Good — *checks watch, remembers he doesn’t own a watch, checks clock* — afternoon, technically, though I’m writing this early in the morning (edit: and afternoon. More edit: and evening, for some of you. My apologies). A bit of an update. Mrs. Dave left this past weekend for a training thing for several weeks, and is likely spending most of the rest of the year out for job stuff. Wee Dave is displaying classic grief symptoms, while Wee-er Dave is very nearly her usual cheerful self. I’m mostly wondering who chopped several hours out of my day, while simultaneously making each hour three or four days longer.
Seriously, that’s kind of a jerk move, right there. I mean, I’m a time traveler, and all (greetings to you from the past, all who travel one second into the future, per second) but I’m having trouble grasping just why someone would want to do that to me.
I also had to bake, yesterday. It’s not my preferred method of fuel preparation. Look, when it comes to writing, I’m a kilter (writing by the seat of my kilt. C’mon, people: trousers?). In the same way, my mise en place is crap, and I’m of the “taste it throughout and add things as necessary” school of heat-to-food application.
Which just isn’t going to cut it when baking, or when developing a routine to keep the kids and myself sane while Mommy is protecting freedom and democracy around the world.
Sorry, I don’t know how that crept in.
Also, I just don’t have a brain in my head, today. The cupcakes turned out fine, the ganache set and was spread, and the kids didn’t shriek in disgust. Mine have been asking for another all afternoon, actually.
Half an hour of playing referee later, I still don’t have anything useful for you. So here’s a writing prompt: a single parent of two discovers one child is extremely extraordinary. Go bright, go dark, go crazy, go zombie. Just go. Catch you next week, hopefully in a better state of mind.
Sir, I feel your pain. Until next week and try to stay…saner?
Well, my understanding is these things happen when you marry a daughter of Belladonna.
Interesting writing prompt… a few variations on that theme off the top of my head that might be fun:
– something inspired by Castor and Pullox myth, bit of a downer because it doesn’t end well for the mortal/normal sibling
– something inspired by the parable of the Prodigal Son, a bit dark in the middle but nice because it ends well for both siblings and the parent
– a “what-if” on the villain side of things, what if Grendel’s Mother also had a perfectly normal human daughter who really just wanted to find a nice non-warrior type guy to settle down with and raise a family on a quiet farm somewhere
I’ve always hated the word “extraordinary”. I assume (never bothered looking it up) that the “ex” is from Latin “out of”, but in English it reads as “super ordinary”. I read something lately about the “average person” not existing. For example, there is an average height and weight, but no one is both. So, my response to the prompt would be My Unusually Average Sibling (“average sex” means brother/sister is out).
Hang in there! That’s all one can do!