70 Degrees That Feels Like 50

It was such a dramatic temperature change I almost needed a light overshirt or jacket this morning at the Farmer's Market, but I managed to survive in my tank top.  I got some yellow zucchini, golden beets, baby red onions to use in place of scallions, and 4 Georgia peaches.  The guy said no Michigan peaches this year, they froze out just like Door Co.'s cherries.  Hard times for fruit farmers this year.  Stupid weather.  Durwood's off brunching with his Census 2000 cronies so I'm all by myself quite unaccustomed to being alone in the house.  I like it, it's quiet, no TV, no talking, no one breathing in the other room.  Quiet.  (my hearing's too good and I can't stop listening, a good thing for an eavesdropping writer but annoying in daily life)  Speaking of writing, NaNoWriMo posted a challenge on Facebook yesterday that had me grabbing my handy notebook and pencil (yay!) so instead of an art prompt writing you're getting my over-100 words 100 word story.  Today's Photo A Day theme is "garden."  I took 5 pictures that I liked, it was hard to choose, but I picked the one my eyes kept being drawn back to.  It's the Sir Speedy tomato plant.  That green tomato should be turning red pretty darned soon.  Tomato Boy can't wait.  (that's 2008's "first tomato" face right there)

July 7--NaNoWriMo's 100-word challenge, The Traveling Shovel of Death.  Plodding from house to house Sam lugged his suitcases in the blazing sun.  "Damned humans are so picky," he groused, "wanting things all neat and logical.  There's nothing logical about Death.  Nothing."  Clods of clay pattered behind him like a trail of bread crumbs.  His cases rattled as she swung them, back and forth, right then left with the rhythm of his steps.  His hickory wood shaft and handle were smooth and dark from use by so many hands.  He squared his shoulders and turned into the next driveway.  "Time to pay a visit.  She'll be happy to see me come up the steps and I can add her finger bone to my set."  He rattled the case in his right hand and cocked his head to listen.  "Yep, needs another knuckle bone."  He reached the top step, opened the door, and called out, "Honey, I'm home."  Another day, another door, another death.

Go onto Facebook and "like" NaNoWriMo to see the cartoon that was my inspiration.  It felt good to just hare off on a tangent.  Later, dudes and dudettes.
--Barbara