Still some green, along with the harbinger of things to come.
Struggling with blogger writer's block here. I had so many thoughts during my swim today, and now they're gone. The swim was so-so. My left arm is still killing me from the two metric tons the other day so it was essentially one arm drill. My massage therapist makes sad noises as she pummels me oh so good.
So here's a novel snippet, a reworking of some of the earliest writing. At the moment this is the opening for the whole kit and kaboodle that is busy getting massaged into shape. A reminder, this is copyright to Keith Cartmell.
Dwen put one booted foot on the air cart, and stretched to try to make her hips click. “Morning Gail, your turn on safety man duty today? Boring, but it beats being in there shoveling.”
Gail had been peering into the digester manway, but turned around and leaned back against the flange. “Morning! That’s for sure. How was your days off?”
“Busy. Hoping for a quiet day here. How much more is there to go?” She ducked down and peered through the manway into the digester.
“We’re well into the sump now, but it’s tough going. I’m hoping Bryan can finish today, and then I won’t have to go in tomorrow to dig. It’s heavy and packs really hard.”
“At least you didn’t have to climb in and out of the sump.”
“No. But neither does Bryan. He just has to lift the pail out. Peter took a bunch of full pails up to headworks, and he’ll be back soon with more empties for Bryan.”
“Days like this I’m glad I’m an operator.”
“Twelve hour shifts, alternating sets of days and nights,” Gail commented with a grimace. “I don’t know how you do that.”
“Some days I don’t either, especially when I’m not sleeping well. Anyways, I should be about it. Let me know if you want any effluent back-flushing action and I’ll do that for you. Tell Bryan I said hi.” Dwen started strolling across the pump house to the stairs.
“Sure thing. See you later.” Gail turned to look back in the digester again. “Hey! Bryan, you ok?” she yelled.
Bryan paused in his digging, and gave her a thumbs up. This wouldn’t be so bad, he thought, if it wasn’t for having to wear the air mask. It was sliding around his sweaty face, and he pushed it back into place.
Then he realized he needed to move the light again. The digester was dim, even with all 6 man ways and the equipment hatch open. The black sandy silt sucked up all the light. He positioned an empty pail on a level spot and started to dig again. He had reached the bottom of the sump in one corner, but there wasn’t enough cleared to work efficiently. The euchre game during coffee break couldn't come soon enough.
A few shovelfuls later something white clung to the side of the shovel and was left poking out of the silt. Even with gloves on he didn't want to touch it without hosing it off first. For good measure he hosed around the sump, then moved the light right into the sump with him. He squatted carefully to take a closer look. It was long and slender with a knob on the end. It came out easily enough, and he gave the rest of it a quick swoosh with the hose before holding it up to the light.
It's a bone. I'm holding a bone in my hand. What do I do now?
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