Sprout has a blog again?

Me when I contact IT and tell them yes I restarted and followed any instructions I could but computer still angry and IT says they are escalating this because it is an actual issue: I am getting a good grade in service desk ticket. Something that is both normal to want and possible to achieve.

Del nodded, heaving a sack of grain onto his cart. "Yeah, spring's coming early this year. At this rate, the sage says Old Edda will be awake before the next full moon."

Rory sighed. "What's the old bag got to cry about so much anyway? She gets to sleep the whole winter, and the rest of us are aching from shoveling snow and hunting game." She leaned on Del's cart, absentmindedly scratching the ox's head. It lowed happily.

Del shrugged. "Such is the way of gods, I guess. I'm sure Old Edda has problems of her own." They load a crate of tea leaves up next to the other goods. "Not our place as mortals to ask why, I guess. Or at least, it's not her place to answer. As long as she stays in good spirits, our fields will be safe. That's as far as I'm concerned."

"Here's hoping she's in a good mood this year," Rudy spat on the ground before turning to help secure the last goods to the cart. "last time Enzo's bakery was cleaned out for two whole weeks because she was so inconsolable!"

AND THEN WE DRAG AND SORT

FERMENTATION

AND SEEDING

CAN’T EAT A FUNGUS IF I’M NOT FUNGUS BREEDING

CHEWING THIS SLIME

WISH THE PROCESS DIDN’T TAKE SO MUCH TIME

USING MY BITE

CHEWING THIS SLIME

TOOK ME MONTHS TO COME UP WITH THIS RHYME

THE TASTE IS ALRIGHT

THE SCENERY’S SUBLIME

I’M RUNNING UP A VINE

I trained for years to be a con artist. I told my friends and family that I wanted to be a magician, but that was just a cover for why I was constantly practicing sleight of hand. 

In junior high and high school, I would shop lift a bunch of candy on my way to school, sell it to kids at the morning break, and use that money to run a crooked poker game at lunch.

Finally, when I was 19 or 20, I felt I was ready, and I picked my first pocket. I was on the bus, bumped a guy as I passed down the aisle, got his wallet, super clean.

In the wallet was several hundred dollars. A huge first score, I had been hoping for a couple twenties. I sat there looking at the, like, 400 bucks, thinking.

That was my rent at the time. We were both on the bus. It was likely his rent too. Lord knows the only reason to carry that much cash on the bus is you’re on your way to pay a bill. We were both on the bus, you know? That’s not someone I was comfortable stealing from.

I tapped him on the shoulder and told him “hey i think you dropped this” and gave it back to him with all the money still in it. It was the first and last time I ever picked a pocket.

Picking a rich person’s pocket is a loosing game. They probably have credit cards and not cash, those credit cards probably have the best anti-theft measures their bank can provide, and you probably can’t get close enough to those people to pick their pockets unless you’re already rich yourself.

The people who’s pockets you can reliably pick are the people around you. The people who are also on the bus, who are in this same shitty situation with you.