Captain Mom’s Log: Week 10: Day 65
There is a sort of stillness in the air again. Time has slowed and I can actually see the particles of pollen suspended in the air. I can feel them wafting down and coating my throat. I wipe down the cat every time he comes in with a damp paper towel. Yes, we still have those, although we will have to journey out to find toilet paper again soon. We've only managed to buy it twice in the last 65 days. Good Lord. 65 Days.
I joined the artillery training earlier today. Clay ammo slung into cans and a cardboard target. I squinted to see the balls zip through the air, but the second they left the sling shot they blended into the surroundings. They disappeared immediately. It was like Kipling's blotchy Giraffe hiding from Leopard and Man.
"Giraffe moved off to some tallish trees where the shadows fell all blotchy.
‘Now watch,’ said the Zebra and the Giraffe. ‘This is the way it’s done. One—two—three! And where’s your breakfast?’
Leopard stared, and Ethiopian stared, but all they could see were stripy shadows and blotched shadows in the forest, but never a sign of Zebra and Giraffe. They had just walked off and hidden themselves in the shadowy forest."
I suppose the ammunition blends so that the prey does not see it coming. We listened to hear a "thock" or "tap" or "thud." The cans sat upright the entire time. The target gathered about ten dents. Hundreds of clay balls were shot into the woods. We are lucky grocery stores are still open. How is it that I can see the pollen and not a brown clay ball? They look like chocolate, but don't smell like much.
Tonight I have the sudden and overwhelming urge to get back into Handmaid's Tale. Either I've come to accept our new world fate and I want to prepare for what is surely coming next or I want to feel relieved that at least we aren't that bad off (at least ... not yet). Glass half empty/half full sort of thing. In any event, it is human to create our own story line for the unknown.
END TRANSMISSION
I joined the artillery training earlier today. Clay ammo slung into cans and a cardboard target. I squinted to see the balls zip through the air, but the second they left the sling shot they blended into the surroundings. They disappeared immediately. It was like Kipling's blotchy Giraffe hiding from Leopard and Man.
"Giraffe moved off to some tallish trees where the shadows fell all blotchy.
‘Now watch,’ said the Zebra and the Giraffe. ‘This is the way it’s done. One—two—three! And where’s your breakfast?’
Leopard stared, and Ethiopian stared, but all they could see were stripy shadows and blotched shadows in the forest, but never a sign of Zebra and Giraffe. They had just walked off and hidden themselves in the shadowy forest."
I suppose the ammunition blends so that the prey does not see it coming. We listened to hear a "thock" or "tap" or "thud." The cans sat upright the entire time. The target gathered about ten dents. Hundreds of clay balls were shot into the woods. We are lucky grocery stores are still open. How is it that I can see the pollen and not a brown clay ball? They look like chocolate, but don't smell like much.
Tonight I have the sudden and overwhelming urge to get back into Handmaid's Tale. Either I've come to accept our new world fate and I want to prepare for what is surely coming next or I want to feel relieved that at least we aren't that bad off (at least ... not yet). Glass half empty/half full sort of thing. In any event, it is human to create our own story line for the unknown.
END TRANSMISSION
Love that, always create your own storyline.
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