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Day 6 – Roger

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Roger: A Walkie Talkie Production

Jeff: I’ve got a delivery for the director ready. Who wants it?

Cassidy: I’m about to give this family a tour.

Trevor: I have class in five minutes.

Scott: Roger that. I’m on it, boss. Over.

Roger: What? Did someone call me?

Meiya: No…Scott was just letting Jeff know he got the message.

Scott: What? Oh, yeah. Roger that.

Roger: *static noise* What is that? What do I need to do?

Trevor: Nothing, man. Everything’s taken care of.

Roger: Okay. Cool. Let me know if you need me.

Jeff: We’re missing one of the bikes – does anyone know what happened to the red one?

Meiya: I think one of the admins borrowed it for an hour or two.

Scott: No – I have it. I just finished a tour and am heading back to get the director’s delivery.

Jeff: That’s cool. Remember to log your checkouts in the future.

Scott: Roger that. I’ll remember that next time. Over.

Roger: What? I didn’t take it.

Scott: No, I said I have it.

Roger: Oh, I guess I misunderstood. I thought I heard my name.

Cassidy: Scott, stop saying “Roger.” It’s so confusing. We all know you get the message when you respond to it. You don’t need to tell us you got it.

*Pause*

Scott: Roger that, Cassidy.

*Communal groaning*

 

I’m writing 31 days of short stories (although some are more snippets). Click to see the master list.

 

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Lola

One of my proudest moments, getting sworn in. But more on that later.

When I was just a pup, I watched gumshoe movies. My tail would start wagging, and my heart would start pounding. I was always proud when I could guess who the ne’er-do-well whodunnit was, and I think Julie was proud of me, too.

“Lola, who do you think is the culprit?”

The dirtbag would come on the screen and I would bark like crazy, alerting the whole room (and sometimes the whole neighborhood) to my decision. She would pat my head and agree. “Me, too.” Then she would rub behind my ears just the way I like it. “Good girl. Smart girl.” I rolled over to let her scratch my belly, which she seemed pleased to do. “Smartest girl in the whole world.”

I enjoyed those times with Julie. But alas, they were not to last.

Soon, watching the movies wasn’t enough. I wanted to be in on the action. I wanted my own cases to solve.

When it was my time to go outside, I took advantage of it. I would patrol the perimeter of the yard, and alert the family to anything out of the ordinary. Most of them were less enthusiastic about my choice to share my skills with the neighbors than they were when I was performing for treats inside the privacy of our house. The neighbors didn’t seem to appreciate my vigilance either.

“Hey – would you make that dog shut up? People are trying to sleep here!”

I was just trying to root out dangers so that they could sleep in safety, but whatever. No one appreciates a protector. Heroism is a lonely life.

One night, I saw an intruder in the Geraldsons’ yard. It walked with a slink and had a mask embedded in its fur, like a bandit. I’m nothing if not fair, so I decided to issue a warning.

“Hey – you there – those trash bins aren’t yours!” I barked.

The reprobate turned to me and grinned. He grabbed an apple core off the pile and let the bin slam shut noisily as he sauntered over, clearly taking his time. “Aw, aren’t you cute, all riled up and huffing in your cage? What’s your name, sweetheart?” He flicked his prison-striped tail back and forth, giving him even more swagger as he approached. I noticed he also made a point of stretching out his legs so I could see his sharp claws.

I’m not one to be intimidated, so that got my dander up. I gave him a low growl as I ruffled up my coat and stood up as straight as I could. “I’m Lola, and this is my neighborhood, and I know you are up to no good. Now you just need to move along.”

He looked up at me and tapped his claws on the chain link fence between us. “And what are you going to do if I don’t?”

I bared my teeth. He wasn’t the only one with built-in weaponry. I let the silence sit so that he could get a good, long look at them. “I don’t expect that will be an issue. You’re going to leave while I’m still asking nicely.”

He snorted. “Well, that’s a cute little assumption, seeing as how I’m over here, and you’re over there, just where your rules and regulations say you have to stay. So as long as I stay over here, I don’t see how this is any of your business, and I’ll just keep doing what I like.” He turned his attention to the apple core, inspecting it. Then he looked me straight in the eye as he took a bite off the top that still had some of the peel left. That blasted scavenger!

I growled again and pushed the whole of my body up against the fence, causing it to bow slightly toward him. My nose pushed through one of the holes made by the chain link.

He seized the opportunity he had been waiting for. He dropped the apple core and swiped my face with his right paw. I felt a sharp pain and yelped in surprise as I drew back. I tasted blood when I licked my wound. I tried to shake off the sting with a few tosses of my head, and I looked up to see him trotting off as he snickered.

I lost it. I dashed far enough away from the fence to get a running start and then sprinted forward and leaped over it like a gazelle. I was on him before he knew what was happening. I returned the favor of the ripped snout and gave him a couple of retaliatory bites on his back and legs. He broke free and fled the premises as I barked after him, “And stay gone!”

I felt pretty proud of myself until I saw the Geraldsons’ back porch light go on. I tried to hide in their rose bushes, but it’s one of those biting shrubberies, so instead I stood very still, hoping that the darkness would be enough to hide my trespass onto their property.

It wasn’t.

“What are you doing here? Get back in your yard!”

I didn’t know how to do that without adrenaline, so I remained where I was. I bowed my head, hoping an act of submission would plead my case for me, since the humans don’t seem to understand canine and they were apparently already annoyed by my conversation with the intruder.

The Geraldson went back in the house, and I thought the coast was clear. Then I heard Julie at their back gate.

“Lola! Come here now!”

I knew I was in trouble because she was using only short words. I think she thinks she’s speaking canine when she does this, but I’ve never been brave enough to call her on it.

(To be continued…)

 

I’m writing 31 short stories during the month of October. Click for the master list.

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[Microfiction is any story told in 300 words or less, by many definitions. I suppose “micro” is in the eye of the writer/reader.]

I didn’t mean to do it. Not really. But there it was – the incriminating welt on Gerald’s head as he was loaded into the ambulance – so I couldn’t pretend it didn’t happen.

It all started on the day of the first accident. Stephi broke her ankle two days before the season began, so I had about a minute to take over as captain of the golf team. Our name – the Bedford Bettys – was a little outdated, so our first order of business was to come up with a new one. Thinking “A” was a good grade and a hole in one was the best thing that could happen on the course, I suggested “A-holes.” There were snickers all around, but I figured they just thought I was clever.

Gosh, was I wrong.

Gerald, captain of the guys’ team, was the first to congratulate us on our new name. He walked up and interrupted our conversation, “Sorry to butt in, ladies, but I can’t wait to see you wipe the green with your opponents in your first tournament.”

Laurel rolled her eyes and told him not to be a jerk. Naively, I jumped to his defense, which made him laugh and say, “Yeah, Laurel. Don’t be an a-hole.”

I saw my mistake, but it was too late. The shirts had already been printed.

The torment continued the rest of the week. By the time the tournament rolled around, I had had it. Right there in the parking lot, I dropped a ball, took my 9-iron, and let it fly. The next thing I knew, Gerald was on the ground moaning.

It was a pretty good shot, all things considered.

 

I’m writing 31 stories during October. Click to see the master list.

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The Case of the Missing Pen
(that was just here one ^*&#%!@ minute ago)

I have learned in my short year of being a cubicle dweller that there are very few things in life that you can count on. Officemates cannot be trusted to make a fresh pot when they finish the last cup. Drawers and cabinets will be inexplicably left ajar. That report will not be on your desk on Wednesday at 1:00 p.m., even though you desperately need it to be there in order to review it in time and not look like an idiot at the 1:30 meeting.

In fact, the only thing I can truly depend on is that, if I am not in my seat at 9:00 a.m., I will get a cheery text from Megan that reads, “Are we meant to experience the pleasure of your company today?” Which I guess is nicer than “Get your @$$ to work, you &$^#(*! slacker.”

What I really wish I could depend on is that when I leave my pen in one place that it will remain in that one place until I need it again. Alas, that is apparently not a reasonable expectation.

Eleven months ago, when I placed my first supply order for my desk, the office manager read over it and cackled. Once he recovered from his fit, he scratched out my naive order of three different pens, patted me on the shoulder and said, “I’ll just order you two boxes of each. For starters.”

He may have saved my life.

On a typical day, I lose three to five pens. I will put my pen down, but it will not be there when I go to pick it up. I don’t quite know how this happens, but I am committed to getting to the bottom of it.

First, the suspects. Usually, this loss occurs when I have walked away from my desk, so it could be any one who has access to my workspace. Coworkers. Supervisors. Passersby from other departments. Customers on their way to meet with the bosses. It could be anybody.

Second, the motivation. Do my coworkers see my absence as an invitation to come and hang out by my desk, during which gathering one of them will inevitably have a thought they can’t afford to lose and therefore grab my pen and scurry away with it, scribbling furiously on a notepad? Is there one lone offender who covets my pens so ferociously that a pen lingering unattended on my desk is too much temptation to avoid? Does the thrill of petty theft make customers who wander through feel alive?

Third, the evidence. Gathering proof is tricky. I could enlist an accomplice who watches my desk when I’m not around, but the drawback is that for all I know, I could be asking for help from the perpetrator. I could set up a hidden camera, but I’m sure legal would have issues with that. I could take my pen with me everywhere I go, but then who’s to say other things wouldn’t start to go missing?

I imagine all my pens hanging out together, somewhere, trapped and afraid because they know they’re not where they’re really supposed to be. Do they think I’ve abandoned them? Forgotten all about them? I most assuredly have not. Why, just this morning, I was about to read this report when…what’s that lump under there? Hey! My pen!

Case solved. Until next time.

 

During October, I’m writing a short story a day. Click to see the master list.

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31 Days ofShort Stories (1)

Once upon a time, there was a young writer who started a book. It was National Novel Writing Month, and she wondered if she could do it. Write 50,000 words in one month (she could, but that’s another story). She didn’t make it to 50,000 words that month, but she did create a cast of characters who refused to leave her brain. They grew in her imagination, and every once in a while she would write down things they said and did. Pretty soon (in the grand scheme of the universe), she had a book.

Now she’s a young-for-her-age (jury is still out on whether that was meant as a compliment or not, but I’m going to count it as one) writer with a finished rough draft of a manuscript. Because it’s only a rough draft, though, and she is a perfectionist, completing this step didn’t give her quite the satisfaction she had hoped it would. Also, she forgot to celebrate properly. Others celebrated her, but all she could think of was how much more there was to do and how the darlings she had nurtured would fare during the process.

One of the characters is a storyteller. He makes up stories on the spot to entertain and delight (and sometimes sadden or provoke – storytellers are a tricksy bunch). So the writer decided that an appropriate way to celebrate this stage of writing is to do the same.

And they all lived (well, sort of…most of them) happily (eh…in a way) ever after.

All my 31 Days series in the past have been practical, how-to series. This one is a celebration and a glimpse into what I really love to write. I’m going to be telling short stories. I have some prompts, and I suspect I’ll have a few to-be-continueds to pick up on a subsequent date. I’m open to others. So if you think of something you’d like me to write, comment, email, DM, carrier-pigeon it to me, and I’ll try to give it a go.

I’m going to aim for 300-1000 words a day, but I don’t promise to stay within that range. Sometimes dialogue gets away from me. You may also see recurring characters or titles (written in a different style or with different characters). And each Friday is going to be a different story written from a Tumblr prompt that went around for a while.

In other words, I’m gonna have some fun with this.

I’ll keep the master list of posts here for reference:

Day 1 – Overview
Day 2 – The Case of the Missing Pen
Day 3 – Autobiography of a Real A-Hole (A Microfiction)
Day 4 – Lola Panter, Private Eye
Day 5 – Soulmates (Part 1)
Day 6 – Roger
Day 7 – If You Were a Hat

I’m also linking up with the Write 31 Days community. If this sounds like something you’d like to do, jump over and join us (to include your link to the blog or social media account you’re using to participate, see the dropdown under “linking up”). Or just linger and read. We like that, too.

 

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Roar!

This month, I have explored running and the elements that add up to doing it well. I managed a post to match every day except yesterday, which I am happy to call relative success. We have talked about hydrating properly, using food as fuel, getting sufficient rest, and staying safe. I’ve given some information, but I also learned some things myself.

I learned that I have severely fallen out of the habit of good hydration. Getting all the water I need used to be something I just did without having to think twice about it. Having actually paid attention to it this month, I see this is no longer the case. So I’m going to start tracking it again until I work it back into being a habit.

My favorite thing about running is that it makes eating well easier because eating poorly is how we end up with cramps/spasms/nausea. When I say absurd things like “I love running,” I rarely mean that I love the actual running part. Running is the worst. It’s sweaty and tiresome and hard to do indoors, which is where I like most of my life activities to occur. What I usually mean is that I love things that go with running. I love the runner’s high (it really is a thing). I love the general spike in energy I get from being active. I love the way, after a while, running makes my body remember how to move right (aligned, elongated…well, as elongated as I get).  And I love how easy it is to eat foods that fuel me well.

My rest week was illuminating. There was a disconnect between what I was writing, particularly about Sabbath rest, and what was actually happening. It is clear that I need to drop something(s). It’s not that I’m not getting done what I need to get done; I just find it hard to relax. It’s not a matter of good time management. Given all that I do, I have excellent time management, or I would be dead. In time I set aside to rest, though, I am constantly stressed out that I’m not getting anything “productive” done. As if rest itself isn’t productive and necessary. I’m not going to make any rash decisions, but I am going to take a few months to see what needs to be dropped so that when it’s time to rest, I can really rest.

Safety week also revealed some not-like-before trends. I have a real aversion to going out on my own that I didn’t really have a few years ago. Yesterday, for example, I walked by myself in the park, and I definitely had some feelings about it during the portion of the walk that was out of sight of the street. I am less confident that I could defend myself than I used to be. Last time I ran regularly, I was in good enough shape to take on someone who attacked me. Even if I couldn’t win, I could definitely maim and discourage. I don’t have that confidence now. I want it again. Now, I’m not going to add self-defense classes – that would fly in the face of my too-much-on-my-plate problem. But I am going to incorporate more variety into my already established routine to challenge myself to get stronger, and hopefully, the confidence will return along with the strength.

I hope you have learned something this month or at least have been entertained by my chatter. Here’s to running wild!

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Ready for the close-up

This morning, I am full of allergy meds and stuffiness. Ergo, I am also water deficient, because allergy meds aren’t doing their job if they’re not drying you out a little.

This is an example of a day when I need to drink more water than usual.

As I discussed before, I operate best on about 100 ounces of water a day. Today, it’s probably going to be more like 120, although with the way my face feels, I don’t know that “operating best” is a reasonable expectation. Maybe just operating not-worst. That’s the goal for the day.

But I digress.

For this post and the next, we are going to talk about how to make sure you get enough water and what happens when you don’t. While hydration is vital to performing well (as a runner or just as a human in general), I don’t have a lot more to say about it. Your body needs water. How much water varies a little from person to person, but no one is exempt from this need.

We are in the home stretch of this series, and I hope you have enjoyed it. See you later today!

 

I’m spending 31 days running wild. 

 

 

 

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A key ingredient to running my life

Week 4 Progress:

Miles completed this week: about 6.5
Total miles completed: 19.59 (no, I’m not going to try to go 30 more miles in the next 3 days)
Days of proper hydration: 1/7
Days of good food choices: 4/7

Clearly I am not as far along in this process as I thought I’d be. I am still surprised when I am not able to do things I used to be able to do with ease.

This week, I walked with coworkers and with a friend from one of my book clubs. I’m just going to keep roping other people into going with me.

Because I am not good at going alone. Not right now, anyway. I want to become good at it again. I’m not there, though, and it’s taken me 28 days to fully admit it. I did complete one walk in the park by myself this week, so it’s not totally impossible. There’s hope. However, there’s also difficulty, because today I definitely got completely dressed for a walk, put on shoes and picked up my keys to walk out of the house…and changed my mind.

Part of that is disappointing. I want to have wanted to go. But most of it is recognizing what I need. And I needed to stay home more than I needed to go walking this afternoon. There was no particular pressing matter, other than the looming list of things that I need to get done this weekend that I won’t have time to do tomorrow because it’s Reformation Sunday, and that was stressing me out. So I stayed home and did them at a leisurely pace instead of the more frantic pace I would have adopted if I’d spent an hour walking.

And I made mac and cheese. In the slow cooker. It was glorious. And I ate only one serving with a bucket of peas, so I enjoyed it without overdoing it.

For all my knowledge about food and making healthy choices, I don’t seem to actually make those choices often, at least not on their own. It’s only when I’m making better choices in other areas – activity level, consistent rest, good time management, etc. – that sticking to healthy eating patterns becomes consistent. Being well rested and not being rushed means that I actually follow my meal plan instead of eating whatever I feel like in the moment.

My hope is that one day (and preferably, one day soon-ish) I will be motivated to eat well no matter what manner of chaos is blowing through my life. I’m not there yet, but I see it as a possibility.

In the meantime, I guess I just need to run. That’s acceptable.

 

I’m spending 31 days running wild.

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Friday Five 4

We’ve been talking about fueling all week, and if you’re like me, you want some answers. What do I eat? What will make me a lean, mean running machine (…along with regular, vigorous training)? Here are five runner-friendly lists of snacks designed to boost energy and/or aid in recovery.

  1. Oatmeal energy balls are delicious little nuggets of energy. I like how this post not only gives variations of the basic recipe but breaks it down into guidelines for substitutions for each ingredient, giving you endless possibilities.
  2. Super easy snacks – you probably have many of these things on hand already or, if not, can stock up without blowing the whole grocery budget.
  3. Cherry gummies – this is brilliant. Not only do they help you recover, they keep you from overeating (practicing a little of that moderation we were talking about earlier).
  4. If you have a hard time getting your water intake, most fruits and vegetables help you re-hydrate as well. Here are a few that are particularly useful in that regard.
  5. Many runners find coffee useful the morning of a race day. I find it useful the morning of a day. I am in favor of anyone who tells me to drink more coffee.

What are some of your favorite snacks to boost energy and recovery?

I’m spending 31 days running wild.

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Day 26 – Moderation

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Cheese is an important thing for me to ingest moderately.

Lest the previous post swing you too far in the direction of culinary chaos, let’s dial it back a little today and remember a good rule to live by – moderation.

I have to be honest. I’m an all-or-nothing, burn-it-to-the-ground sort of gal. Moderation is not naturally in my wheelhouse. It is not my go-to resolution.

It is not my favorite.

I begrudgingly admit that it’s generally the way to go for overall health and wellness, though. I could eat three scoops of Beth Marie’s coconut ice cream with hot fudge on top, or I could have a single scoop in a cone, and that will be just as wonderful without making me want to lie down afterwards.

I still probably don’t need to do that every day, though. Probably.

The problem with using moderation as one’s only guide is that it’s super subjective. While moderation might look like a large waffle cone with coconut ice cream to one person (ahem), it might look like an actual balanced diet, heavy on vegetables and low on high-calorie foods to others who might have better judgment when it comes to eating in a way that supports good health.

Since moderation does vary so much from person to person, the guidelines in this post can be helpful. All musings about ice cream (which – full disclosure – I totally had last night…after a big ass burger and fries…and also beer. Last night’s theme was not moderation, just to be clear.) aside, I try to maintain a 80-20 ratio of healthy food to, erm, less healthy food, even when training isn’t helping me out. And when I do splurge, I wait to do so on a delicious burger and coconut ice cream. If I’m going to be bad, I might as well do it very, very well (little Mae West paraphrase for you).

What tips do you have for eating in moderation?

 

I’m spending 31 days running wild. 

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