s problems.”

She said, “This is how it works. The little bits in your head are meeting each other, maybe a story will form.”

“Why now?” I asked.

“Because you’re going to need a future project. There’s no rush, maybe none of them will work”

“Are you saying maybe one of these could be my next main character?”

She leaned against my shoulder, “Maybe, play around with them and see what develops. Let them make friends and enemies. Make them try it both ways.”

“Seems a little soon to me, but I’ll try,” I said.

“Have I ever let you down?”

“No.”

“Cool.” She pecked me on the cheek and said, “Drop me at Bardenay. I’m meeting someone for wine tonight. See you soon.”

* Lorelei is my Muse.

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