individual were typically gradual and, therefore, difficult to pinpoint.
Charley felt more compelled to serve as a public advocate when it came to nutrition. She could standby the statement, “practice what you preach,” and mean it. Because of her—be it for person, pooch, or a bitty kitty—food was one thing she and Michael didn’t skimp on. It was another conscious choice they made, which began over 15 years ago. After she and Michael mutually recognized feelings of sluggishness, she was inspired to conduct a little investigation, suspecting a food reaction/allergy since they both felt it and, for the most part shared the same daily menu.
Renewing this subject now, with minimum research, she gathered enough information to write an op-ed article. The article’s concept had been on her mind for some time, and with the trade agreement article coming out in this month’s issue, she hoped to have her own article worthy of its coinciding publication.
She spent the better part of the day working on it, and although it was a draft, she thought she was off to a solid start. Reading it over for the umpteenth time, it still needed work, a lot. Better to leave it and approach it fresh tomorrow. On this note, Charley’s mental alarm signaled the end-of-work-day whistle. Logging off the network, she opened her satchel and pulled out her tablet. She wanted to have read the procedure’s literature before Michael got home, so rather than taking the time to plan and cook dinner they would either have to order out or cook a late meal together.
They’d talked about it briefly already, but in the end, both of them agreed that more information was needed for any real consideration to take place. Hopefully the literature could provide a more complete picture.
First make sure you’ve received the document from Dr. Baum , she thought as she waited for the cyber gatekeeper to deliver her emails. Voilà. The times won’t change, only I will.
While the idea of living in another time entirely was appealing, she had already dissected this idea and concluded it was unrealistic in her case. It wasn’t that it was a fantastical notion. By happenstance, she found there were legitimate time-travel innovations in the works. When she also discovered it would require no biological reconfiguration on her part, her imagination quickened and she set forth to further prospect the technology.
She gleaned more information on this topic than she had Renovation, but in the end, her primary reasons for dismissing the option were Michael—and their life together. Apart from this glaring fact, Charley viewed time-travel two-fold. One, it was something akin to a “grass is greener on the other side” way of thinking and only good for brief experiences, as if going on vacation. In this view, she assumed the capacity to return, like in H.G. Wells’ The Time Machine . Ironically, she didn’t want a vacation; she wanted to be around to maintain the lawn, so to speak. She was perfectly content with her vacations as they were; there was plenty to explore without adding time in the mix.
Second, if she travelled into a bygone era, assuming she couldn’t come back (while she could experience such things as she wrote about in her journal, for example), she would also be restricted by the practices of the day. Charley imagined it would be much more complicated than just experiencing a mild identity crisis because of a surname; she might very well end up as actual chattel. The dream of voyaging through the past could become a permanent nightmare.
She appreciated some aspects of each decade or century, but she didn’t think she’d like to live, or relive them, especially since there were bits of life today she appreciated as well. It would only be worthwhile if she could live a full lifetime in an era she had never experienced before. That would be quite adventurous.
Maybe in twenty or thirty years when the geniuses had ironed out all the kinks (like
Charley felt more compelled to serve as a public advocate when it came to nutrition. She could standby the statement, “practice what you preach,” and mean it. Because of her—be it for person, pooch, or a bitty kitty—food was one thing she and Michael didn’t skimp on. It was another conscious choice they made, which began over 15 years ago. After she and Michael mutually recognized feelings of sluggishness, she was inspired to conduct a little investigation, suspecting a food reaction/allergy since they both felt it and, for the most part shared the same daily menu.
Renewing this subject now, with minimum research, she gathered enough information to write an op-ed article. The article’s concept had been on her mind for some time, and with the trade agreement article coming out in this month’s issue, she hoped to have her own article worthy of its coinciding publication.
She spent the better part of the day working on it, and although it was a draft, she thought she was off to a solid start. Reading it over for the umpteenth time, it still needed work, a lot. Better to leave it and approach it fresh tomorrow. On this note, Charley’s mental alarm signaled the end-of-work-day whistle. Logging off the network, she opened her satchel and pulled out her tablet. She wanted to have read the procedure’s literature before Michael got home, so rather than taking the time to plan and cook dinner they would either have to order out or cook a late meal together.
They’d talked about it briefly already, but in the end, both of them agreed that more information was needed for any real consideration to take place. Hopefully the literature could provide a more complete picture.
First make sure you’ve received the document from Dr. Baum , she thought as she waited for the cyber gatekeeper to deliver her emails. Voilà. The times won’t change, only I will.
While the idea of living in another time entirely was appealing, she had already dissected this idea and concluded it was unrealistic in her case. It wasn’t that it was a fantastical notion. By happenstance, she found there were legitimate time-travel innovations in the works. When she also discovered it would require no biological reconfiguration on her part, her imagination quickened and she set forth to further prospect the technology.
She gleaned more information on this topic than she had Renovation, but in the end, her primary reasons for dismissing the option were Michael—and their life together. Apart from this glaring fact, Charley viewed time-travel two-fold. One, it was something akin to a “grass is greener on the other side” way of thinking and only good for brief experiences, as if going on vacation. In this view, she assumed the capacity to return, like in H.G. Wells’ The Time Machine . Ironically, she didn’t want a vacation; she wanted to be around to maintain the lawn, so to speak. She was perfectly content with her vacations as they were; there was plenty to explore without adding time in the mix.
Second, if she travelled into a bygone era, assuming she couldn’t come back (while she could experience such things as she wrote about in her journal, for example), she would also be restricted by the practices of the day. Charley imagined it would be much more complicated than just experiencing a mild identity crisis because of a surname; she might very well end up as actual chattel. The dream of voyaging through the past could become a permanent nightmare.
She appreciated some aspects of each decade or century, but she didn’t think she’d like to live, or relive them, especially since there were bits of life today she appreciated as well. It would only be worthwhile if she could live a full lifetime in an era she had never experienced before. That would be quite adventurous.
Maybe in twenty or thirty years when the geniuses had ironed out all the kinks (like
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