1000 Days

The market clamor rises the moment Sehra reaches the top of the step. From the wisps of loud conversation she can pick out it seems one of the fig sellers has done something of note. It’s not her doing, just coincidence. Still the crescendo feels like a cheer. She allows the event to calm her mood with the false sense of importance.

She closes her eye to focus on the voices in the growing mid-morning heat. She’s searching for the once voice that can help her this morning. [aurally journey through a bunch of market stalls I can't think of anything interesting for right now]. There it lies. [something characteristic about the voice I can't seem to make up this morning--shit, should be even writing?].

Carn leaps to the end of his leash when he in turn senses Gotline’s thin snore. He pulls Sarah off balance and down the steps.

“Nah. Cheeb,” Sehra commands. She sinks to a squat to rub the dog’s head. “Not so fast Carn. He’s a sleep and I am hungry again…still. Tet. Let’s find some breakfast.”

Word count: 178
Day 178
Total coincidence.

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Somewhere here in the next couple years it’s going to be time for me to write a children’s book. Or rather, a series of children’s books destined to become wildly popular for both their authenticity and their unabashed look at femininityism.

We have four daughters. People ask if we were trying for a boy. My response is usually, “No, we were trying for puppies.” This masks my annoyance that somehow I could (maybe should) be disappointed by my children’s gender. It’s also just polite because, really, those folks are just making small talk and when you have four of anything in a row it does spark a certain trend in the conversation.

“You’re really going to have your hands full in a few years.” WTF? Like I don’t already? Seriously, it’s the head count that chafes not all the X chromosomes.

Anyhow, back to me writing that book. I should write a few. Maybe go Wattersonesque on you guys with four sharp as a whip, wise beyond their years, snarky, but distinct girls that each tote around a rag doll that turns into an Amazon Warrior, Queen, Muse, or Scientist as the situations warrant. Or something more Lewisian with a lion and a closet. Or I could find some LCD and try a Carolinian trip of some kind. No worries I couldn’t and wouldn’t and shouldn’t and wontn’t go Geisel.

No really, back to the book thing.

I’ve poked around at some fairy thing a few months back. Maybe I could expand that into a more substantial vehicle. Right now they are all at such disparate developmental stages that will blur quickly with age. Has anyone ever written something interesting with four kids under five? Talk about difficult voices to develop.

Hmmmm.

In case you were wondering “femininityism” is a cross between what my ignorant brain knows of femininity and feminism. Think CEO with a ponytail or “Who the hell asked you if I look fat in this, but do I?”

Word count: 325
Day 177

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This was one of those sorts of things that’s not postable.

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