#I do also actually have a bunch of loose incense because Of Course I do lol so maybe that can live over here somewhere as well?

[blujayonthewing]

it took a lot of keeping an eye out over months of thrift shopping but I finally found two pieces that work together perfectly as a small brazier-- the kind a wizard might have specifically for casting Find Familiar, for example 😌

[teawiththegods]

Hey Jessie! I just moved out of my folks' place but had to leave my dog behind because she's really not an apartment dog :c So I'm thinking really hard about getting a cat! I've always wanted one but never had one before.

Do you have any tips for a potential first time cat parent? I know their body language is massively different than dogs and that there's a different list of stuff to keep away from them than there is with dogs, but that's about it lol.

Hello, love!

I’ve had cats my whole life and I find them relatively easy to care for since they not only are pretty self sufficient but also very assertive when it comes to their needs/wants. Despite the language and species barrier cats always find a way to express themselves and I not only love them for that I respect the hell out of them! Cats are my heroes and I strive every day to be more like them. No one has mastered the art of boundaries like cats have and I’m looking to get on their level!

Anyway, enough of my fanboying over cats. Cats absolutely have their own body language but they also are individuals. It’s important to get to know YOUR specific cat because they all don’t have the same temperaments, behaviors, or personalities. Knowing your cat not only helps you bond with them but it also helps detect possible illness or injuries since it’s in cats nature to try and hide their pain or distress.

Funny story about that. Moo learned that if she changes her meow to sound more like a cry then I’ll quickly get up and rush over to her thinking something is wrong. So be warn! Cats are little trickster spirits and chaos demons! 🤣

There are a bunch of plants, herbs, foods, and essential oils that are dangerous to cats so be sure to do your research before introducing anything new into your home or giving anything to your cat. I actually don’t keep house plants or use incense or essential oils because I don’t even want to take the chance of something happening to Moo. Especially now that I’m not home all day to monitor her.

Keeping cats indoors is preferred but if you want you can see if you can get them to wear a harness and walk them like you would a dog. It’s best for them and your local wildlife if your cat is only outside when supervised. They’re like murderous toddlers and no one wants any of that loose in the neighborhood! I tell Moo all the time that it’s illegal for her to go outside without me. Of course since crime lives in her blood that only makes her want to go outside more. See this is why you need to know your cat!

That’s all I got for now but if you ever have any questions or anything I’d be happy to answer them or help you find answers! Like I said before ive found cats to be relatively easy to care for as long as you take the time to get to know them. And just like with your fellow humans respect their boundaries.

If anyone would like to add to this pls feel free to!

[gallavictorious]

Would you be able to write a lil fic from Kev's POV of Yev's christening party? I just know Kev would find Mickey's "guess what we've been doing, daddy" monologue hilarious. And maybe Kev notices Ian and Mickey being super soft after and realizes they're actually really good for each other?

An incensed roar; a table tossed aside; the sound of glass smashing, and of fists against flesh. Kevin Ball takes a deep breath and closes his eyes and reaches for nirvana. Or for enlightment. Or whatever. He isn't really clear on that whole bit. But he's calm, he's cool, breathing slowly, this is all good, shit was the noise of someone's neck snapping, no, no, he didn't hear that, it's peace, love, all that crap, he's so relaxed –

Shit, this is hard.

Fortunately, someone must have called the police and the police must have been nearby because it's just minutes before the cops storm in to haul off both Terry and Mick. The amount of damage done to the bar is still pretty impressive, Kev sees when he finally opens his eyes with a sigh of relief, but that's okay; the Milkoviches are usually surprisingly good about actually paying for that stuff. It's one of the reasons Kev doesn't mind them hosting their parties here, in spite of said parties ending in brawls as often as they don't.

The other reason is that they'd probably burn the bar down if he tried to refuse them.

Kev looks up from the sad remaints of a chair to catch sight of Ian slipping out the door, after the cops and their captives. There's this look on his bloodied face, something fierce and determined and grimly triumphant, and Kev can't help but frown, suddenly a little uneasy.

Thing is, maybe he should have seen it earlier. He knows he's not the brightest tool in the shed; he's okay with that. He's got V to do the sharp thinking, and besides, Kevin Ball ain't stupid about people. He notices things, and looking back, there's been all these little hints, shit Mickey's said and done in the past few months, and there's that thing he heard from a grumpy Lip about Mickey staying over at the Gallagher house ever since Ian came home. And okay, maybe he'd found that a bit weird, but Kev's been little busy lately by small things like becoming a father, so maybe he hasn't had too much time to worry about where his business partner might be putting his head down, okay. A man can only have so many things on his mind at once. Three maybe. He thinks he's read that somewhere. Or V told him.

But yeah, maybe he should have seen it earlier, but he hadn't. Doesn't get it until he sees them having a clearly heated but quiet conversation over by the side of the bar just before Terry shows up; then something finally clicks. Not quite into a certainty, but into enough of one that he's compelled to slide Ian a shot when Mickey runs off to greet his dad, and isn't exactly shocked when Mickey turns the music off to make his declaration.

Good for you, Mickey, Kev has just enough time to think before Terry charges at his son like a deranged bull and all hell breaks loose. Not that Kev paid any attention to that, because he's a conscienctious objector now; he doesn't only not do violence, he doesn't even see violence.

Now that calm's been restored to the bar, everyone but the most persistent drunks has gone outside to watch the arrest unfold, so Kev follows suit. It's freezing cold, the way only Chicago in winter can be, but he doubts either Terry or Mickey can feel the chill; they're still straining to get at each other, struggling against the police holding them down, and screaming blue murder.

”Get out of my house, you pole-smoking queer!” Terry bellows, but whatever hold he once had over his son must have broken because Mickey doesn't even hesitate, and there's a wild sort of glee in his voice as he calls: ”Fuck you, don't worry about it! I've been staying at Ian's since you've been in the can, bitch! Guess what we've been doin', daddy! We've been fuckin'! And I take it! He gives it to me good and hard and I fuckin' like it.”

That's more than Kev ever wanted to know about Mickey's sex life, really, but he still can't help but grin as Mickey humps the car, giving emphasis to his words. ”Fuck you, I suck his dick and I fuckin' love it.”

Mickey's always been an expressive bastard, unafraid to speak his mind. Kev finds it both hilarious and worthy of respect, though upon reflection maybe there's a few things Mickey has actually been afraid to speak of, after all. Until now, at least.

Good for you, Mickey, he thinks, again.

The cops take Terry away; the guests filter back inside. The place is a mess and the object of the celebration has long since been whisked away by his mother but that's no reason to break up a party on the South Side, so Kev alternates wiping up blood with serving beer after beer after shot of cheap liquor. Everyone seems to be in high spirits; nothing like a good old-fashioned brawl to get the blood pumping on a cold winter's night, and the story of Mickey Milkovich coming out to the whole bar at his own son's baptism party is a good enough story to last a few retellings.

Ian and Mickey are nowhere to be seen, Kev notes, and again there's that sense of unexpected unease, of worry.  He remembers Ian's face covered in blood, the hard look there transforming him from the earnest kid Kev's known since he was in elementary school and into someone he's not sure he knows at all. Ian's scrappy, like all the Gallaghers; bit of a punk at times, and way into that Army crap of course, but at heart he's always been gentle. Hardworking, and caring, and soft in the way none of his siblings were; a good kid, for all that he's gotten himself in a bit of trouble lately, though Kev's not entirely caught up on that.

And now Ian's gone and gotten himself involved with Mickey Milkovich, who is about as far from a good kid as it's possible to get.

That's not to say that Kev doesn't like Mickey. The guy's funny, he has some good ideas and great initiative; he makes things happen, like that whole rub-and-tug business (okay, so maybe there's been a few misunderstandings about how they're to split the money and whatever, but apart from that, Kev's got no complaints about having Mickey for a partner). He also pays for his beer and isn't a bad drunk, both things a bartender knows how to appreciate. So yeah, Kev likes Mickey just fine... but he's not sure he likes him just fine as Ian's boyfriend.

Truth is, while Kev's not scared of Mickey – c'mon – he's not not scared of him either. Sure Mickey's about half his size, but he's ruthless and kind of crazy and has access to fuck know how many guns (that he actually knows how to use, unlike Kev), not to mention a whole bunch of brothers and cousins and whatever he can call upon. He's a criminal, the real kind, and it's probably only a matter of time before he follows his father and his brothers into big boy jail. Kev doesn't judge – you do what you need to get by, and it's bad practise for a barkeep to look down at his patrons anyway – but he can't help but wonder what it'll mean for a kid like Ian to get caught up in all that hardcore Milkovich madness.

For one, he's not sure gentleness can survive it very long, and he'd hate to see Ian lose that kind heart of his; hate to see him freeze and harden. He'd hate to see him give up on his dreams too, though maybe it's too late for that already, 'cause of what happened with the Army and that helicopter...

It occurs to Kev that Ian ran away just after Mickey married Svetlana.

Oh, shit. This must have been going on for years. Gallaghers have always been attracted to trouble, Kev supposes. He tries to stay out of it, for the most part. Live and let live – and let V be the one to make the off-hand judgemental comments or give it to someone straight if need be. Sure, Kev's been there to throw some advice Lip's way when Lip's been particularly stubborn about something or someone, but there's no way he's getting involved in this. Word got back to Mickey that Kev had tried to meddle in his love life, no talk of peace and love and overflowing plates of cabbage would save him from a bullet to the head, and his kids are not gonna grow up without a father.

It'll probably be fine anyway. Not like he begrudges Mickey a bit of happiness, and Ian's a tough kid. He can take care of himself.

It'll be fine.

Kev keeps telling himself that as he starts shooing the last remaining guests out.

---

He catches sight of them just a little later, when he's finally done getting the priest – half a bottle of vodka and two hookers in on his road to heaven on Earth – out the door, and is taking out the trash.

They're laughing. Through the blood and broken teeth, they're laughing. Ian winces with it, clearly in pain, and Kev considers heading over to ask if they're okay, if they need, well he's not sure, an ice pack or someone to walk them home or something.

He imagines Mickey reacting to that latter suggestion and reminds himself of his decision not to leave his daughters fatherless.

Ian and Mickey has stopped laughing, stopped talking, now (and if Kev had been an introspective kind of guy he might have paused to wonder at how easy it is to think of them like that, as one unit, as a couple, Ian and Mickey). Mickey's head is sagging slightly; Ian's looking at him with an intensity Kev can pretty much feel, even from twenty feet away and with Ian's back turned toward him. He knows he should go inside and leave them to whatever it is they've got going here, but he can't quite look away, his concern mingling with curiosity.

As he watches, Ian rises. He walks over to Mickey and slings an arm around his shoulder in half a hug, before softly running his fingers through the other boy's hair and bending down to press a brief kiss to the top of his head. There's nothing sexual about it; it's affection and comfort, offered easily.

Offered gently.

Mickey doesn't shy away from the touch. He leans into the hug; there's a faint smile on his lips as Ian pulls away, and it comes to Kev then that maybe it won't be Mickey's ruthlessness that tempers Ian's gentleness, but the other way around. Maybe Ian saw something underneath all that sneer and swagger that no one else could see, but was always there.

Maybe it really will be fine. Kev thinks maybe he believes it now.

---

A/N: Thank you for the prompt, nonnie! <3

I'm very happy you clearly specified 'lil' because yes, this I can do! Tiny little things I can mostly make happen! Might take me a while, but still. :) It was very interesting and rather more challenging that I had expected to try to get into Kev's head during these moments (though it gave me an excuse to rewatch all of Kev and Mickey's scenes in season 4, which was a delight!). I hope it's somewhere in the vincinity of what you envisioned, even if it didn't really get into why Ian and Mickey would be really good for each other; I think that's a realization that comes to Kev bit by bit over the years. Would love to see some scenes with him and Mickey in season 11.

This ficlet incidentally got me thinking about how the people of the South Side would distinguish between 'regular' people who don't mind breaking the law when given the opportunity and 'real' criminals who makes a living by actively doing so. Seems like it'd be a fine line at times...

Oh, and I do know that tools in the shed tend to be sharp rather than bright, but think that Kev is the sort to mix up expressions (and I feel the need to point this out since I'm not confident enough in my English to trust that this kind of thing will come across as intentional :p).

[twistednuns]

October 2020

To buttress - increase the strength of or justification for; reinforce / to mollycoddle - to give someone too much care or protection. 

A letter from Nina. One of those weird internet connections. Not my first one, certainly not my last one.

Frank’s DnD backstory reads quite insightful/poetic to me as he has taken so much from his life. He might have done it without intent but it’s quite obvious to me. I’ve agreed to make a character sketch for him. I’m looking forward to the challenge but I’m also afraid of starting the project because obviously I want it to be perfect. Anyway so the other night I sat at his kitchen table and started drawing a facial composite for his goliath. Lots of sketches actually with him giving me some prompts and ideas. I think he loved watching me do my magic. What a peaceful moment.

Applause from some students. Simply for entering the room. They must really hate their English teacher, eh?

I’ve started forming the habit of drawing tarot cards on a full moon and new moon night. It helps me set an intention for the following two weeks. So on the first of October I drew the Queen of Wands to represent me and I’m loving it. It’s the perfect choice.

The fabric dyeing process for the Plot exhibition at Haus der Kunst

Inviting warmth into my life. Wearing appropriately warm clothing. Even hats. Drinking tea all the time. Turning the heating on even though it’s only September. Warm breakfast. Ayurveda inspiration. Hot baths. Thinking about buying an electric heating blanket for my bed.So far I’ve been taking a hot water bottle to bed with me pretty much every night.

Finding one of those Barts woolly animal hats online. This one came with tigers. And the seller sent me a cherry marzipan teabag. I enjoyed it on a cold and rainy Saturday morning.

FAQ: The Status of the Shits Women Have Left to Give

Reading the final scenes of Leigh Bardugo’s Shadow and Bone trilogy. I actually took the wrong bus one evening and ended up in front of one of the Pinakotheken instead of Villa Stuck. I must have been quite immersed. I’m very happy with the ending. I mean, the main character is walking around the house barefoot with the smell of fresh paint following her, her hair loose. What a wonderful image.

The wind blowing through the maple trees outside my living room window. I’m just going to quote a Wikipedia article to explain what happened next: The distinctive fruits are called samaras, “maple keys”, “helicopters”, “whirlybirds” or “polynoses”. These seeds occur in distinctive pairs each containing one seed enclosed in a “nutlet” attached to a flattened wing of fibrous, papery tissue. They are shaped to spin as they fall and to carry the seeds a considerable distance on the wind. People often call them “helicopters” due to the way that they spin as they fall. During World War II, the US Army developed a special airdrop supply carrier that could carry up to 65 pounds (29 kg) of supplies and was based on the maple seed.

Monsieur Wiener - I’ve paid him a visit when I had problems with my analogue Pentax camera!

I don’t know why but one dark Friday evening I slipped into the empty church at Odeonsplatz. I loved the peaceful atmosphere, the specific smell and the red church candles flickering.

I loved meeting Flo. We had such a great time, constantly joking, talking about this and that. Sailor Mercury, Hades, our family. His wink. He said that I had been exactly right but in the end apparently I wasn’t. It stung because he had been one of the rare guys in the last months (years, actually) I actually liked. Oh well. I guess it wasn’t meant to be after all. This is what the Universe had to say about it the other day: There are no accidents. If it’s appeared on your life’s radar, this is why: to teach you that dreams come true; to reveal that you have the power to fix what’s broken and heal what hurts; to catapult you beyond seeing with just your physical senses; and to lift the veils that have kept you from seeing that you’re already the person you dreamed you’d become.

Videos of Marno and Erin together. Also: she is so freakin’ beautiful as a marauder.

A surprise call from Ann-Katrin.

Sweet chai tea with milk.

The bright moonlight making the neighbours’ roof look like fish scales.

Forensic linguistics. I listened to a podcast episode about the Unabomber who was only discovered after his brother had noticed some stylistic irregularities in his manifesto. You can’t eat your cake and have it too.

Autumn leaves. Especially when it’s just the outer leaves turning red or yellow while the rest of the foliage is still green.

Sitting next to my ten-year-old student Ella on the bus on our way home on a Friday afternoon. She’s a very chatty Gemini and even though her self-importance and constant talking can be quite annoying I’ve kinda taken a liking to her.

A bunch of Alstroemeria in my dark green glass vase on the desk. A pretty image.

I still appreciate how beautiful my LuLuLemon thermos bottle is after all this time.

I should probably mention my new hair (extensions). Well, it looks absolutely gorgeous from the front. But I already know that I won’t get them again because you can see the glue in a few places, it’s quite hard, often painful and feels unnatural. And of course it’s much too expensive.

Baby carrots with King hummus.

My lunch dates with Becky.

Making my favourite sour thai curry. With rice noodles. And peanuts and cilantro. Yum.

Starting to work on a big soapstone sculpture. It’s going to be a hand! I love it when I have a group of calm students. It allows me to work on a project with them.

Making delicious pumpkin lasagna.

Visiting Manu’s mum. Making plum dumplings together. A fun afternoon in their kitchen.

A very cosy Sunday. Waking up at 5:30am. Watching Practical Magic in bed. Having a slice of pumpkin lasagna for breakfast. A sudden urge to get out, dressing up to keep out the cold, going out, early, streetlights still on. A walk through the woods. I loved how calm everything was. Being out before all the others had a chance to disturb the stillness with their kids and dogs and bicycles. Making lebkuchen. Lots of pecans. Having a nap. Writing a letter. Drawing weird mushrooms and bugs.

Autumnal smells. The moist smell of the forest ground, mushrooms, the smell of chimneys on a cold Sunday morning. Incense, gingerbread spices. Facial oil with lavender and iris. Roasted pecans.

A crafty day. I made a haunted house, some ghosts, spiders, bats, skulls and pumpkins out of paper.

Schlurp.

Meeting Frank in front of Residenztheater. The whole square was empty, he was the only person there. Waiting for me. Looking up to the opera roof. What an impressive building.

Talking about living life in story mode and action mode. I feel so stuck in action mode at the moment and desperately want to switch to story mode. Fantasy, magic, coincidences and meaning.

Spicy pumpkin recipes in the current issue of Schrot und Korn.

Rice and hazelnut milk as a bedtime treat.

Collecting autumn leaves. Chestnuts, acorns, feathers, beechnuts. Making a little autumnal alter with some crystals.

Thursday mornings. So much time for myself. Lots of tea, warm breakfast.

Treating myself to massages and nice facial creams and serums. Ya Yah is such a gifted person. I love her massages the most. The other day I also got a facial for the first time in many many years. It was nice to be wrapped in an extremely fluffy blanket. When the bright lights were on I could see different colours after closing my eyes and imagined being at a tropical beach. Unintentional ASMR sounds from the rubber gloves. Cosy.

Spicy winter tea in my new thermos bottle. The steam swirling up from my favourite mug (the moon phase mug I bough in Canada).

Buying cheap sparkly stickers, washi tape and stamps. Just because.

Pecan nuts are the BEST. Crazy delicious.

Porridge with coconut milk and mango for breakfast. Persimmons. Candles in the morning.

Gloomy twilight. The dark hour right before sunset/sunrise. Spooky black silhouettes against the ink blue or greyish white sky. Fairy lights. Memories of spending Halloween at Greyfriar’s Kirkyard in Edinburgh.

Finding yet another woolly hat for my collection. This time with pheasants.

Deltavenus’ Instagram feed.

Cutting open a fresh lime.

Happily singing along to my two favourite mantras (Jai Mata Kali / Om Gam Ganapataye Namaha) while making apple galette. Trying to harmonise in different ways.

A very surprising call from Claudia. She ended up in my kitchen, drinking half a bottle of wine.

A lovely Sunday with Sash. A walk through the English garden.   Watching the waterfall, falling leaves, backlit by the afternoon sunlight. Haus der Kunst. Getting in for free (art teacher bonus). I really liked the Michael Armitage exhibition and the enormous dyed curtains in the hall. Franz Erhard Walther’s Dust of Stars autobiography was impressive as well. I just ordered the book online; I’m looking forward to reading it. We also had a drink at Goldene Bar and enjoyed a late lunch at Baoz Bar.

Becky leaving me a lovely note and an English magazine on my desk.

Fink’s Knödelstube with Lena and Sash. We had 13 different kinds of dumplings. Heavenly delicious.

I came to realise that mornings are my favourite time of the day. I love gloomy, dark sunrises and my usual productivity highs.

Writing limericks with the kids.

Getting lost in the woods after dark which might not look like a good think at first glance but I uncovered a little secret - some bee hives I had never seen before!

A mild obsession with The Corrs’ song Old Town. I didn’t even know where it came from. It’s not a song I’ve ever actively listened to.

Learning about sesame plants. Another one of those plants I expected to look completely different.

I can smell mushrooms. On Saturday morning I went to the forest again early in the morning and whenever I would get a whiff of mushrooms and look down there they were.

Dog owners wishing me a good morning on my walk. Interestingly only men, the women tend to ignore me.

Wicked! - Modern Art’s Interest in the Occult. Learning about Leonora Carrington.

James’ chameleons in art class. He drew one representing each of his family members. He was the one licking a bat. Bold.

Buying far too many books. But I found out that Naomi Novik just published a new novel about a school of magic. And within two days I came across the writer Ursula K. Le Guin three times so I took it as a sign and got one of her books as well.

Prepare for the Roaring Twenties - The human desire to socialize will survive the pandemic.

A deep talk session with Jonathan about getting old, having children, self-worth, dating, obeying rules.

Finding my favourite pair of jeans on Kleiderkreisel for a fraction of the original price. And a baseball jacket with a Strange Ladies Society print on the back.

A walk in the forest before work. Something I’ve never done before I think. So good for my nerves, really.

The art of decision-making.

Joy praising me for my authoritative voice (effectively making the fifth-graders do what I want).

Decorating the classroom with the fifth-graders. I love my haunted house on the window pane, their lovely spiders, ghosts and bats. I should probably mention that our class mascot is a cute spider named Crawley so we’re all quite into spooky stuff. On the last day before the holidays we all showed up in costumes, played a Halloween quiz, listened to creepy music and I brought some candy, too. Fun!

Meeting the gang on Halloween. Japanese-inspired dinner and a board game.

[danasukontarak]

Dana’s Travel Diary: Bali’n Out in Indonesia

International travel ideas often seem lofty, unattainable, reserved only for posh socialites with daddy’s bread to blow. I know I’m not the only 20-something who ever felt relegated to perusing Wikitravel or thumbing through the pages of an issue of Afar Magazine to get my affordable adventure fix. Admittedly, successful and seamless international travel also requires a decently-paying job and some tenacity for saving (at least one or the other). Before working at my current job and having both a salary and bountiful PTO, travel was not impossible, but far more limited by time and money. That said, the place I’d always had my eye on, the place that seemed overflowing with natural and spiritual wonder, was Bali.

The most popular travel destination in all of Indonesia, Bali is a quirky little anomaly of an island within a country with a notoriously harsh governmental regime. The people of Indonesia began to elect their president just 13 years ago in 2004. The penalties for drug crimes are harsh. On the trip, we only uttered the word “ganja” once, to a tatted-up taxi driver with ear gauges. His reply: no. As a man vacationing from Jakarta told me on Kuta Beach, cracking open a can of Bintang (Indonesia’s Heineken), “You know Bali, but you don’t know Indonesia.”

The people in Bali practice Balinese Hinduism. In fact, they are the only part of Indonesia that is not predominantly Muslim. The women wore colorful three-quarter lace shirts, patterned sarongs, and sashes eloquently tied around their slim waists. They walked with baskets on their heads, babies slung round their shoulders. Guys wore patterned headbands and also wore artfully tied sarongs around their waists. Frangipani and incense offerings in stapled banana leaf trays litter the sidewalks and windowsills of nearly every building we passed in Bali. The Balinese women prepare these at multiple times throughout the day, a pleasant floral reminder of this island’s unique culture. 

I paid for my flight in early October, for a trip I took in late January. I was able to find a roundtrip ticket for the 10,000 mile journey for $750. (That’s only 7.5 cents per mile!) Tickets can run an upwards of $1,200 from D.C. to Denpasar, so I grabbed these before the weird online airline algorithm and Big Brother saw hearts in my eyes and hiked up the price before I could click submit. Reminder: always browse flights on Incognito Mode. 

Before traveling, my research was limited. Basic research is necessary, of course, such as what the currency and conversion rate is (Indonesian rupiah [IDR], roughly 13,000 per USD), or where your hotel is in relation to the airport, or what season and general climate it will be during your stay. I talked to my friend Claudia, who’d been to Bali a few months before. I checked out a few major tourist destinations online (the must-sees), and left the rest up to fate, as I tend to do. 

We departed from Ronald Reagan Airport in Washington, D.C. I traveled with my ex-boyfriend, the awkward result of planning for trips in super advance but not planning on a breakup. It worked out, though. I was glad to be traveling internationally not just with another person, but a man. I never felt endangered at all during my trip, but I had no idea what the general atmosphere would be like. There were a few notable times I was relieved to have had his male presence (i.e. when I panicked over a lizard in the hotel room; when we wanted to travel by motor scooter through congested streets; when I had to carry a bowling ball of a fresh coconut through Ubud). Major media would love to have you believe that, as a traveling woman, you’ll be kidnapped and sold into sex slavery. I feel you run this risk at equivalent levels no matter where you go. TBH. No need to be scared or paranoid, but also remember: a little common sense and alertness go a long way when traveling.

Our flight was 22 hours, collectively. The route was D.C. to Detroit to Incheon (South Korea) and finally to Bali. The meals on board the Korean Air flight from Detroit to Incheon were hit or miss. Bibimbap was a hit. Everything else (seafood and potatoes, beef and vegetables, etc.) was an extreme miss. During one meal, I opened an applesauce-cup of the softest tofu I’d ever seen in my life - it was almost liquid. I looked around to see if the Asians on board were on board with this virtual tofu smoothie. It looked like no cup was left uneaten, besides mine.

When we arrived in Ngurah Rai Airport in Bali, we were approached immediately by a seemingly friendly and helpful taxi driver. It was past midnight and he stuck by us quite adamantly as we fumbled with our phones as they attempted to pick up Indonesian cell service. He offered his phone so that I could call my hotel and arrange an impromptu middle-of-the-night check-in (which I hadn’t prepared for). I watched the driver, Norman, wave away other people also appearing to be in need of his assistance. What I figured was that he had an eye for Americans, or rather, our American dollars. In my limited experience, the most money you will spend on transportation whenever traveling internationally, is the cab ride from the airport to your lodging destination. Norman charged us $55. We didn’t ask the price prior to departing, but we’d assumed it was cheap because of the way he described pricing of hostels and homestays. This was the single most expensive charge during our time in Bali; it is an unheard-of taxi price once actually anywhere in Bali besides the airport.

When searching for hotels prior to the trip, I saw that the average price of a pretty nice hotel over there was not much more that what you’d pay for a shitty hotel here. I used Expedia points (earned from flights over the past few years) to get a discount on already-affordable 4-star resorts. The first hotel we stayed at was Blue Karma Resort in Ubud. They were very accommodating and welcomed us in at nearly 2 in the morning, showing us to a very lovely hut-style room with outdoor shower and cabana. In the morning, we also saw that there was a beautiful shared infinity pool, and a nice on-site restaurant with yummy breakfast and fresh fruit salad. 

The hotel was in a somewhat remote area, but shuttle/taxi/scooter service was abundant. In Ubud, there are many street markets with cool pants (I bought three), keychains, native trinkets and the like. Ask ���How much?” but be prepared to be given a price marked up with the Gringo tax. Counter with a reasonable offer, and they’ll most likely be glad to accept. It’s cool to negotiate with vendors and taxi drivers - do not expect to negotiate in restaurants with posted prices, or anywhere else where you are actually billed. 

Also, tipping is a nice gesture, but service fees are generally built in to all charges, especially at hotels and restaurants. I did, however, leave tips for the cleaning staff at each hotel - just a dollar or two, which I’d read is the equivalent of many of their entire day’s salaries. 

In Ubud, we walked down a busy street to get to the Sacred Monkey Forest. Taxi drivers beckon for your business every three steps. Stray dogs dodge pedestrians skillfully, while others nap between scooters and storefront steps. Entry to the monkey forest is about 3 USD, and vendors inside sell bunches of bananas to feed to them. If you hold banana above your head, they’ll climb up your body to grab it. If you aren’t vigilant, monkeys will snatch any loose items from your pockets or hands. We lost a pack of rolling papers to one stealthy monkey, who then pulled it apart like an accordion and abandoned it upon discovering it was inedible. 

On the second day started at 2 A.M., when we left in a shuttle to go on the Mt. Batur sunrise trek. Mt. Batur is an active volcano that has erupted as recently as 2000. It’s highest point is about a mile up, and the ascent takes about 2.5 hours. The tour company fed us a banana pancake and strong coffee for breakfast, and the hike began in quite the anticlimactic fashion as we stumbled along behind a 19-year-old Balinese guide, criss-crossing paths with many other tour groups. I began to sweat and lose my breath after about 45 minutes, before the hard part even started. Several parts of the path are dangerously rocky, while others are sandy, slippery, and almost impossible to navigate without falling straight down on your ass. When we reached the top, we were given banana sandwiches and an egg boiled in volcano steam (still liquid and almost raw - I fed it to a stray volcano dog). The view was incredible, despite our guide having doubted the sunrise would be visible on such a cloudy day. 

The walk down was easier but still not easy. Our guide held my hand to help me down tricky areas, and asked my ex, “You jealous?”

Food in Bali was delicious and cheap. It seemed that most of the warungs (Indonesian word for small restaurant/eatery) had similar menus, and at most, you could get appetizers, entrees, and beverages for under 15 USD. We ate enough curry, satay, and sambal to last a lifetime.

The next morning, we rode on the backs of scooters to the hidden treasure that is Tegenungan Waterfalls. The ride was pleasantly risky. There’s nothing like accepting a motor scooter ride from a stranger in a foreign country. We passed a butterfly farm and lots of places that sold Buddha statues and carved stone items. We reached the waterfall at about 10 A.M., and a long set of stairs led down to a gorgeous sight.

At that time in the morning, only a few people were there already. The crash of the waterfall was thunderous and humbling. I approached with caution, wading at a respectful distance, enjoying God’s beauty.

The scooter ride back into Ubud was hectic, because we happened to run smack dab into the Saraswati festival, which happens twice a year. Saraswati is the goddess of knowledge, music, arts, wisdom and learning. My kind of gal. People were flocking out of temples en masse in traditional Balinese dress, and there was a scooter traffic jam amidst the celebration. My driver was incredibly skillful and brazen, getting through the traffic by any means, sidewalk driving, and truck blocking necessary.

Back at Blue Karma, we packed our bags and headed to Nusa Dua to check into our second hotel, Jimbaran Cliffs Private Resort and Spa. The pictures online for this resort looked amazing, its primary draw being the private infinity pool on the terrace of each room. The first thing I did was jump in with a plate of complimentary fresh papaya, pineapple and watermelon.

The area where we stayed in Nusa Dua was a lot different than Ubud, a lot more like a “regular” city. Our hotel, however, was so hidden in the cliffs that we got a taxi driver stuck in a narrow brick alley trying to find it. 

We heard that Aussie surfers and locals at Kuta Beach had the best and easiest access to Bali’s famed magic mushrooms. Though marijuana is highly illegal, shrooms are pretty much normalized. Officially, they became illegal a few years ago, but its availability in Bali is akin to the availability of weed in D.C. On Kuta Beach, we were offered shrooms in Coca-Cola, which we tried but didn’t feel too much. Kuta Beach was extremely dirty, with trash lining the shore and stray dogs snarling at each other. Little old lady vendors won’t leave you alone until you agree to a henna tattoo or a foot massage or a black stone bracelet that’s “cheap, cheap for you.” 

The shopping malls near Kuta Beach are nice, and it was kind of comforting to browse through Zara and H&M while halfway across the globe from home. On our last day, we rented a scooter and took it solo through the city, filling up our tank from a lady on the side of the road with an Absolut bottle full of petrol.

We had a big seafood dinner by the beach on our last night, and headed to the airport for a 1 A.M. flight back to Incheon, and then Detroit, and then D.C. Aside from a slight fiasco with Customs in Detroit over a dragonfruit I’d tried to bring back with me, the journey was alright. This was the second stamp in my adult passport and well worth the extreme jetlag. 

It’s a trip I recommend for anyone with any shred of a sense of adventure to go on, and somewhere I’d definitely consider returning to by myself. If you are considering planning an excursion to beautiful Bali, here is a summary of what I’ve learned, some handy tips based on my experience: 

1: Search flights often and purchase flights early - You can also sign up for price alerts through most travel websites. Remember to browse flights in incognito mode! 2: Know what to expect, but know that you won’t know what to expect - Do SOME research, but more importantly, just be openminded with common sense. 3: Plan ahead for transportation from the airport upon arrival - Check with your hotel before your trip to see if complimentary shuttle/taxi service from the airport is provided! You may also want to call and arrange a taxi ride beforehand if possible, to avoid the higher fees at the airport. 4: Stay in more than one hotel and explore multiple areas while in Bali - Each place has a different vibe. Stay in at least two areas. DON’T stay in a Hilton or other American chain hotel - you’ll be cheating yourself. 5: Negotiate prices, and check multiple options - It’s ok to negotiate prices in most instances. Vendors will always start off high. 6: Do everything, immerse yourself in the culture, be kind to locals - It would be a good idea to download Google Translate and download the Indonesian language library, just in case you don’t have service and need to translate something for a local. 7: Be careful with shrooms and DON’T check for weed - Weed is a no-no in Bali, but shrooms can be risky (especially if you are unaware of the potency and dosage). 8: Don’t try to bring a dragonfruit home with you - CBP will be on that ass.

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The brave agents of the US Secret Service protect the President with their lives, boldly taking bullets, investigating death threats, all the while never once removing their cool sunglasses or smiling in utter glee. Talk about hardcore! But in truth, they’re just human beings, regular employees like any one of us. They just happen to carry really big guns and get insight into the private lives of very public figures.  Here are some of the more interesting and captivating stories surrounding the Secret Service.

#1 Abraham Lincoln Created the Secret Service Hours Before He Was Shot Allegedly, Lincoln had personal omens pointing to his assassination, so it really sucks that he only managed to create the Secret Service on the same day he would later die. Lincoln’s actions, however, were not motivated by paranoia.  Rather, he created the Secret Service Division on April 14, 1865 in order to stop counterfeiting operations.  The legislation was literally on Lincoln’s desk and ready to be put into action. Of course, even if the Secret Service had existed beforehand, it couldn’t have done much to prevent the assassination.  There were only a few other federal agencies in action at the time: the US Park Police, Post Office, and the US Marshals. None of these organizations had the manpower to protect the President, so there was no reason to think the Secret Service would either. In those days, Presidents fought off their would-be attackers with a big stick. Even though Lincoln notoriously died from the bullet of an assassin, it would still take another 30+ years, and two more murdered Presidents (James Garfield and William McKinley), for the Government to finally realize “Oh crap, there really are people out there who want to kill the President.” By the time the Secret Service officially became a protection unit in 1908, the President was finally in safe hands.

#2 The Confederacy had a Secret Service Before the Union Did Ironically, the Secret Service of the Confederate States of America was probably far more prepared than the soon-to-be-born US version. During the Civil War, there were a number of secret operations going on, many of which were beyond official warfare.  Yes, there was a Cold War and a Civil War going on at the same time. This was necessary from the Confederates’ point of view, since they were outnumbered, out-gunned, and out-resourced in every way. What their operations consisted of, we don’t know. By the time the war was all but lost, the Confederacy destroyed all the paperwork covering their clandestine operations. Whatever inventive strategies they cooked up, they apparently didn’t work too well. Mission to subvert the union through chicanery and espionage: totally failed.

#3 They Created the FBI For all we know, magicians, dragons, and UFOs are 100% real. However, because there was no FBI, and thus no X-Files Unit, until the 1930’s, nobody can ever know for sure. What happened was, the US Department of Justice hired the Secret Service to conduct nationwide investigations beyond the reach of state officials. This led to the official formation of the Bureau of Investigation, which later became the FBI, or the “FEDS” as conspiracy theorists like to call them. Moreover, both of these organizations have to give thanks to the National Bureau of Criminal Identification, which helped federalize the search for state-swapping criminals.

#4 Only One Secret Service Member Has Ever Died on Duty You might think that hundreds, possibly thousands of Secret Service agents have died while performing their highly-dangerous duties. However, despite the many assassination attempts that have happened throughout the years, only one agent ever died on the job.  His name was Leslie Coffelt, and he died protecting President Harry Truman on November 1, 1950. Two Puerto Rican extremists invaded Truman’s location (away from the White House while it was under renovation) and tried to shoot him. Coffelt returned fire, but died from his injuries. Unfortunately for Coffelt, Truman felt more pity toward the murderers than the murdered. After the assassination attempt, he commuted the death sentence of the surviving attacker to life in prison. Not even that happened though, as he was later released to return to Puerto Rico. The only person screwed royally here was poor, dead Leslie Coffelt. No wonder the Secret Service continues to pay tribute to the courageous young fellow.

#5 The Secret Service is Not Obligated to Report a Philandering Husband It must be awkward, those conversations between Secret Service men and the President about to get his freak on with some mistress. Ex-Secret Service agents have stated that JFK’s aides would sneak women into the White House for sexual affairs, and that the Secret Service knew about it. In fact, the brave and non-judgmental agents watching Jackie would report back to the President saying Mrs. Kennedy was coming home, so he better hide the toys. Lyndon Johnson, meanwhile, was spoken of even less favorably by the agents, who described him as “uncouth”. The ex-agents interviewed by author Raymond Kessler stated that Lyndon Johnson became incensed at the Secret Service after getting caught red-handed by his wife, and blamed them for not warning him in advance. Johnson got over it, but insisted that the Secret Service make it up to him by installing a buzzer system so that he could always be warned if his wife was approaching.

#6 Clint Hill Was a Real-Life Action Hero Long before Sly Stallone and Jackie Chan were doing their own stunts, Secret Service agent Clint Hill was jumping onto moving cars and guarding the President with his body. He was even a reality TV celebrity of the worst variety, if you count the notorious Zapruder film. He was the man famously seen running from the car behind a wounded John F. Kennedy and leaping onto the back of it. After the shooting, Hill jumped out of his car riding and boarded Kennedy’s, guiding the First Lady back to her seat and placing his body above her and the President, ready to take another bullet. To this day, the Secret Service expresses shame about their failure to protect JFK’s life, but they always speak highly of Clint Hill’s quick thinking and bravery. Hill, however, is much less proud, and never forgave himself for allowing the President to die.

#7 Ronald Reagan Packed as Much Heat as His Agents Ronald Reagan’s not a liberal favorite, but conservatives continue to adore his memory, in no small part because the man was a regular Dirty Harry when it came to protecting himself. Secret Service agents have said that Reagan once came out of his room, in front of the Secret Service, with a pistol tucked on his hip. When asked about it, Reagan said, “In case you boys can’t get the job done, I can help.” Perhaps Reagan watched the film of his own attempted assassination once or twice, and decided that no matter what, there would be no sequel. The Secret Service even admitted that Reagan carried a pistol when he first met Mikhail Gorbachev. And despite the notoriety of the NRA, Reagan was a proud member.  Yes, Reagan was strongly in favor of the Brady Bill and the seven-day waiting period for new gun purchases. That didn’t make him any less of a badass. It just made him a responsible one.

#8 The Secret Service Still Investigates Counterfeiters Yes, all these years later, the Secret Service is still active in federal investigations, including its original mission: investigating fraud and counterfeiting.  The protection of the President is simply one additional job the organization takes on. So even though Presidents constantly harass the Secret Service and make them install wife-alarms and what not, these guys are actually doing us a lot of good. They execute stings against malicious hackers and handle cases involving forgeries of American checks and wire fraud. They also very actively combat that whole Nigerian Prince scam thing, because some folks actually continue to fall for them. Americans lose over $100 million per year by sending their financial information to Sir Baldour Dogooder III or whatever they call themselves these days. It’s such a big problem the Secret Service has actually set up a headquarters in Nigeria, to help combat the cyber-crime right at the source.

#9 They Protected Obama for 18 Months Prior to Election Barack Obama knows he and George W. Bush are notoriously unpopular, which is probably why Obama reversed a 1994 Congress ruling that said Presidents elected after 1997 would only receive ten years of protection after relinquishing their post. This would have made Obama and Bush the ONLY Presidents in history that didn’t have lifetime Secret Service protection. It was also a smart move by Obama to accept the Secret Service’s offer of protection a year and a half before Election Day 2008 — the earliest bout of protection for any candidate in history. Not only did it help keep away all the racist, MURCA-loving, would-be assassins who wanted him dead, but it also made him seem like the odds-on favorite to win the election. No wonder Bush is so chummy with Obama. The man literally saved W’s behind by reinstating lifetime Secret Service protection for him too.

#10 A Bunch of Secret Service Agents Had Their Own Sexy Entourage Perhaps taking a few life lessons from philanderer Lyndon Johnson, some good old boys from the Secret Service became embroiled in their own sex scandal in 2012. According to the dismissed agents, the Secret Service has long “tolerated loose guidelines” as long as these quickie relationships (many of which were adulterous) ended whenever the agency left the city. Once exposed, the scandal resulted in rumors of a “Secret Circus”, a group of wild and horny Secret Service agents that would come into town looking for easy fun. Relationships were broke, agents were fired, and the old “I didn’t know she was a prostitute!” excuse was repeated often. The dismissed agents’ sexual dalliances are on record but, to this day, the Secret Service denies everything, claiming they do not tolerate anything “unbecoming of a Secret Service employee.” Perhaps they should though. Maybe if guys like these were in charge of handling Johnson’s needs, maybe he wouldn’t have been so damn cranky.

Source: TopTenz