me and Mrs. Meyer
The muses are out picketing in the driveway.
One of their signs reads: Will Work For Molasses Cookies!!!
Another: Can We Go Back To The Beach???
And the third: Who Can Write With Stubby Ticonderogas? Buy More Pencils!
Can you guess whose is whose? Correct answers will let me know if I am doing an adequate job of character development. 😉
So last night, hands scrubbing glass, plastic, and aluminum with a warm soapy sponge, I contemplated an email exchange I’d just been part of with one of our BFN family.
Among other things, this reader mentioned his son got hurt jumping off a swing at the park. In my emailed response I did not acknowledge the comment.
Why not? I wondered as sponge squeaked against my morning’s coffee cup.
How rude. I scolded myself as I rinsed the bubbles from a serrated knife.
Surely if the email had come from a mother instead of a father, you would have said something… inquired about the child’s well being? I pondered as pots clanked against one another.
Was this a case of bias? Or… simply knowing my audience? I kept digging like an archaeologist unearthing a dirt encrusted tea cup.
Oh bother… you’re nitpicking!… Keep this up and the muses will go on strike.
And that’s why I’m here alone… Typist without Trio.
BB: I hope there has been a full recovery. 😊 Thanks for the opportunity to think about my thinking.
Personalities of The Muses?
(Reader note: I can finish a book or movie and struggle to recall a character’s name. I observe the flow of action, but even the flow can vanish quickly. Or simply, “Take this with a grain of salt.”)
I think Calliope would be the Cookie Monster.
Thalia the beach bum.
Urania (in some ways like me) would want the “right tool for the job.” A new, freshly sharpened Ticonderoga. Blaming poor motivation or output on a short pencil…
And now I know your home has a sentient dishwasher! 😬