A Snippet, a Fragment, and a Shard

A Snippet: I have a photo tucked in a box of my brother on the top of a car after winning a demolition derby. He climbed out of the window. And stood on top of the car. In a tux. And in the mud pit of stopped cars with wisps of radiator steam, he is frozen in time.

A Fragment: In Mali, I went down the hall to take a much needed shower. And turned the skeleton key. Refreshed, I found I could not get out of the bathroom. I jiggled the key. I turned. And turned and turned and turned. I yoohooed. Nothing. Nobody. I had a mini-breakdown leaning against the door. I came up with a plan. I’d climb through the window, toss myself onto the dusty street, and then come into the driveway of the hotel. I whipped the window open, and there were bars. The only way out was the door. Determination. Set. In. And in a frustrating half hour, I freed myself from the prison bathroom to meet the evil man I wrote about a few days ago. Maybe karma was trying to keeping me safe and locked in the bathroom away from him.

A Shard: I’m reading The Butterfly Hunter, about people with jobs way off the beaten path, and there’s a chapter about this woman living here in Wisconsin. She’s a big, burly, tattooed grandmother who competes at lumberjack competitions. Oh, yeah. Love it.