davec99
I lack for nothing that I can think of right at this moment. Still, I am occupied typing lots of words in one minute, so it is hard to think of other things. If i did lack for something, I could possibly ask for it for Father's Day. But I don't really want to put a financial burden on my young children. Better that they save for a house or their future education.
For a writer, starting with the word "bland" is not always guaranteed to hold the reader's attention. You could start with something that was the antithesis of "bland". I'm not sure what that word is.
I was a professional. This meant that I was getting paid for doing something that other people did voluntarily. It also meant I had standards to live up to. The standards were set by a body which I paid lots of money to set standards for me. They had the power to exclude people who didn't agree we should be paying lots of money for them to set standards for us. Not the oldest profession, and not the most lucrative either.
It was a wide, sweeping view, with a glint of ocean and a splash of white cloud. He'd bought the block decades ago, when it was just isolated windswept bush. Now it was cleared, with an impregnable stone monument to superannuation. You could see a long way from there, although I would have preferred to be further away ...
Don't slouch, the teacher / parent / authority figure used to always say. But there was never any compelling reason given as to why we couldn't slouch. Were were going to turn out badly? Have chronic back problems? Be unable to be accepted in polite society? Well I slouched whenever I could, and no calamity has befallen me so far. In fact I have found that slouching is a valuable skill, useful for snuggling into all manner of couches and seating arrangements.
We had to do a shuffle to get the fox and the chickens across the river without incident. We had to take the fox over first, and leave it to its own devices while we returned for the chickens. Or perhaps it was the chickens first, and leave the fox to its own devices. I was never good at logic problems anyway, and I was even worse when there were real foxes and chickens involved.
Our hearts are broken, but we will never give in! Or so we said. But with our hearts broken there was the small matter of how to transport oxygen and nutrients to the cells and how to remove carbon dioxide and wastes from the bloodstream. None of us were expert in that area although Doug had once found a way to bypass the spouting when his shed was being flooded. Perhaps we should have shown the large gun toting man more respect. Or given in at an early stage.
A shepherd is a bump that removes an opposition from the contest in AFL football. There are legal shepherds and illegal shepherds. Perhaps in the old days there were legal and illegal shepherds. It all depended on the shepherd registration authority. Those who had lost more than on livestock per month for the last six months lost their registration. Although in some provinces the shepherd registration society held little sway, and they employed legal shepherds, illegal shepherds, and people who hardly knew a sheep from a wolf.
The salt spray licked up and the roaring swell was not far behind. The boat heaved and rocked and those without solid purchase were sent sprawling across the deck. Sails were shredded by the wind and the mast looked fragile. Another evening in the bathtub with the terrible twins.
He leaned into the driving rain and propelled himself forward. The wind bustled and sheets of newspaper flew past him into a black gloom. It wasn't his sort of weather to be out in - and it wasn't even his life that would be in danger if he stayed.
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writing since 2011 · 18 entries · 17 days shown up
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shepherdslackchickensstandardspastpaidshepherdlegalillegalregistrationfoxsethonestanywayhardlymet