#Hudson Valley Food

[eduardos-eats]

Hello, it’s Eduardo! I just got back from a good donut spot (Glazed Over in Beacon, NY). I’m a native Upstate New York foodie with disabilities so friends bring me to great places to try great food. Another thing I like to do is cook with my own special flare. My main apparatuses are my George Forman Grill and my crockpot.  

My inspiration stems from ‘Chopped’ on the Food Network, Tipsy Bartender on Youtube, and others.

I hope you enjoy my opinions so if you disagree that’s your right.

The Fat Man has spoken.

[chiceatz]

Bacon, home fries, over medium egg on a toasted croissant with pepper, mayo & hot sauce—

Miracle Bagels!

[wildrungarden]

5/6/24 ~ Potatoes are finally here! 🥔

[gingerradiohour]

Ginger Radio Hour #052

Show Notes November 21, 2023

Listen to archived episode.

Theme: Seeds.

Nkoula Badila works with the earth and the community in and around Hudson, NY. She founded Grow Black Hudson a few years ago and still works at it day-to-day, with a focus on food and people. Badila and I talk about growing your own food, the Hudson Valley, making community, and her art and music.

Playlist:

Obongjayar “Still Sun” Album: Which Way is Forward? 2020

Lady Moon & the Eclipse “Le Petit Prince, Pt. 1” Album: Journey to the Cosmic Soul 2020

Lady Moon & the Eclipse “Shine” Album: Journey to the Cosmic Soul 2020

Lady Moon & the Eclipse “Spiritual” Album: Journey to the Cosmic Soul 2020

Nkodia “NSCORPIO” Album: NZODIAK 2022

Nkodia “NARIES” Album: NZODIAK 2022

Nkodia “NVIRGO” Album: NZODIAK 2022

[maryannmccarra-fitzpatrick]

HERE IS A LIST OF COMMUNITY FOOD PANTRIES:

https://feedingwestchester.org/find-help/agency-locator/

(As I am not sure as regards how up-to-date the information on their website is, a call to the pantry to ascertain their current days/hours might be advisable.)

Food Pantries, Peekskill (located using Feeding Westchester website):

Fred’s Pantry

St. Peter’s Church

138 North Division Street

914-736-1936

Wednesday, 4:30 p.m. to 6:00 p.m.

Saturday, 9:30 a.m. to 11:00 a.m.

https://www.stpeterspeekskill.org/freds-food-pantry

************************************

Church of the Assumption

Rectory Parking Lot

131 Union Avenue

914-737-2071

Friday, 4:00 p.m. to 5:15 p.m.

https://assumptionpeekskill.org/

**************************************

Salvation Army

117 Nelson Avenue

914-737-0280

Wednesday, 9:30 a.m. to 11:30 a.m.

Monday through Friday, 12 Noon to 1:00 p.m.

https://easternusa.salvationarmy.org/greater-new-york/

****************************************

Mount Lebanon Food Pantry

648 Harrison Avenue

914-737-6354

Friday, 10:00 a.m. to 12 Noon

https://mountlebanonbc.info/

*****************************************

First Baptist Church of Peekskill

690 Highland Avenue

914-737-0321

Delivery only.

Tuesday, 10:30 a.m. to 12 Noon

https://www.fbcpeekskill.org/

******************************************

Jan Peek Shelter

200 North Water Street

914-736-2636

Breakfast, times vary.

https://www.chhop.org/

******************************************

Church of the Holy Spirit

1969 Crompond Road

Cortlandt Manor

914-737-2111

3rd Monday of the month, 4:00 p.m.-5:30 p.m.

1st & 3rd Wednesday of the month, 11:00 a.m. - 12:30 p.m.

https://holyspirit-cortlandtmanor.org/food-pantry

*******************************************

VA Hospital-Supportive Housing

Food Pantry

(Veterans Only)

2094 Albany Post Road

Montrose

914-737-4400 Extension: 2639

Tuesday, 9:00 a.m. to 12 Noon

Wednesday, 9:00 a.m. to 12 Noon

https://www.va.gov/hudson-valley-health-care/locations/franklin-delano-roosevelt-hospital/

***************************************

The Pantry at the Museum

137 Seventh Street

Verplanck

914-323-8343

Friday, 12 Noon to 3:45 p.m.

https://letitshineonline.com/the-pantry

*******************************************

Community Food Pantry at St. Mary’s Mohegan Lake

1836 East Main Street

Mohegan Lake

914-528-3972

Saturday, 9:30 a.m. to 11:00 a.m.

Emergency bags Tuesday-Friday, 9:30 a.m. to 2:00 p.m.

http://www.cfpstmarysmoheganlake.com/

***********************************************

[gatheringbones]

[“While “essential workers” in the poultry industry were made to feel dirty, nonessential workers in fields like finance and computer engineering—the “people with laptops”—were sheltering in place, more distant from what transpired in industrial slaughterhouses than ever before.

Thanks to FreshDirect and Instacart, consuming meat no longer even requires coming into contact with a deli butcher or grocery clerk. With a few taps on a keyboard or the swipe of a screen, consumers can get as much beef, pork, and chicken as they want delivered to their doors, without ever having to think about where it comes from. And yet, as the popularity of bestselling books like Michael Pollan’s The Omnivore’s Dilemma and Jonathan Safran Foer’s Eating Animals attests, a lot of Americans do think about this. In recent years, more and more consumers have begun to carefully scrutinize the labels on the packages of the meat and poultry they buy. The ranks of such consumers have grown exponentially, paralleling the rise of the “good food” movement, which promotes healthier eating habits and reform of the industrial food system.

Although the movement is, in Pollan’s words, a “big, lumpy tent,” composed of a broad coalition of advocacy organizations and citizens’ groups that sometimes push for competing agendas, one of its aims is to persuade consumers to become more conscientious shoppers and eaters. Among those who put this idea into practice are so-called locavores, who buy food directly from local farms, ideally from small family-run enterprises that embrace organic, sustainable practices: ranchers who raise grass-fed cows that never set foot in industrial feedlots; farmers who sell eggs that come from free-range chickens reared on a diet of seeds, plants, and insects rather than genetically engineered corn and antibiotics.

Locavores engage in what social scientists call “virtuous consumption,” using their purchasing power to buy food that aligns with their values. The movement appeals to the growing number of Americans who want to feel more connected to the food they eat and to the people who raise it, with whom locavores can interact directly at farmers markets or through community-supported agriculture programs. It is a captivating vision, and the benefits of eating locally grown food—which is likely to be more nutritious, to come from more humanely treated animals, and to be better for the environment—are manifold.

But locavores have some blind spots of their own, most notably when it comes to the experiences of workers on small family farms. As the political scientist Margaret Gray discovered when she set about interviewing farm laborers in New York’s Hudson Valley, the vast majority of these workers are undocumented immigrants or guest workers who toil under abysmal conditions, often working sixty- to seventy-hour weeks for dismal pay. “We live in the shadows,” one worker told her. “They treat us like nothing,” said another. In her book Labor and the Locavore, Gray asked the butcher on a small farm why so few of his customers seemed to notice this.

“They don’t eat the workers,” the farmer told her.

“He went on to explain that, in his experience, his consumers’ primary concern is with what they put in their bodies,” Gray wrote, “and so the labor standards of farmworkers simply do not register as a priority.”]

eyal press, from dirty work: essential labor and the hidden toll of inequality in america, 2021

[possessivesuffix]

My latest in trawling thru semi-random comparative etymological dictionaries: Hudson (1989) on Highland East Cushitic. He gets together 767 reconstructions, a decent amount on a group of relatively little-studied languages. A nice chunk of vocabulary can be reconstructed especially for the major crop of the area, the enset tree (*weesa), its parts (e.g. *hoga 'leaf', *kʼaantʼe 'fibre', *kʼalima 'seed pod', *mareero 'pith', *waasa 'enset food') and tools for processing it (*meeta 'scraping board', *sissa 'bamboo scraper).

There surely has to be material among the reconstructions though that represent newer spread, most clearly the names of a few post-Columbian-exchange foodstuffs: *bakʼollo 'maize', *kʼaaria 'green chili' — same terms also e.g. in Amharic: bäqollo, qariya (Hudson kindly provides Amharic and Oromo equivalents copiously). (Note btw a vowel nativization rule appearing in these: Amharic a → HEC aa, but ä /ɐ/ → HEC a [a~ɐ~ə], as if undoing the common Ethiosemitic shift *aa *a > a ä.) Slightly suspicious are also a few names of trade items and cultural vocabulary / Wanderwörter like *gaanjibelo 'ginger', *loome 'lemon' (at least the latter could be again plausibly fairly recent loans from Amharic lome) but these could well have reached southern Ethiopia even already in antiquity.

In terms of root structure, interesting are two monoconsonantal roots: *r- 'thing, thingy, thingamajig' (segmentable from a diminutive *r-iččo and from Sidamo ra) and *y- 'to say'. Otherwise verb roots are the usual Cushitic *CV(C)C-, clusters limited to geminates and sonorant + obstruent; with several derivative extensions such as *-is- reflexive, *-aɗ- causative. *ɗ actually occurs almost solely in the last, I would suspect it's from one of the well-attested dental stops *t / *d / *tʼ with post-tonic lenition. Long vowels also seem to occur fairly freely in the root syllable with even several "superheavy" roots like *aanš- 'to wash', *feenkʼ- 'to shell legumes', *iibb- 'to be hot', *maass-aɗ- 'to bless', *uuntʼ- 'to beg'; *boowwa 'valley', *čʼeemma 'laziness', *doobbe 'nettle', *leemma 'bamboo', *mooyyee 'mortar'… A ban on CCC consonant clusters does seem to hold however, apparently demonstrated by *moočča ~ *mooyča 'prey animal', which probably comes from an earlier *moo- + the deminutive suffix *-iččV; resulting **mooyčča would have to be shortened in some way, either by degemination or by dropping *-y-.

In V2 and later positions there seems to be morphological conditioning of vowel length, cf. e.g. *arraab- 'to lick' : *arrab-o 'tongue'; *indidd- 'to shed tears' : *indiidd-o 'tear' (and not **arraabo, **indiddo). And as in these examples, also many basic nouns appear to be simple "thematizations" of verbs, similarly e.g. *buur- 'to anoint, smear', *buur-o 'butter'; *fool- 'to breathe', *fool-e 'breath'; *kʼiid- 'to cool', *kʼiid-a 'cold (of weather)'; *reh- 'to die', *reh-o 'death'. I don't actually see a ton of logic to what the "nominalizing vowel" ends up being though and maybe it's sometimes an original part of the stem, not a suffix. Quite a lot of unanalyzable nouns on the other hand are actually fairly long, e.g. *finitʼara 'splinter', *hurbaata 'dinner', *kʼorranda 'crow', *kʼurtʼumʔe 'fish', *tʼulunka '(finger)nail'.

Further phonologically interesting features include apparently a triple contrast between *Rˀ (glottalized resonants) and both *Rʔ and *ʔR clusters [edit: no, it's just very inconsistent transcription]; also ejective *pʼ is established even though plain *p is not (that has presumably become *f).

Lastly here's a some etyma I've found casually amusing:

*bob- 'to smell bad': take note, any Roberts planning on travelling to southern Ethiopia

*buna 'coffee': yes yes, this is the part of the world where you cannot assume 'coffee' will look anything like kafe

*mana 'man': second-best probably-coincidence in the data

*raar- 'to shout, scream' 🦖 [and looks like maybe a variant of *aar- 'to be angry?]

*sano 'nose': "clearly must be" cognate with PIE *nas- with metathesis :^>

*ufuuf- 'to blow on fire', oh yeah I've needed that verb sometimes

*waʔa 'water': Cushitic With British Characteristics

[radioactivepeasant]

Snippets: Free Day Thursday

Fighting Writer's Block Prompt: Link gets adopted by Hudson and Rhondson but remains oblivious

Link liked Tarrey Town well enough. The brightly colored box houses were a little funny to him sometimes, reminding him of children's blocks, but he didn't judge. (Anything was better than the Shrine of Resurrection.)

He hummed quietly as he nudged Epona along the path into Tarrey Town. There were more flowers than the last time he'd been here. A smile tugged at his cheek as he suddenly recalled the woman at the Hila Rao shrine, and her fervent overprotection of her maze of blossoms.

A familiar face caught his eye, and he swung down from Epona's back. It took surprisingly little time to recover from the feeling of having been on horseback for too many hours. But then, he'd been accustomed to ignoring pain for the sake of duty since he was far, far too young.

Sometimes Link wished he hadn't recovered some of those memories.

Link buried thoughts of hard-faced kings forever comparing him to his late father and finding him lacking. Instead, he turned a light smile to the sturdy figure approaching.

"Heh," he called, waving.

"Link!" Hudson beamed and spread his burly arms wide. "I thought that was you! What brings you back so late? We were starting to worry about you, you know!"

Link rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. He supposed that was one downside of making friends all across the continent. It did take a while to visit everyone, even with the magic of teleportation.

"Sorry about that," he signed, "I've been down in the Plateau, helping Zelda."

Oops. Probably should've said "Princess". I don't think there's a lot of other Zeldas though...

Hudson smiled until his eyes almost vanished behind his cheeks. "Princess Zelda! Moving up in the world, you are! Come, come, you must join us for supper! Rhondson and I want to hear all about your travels!"

Well, far be it from Link to turn down free food.

In the little cul-de-sac that made up Tarrey Town, Rhondson and Grayson were the strongest, bar none. As they came up the path, Link spotted Rhondson carrying six cords of wood to the house as if they weighed no more than a bundle of twigs. Oh, Link would have loved to have that kind of physical strength. But he was a Hylian, not a Zora or a Gerudo or a Goron, and he had to make do with being a slightly scrawny seventeen year old.

One hundred and seventeen, technically, he reminded himself.

Rhondson set the wood down beside a saw horse and plane, then glanced up to see Link and her husband. She put her hands on her hips and laughed.

"Well look who it is!"

Moggs and Monari, their neighbors, peeked over from their front stoop, not recognizing Link. Hudson strolled over to the space between houses and said conversationally, "You remember our boy, Link? He's been helping the princess down in the valley!"

Rhondson raised her brows. "The princess? Sav'otta! She's a beloved sister and friend of Gerudo City, you should be very proud, Link!"

Link squirmed a little. "She's a good friend, I'm proud to know her," he agreed.

The little blush coloring the tips of his ears said more than his hands did.

"Oh, Link! Of course!"

The speed with which Monari agreed suggested that the elderly woman didn't actually remember Link. He wasn't offended.

"He's certainly gotten...tall!"

Link knew for a fact that he had not. The neighbor was definitely thinking of someone else.

Why do Hylians have to be this size? Why can't I be as tall as a Gerudo? Or Sidon!

Dinner was a lively affair, featuring local plants and fish, plus fruits Rhondson had brought from the desert. Link had offered to contribute his own supplies from his traveling, but Hudson had looked into his sack of hot-footed frogs and slightly mushy apples and politely declined.

Link didn't get why everybody had to judge his dietary habits. You ate what you could find! He wasn't picky like everyone else!

"Tch. Doesn't anyone eat in the Plateau?" Rhondson asked as she scooped another helping of fish and peppers onto both her own plate and Link's. "I know Hylians grow differently, but it can't be healthy for vevhi your age to be the same size as a twelve year old Gerudo! We need to build your muscles, Link."

Link puffed out his cheeks and rolled his eyes. "That's the same thing the Gorons tell me."

"Let the boy be," Hudson chided with a smile, "Hylian youngsters don't really hit that last growth spurt until twenty. He'll get there on his own time."

"Actually I'm 117," Link mused, "Does that mean I'm just always going to be this size?"

Hudson and Rhondson looked at each other and then chuckled.

"One hundred and seventeen! That's a good one, kiddo." Hudson elbowed him. "But no, you're not getting my grog."

Drat. He'd guessed exactly where Link was going with that.

I give up. I'm never going to get to try that stuff unless I make it on my own.

It would not occur to him until the following evening when he'd once again settled into the guest room that they insisted was his "whenever he wanted" that there was something kind of familiar about the way they were treating him.

He couldn't quite put his finger on it.

Oh well. If it was important, he'd probably remember it later.

[yeats-infection]

do you maybe have a post somewhere that is a quick rundown on history of the band? (THE band) wanted to fully appreciate your new story, but have no idea where to get some coherent lore 🤍

ok thank you anon, this is a very reasonable question which i also find quite intimidating lol. i will TRY to attempt the history up to the point of the story in a way that's not just recapitulating the wikipedia page...

so the reason they were called the band was that they were the backing band for a number of different artists before they started recording their original songs. all five members (the drummer levon helm who was from rural arkansas, and the guitarist robbie robertson the bassist rick danko the organist garth hudson the pianist richard manuel who were all from various parts of ontario) came together between 1958 and 1960 as the backing band for a rockabilly guy named ronnie hawkins, an arkansas native who was huge in toronto for some reason. there are some "my mom sold me to ronnie hawkins" elements of the narrative (according to levon's memoir robbie's mom was like "my son can play guitar and write songs... i'm worried he's gonna end up in jail... can't he play with you or something..." he was fifteen years old). so they toured as ronnie's backing band throughout ontario and then throughout the south. this went on for several years during which they all became very strong players.

in late 1963 they had broader musical horizons and had had enough of ronnie telling them they couldn't smoke weed so they decided to go it on their own as levon and the hawks, because levon had the longest tenure in the band. they honestly struggled on their own at first to the extent that they were stealing food from supermarkets but eventually found their footing RIGHT ABOUT THE TIME that bob dylan was looking for an electric band to back him after the notorious newport folk festival 1965. bob went to see the hawks in toronto and asked levon and robbie to join his band; they did for a couple shows and then said they didn't want to do any more without the rest of their band and bob agreed and hired the rest of the hawks too. people were NOT FANS of dylan's new electric direction and they were booed during most of their sets. after about a month of this levon couldn't take it anymore and left in the middle of the night with the rough idea to work on an oil rig in the gulf of mexico. he only told robbie he was leaving and they each describe this moment fairly differently in their respective memoirs ...

so the rest of the band continued backing bob on a world tour in 1966 and some of them went to nashville with him to record blonde on blonde. in summer 1966 bob has a motorcycle accident and holes himself up in the town of woodstock, on the edge of the catskills in ulster county in the hudson valley in new york state, where he owns a house and so does his manager albert grossman. the band continues backing various other artists and session playing etc. but in february 1967 bob invited them to come up to woodstock. they took him up on the offer and three of them (rick, richard, and garth) moved into the house called big pink in west saugerties. for months robbie and bob came over every day and they recorded the basement tapes. around this time albert grossman managed to get the band a deal with capitol records. with this news they convinced levon to come back from the gulf...

so THAT is the simplified history up to the point of the story. the relevant history AFTER the point of the story which of course motivates how we now look at this moment in time is that levon completely excoriates robbie in his memoir (published in the 90s) for 1) being authoritarian over the direction of the band starting in the woodstock era, including the decision to end the band in 1976, and 2) taking sole songwriting credit and therefore making the most money for most of the music when levon contends a lot of the songs especially on the first two albums were written collaboratively. my perspective is that robbie can be forgiven for #1, because the rest of the band were increasingly using heroin, everybody was getting into numerous debilitating car accidents from constantly driving drunk, and other bad behavior abounded. and i think #2 is interesting, because 1) this is a larger conversation over who owns what and who gets paid for making art, and 2) i can also understand why, if nobody else could get their shit together to do anything, you would be like, well, i should reap all the fruits of my labors. but 3) i can also understand why you would be especially upset by this if you were the voice behind all these songs and had once been the bandleader! levon's memoir is really interesting (full disclosure i actually haven't read robbie's) because it is at times like a heartbreaking sketch of willful male emotional blindness. he admits many times "well, probably we should have talked about this" but they never did...

there's a lot more painful stuff we can dig into but here's their first album music from big pink and their second album the band. TO NOTE: levon, richard, and rick did almost all the singing, they each have quite distinctive lovely voices. something really excruciating and tantalizing to me i guess is captured in the idea of a person from toronto writing these beautiful americana songs about simple country mountain life for his friend who had actually lived that simple country mountain life to sing, like this gesture of genuine admiration and love for your friend's story, which is then haunted by the question of ownership of those songs for all time. you can believe robbie wrote those songs for levon to sing out of genuine friendship and then what happened is really heartbreaking.... or you can believe he was a sort of pretender after levon's story and purposefully never gave him credit... which is also a deeply poetic narrative... or it could be a little bit of both... or first one and then the other growing out of bitterness... we will never know. as always when we will never know there is lots of room to ruminate :)

lastly, here is a clip of them in 1976 from the film of the band's last concert (the last waltz) in which levon takes his own cigarette out of his mouth to light robbie's first

[maxbegone]

a late-to-the-game wip wednesday! still trudging away here. this thing is gonna be...woof. long, to say the least. hopefully it's enjoyable, though ♥️

Everyone had their experiences when the end came — for Alex, it was a lot of survival mode and getting to where they needed to go before it was too late. June doesn’t love talking about it; she spent most of her nights in the beginning wide awake and stressed to the point that Alex swore she was going to make herself seriously sick. Nora was similar, but not as extreme.

No one rested, no one functioned properly. It was terrifying.

“It’s a miracle we even made it here in the first place,” Alex starts. “It’s not like we had go-bags or a plan or anything, but what started as a whisper at the top of the food chain soon became an avalanche, and my mom was calling my dad and telling him to get us and get the fuck out of New York.”

“Your parents seem civil,” Henry says pointedly, and Alex could laugh.

“They haven’t always been. Believe me, when you live with two politicians growing up, it’s like real life Face The Nation.”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“A political talkshow, don’t worry about it.” Alex focuses on the gentleness of Henry’s fingers and continues. “He called me and June up, told us to pack as much as we could and that he would be by us within the hour. We shoved the important things in suitcases, sentimental shit, whatever felt right. And Nora had actually just moved into a new place so she was pretty much ready to go from the jump. My dad grabbed us, and all he had was what he packed for his trip.

“My mom spent so much time in DC throughout the year, that she and Leo actually got a place there, so they were able to get what they needed. Then we got a hold of Raf and told him to meet us in Hudson Valley because this was Leo’s family’s place. Same thing with Zahra and Shaan, but they took a while to get here.”

“All of them?”

“Zee and Shaan were in DC, too, because she was my mom’s right hand, but they got caught in a major detour that took them into a weird part of Pennsylvania until they were able to turn around. And Raf was in a safe haven.”

At this point, Henry’s hand has gone still on Alex’s chest, his palm flat against his sternum. Alex offers him a smile. “It took the four of us three days to get here with all of the roadblocks, Mom and Leo arrived two days after. And then we figured things out as they came; the towns nearby evacuated, people went north or to the midwest, tried to get as far away from the congested areas as they could.”

“Why not just stay here?” Henry asks him. “It’s rural enough, no?”

“Couldn’t tell you,” Alex replies. “Maybe people just wanted to get to their families, if they could.”

“How did you handle all of it? Genuinely?”

“About as well as you could expect,” he admits. “No one knew what was going on.”

“No, I know that, but—you.”

Alex takes a deep breath. Okay. They’re going there. Something he hasn’t really done since he sat with June out in a pasture and watched the sunrise. “I really didn’t think we were going to make it past the year,” he admits aloud for the first time ever. He notably doesn’t look at Henry. “I thought it would all happen again and we’d be taken out.”

Henry sits up. “Alex…”

“It’s okay,” he tells him, smile falling tight. “I’m okay.”

“You’re okay,” Henry repeats.

[disappearinginq]

Fic Writer asks: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 12 and 25?

the last sentence you wrote Technically, 3 sentences, because they don't make a lot of sense without context: “You moved the fucking river!” Jamie shouted, grabbing John by the front of his jacket and shoving him against the wall. “You moved the river - this is your fault! What the fuck is the matter with you - don’t you ever think more than three seconds in front of you?! You could’ve killed him, he almost died, he still could - because you never fucking think.”

2. a character whose POV you’re currently exploring Ugghhh....a lot? Currently tooling around with my own characters, but in fandom - Bobby Nash, Will Trent, Jamie and Kayce Dutton, and Charlie Hudson (only the most recently opened documents)

3. how do you feel about your current wip?

Which one? I tend to work on so many because one or more will just wind up irritating me with something or another, I'll get stuck, and rather than not write anything at all, I'll just start something new. Right now though - irritated at all of them because THEY WILL NOT WRITE THEMSELVES AND THAT IS TERRIBLY RUDE.

4. a story idea you haven’t written yet Given I literally just mentioned as mostly a fever dream to @amandagaelic - a modern crossover between Yellowstone, Bonanza, and Big Valley, because I love westerns in almost every shape and form, and I think it would be funny as fuck if Victoria Barkley slapped the shit out of John Dutton for how he treats his children, and Adam, Jamie, and Jarrod would hit it off well being The Brains of the Operations, and I think The Spicy Younger Siblings Heath, Little Joe, and Kayce would be hilarious. And probably dangerous. But mostly funny.

5. first sentence of the fifth paragraph of an unpublished WIP Some of these are just hilarious out of context:

"One hundred percent real birds." - 9-1-1 Bobby and Buck Mistaken for Related fic

“You know, that game for kids - you get your own whiteboard and you have to draw pictures that will make your teammate guess the clue you have.” - Will Trent fic dealing with aphasia

They were used to close quarters, working and living with one another day in and day out, 365 days of the year, but there was a difference when you were cold, wet, and miserable. - Yellowstone fic where Kayce is caught in a flash flood

“Would you like it in Spanish? No. How about German? Nein. French? Non. It’s not happening. It can’t be done. Do you have any idea how many people have died trying to do it?” - Next chapter of Consequences for Deception

12. a trope you’re really into right now

I was actually discussing this again with @amandagaelic - a trope that I seem to use a lot is problems with communications. Either a character can't talk, won't talk, shouldn't talk - but I seem to like forcing them into other ways of communicating rather than just spoken.

The other trope is "I'm so fucking mad at source material because this could be brilliant BUT YOU RUINED IT AND NOW I HAVE TO FIX IT". :-D I think most hurt/comfort/whump writers have a really specific trope they like, like above all others, but I really like them all. Or, one where it's Found Family not Romantic Interest that is the one that helps them out.

25. Besides writing, what are your other hobbies?

Oof. I actually rehomed my horses, so that's one hobby down. Photography, cooking, gardening, and crocheting. Tried the knitting thing, and no me gusta. It takes forever even if I like the end product a smidge more. Gardening - every time I'm left alone, I wind up with a new garden. And I always have something poisonous growing in them. I have like...nine aconite/monkshood plants that grow almost six feet tall, henbane, foxglove, poppies, datura, etc. I don't like people picking my flowers. Photography - we have a running joke about. My sister goes on vacation with me and comes back with 900 photos. I come back with 5000+ and that's not even a joke. Cooking - not to be compared to baking - I love because food is delicious, and I like trying new things all the time.

[eduardos-eats]

Hi my foodie friends & fans.

I rubbed the dry seasoning on each side of the steak to my preference. I cooked my steaks on the Forman Grill and sautéed the veggies with a little bit of Liquid Aminos on the stove (soy-sauce substitute).

Tip:

**For the steaks, 5 minutes on each side or close the Grill and let it cook for 5 minutes.

I made this a little bit ago so my timing may not be too exact so grill to your preference ( some people like it well-done, medium-well, and some people…like it close to living :)  )

I even made enough for two days.

For me, this dish came out to be an 8/10 because the rice was a pre-made microwave type

Cook to your style and preference. One thing we all have in common is the love of food.

Ingredients:

Flat Steak

Goya Yellow Arroz

Brocoli

Sweet Peppers

Bok choy

Fresh Garlic

Olive Oil

Curry

Garlic Powder

Mesquite BBQ Seasoning

Liquid Aminos 

[kinetic-elaboration]

May 28: Return

Traveling days are so surreal. You start one place, you end up somewhere else. I woke up at 5am in S's guest room, and now I'm on my own couch.

The day was very straightforward, really easy traveling. Really encourages me to take more trips where I just pop up there and then come back down.

We got to the airport super early and then I sat around for a long while because the plane was late in a lackadaisical way. Like oh we were supposed to leave 15 minutes ago, and it's just now showing up... whatever. ADK time for sure. I didn't care; my layover in Boston was long anyway. The plane itself was a full house, all 8 seats full. I was right behind the co-pilot. I slept the whole way.

In Boston, got food and coffee and then just sat for a long time in the rocking chair looking out the window and thinking. I am full of excellent thoughts. Kept scratching the peeling skin of the dumbass boat sunburn at the very top of my forehead where I missed putting on sunscreen like a total fucking rube. The flight itself was fine; on time, not too long; I did stay awake the whole time though.

I checked my bag because I no longer trust TSA not to steal my stuff after they confiscated my host gift on the way up--something that was my fault but I'm big mad about it anyway. So I had to grab that, and I had weird anxiety about it. But it was fine. My ride was there, and I got home about 5, I'd say.

I have literally been on my couch chilling, scrolling, watching TV... shameless. I can't believe it's 10. At least I took off work tomorrow. I have these ideas that I'll clean... mmmmm, we'll see.

I just... loved being home. I've been thinking a lot about my total lack of Home recently but I think, even without family there, this is sort of it. Why did I cry when the flight attendant at Boston said 'for those of you from the Boston area, welcome home'? Even though that was just my layover? S and I still talk as if we were elementary school BFFs. I still feel so comfortable around her and her family. I love her son, I miss him so much already, I just want to hold him as he wiggles around. And I want to play with her dog. And I'm usually scared of dogs.

It's nice to be around people who've known you for a long time and share a certain set of memories and references with you. It's also nice to be around people who have the same vocabulary and scale as you. Like no upstate NY is not the fucking Hudson Valley and it's not Buffalo either (that's Western NY). No 40 degree is not cold. And yes 80 is sweltering and 90 should be illegal. I like being around grocery stores that aren't chains and local-branded soda and beer and ice cream. I like chains like Grand Union, Kinney's, and Stewart's. The shades of green in the trees and blue in the water are the most beautiful colors in the world. I just love this area so much. I'm not even kidding when I say I want to have property up there which is fucking WILD given I don't even have property HERE. L M A O, self.

I'll go up again for Carnival. I have to start acknowledging my November trip (hadfakfaksfa) and then after that, we'll start planning for February. Excellent, excellent. Keep looking forward to things, keep looking on.

[wildrungarden]

9/18/23 ~ I’ve also never grown radishes, but I’m starting with this variety!

[gingerradiohour]

Ginger Radio Hour #032

Show Notes January 17, 2023

Listen to archived episode.

Theme: Shape and texture.

A few years ago, Steve Gonzalez and Scott Ketchum moved Sfoglini Pasta from Brooklyn to Coxsackie, NY. The founders have a passion for pasta made in a traditional way and with organic ingredients. The conversation focuses on pasta-making, shape, texture, and what it takes to build a company in the Hudson Valley. Plus, a favorite pasta recipe.

Pasta pronunciation assistance from Valentina Stella.

Playlist:

Federico Fellini’s Juliet of the Spirits. Composed by Nino Rota “Golden Rose - The Circus Ballerina” Album: Original Soundtrack Recording 1965

The B-52′s “Deep Sleep” Album: Mesopotamia 1982

Parliament “All Your Goodies Are Gone” Album: Gold 2005

Tom Waits “Temptation” Album: Frank’s Wild Years 1987

Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell “You’re All I Need To Get By” Album: You’re All I Need 1968

Makaya McCraven “Dream Another” Album: In These Times 2022

Gil Scott-Heron & Makaya McCraven “This Can’t Be Real” Album: We’re New Again 2020

Sam Gendel & Sam Wilkes “Kiefer No Melody” Album: Music for Saxofone & Bass Guitar 2018

Harry Nilsson “Gotta Get Up” Album: Nilsson Schmilsson 1971

Interpol “NYC” Album: Turn On The Bright Lights 2002

PJ Harvey “The Last Living Rose (Demo)” Album: Let England Shake - Demos 2022

Destroyer “The Last Song” Album: Labyrinthitis 2022

[maryannmccarra-fitzpatrick]