Ready, Set, Dash!


Ready, Set, Dash!
Have no mercy on your keyboard for ten minutes as you give us your most unfiltered self.
Edit later, or publish as-is…

Mucked up my own earnings today, by allowing myself to ” volunteer” to bring work home and charge less. Only after I started did I realize how freaking HUGe the task is. Got to website, find list of their subsidiaries, open a spreadsheet , head up each field, then pop back and forth between the two, copy n pasting invifidual bits of info from one into the other..
And remembering to Save as you go.
No.
I forgot to save and worked for an hour. Sixteen identities each with eighteen spreadsheet cells to be filled where the info was available, and I’m going flat tach to get as much done as quick As I can…
And the puter decides I’m going too fast and “hang on there Lynne while I catch up.”
One frozen app, a forced restart and -shut! No data left since the last save.
Check the auto save recovery file – it’s the same.
DAMNATION!!!

What’s worse? I was using the household server, not my own laptop, as I cannot remember my own password and as I have the Adnisitrator account on the lappie, I have no me to call,on to help.

Then there was the issue of why the new earbud phones weren’t working with my Android. Hubby persists in changing settings and changing them back, getting more and more cross as it has him beat.
While he was away gettin DD to word I found the setting and fixed it.
So at least I had One success this evening. Now I’m writing this on my iPad while I’m s’posed to be watching motorcycle racing wiv hubby (cos we Nove like motor cycle racing). But this ain’t getting that laptop back, nor the contract work done. S O Dear some days are just sackful, aren’t they.
It’s a message form God (not a mission for God) to take things slow. Too good at dropping myself into the brown stuff, me. I keep piling up,the work and the wonder why I get tetchy and wobbly with stress! Well, d’uh!
OMG that racetrack is ankle deep in eater! The race has race has been stopped. Oh hang on – that happened a while ago. Now the tracks dried out they’re waving a green Flag ready to restart. That’s more like it.
Hey I’ve just realized something cool. The iPad is fixing my punctuation as I go. I haven’t hit an apostrophe, comma or full-stop yet! Oh well done iPad! Hang on – I have hit the odd comma and the hyphen. Oo and the full stop. And after a full,stop it starts the Nast word with a capital anyway MSWord can.t do that. Checking timer… Bak soon
………

Think I went over the ten. Darned timer doesn’t beep if you’re using another app. And I thnk I wrote that last time, somehow

_______________

ADDENDUM:

Obvious now, isn’t it, that my typing is ‘off’.

Re that laptop password…after hubby (household network admin) had tried all sorts of tricks while I washed the dishes, I walked to the lappie as he used his puter to search for ‘how-to’ online. And without even thinking about it, I logged on with my usual password, letting my fingers do the thinking instead of my head. ZAP! I’m in!.

anyone want me to edit the 10-min quick write so you can really get it?

Le Tour d’Eiffel


At the writers’ group, we were shown a small model of the Eiffel Tower, and asked to write whatever came into our heads, based on the model. Here’s my effort, written in the ten-minute allowed.

_________________________________________________________

Zhwoowh, zhwoowh, zhwoowh …
Fading in and out, finally strengthening in its solidarity, a blue small box – the height of a small shed, but of a size for only one, with a blue blinking light on top, materialized on the footpath corner.
The noise died down. all that could be heard now was the sounds of occasional night road traffic.
The door opened, and out stepped a tall man, wearing a long coat with a ridiculous top hat on his mass of curls, followed by a young woman, blonde and busty, with a slightly vapid, bored expression on her face.
   ” Look, it’s still here. I told you it would be,” gloated the man.
   ” Well, o’ course,  ‘s been ‘ere since 1800 and somefin’, ‘s made of iron and it ain’t gonna gerrup an’ walk off, is it nah?” She was obviously  bored, or failed to understand his excitement.
   ” You just watch,” he said. “Tonight’s the night. It’ll all happen tonight, and we got here in time!”
   “Wha’ will?,” she asked, examining her nail polish.
   “Galarians. They’ve been slowly gathering here for days. Tonight we’ll see them take off to fly back to Galaria.”

_________________________________________________________

From the top field


farmer on high field He leans back against the top wire of the fence, arms folded, glaring over the paddocks down to the farm house.
That bloody green ute’s back – and yes, there’s Gloria climbing out the passemger window in last night’s finery.
Now leaning back in – probably locking lips with that no good son of the jerk farming the back block at the end of the hill country gravel road.

“Lazy young shite he is. That ute door’s been rusted shut for years, even from back before his dad gave it to him. And my Gloria has to latch onto him as her boyfriend. Wouldn’t mind if he had a job, or helped his Dad on their farm. But no, the high school rock band’s his major daily focus.
Oh, no!”

Even from up here he can see Gloria’s ball gown’s ripped through the back.
He straightens up, mounts the quad bike and sends it pell-mell down the slope, hoping to get there before the green ute pulls out and away.

“Manhandle my daughter, would you? Would you bloody not!”

 

The picturre was the inspiration for a ten-minute Quick-Write practice activity;
© Lynne R McAnulty-Street, Rotorua NZ, 2013 August

10-minute “Quick Write” – I was plunging down, down, down …


Ten-minute Quick Write is an activity my local writers group gives us periodically. The last starter was “I was plunging down, down, down “. Now, I don’t swim (therefore no Scuba Diving. I’m poorer than any church mouse ever was, so I’ve never tried Sky Diving. I don’t go Mountain or Rock Climbing, so I can’t imagione plummeting in free-fall down a hillside or rock-face.A “true experience” piece was out of order for me. So a penchant for crime and action reading helped a little. Here’s what made its way from my brain, down my arm, through my hand and fingers then through the pen onto the paper.

I was plunging down, down, down – desparately pulling myself deeper, trying to see through the murky water which roiled around the wharf’s piles. Somewhere ahead of me, she was sinking quickly to the harbour’s bed, chained to a concrete bollard.

As my chest began to ache with the rib muscles’ need to gain some fresh air, I wondered if she, so much deeper than I, would be drowning now.

At last, I saw her pale face below me, turned upward to the surface. Her eyes were open, staring.

As I kicked harder and closed the gap between us, she saw me – she blinked. I grabbed at one of her arms reaching up to me. From my pocket I pulled the mini bolt cutters I’d snatched from the chop-shop I had run through to get to the wharf’s edge.

Two men had pushed her over the edge into the harbour as I burst out onto the wharf. I heard her cry, the splash, and racing past them I’d dived straight in.

I cut the chain and freed her from the weight holding her down. With an arm around her, I swam us in and up under the wharf between the huge supports. I placed my mouth over her soft, cold lips, and felt them part. I blew air into her mouth.

We kicked together, driving up to the surface, out of sight of the two hoods – who may already have left, or more likely would be waiting above to shoot at whoever came up out of what they had expected to be her watery grave.

As we approached the surface, I slowed. I wanted to break the surface without a splash. She seemed to understand. As our heads cleared the water, against all instinct we both held our breath before releasing it  slowly without a gasp, and inhaling again smoothly and quietly. We clung to the pile, in the cold water and beyond any sunlight or view, listening for any sounds from above.

© Lynne R McAnulty-Street, Rotorua NZ, 2013, July

Good heavens it’s 332 words! Hand writing is definitely faster for me than typing! (Doubles the work though, darn it.)

Pulling an All-Nighter


Pulling an All-Nighter a 5-minute quickie

She had been working on his damned report for hours. At five thirty, she’d saved and backed up the file, and copied it to the corporate drop box. But as she passed her boss’s office, he’d virtually ordered her to work on through the evening, telling her he’d have a meal sent in at about seven.

So reluctantly she’d re-opened the file, and carried on collating files, reports and anecdotes into his main document of his national quality systems check of all minor departments. It was five in the morning when she finished…

She was so exhausted, she tried to sleep lying back in her chair, but being upright was so uncomfortable. eventually she sleepily clambered up on to her desk, and spread herself out, lying on her side. She snoozed fitfully at first, then deeply.

The hum of the building’s elevators coming to life at six disturbed her slightly – just enough to turnover again; as she turned, her knee slid over the [ No ] button to the “Do you want to [Save]?”

________________________________________________
Given a photograph of a young woman asleep, curled up on an office desk, and five minutes.