#Minnesota Office of Cannabis Management

[cannabisbusinessexecutive]

Minnesota’s next top cannabis regulator will see more green

The person eventually chosen to lead Minnesota’s relatively new marijuana regulatory agency will be in line for a higher salary than the first time the state posted the position. The latest job posting for the Office of Cannabis Management executive director includes a pay scale that runs from nearly $133,000 to $190,000 per year. Initially, the range for the position was $105,000 to…

[dontmeantobepoliticalbut]

Minnesota's Democratic Governor, Tim Walz, today reiterated his promise to sign a marijuana legalization bill that arrived at his desk on Saturday. That will make Minnesota, which legalized medical marijuana in 2014, the 23rd state to allow recreational use.

The Minnesota House and Senate, both of which are controlled by Democrats, had previously approved slightly different legalization bills. H.F. 100, which both chambers passed last week, reconciles those differences.

Adults 21 or older will be allowed to possess two ounces or less of marijuana in public, share that amount with other adults, keep two pounds or less at home, and grow up to eight plants, four of which are mature. Those provisions take effect on August 1.

The bill also establishes an Office of Cannabis Management to license and regulate commercial production and distribution. Marijuana products will be subject to a 10% retail tax, in addition to standard state and local sales taxes (which total about 8% in Minneapolis, for example). Local governments will be allowed to regulate retailers and cap their number but will not be allowed to ban them entirely. Rep. Zack Stephenson (DFL–Coon Rapids), a co-author of the bill, said licensed sales should begin in 12 to 18 months.

Cannabis consumption initially will be limited to private residences. But the law eventually will allow marijuana use at specially licensed businesses and events.

Driving under the influence of marijuana will remain illegal. But Minnesota does not have a per se standard that makes a driver automatically guilty based on THC in his blood. Its law requires evidence of impairment.

H.F. 100 eliminates some marijuana offenses and downgrades others. It requires automatic expungement of misdemeanor marijuana possession records, a process that the Minnesota Bureau of Criminal Apprehension says may take until August 2024 to complete. The bill creates a review board to consider resentencing of people with marijuana felony records.

A recent SurveyUSA poll found that 64% of Minnesota voters support marijuana legalization, including 81% of Democrats and 49% of Republicans. That is similar to the national breakdown among American adults that Gallup reported last fall.

"The system that we have right now is not working," state Sen. Lindsey Port (DFL–Burnsville) said before the vote on the marijuana bill in her chamber, where she was the lead sponsor. "The best way that we can protect our kids from access to cannabis is by legalizing and regulating."

[whatsnewalycat]

Once in a Blue Moon

One Shot // Dieter Bravo x HotelStaff!F!Reader

Description: You're the only person working when a Christmas blizzard rolls into town and snows you in with a notoriously difficult guest, Dieter Bravo.

Rating: E (Explicit 18+ Only)

Word Count: 12.9k+

Tags/Warnings: one shot, slight dub con elements (power imbalance, isolation, alcohol) although both parties are enthusiastically consenting, hotel guest x hotel staff, blizzard, Minnesota because that’s my best friend, dieter generally being an ‘if you give a mouse a cookie’ ass bitch, kinda enemies to lovers???, Christmas, loneliness, palm reading, food and eating, cannabis, conspiracy theory mention, fluuuuuufffff, smut, dirty talk, a dash of conflict, painting stuff, power outage, poverty mention

Note: Merry Crisis! This is part of a secret Santa gift exchange and a present for my dearest Syl (@all-the-way-down-here @im-sylien). I hope you enjoy!! Have an excellent holiday, friend ❤️🎄

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 23RD, 2:00 PM

“We are right in the bullseye for what people are already calling The Great Christmas Storm. Blizzard Warnings remain in effect throughout most of Minnesota until Tuesday morning. Forty to fifty mile-an-hour winds, combined with an anticipated twelve to twenty-four inches of heavy snowfall, are expected to create whiteout conditions, making travel dangerous or impossible in the Blizzard Warning areas. If you must travel—”

You kill the engine and look up through the windshield at Blue Moon Manor. The white exterior of the three-story Tudor Revival mansion seems to glow in contrast to the dark clouds hanging overhead. Some rich guy built it as a family home in 1905. It stayed in the family for over a century before a property management company scooped it up. Now the ornate family heirloom is a boutique hotel. Go figure. 

You open your car door and grab your backpack from the backseat, swinging it over your shoulder as you step out of the vehicle. As you walk up the path to the staff entrance, snowflakes start floating down from the gray, low-hanging clouds like teeny-tiny feathers, landing on your cheeks and nose, melting on impact. 

So it begins. 

You press your security code into the door lock, waiting for the quiet beep-beep-beep of approval before shoving the door open to the back office. 

Your coworker Jenna looks up at you when you enter giving you a nod of greeting as she zips up her jacket, “How is it out there?”

“Just starting,” you drop your backpack on the built-in bench and take off your stocking cap, shaking out your hair as you ask, “How’s it been here?” 

“Let’s just say I’m ready to go home and drink some wine,” she snorts, “Should be a piece of cake for you, though. 202, 203, and 101 checked out early because of the storm, and the check-in today cancelled.” 

“Storm of the century,” you mutter, “Merry fucking Christmas.”

“I hear it’s gonna get nasty. Do you really have to stay the whole time?” 

You wave her off as you peel off your jacket, “It’s fine.”

“I’m sorry I can’t cover some of the shifts.”

“Really, it‘s fine,” you insist while hanging up your coat, “Bossman said he’d pay me double time to stay ‘til he gets back to town.” 

“You’re goddamn right he’s gonna pay you double time.” 

Trying to change the subject, you go over to the daily checklist, “Ok, 202, 203, and 101 are gone,” you frown, running over your mental tally of guests, “So, what? Just 302?”

“Just 302. Lucky you.” 

“Yeah, lucky me,” you roll your eyes, then look out the window at the snowfall, heavier now, “You better head out before you get stuck here with me and Mr. Fluoride Mind Control.” 

“I suppose,” she sighs, grabbing her purse, “Well, have a Merry Christmas?”

“You too,” you smile and meet her eyes as she extends her arms and beckons you closer. You groan, but accept the hug, face pressing against her puffy winter coat. 

When she steps back and starts towards the door, she tells you, “Don’t have too much fun now.” 

“I’ll try not to,” you snort, “Merry Christmas.” 

“Merry Christmas,” she calls behind her as she opens the door, letting in an icy-cold draft of snowflakes before closing it behind her. 

You sigh and wiggle the mouse on the computer. The second you do, the service bell dings. 

“Fucking already?” you mutter to yourself as you follow the floorplan through the kitchen, into the formal dining room, then finally arrive at the archway to the parlor. 

You find the man staying in Suite 302 leaning against the grand piano, thrumming his fingers on the shiny surface. 

Wearing pajama pants and a grubby t-shirt, chestnut curls shooting up every which way, he sighs and taps the call bell again. The shrill ding makes your eye twitch a little, but you paste on an amenable smile, “Mr. Bravo, how can I help you?” 

He spins towards you and looks at you over his sunglasses, dark eyes flicking up and down your body before settling on your face, “Can I get some towels?”

“Of cour—”

“And can you do that thing where you fold them into animals?” 

You furrow your brow and tilt your head at him, lips parting to ask what he means, but he preemptively answers. 

“Some hotels fold them into swans or elephants or whatever. You know what I mean? Towel animals.” 

There’s no way he’s not fucking with you. 

“I, uhh…”

He raps a knuckle on the piano, then saunters off, calling back, “Thanks, you’re the best!”

You stand there for a moment, mouth agape as you watch him disappear up the stairs, thinking: No fucking way I’m doing that. 

And yet, half an hour later, you’re sitting in the back office watching a YouTube video on how to fold two towels into an elephant. 

Following along with the step-by-step, you make the legs. Easy enough. The head ends up looking like an uncircumcised cock with wings, though. You set it on top of the legs and take a step back, glancing between your creation and the video’s example. As a final touch, you stick a couple googly-eye stickers on it. 

“Good enough,” you sigh and tuck the microfiber monstrosity under your arm. 

When you arrive at Suite 302, you pause for a moment, turning your ear towards the door. You hear the old wooden floor creaking as he walks around humming to himself. It smells like paint and skunk spray. 

You swallow your buzzing nerves and knock on the door, fidgeting a little as you wait. 

Inside, a fit of coughing erupts, and he chokes out, “Hang—on—”

His footsteps squeak across the floor to the kitchen. Clink of glass. Water faucet. The coughing stops for a few silent seconds, then he groans and the footstep squeaks grow closer. 

A cloud of weed smoke bitch slaps you when the door to Suite 302 swings open. 

He frowns at you, crossing his arms in front of his broad chest as he leans against the doorframe, “Hey, uhhh��”

“I got your towels,” you smile, presenting the towel elephant to him. 

His eyes drop to the elephant, then he raises his eyebrows, “What is this?” 

“An elephant?”

He glances between you and the elephant, flattening his mouth into a line before telling you, “Looks like a dick and balls with googly-eyes.”

The force you use to hold down your laughter makes you snort. 

So fucking professional. 

Your eyes meet his. An amused smile graces his lips as he takes the elephant. 

“Anything else I can get for you?” 

“Yeah, can I, uhhh… can I get some snacks? Something sweet, something savory.”

“I’ll see what I can find,” you nod, peering over his shoulder into the hazy room, “Just a reminder, we don’t allow smoking.” 

“Oh, it’s not cigarette smoke.” 

“I can smell.” 

It goes straight from your brain out your mouth, drenched in sarcasm. So fucking professional. 

His eyebrows shoot up in a surprised expression. 

“I apologize, Mr. Bravo—”

“Oh, fuck that. Don’t,” he chuckles, waving off your stammering, “Call me Dieter, by the way. Mr. Bravo makes me sound like a fucking… karaoke machine.” 

“Ok,” you chuckle, then put your customer-facing demeanor back on and tell him, “I’ll go see what we have for snacks. Let me know if you need anything in the meantime.” 

He pushes off the doorframe, giving you a nod of acknowledgment as he steps back into Suite 302 and closes the door. 

You return sometime later with a silver serving tray hosting a variety of cheeses, dried fruit, olives, spreads, and crackers. When you knock, he hollers to leave it outside the door, so you do. 

The remaining daylight you spend cleaning. 

Blue Moon Manor has eight suites: one on the first floor, four on the second, and two on the third. Working from the bottom up, you rid the recently vacated units of dirty dishes and trash, then collect the linens and haul them up to the laundry room on the third floor. 

By this time, the serving tray you left outside Suite 302 has disappeared. The pot smoke, however, dissipated throughout the entire level. It seems even stronger than the last time you were up here. Almost like he completely disregarded your polite reminder of the no smoking policy. 

You decide to table the issue temporarily. If he was still smoking by the time you returned to take his dinner order, you’d remind him again. 

The prospect of confronting what your boss referred to as “a very important client” intimidates you, though, if you’re being honest. 

Not that you’re particularly intimidated by him as a person or anything. 

Sure, he has an IMDb page and some awards, but beyond that, he’s just another entitled guy. 

It’s more so the influence he has on your employment that intimidates you. Sometimes your feral mouth speaks before your poorly-domesticated brain can articulate a proper response. If you were to say something combative, and this guy complained to your boss, you’d probably lose your job—a loss you cannot afford. 

When it’s time to take his dinner order, you gather yourself before knocking on his door, repeating your script in your head as you wait. Then the door swings open and you’re absolutely blindsided. 

He answers while wringing his hair out with a towel. It’s one of the two you brought him earlier. You can tell because there’s still a googly-eye stuck to it, pupil shaking around inside its little plastic dome. The other towel clings to life around his waist, parting to show off a slice of his tan thigh. 

Regrettably, you follow your knee-jerk reaction to ogle him, looking him up and down before returning to his expectant eyes. 

This results in an uncomfortable staring contest, where you’re trying to make your mouth work and he’s trying to figure out what the fuck you want, as made evident when he asks, “Do you need something?” 

“Dinner,” you blurt out, then shake your head, “Sorry, I mean—What’ll you be having for dinner, Mr. Bravo?” 

“What’re the options?” 

“Chicken roulade or salmon.” 

He groans, throwing his hair-drying towel over his shoulder. 

“Do you guys have any normal food, or does it have to be upscale bullshit?” 

You pause to once again gather yourself, and in that two-second silence he decides, “I’ll take the chicken roulade.” 

“Dining room or room service?” 

He shrugs, looking over his shoulder into the suite, then back at you, “Dining room.” 

“Fabulous. While I’m here, can I take your tray from earlier?” 

“Let me get it,” he mumbles, closing the door. While he’s gone, you go over the lines you rehearsed, and when he opens the door to hand you the tray, you tell him, “Just as a reminder, we don’t allow indoor smoking—” 

“Look, usually I open the window and use a doob-tube, but, uhhh… the weather outside won’t allow it. I don’t want the wind to fuck up the crank windows.” 

“But still—” 

“And not that it’s any of your business, but I have a medical condition that I treat with cannabis. This is prescribed to me—”

“What? I’m not—”

“Besides, it should be legal—”

“Ok, you know what? Fine! Smoke away, but don’t be surprised when the manager fines you for it, plus the cost of extra cleaning charges.” 

He crosses his arms and straightens his spine, “I can live with that.” 

“Great,” you snip, taking a big step back, “Dinner will be ready at six.” 

He closes the door a little harder than necessary and you stomp down to the kitchen, fuming the whole way. 

Lucky for you, dinner prep involves flattening chicken breasts with a meat tenderizer, which helps tame your frustration. As you follow the recipe, sprinkling seasonings and feta cheese onto the breasts and rolling them up like neat little sleeping bags, potential consequences for your outburst run through your mind. Bad review, getting canned, all that. 

Maybe if you hadn’t been dealing with this guy’s shit for the past two weeks, you would’ve been able to handle the situation with a level head. But his haughtiness is fucking grating. He can’t just answer a question or make a simple request. It has to be a whole production that makes it clear: he thinks he’s better than you. 

By the time you finish cooking, though, you come to peace with the fact that you’ll probably have to kiss his ass to rectify the situation. 

When the grandfather clock in the parlor chimes six times, you plate the chicken roulade and bring it to the dining room, slightly surprised to see him already seated at the table. 

“Mr. Bravo,” you smile in greeting. 

“Dieter.” 

“Dieter,” you repeat as you set the plate down on his place setting, “Can I get you anything to drink? We have a Sauvignon Blanc that would pair well with the chicken—”

“I’ll take it.”

You go to the sideboard and find a bottle of wine. As you pour him a glass, he wrings his hands together and glances around, “Anyone else coming down?” 

“Just you.”

“What about you, where do you eat?” 

You shrug, setting the bottle down beside his glass, “In the kitchen.” 

“You could eat out here.” 

“Oh. It’s fine, sir. Really, I don’t mind.” 

His nose wrinkles up under his sunglasses and he shifts in seat. You study him for a moment, sensing an air of loneliness about him. 

“Unless you want me to join you.”

He shrugs, “Seems silly for both of us to eat alone.” 

“So true,” you nod, clasping your hands together, “I’ll uhhh… I’ll be right back.” 

When you return with your plate, you sit across the table from him. An uncomfortable silence settles in the room. The kind that makes your skin feel too tight and amplifies every little noise. The chewing, the utensils clinking, the wet swallows, everything seems ten times louder than reality. 

Clearly, it’s not just the two of you in this dining room. There’s a third guest, the giant invisible elephant wedged between you. 

He finishes his glass of wine and pours another, asking, “Do you want some?” 

“I… shouldn’t.” 

“Uh-huh,” he raises his eyebrows, looking at you over his sunglasses, “Do you want some anyway?”

You consider it, squishing your face to one side with indecision. 

“I won’t tell on you, sweetheart, I promise.” 

Your eyes flick to his, finding a sort of amused playfulness there. 

“Fine,” you smirk and push back your chair, going over to the wine cabinet to grab a glass, “Just one.” 

“No one’s twisting your arm about it.”

You return to your seat and reach across the table to grab the bottle, pouring only a small helping. 

“Cheers,” he holds up his glass. 

You mimic the sentiment and take a big sip, then tell him, “Mr. Bravo—”

“Dieter.”

“Dieter,” you nod, glancing at your wine glass, “I, umm… I apologize if I was rude earlier.” You meet his eyes and shrug, “If I’m being completely transparent, my boss will have my ass if the whole third floor smells like weed when he comes in next week.”

He watches you as he absorbs this, face inscrutable. 

“But if you want, I can show you the back patio. You can smoke out there all you want, I really don’t care about that part.” 

Leaning back in his seat, he takes a swig of wine, then says, “Fine.” 

“Thank you, I appreciate it,” you smile. 

“Uh-huh,” he sets down his glass, wiggling around a little as he tells you, “For the record, you weren’t being that rude. Well, maybe a little, but… I don’t mind. Suits you better than the bullshit customer service thing you do.” 

You blink at him, biting your tongue, then return to cutting your food and making small talk, “Well, I hope you didn’t have any big plans for the holidays. Traveling might be tough the next couple days.” 

He shakes his head, “Not doing it this year.”

“Not doing Christmas?”

“Nope. What about you? Do you celebrate Christmas? Any plans?” 

“You’re looking at ‘em,” you gesture around the room with your wine glass and take a sip.

“No shit, you have to work?” 

“I’ll be working until the storm passes. Tuesday at the earliest, by the sounds of it.” 

“Yuck. You guys have a staff bedroom, or do you get to stay in a suite?”

“I have my pick of the empty suites.”

He pokes the food on his plate with his fork, “Which one are you picking?”

You chuckle a little before answering. Maybe it’s your imagination, but you detect a certain vibe coming from him. Not only that, but he’s attractive in a way you’re not entirely immune to. 

“I think I’m gonna try a new one each night,” you tell him, “101 for sure, maybe 301 and 203. Not 201–“

“Oh well obviously, fuck 201.” 

“Obviously,” you laugh, shaking your head. 

He smiles at you, sparking heat at your center, then both return your attention to your food. The rest of the meal passes in a much more comfortable silence. Not wanting to overstay your welcome around a guest or veer further into unprofessionalism, you rise as soon as you finish. 

“I’ll get out of your hair, but if you need anything, ring the bell. I’ll be around.” 

“Sure,” he studies you over his sunglasses as you gather your dirty dishes, his jaw ticking back and forth, then he says, “Hey, thanks for keeping me company. It was nice.” 

You want to tell him you thought it was nice, too. Or maybe say something about how it felt like a mildly off-putting but not entirely unsuccessful first date. Not at all what you assumed it would be like. 

Instead, you give him a polite smile and nod, “Of course.” 

— 

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 23RD, 8:00 PM

DING 

You look up from the cribbage game on your phone at him, just a few strides away but apparently oblivious to your presence. He fidgets with the sleeve of his high-drama fuzzy jacket, shifting his weight from side-to-side. Waiting. 

“Hi—”

“Holy shit!” He startles, gripping his chest, “Where the fuck did you come from?”

Before you can stop it, you snort out a laugh, then cover your face reflexively, “I’m so sorry Mr.—”

“Dieter.”

“Dieter,” you nod as you rise to your feet, stuffing your wide grin into a neat smile, “How can I help you, sir?”

“Call me a fucking ambulance for the heart attack you just gave me,” he jokes, shaking his head, then takes a step towards you, “No, uhh… I was gonna step out to smoke, do you wanna join me?” 

“Oh—umm,” you chuckle a little, briefly considering the offer before politely telling him, “No, thank you.”

“You sure?” 

“I’m sure,” you glance down at his feet, clad in mismatched socks and crocs, “But here, let me clear off the back patio so you don’t have to stand in the snow.” 

He shrugs and follows you through the parlor into the dining room, where you tell him, “Just give me a minute, I’ll put my stuff on.”

“Take your time,” he murmurs, going over to the sideboard, “Is this fair game?” 

“Help yourself.” 

“Do you want one?” 

He flips over a lowball glass on display and sifts through the decanters of liquor, plucking out a bottle of finely aged whiskey. A drink sounds good. But the prospect of this virtual stranger fixing you a drink makes you uneasy. 

Does he know that it’s just you and him under this roof for probably the next few days? Between the offer to smoke you up and pour you a drink, is he intentionally trying to intoxicate you? Or is he just being cordial? 

You realize he’s staring at you, waiting for a response. Heat rises to your face. Shaking your head, you tell him, “I’m fine, thanks.” 

He uncorks the decanter and turns to pour whiskey into his glass, so you dismiss yourself to the back office. 

After bundling up in winter gear, you grab a shovel, then start towards the dining room. You stop short in the kitchen. The motherfucker walked right past the STAFF ONLY sign and started rummaging through the fridge. 

“You’re not supposed to be back here.” 

He glances back over his shoulder at you, “Why not?”

“Because—well, because—”

“Can you make me grilled cheese?” 

He straightens and closes the fridge door, turning to face you. You, clad in your coat and boots and hat and all that shit, holding a shovel, just blinking at him, mouth agape. 

“Right now?” 

His jaw shifts to one side as he genuinely considers the question. 

“Can I shovel first?” 

“Sure,” he shrugs. 

“Thanks,” you mutter, then trudge past him into the dining room. 

He follows along behind you, through the hall to the back door, asking, “Do you have tomato soup?” 

“Probably. Want some with your grilled cheese?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I’ll see what I can do.” 

When you twist the door handle and yank it open, a knee-high snow drift topples over at your feet. 

“Jesus Christ,” you hiss and flip on the outdoor light switch to peek outside. A strong gust of wind knocks you back a step, carrying a flurry of shimmering, swirling snowflakes. Your cheeks sting at the icy cold sharpness of it, eyes watering in protest. 

What a fucking nightmare. 

“Forget it,” you huff, slamming the door closed. You prop the shovel against it and turn to Dieter, pulling your gloves off, “I don’t care, can you just use the doob-tube and turn on the fan in the bathroom?” 

“The fan doesn’t work.” 

You release a big sigh, tugging off your hat as you lean on the wall and kick off your boots, “Of course it doesn’t. Alright, plan C.” 

—

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 23RD, 8:45 PM

The range hood’s fan roars to life. 

“Have at it,” you tell him as you walk over to the sink and unlock the window, pulling it up a few inches. 

Dieter pulls a palm-sized wooden container from his coat pocket and leans back against the stove, twisting the top open. A one-hitter pops up from one of the two barrels of the container. He takes it and stuffs it into the dugout, “So, what, we’re all trapped here until the storm passes?” 

You cross your arms in front of your chest and shrug, “Theoretically.” 

“Figures,” he mutters, then pinches the pipe between his lips. He pulls a pink lighter from the pocket of his fuzzy coat and brings the flame to the other end. The tip brightens to a glowing ember as he inhales. 

“I thought you didn’t have any plans.” 

He holds the smoke in his lungs and croaks out, “I don’t,” before turning to blow the smoke into the fan intake. 

“Are you upset that you’re snowed in with me?” 

“It has nothing to do with you, sweetheart” he glances at you, then takes another hit. 

“Ok, let me rephrase,” you shift, casting your gaze to the floor, trying to conceal the warmth blooming beneath your skin, “Are you upset that you’re snowed in?” 

He shrugs, “I don’t like being stuck places. Especially another fucking hotel.” 

“Whadda you mean?” you frown. 

Your question hangs in the air while he takes another hit. He grimaces and steps over to the sink beside you, tapping ash from the little metal pipe with his lighter, then returns to his place at the stove and packs another onie. 

“Did you ever watch the documentary Beasts of the Bubble?” 

You shake your head. 

“Don’t, it’s dogshit,” he snorts and takes another hit. On the exhale, he asks, “You know that I’m an actor, though, right?” 

You nod. 

“Right, well, long story short… Early COVID days, I was out in England shooting a movie and they wouldn’t let us leave the hotel.” 

You have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes, sensing heavy dramatics on the horizon. 

“They wouldn’t let you leave the hotel?”

“My friend—well,” he wrinkles his nose, “Yeah, my friend. She tried to escape, got her fuckin’ hand shot off.” 

“Holy shit, seriously?!”

“Yeah, Lauren Van Chance. Pow! Shot right off. Fucking brutal,” he shakes his head and takes another hit. As he blows the smoke into the fan, he coughs a little, then shakes his head, “Anyway—wait, why am I talking about this?” 

“Because we’re snowed in.” 

“Oh—yeah. I dunno, feeling like I can’t leave… my therapist said it’s a trigger, I guess.” 

“I get that,” you search his face, watching him frown at the one-hitter. Apparently satisfied with how stoned he is, Dieter releases a relaxed sigh and sets the onie down on the counter. 

“If it’s any consolation, I promise I won’t shoot you if you try to leave. Like… I don’t know, you might need some snow shoes or whatever, but you could—” 

He waves you off, “Eh, it’s fine. It’s just a thing, you know? Makes me feel all fuckin’ cagey and on-edge. Restless.” 

You lick your lips and nod, glancing at the floor before you look at him, “Anything I can do to help?” 

“Bud helps,” he shrugs, “Talking helps.”

“Does grilled cheese help?” 

It takes him a moment to understand what you’re asking, but when he does, he chuckles, “Grilled cheese is basically a fucking Xanax.” 

“Is that a good thing?” 

“Absolutely.” 

“Then let’s get you a grilled cheese.” 

—

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 24TH, 10:00 AM

“The Department of Transportation has declared a state of emergency, and urges people to shelter in place as snow will continue to fall in the Twin Cities and across most of central and southern Minnesota through tomorrow. Overnight, some places received as much as 10 inches, with 40 mile-an-hour winds creating drifts—”

DING

Regrettably, your heart skips a beat. 

You tuck your phone into the back pocket of your slacks and cross the kitchen, pushing through the swinging door into the dining room. When you get to the parlor, you find Dieter fiddling around with priceless antiques displayed on the shelves of an ornate built-in bookshelf. He glances over at you, “Hey.” 

“Good morning, did you sleep ok?” 

Nodding, he pulls his attention away from the bookshelf and takes a step towards you, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his pajama pants, “Did I miss breakfast?” 

“No, what can I get for you?”

“Denver Omelet?” 

“Sure,” you clasp your hands together behind your back, “Hashbrowns? Fruit? Anything to drink?” 

“Yes, yes, and yes—coffee, water, orange juice with pulp.”

“Down here or in your room?” 

“Here is fine.” 

“You got it,” you smile, walking back to the kitchen. The creak of his footsteps mimic yours on the old hardwood floor, so you think he’s going to sit at the dining room table, but the duo whine of the swinging kitchen door takes you by surprise. 

You turn to face him, “Oh, you don’t have to—”

“May I?” He holds up the wooden onie box. 

“Sure,” you nod, clicking the range hood on, then go to crack the window open. 

The soft murmur of the radio fills the silence while you prep his breakfast and he smokes. You absentmindedly hum along to the Christmas music, dicing a green pepper, an onion, and some ham. By the time you approach the stove to start cooking, he’s tucking the paraphernalia away in the pocket of his pajama pants. 

“Have any big plans for the day?” He asks as he goes over to the coffee pot and pours himself a cup. 

“Ahhh, well… I think I’m gonna knock out some tasks that are hard to do when we’re busy. Inventory and deep cleaning, things like that. What about you?”

He shrugs, leaning back against the counter, “Gonna try to keep plugging away at painting ideas.”  

“Oh yeah? What’re you painting?” 

“It’s uhhh… it’s part of a series I’m working on, capturing the essence of interesting hotels across the country.” 

“Really? That’s—that’s actually really cool. I love that. And you chose Blue Moon Manor?”

“Well yeah,” he sighs, looking around, “It’s gorgeous. The original features are well-preserved, all the intricate woodwork and craftsmanship. It’s unique, I like it.” 

“I agree, it’s a special place.”

“I’m just… I don’t know, I’m stuck at the starting line, not sure what to paint. I haven’t found anything here that feels right yet.” 

You look between him and the menagerie of omelet fillings sizzling in the pan, “Have you seen any of the other suites?” 

“In pictures.” 

“If you want, I can show you around today? All the vacancies are made up pretty. You can poke around and see if you find any… I don’t know, inspiration, or whatever.” 

“Yeah?” He grins, “That would be… yeah, fuck yeah, that would be amazing.” 

—

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 24TH, 2:00 PM

You may be in trouble. 

Not the kind of trouble punishable by anyone but yourself, but still. 

What you mean is that you think you might have a crush on Dieter. Or, more honestly, what you mean is that you know you have a crush on Dieter. 

This revelation occurred to you about halfway through your impromptu tour of Blue Moon Manor.

You were standing in the sunroom of Suite 203 while he wandered around, jotting down notes and taking pictures on his phone. The snow fell heavy outside, coming down in thick wet clumps that made it difficult to see beyond the border of the property. Everything blanketed in a pristine, shimmering white. 

A deep sense of isolation plummeted your heart to your feet. Christmas Eve, when people all across the world gathered with loved ones, and you were working. Not that your empty one bedroom apartment missed you much. At least if you were there, you could lay in bed eating raw cookie dough while watching your comfort tv show. Throw yourself a proper pity party. 

So, there you were, wallowing in your circular loneliness, going around and around the drain of self-pity, when Dieter approached you. 

“Hey, you alright?” 

You snapped out of your trance and looked at him, finding something very earnest and knowing in his eyes. It surprised you. He didn’t strike you as the kind of person who generally cared about what others were feeling. 

“Yeah, just… thinking about how much I’m gonna have to shovel,” you chuckled, brushing off his concern. 

“Sorry, you just looked… I don’t know, kind of sad.”

“I’m fine,” you assured him with all the sincerity of someone whose pants were on fire. 

“Uh huh,” he studied you for a moment, then looked down at his phone and shook his head, releasing a big sigh, “I think I’m ready to move on.” 

“Alright, follow me,” you pushed off the window and walked past him. As you did so, you misjudged your space and brushed up against him. 

Pure negligence or subconscious desire, you’re still not sure, but the contact was a static shock. This quick jolt of heat that made you gasp and jump away from him, stammering, “Oh shit. Sorry, I, um—”

He chuckled, a handsome, dimpled smile stretching across his face, “It’s fine.” 

“I’m embarrassed,” you blurted out. As if it wasn’t obvious enough. 

“Don’t be,” he shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged, “Accidents happen.” 

“Ok,” you laughed and buried your heated face in your hands, then regained your composure and said, “Ok, let’s see Suite 201.” 

“Is that the shitty one?” 

“It’s not shitty,” you snorted, starting towards the door, “It’s perfectly fine, just not as glamorous as the rest of them.” 

“Uh huh. Like the ugliest Miss America contestant.” 

“Sure—”

“Or the uhh… the smallest blue whale.” 

“Yeah, I mean—”

“Suite 201 is to this hotel what Def Leppard is to glam rock.”  

“Wow, ok,” you laughed, ushering him through the doorway into the hall, “Yeah, I think you got it.” 

The whole dumb interaction is all you can think about. It plays over and over again. That look, the accident, Def fucking Leppard. The rush of excitement you feel when you see him or even just think about seeing him.

It is undeniable. 

You have a big fat crush. 

So fucking professional. 

For what feels like the hundredth time, you lose count. You toss your clipboard down on the stack of fluffy white towels in defeat, scrubbing your hands over your face. 

Maybe a cleaning project would be more productive. The first floor common rooms need dusting, or you could scrub the floors, or prep dinner, or blah blah blah… god, it all sounds so fucking boring. 

Curiosity prods your heart. 

You tiptoe through the laundry room, out into the third floor hallway, and linger there for an indecisive moment, listening to the low bass of his humming to himself and the thick pulse behind your ears. A few cautious steps towards Suite 302 reveals a DO NOT DISTURB sign hanging from the doorknob. 

Rejection takes the shape of a stone in your mouth, heavy and hard and cold as you swallow it down. It settles uneasy in your gut. 

Dusting it is. 

—

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 24TH, 6:59 PM

Every minute that drags on feels like an eternity. 

The grandfather clock in between the library bookshelves mocks you. 

Tick-tock-tick-tock

Begins to sound more like: 

He-doesn’t-like-you 

You glare at it, then down at your phone, swiping away a low battery warning to continue playing cribbage. 

Outside, the wind snarls. Blue Moon Manor groans in resistance, and you wriggle deeper into the sofa cushions, telling yourself: Five more minutes then I’ll check on him. 

It’s so dumb.

Really, you know how it sounds. 

But not once has he put out the DO NOT DISTURB sign. For two weeks, he has been consistently demanding, never letting more than three daylight hours go by without asking for something. 

As soon as you let yourself feel some affection for him? 

Can’t get far enough away from you. 

He-doesn’t-like-you-DING! DING! DING! DING!—

You sigh at the clock. 

—DING! DING! DING!

“Fuck’s sake,” you mutter.

The lights die. 

All white noise drops except the crackle of the fireplace, howling wind, and ticking clock. 

“Fuck.”

Two floors up, something clatters to the ground, then Dieter hollers something unintelligible. 

Well, he seems chipper. 

You climb off the couch while googling power outages in the area. 

Footsteps thud down the steps onto the first floor landing. 

“Hello?” 

“I’m in the library,” you call, not looking up from your phone as you text your boss. 

His steps draw closer, then there’s a light in the doorway. 

“This place is so fucking creepy in the dark, Jesus Christ,” Dieter hisses, “What’s the deal?” 

You squint up at his dim figure, “Storm took out the power. I texted the manager to see if there’s a genny.” 

“Genny?”

“Backup generator,” you turn on your phone’s flashlight, “Sorry for the inconvenience, I’ll go see if I can find some lighting if you wanna wait here—”

“I’m coming with you.” 

“Oh, you don’t have to do that, sir—”

He gestures for you to lead the way, so you start towards the back office with Dieter hot on your heels. Once inside, you go over to the desk and pull open a drawer, fish out a headlamp, and slide it around your head. When you press the on button, a beam of light shoots from your forehead onto the desk.

“Cute,” he teases. 

You look at him, unintentionally shining the light in his face.

He steps back and shields his eyes, “Jesus!” 

“Ope. Sorry sir,” you stifle a laugh, grab a second headlamp from the drawer, and hold it out to him, “Do you want one?”

Grumbling under his breath, he takes it from you and slides it over his fluffy hair, then turns the light on. 

“Ok, this is pretty sweet,” he admits as he starts wandering around the room, “I feel like a miner or something.” 

“There should be a tote in here somewhere that has a bunch of candles,” you tell him as you start rifling through cupboards. When the search comes up empty, you try the closet, where you find a big purple tote labeled CANDLES. 

“Here we go,” you pull the heavy container out into the room. 

“Want me to carry that?” 

The offer holds about as much conviction as a drain holds water. He leans back against the desk, plucks a pen from the pencil cup, and starts doodling on your daily checklist. Barely interested. 

“No, I got it.” 

You lift it and shuffle past him, slightly demoralized, then immediately bump into the doorway, “Oop.” 

His headlamp blinds you, making you wince, then he chuckles, “Here.”

Dieter pushes off the desk and steps towards you, laying a gentle touch to your shoulder. 

When you forfeit the tote, you notice the dark smudges dried onto his hands and forearms. 

“Were you painting?” 

“Yeah,” he awkwardly adjusts his grip, then starts back the way you came. You follow behind him, trying to aim your light at the ground by his feet. 

In the kitchen, he says, “It smells good in here.”

“Probably the roast I made for dinner,” you pause for him to maneuver through the swinging door into the dining room, “I can get some for you after we get the candles going.” 

He holds the door open with his foot and waits for you to pass through the threshold before setting the bin down on the dining room table. 

“Thanks,” you say as he steps aside. 

The white candles come in three shapes: pillar, votive, and stick. All of them unscented, so when you pop off the lid to the tote bin, the only thing you can smell is wax and dust and old flames. 

You grab a half-melted pillar and ask, “Hey, do you have a lighter?” 

He rummages through his pockets and pulls one out, then takes the candle from you. The flint sparks into a tiny flame that he holds up to the wick until it ignites, casting a warm golden glow onto the walls and ceiling. You pass him another pillar. The pads of his fingers brush against your hand when he takes it, sending your heart racing. 

“Hopefully this isn’t a uhhh… weird or alarming thing to ask—”

“Oh god, what?”

“Is there anyone else here?” He lights the pillar and hands it to you, “You’re the only other person I’ve seen around.” 

You take the lit pillar and set it down shrugging, “There, aren’t umm… no, it’s just me and you.” 

“Oh.”

Where hyper vigilance should be, that old warning to not take candy from strangers, or not to turn your back on a man you don’t trust, something hungry and loud starts to grow. A devastating need for him to creep closer. For him to cross the boundary of what might be considered moral or right in such a situation. To touch you in ways that inspire heat between your thighs. 

He doesn’t, though. 

He just helps you light candles and strategically place them around the common rooms on the first floor, uncharacteristically reserved. You both remain quiet while you go about doing this, but the silence isn’t entirely uncomfortable. It’s the kind of silence that feels more like a peace treaty than a punishment. 

Your phone buzzes with a notification, and you pull it out, reading the text message out loud, “We don’t have a backup generator.”

“Shit.” 

“And power might be out until Tuesday.”

“Tuesday? Are you fucking serious?” 

“I apologize, sir—”

“Don’t do that,” he scoffs, shaking his head, “That whole… hospitality voice thing.”

The words come out sharp and bitter. 

Your blood pulses hot, and you hear yourself say, “I’m a hospitality worker, exactly what tone of voice do you expect I use?” 

“Like I’m a person, not a fucking client or whatever. I’m so sick of that shit, everywhere I go people kissing my ass,” he goes to the sideboard and flips over a glass, pouring whiskey while attuning his voice to a feminine, mocking tone, “Oh, Mr. Bravo, sir yes sir, do you need anything? Do you want a snack or a nap, do you need to be swaddled, do you want your dick sucked?”

He pauses to take a swig of the liquor. 

Meanwhile, steam might as well be coming out of your ears. Just fucking boiling with rage, needling the red danger zone. 

“I hate it. You all talk to me like I’m a goddamn toddler, it’s so fucking annoying—”

“Oh, fuck off. I’m annoying?” 

He leans back on the sideboard and blinks at you, swirling the whiskey in his glass. 

Stomping over to the liquor display, you pour a drink and seethe, “Ever think that maybe if you didn’t act like a fucking toddler, people wouldn’t treat you like one? I mean, for Christ’s sake, dude. You literally take a nap every afternoon and demand we cut the crust off your sandwiches. Last week you threw a temper tantrum because we put tap water in your sippy cup.” 

“Ok, first of all that was a water bottle. And, have you ever tasted the water here? It’s disgusting. Not to mention the fucking—”

“The fluoride, I know,” you roll your eyes, “I know I know I know. It’s gross and contains fluoride and tastes like blood or whatever the fuck—”

“I did not say it tasted like blood,” he quips, pauses to take a sip, which you mimic, then he adds, “It does, though, for the record.” 

“My point is that… If everywhere you go smells like shit, maybe you should look under your own shoe. You dig?” 

For a moment, you can’t read him. He stares down into his glass, twisting his wrist around in a way that draws attention to the thick-banded rings on his fingers. Then he glances up at you, a smirk playing on his lips, “That’s perfect. Can you just talk to me like that from now on?” 

Your head jerks back, and you let out a little scoff, “What, like a bitch?” 

“No,” he chuckles, “Like… I don’t know. Real. Real-er, anyway. You seem cool. You, though. Not your toothless, sanitized worksona.” 

“Jesus,” you scoff into your glass, shaking your head, “I’m not sure what to say to that.” 

“Anyway. I just mean… talk to me like I’m a person, not a fucking guest or whatever.” When you look up at him, he shifts a little and adds, “Please.”

You hold his gaze long enough for your stomach to flip, then chicken out, dropping your eyes to your glass, “Sir yes sir.” 

He lets out a chuckle, shaking his head, “Uh-huh.” 

You appraise the remaining whiskey in your glass, then tip it back, wincing at the burn as you set the glass down. 

“Do you want me to bring some candles up to your room, or will you be dining down here?” 

“Will you be joining me?” 

“Do you want me to?” 

“Yeah, of course,” he shrugs, “If you’re not busy.”

“I think I can squeeze you in,” you tease. 

His tongue pokes out to wet the seam of his lips, then his smirk breaks out into a big, boyish smile, “You think so, huh?”

The innuendo makes itself clear. Your face heats up and you snort, “Shut up.”

“Hey, you said it, not me,” he raises his hands defensively, following you as you start towards the kitchen, “Is it cool if I smoke?” 

You push through the swinging door, holding it open for him, “I can’t turn the fan on.” 

“Uh-huh,” he ambles over to the counter beside the sink and casually hops up onto it, “Is that a yes or a no?” 

After taking a moment to weigh the pros and cons, you sigh, “Just… blow it out the window, ok?” 

So he smokes while you pull the roasting pan from the oven and prepare two plates, piling on potato wedges and green beans and hearty slices of roast beef. You wrap up your activities simultaneously, then move back to the dining room. 

While you set the table, he goes over to the wine cabinet and asks, “Wine?” 

You hesitate, once again contemplating the pros and cons of answering in the affirmative. If the wine goes to your head, you could make a mistake. On the other hand, maybe it would help untangle your knotted stomach. Make it easier to converse with him. 

“Don’t feel like you have to say yes,” he adds when he notices your trepidation. 

“Fuck it, why not?” 

So fucking professional.

With his back turned to you, he surveys the bottles displayed in the wine cabinet, “Pinot? Cab?”

“Actually, I was thinking of breaking out the 2016 Cos d'Estournel.” 

He looks over his shoulder at you, “The what?” 

“Left side, second row from the bottom,” you point to it from across the room, “Dark bottle, white label.” 

Once he finds it, he lifts it from the rack and studies it, “Cos d'Estournel. Ritzy stuff,” he sets it on the table between your seats, “What’s the occasion?” 

“What is this, a role reversal?”

He grins at this. Then, as if committing to the bit, he strides over to pull out your chair. When you raise your eyebrows at him, he smirks, “Humor me.” 

You roll your eyes a little as you sit down, but truthfully, your heart stutters. 

Dieter walks back to the cabinet and picks out two wine glasses, “So? The occasion?” 

“I don’t know,” you frown, “Well, I mean, I do know, but it’s hard to explain.” 

He doesn’t say anything as he twists a corkscrew into the wine bottle and yanks out the cork, then pours the rich red wine into one glass, and the other. 

“It’s just… I don’t think I’ve been in a situation like this before. It’s strange. The storm, the holiday, the manor, the-the you.” He smirks, sliding a wine glass over to you, and you give him a nod of thanks, “I feel like anything could happen or nothing at all and I wouldn’t be surprised either way.” 

Again, he doesn’t respond, but a thoughtful expression creases his face as he takes the seat across from you. Not sure what to make of it, you ask, “Does that make sense?”  

“I know what you mean, yeah,” he leans back in his chair and swirls the wine around in his glass, meeting your eyes from across the table, “The possibilities within the confines of these walls are endless.”

The way he looks at you conjures impure thoughts. Hand between your thighs, nails digging into his back. Bending you over the table and pulling your hair. 

You raise your glass in the air, “To the possibilities.” 

“To the possibilities.” 

—

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 24TH, 9:30 PM 

You sit at either side of the lush Victorian sofa in the library, cashmere blankets draped over each of your legs. Illuminated by the warm glow of candelabras and the crackling fireplace, you flip through a book on palm reading while Dieter draws in a sketchpad. 

For a while, he seemed quite engrossed in the project. Brow furrowed, hunched over the pad of paper as he scribbled. But with each monotonous tick-tock-tick-tock from the grandfather clock, he starts to stir more and more. 

He finally tosses the sketchpad down beside him, leaning back and letting out a long groan, “I’m so boooorreeeeed.” 

“Drama,” you tease, peeking over your book at him, “Can I do anything to help?” 

“Can I open another bottle?” 

“Go for it.” 

Dieter jumps to his feet and clicks on his headlamp. The dancing beam of light fades out of sight as he walks into the hallway. 

With a sigh, you look down at the book and try to continue reading, but keep losing your spot. Your attention instead is drawn to the fireplace. Its flickering flames seem to pull you into some kind of a trance, coaxing out bite-sized daydreams and nightmares, trying to predict what will happen when you and your fresh new crush start drinking in the dark. 

What happens if we get drunk? Would we fuck? Would we fight? Would he be mean? Or pushy? Would I make a fool of myself? 

You sit here for a while, letting these tiny fires burn out in your brain, so engrossed that you barely notice Dieter mosey back into the room. 

“Hope wine is ok,” he says as he clicks the headlamp off, then he sets out two wine glasses and a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon on the coffee table. 

“Of course, sir.” 

He snorts and shakes his head while leaning over to twist a corkscrew into the bottle. 

“Sorry. Habit.” 

“Don’t sweat it, sweetheart,” he yanks the cork from the bottle, then pours out two servings, “What’ve you there?” 

“Hmm?”

“The book.”

“Oh,” you hold it up to show him the cover, “Cheiro’s Palmistry for All.” 

He holds out a glass to you. You set the book aside and take it from him, crossing your legs to get more comfortable. 

“Palm reading?” 

“Yeah,” you chuckle, “I don’t know, it seemed interesting.“

“Have you ever been to a palm reader?” 

Shaking your head, you take a sip of wine. Then another. A warm buzz tingles on your tongue and you ask, “Have you?” 

He nods, “Yeah. Well, kind of. I dated this girl who dabbled in divination,” he takes a big gulp of wine, then sets his glass on the coffee table and moves closer, gesturing for your hand, “Here.” 

“You know how?”

“I picked up on some stuff,” he shrugs. 

Leaning forward, you place your glass next to his and bring yourself closer, extending your hand to him.

He holds it like a fragile thing, gentle but steady, “Is this your dominant hand?”

You nod. 

Smoothing a thumb over your palm, he coaxes you to unfurl your fingers. His skin is warm and soft on yours as he examines you, thick fingers tracing the creases of your palm. 

It feels nice. Intimate, almost. No thanks to the wine and ambient lighting. 

“This side shows your conscious mind. Your life right now,” he clears his throat and says, “You’re perceptive, intuitive, a little moody. Emotions tend to run the show, but you’re also a realist. You have a passion for life and adventure, but often find yourself paralyzed by the reality of your situation, leaving you in a constant state of dissatisfaction. Logical, hard-working. You’re independent. You’ve had financial and emotional hardships. Not many serious romantic relationships, mostly flings. But this doesn’t mean you don’t get attached easily. You do, but tend to put up walls to protect yourself and disconnect before it gets too serious.”

Static vibrates through your skin. An eerie, frantic feeling of being seen too close for comfort. You swallow hard and study his face, too afraid to confirm or deny its accuracy. 

“Cup your hand,” he instructs, guiding your hand to do so. Furrowing his brow, he examines the soft fleshy bits on your palm, poking and prodding them, “You have a temper, but you’re shy. You’re cynical. Closed-off. Reliable, because you have to be, but you wish you could just say fuck it and run away sometimes. That’s umm… that’s who you are in practice. Other hand.” 

You give him your non-dominant hand. It’s shaky and sweaty and as he takes it you chuckle, “Sorry, I’m… nervous.” 

Grinning, he glances up at you, “So I’m doing well, then?” 

“Yeah,” you gulp, heat rising to your face, “It’s… yeah. Hang on, can I…?”

You take your hand back and wipe it on your pant leg, then reach over to grab your wine glass, swallowing the remainder of your wine. He does the same, then refills them. 

While this is happening, you can’t help but notice the thick current of electricity pulsing between you. 

You take turns stealing fleeting glances, and when you return to face each other, legs crossed, you’re much closer than you were before. Your knees meet his, maybe probably definitely crossing the line of what is considered appropriate distance for you to have with a hotel guest. Neither of you seem to mind, though. 

In fact, it seems like quite the opposite. 

As you extend your non-dominant hand to him, he huddles even closer, so close you can smell the Bordeaux on his breath, and cradles your hand in his. 

“This side shows your natural tendencies. Who you are in theory, who you will be if you follow your intuition,” he murmurs, eyes flicking to yours, then back to your palm as he slides his index finger along a deep, diagonal crease, “First of all, your fate line is strong. If you follow your intuition, you’ll succumb to it.”

“Ominous.”

He frowns and shakes his head, reverentially tracing the sensitive map of your palm, “No, actually. You’ll have a crisis or two. One big one, at least, some kind of a revelation that causes you to upend your life. But it sets you on a path of vitality and happiness and strength. A few smaller ones, not as momentous, but still significant. The hopeless romantic you are, you’ll fall in love hard and fast, but that’s the one that sticks. You freely express your emotions and feelings. It’s… I mean, it seems good. Who wouldn’t want that? Cup your hand for me, sweetheart.” 

You do. 

He smooths his thumb over the mounts and divots, tilting his head at them, “You’re stubborn and you have a strong sense of self. Hedonistic. Imaginative. You daydream a lot. I don’t think you’re as reserved and shy as you let on. Maybe it’s a defense mechanism you learned along the way.”

You look up at him, finding his eyes locked on yours. A deep longing bubbles up your spine and you feel yourself lean in a little closer. He continues caressing your hand, dropping his gaze to your mouth, and asks, “Do you want my advice?” 

“Sure.”

“I think you should follow your intuition. See where it takes you. I think… you need to let go of whatever reservations you have from the past, because it’s holding you back from a beautiful life.” 

There’s a part of you that boils red and hot with denial. It screams from the back of your head that this is all bullshit, he’s just trying to fuck you, to use because he’s bored and tipsy. 

But really, you know he’s right. 

You know you’re dissatisfied with your white-knuckle, fake smile existence. You ignore your desires and inner-most knowing in favor of security. You attribute more weight to the negatives than the positives in every aspect of your life. 

“You’re saying I should follow my gut?” you ask, studying his face. 

He brushes your palm with his thumbs, “Yeah. I think so.” 

You look down at his touch, hesitantly bringing your unoccupied hand to his forearm, allowing yourself to feel his warmth, “But what if it’s wrong? What if I make a mistake?” 

“But what if it’s right?” 

Meeting his eyes, you recognize the longing in his heavy-lidded gaze. You bring your hand to his cheek, sliding your thumb across his patchy facial hair, heart pounding, nerves buzzing as you close your eyes and lean in.

His soft lips meet yours. A gentle, questioning kiss that flips your stomach upside down. You pull back to make sure it’s ok. He seems to do the same, dark eyes flicking around your face before slipping a hand behind your head and pulling you back in. 

The second kiss holds more conviction. A spark that ignites you both, quickly leading to the third and fourth kiss, at which point they start to blend together, a mess of tongues and spit and gasps. 

You climb onto his lap, straddling him, pressing your body onto his. Through the fabric of his pajama pants, you feel his hardened excitement and use it to your advantage, rolling against him to gain friction. He grabs your hips and rocks them in sync with your movements, groaning into your mouth. 

Heat builds steady at your core, tingling and gushing through your veins, screaming for more more more. Aching to feel the warmth of his skin on yours, you slip your hands under the hem of his shirt and slide your palms up his back, pulling him closer. 

He parts from your lips to take off his shirt. You do the same, unbuttoning your shirt and tossing it aside, then reach back and claw at your bra clasp. 

“Let me,” he signals for you to turn around. You do, climbing onto your knees with your back facing him. His fingers ghost along your spine, leaving a trail of twitching, hungry nerves in their wake. 

“That feels good,” you tell him, arching your back with a whine. 

“Good,” he murmurs, continuing the tedious touch, “I wanna make you feel so fucking good, sweetheart. Is that what you want?” 

“Yes.”

When he unclasps the bra, you slip it off while he slides a hand around your belly and pulls you back into his lap. 

He leaves a trail of kisses from your shoulder to the nape of your neck, where he stops to massage his tongue against you. A moan erupts from your throat at the tingling, hot sensation it cultivates. His hands roam around your body, over your breasts and ribs and abdomen, activating all those often-neglected nerves, but never staying long enough to bring relief. 

“Fuck, Dieter,” you whine, “You’re teasing me.” 

“Maybe,” he chuckles, smoothing a palm up your sternum and urging you to lay back onto his chest. You follow the suggestion and recline against him, head resting on his shoulder. Your skin buzzes where it meets his, the warmth of him flooding your brain with feel-good chemicals. He drags his fingers along the soft skin of your belly, making you whimper.  

“But it feels good, doesn’t it?”

You nod.

“Don’t you want to savor it?” He cups your breasts and rolls your nipples between his fingers and thumbs, sending a rush of pleasure to your head, “Don’t you want me to show you how good it feels when you finally let go?”

“Yes,” you gasp, nodding, eyelids fluttering closed, “I want it, I want it—”

“Good,” he coos, pinching your nipples harder, “I want it too. Wanna see you fall apart in my hands. Will you let me do that for you, sweetheart?” 

“Yes.” 

He releases your tits and tugs at the waistband of your pants, “Take these off for me, will you?” 

You roll off the couch onto your feet, facing him as you slowly tug at your waistband, teasing every inch of skin you reveal. He watches you with lust-blown eyes, palming himself as he drinks in the spectacle. 

“Underwear too?”

He nods. 

You hook your thumbs under the soft fabric of your bikini, “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“I wanna see it.” 

“You wanna see it,” he mutters, chuckling a little, “Ask and you shall receive, Princess.” 

He shimmies out of his pajama pants, keeping his eyes on yours as you slide the underwear down your thighs. His thick, hard cock bobs out and waves hello. 

“Fuck,” he sits up and rests his warm palms on your hips, glancing between you and your cunt, “Look at this pretty pussy, holy shit. Come here, baby. Come sit on my lap again.” 

“If I sit on your lap, will my Christmas wish come true?” 

“Maybe,” he smirks and leans back onto the sofa, tugging on your hand to follow. You turn around and carefully lower yourself onto his thighs, his knees between yours. Guiding you closer, he murmurs in your ear, “Tell me what you want, sweetheart, I’ll see if I can make it happen.” 

You lay back on his chest, once again letting your head rest on his shoulder, and stroke his cheek as you tell him, “I want you to touch me.”

“I can do that,” he chuckles, kissing your forehead as his hands begin to wander, sliding down your sides to your hips and thighs, between your legs to pry them apart, “There we go, baby.”

When he touches your entrance, you both groan. His cock twitches against your back. He drags his fingers up and down your seam, spreading your slick, hissing in your ear, “Fucking soaked for me, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

“Uh-huh,” you whimper, nodding, watching  him pet your swollen clit so soft and slow it sends sparks of need up your spine, “That feels so fucking good holy shit—”

“Yeah? You like the way I play with your sweet little cunt?” 

“Oh my god—I do, Dieter, I do.” 

A feral noise rumbles in his chest, and his fingers pick up speed, working in quick, tight circles as he pants in your ear, “I love it when you say my name. Sounds so fucking good on your lips. Say it again for me, baby.” 

“I love the way you touch me, Dieter, please don’t stop.”

“Wouldn’t fucking dream of it, sweetheart. I just wanna make you feel good, make you feel so fucking good—”

You moan when he sinks one thick digit inside you, making your body buzz with pleasure. Your eyes flutter shut and you reach back, blindly carding your fingers through his hair, caressing his cheek, his neck, tugging on his earlobe, anything you can do to ground yourself and somehow repay the ecstasy accumulating thick and hot inside your belly. 

He kisses your palm and asks, “Do you want more?”

A sort of strangled noise comes out of you, but you nod in the affirmative, and he obliges, sliding another finger inside you. They rut in and out at a steady pace, keeping tempo with his undulating touch on your clit. Heat branches out at the center of you, coursing through your veins, making your heart race.

You gasp and nod, “Keep doing that, Dieter, don’t stop please don’t stop holy shit—”

“You gonna cum for me, baby, hmm? Cum all over my fucking fingers?” 

“Yes yes yes yes yes—”

Your whole body clenches as the feeling grows and grows, reaching a precipice.

“That’s it, sweetheart, let it go,” he pants in your ear, and when you plummet over the edge, whole body twitching with blinding pleasure, he coos, “Theeere we go—”

You whimper and clamp your legs shut, letting out a series of gasping breaths as the waves of your orgasm pulse, then start to peter out. Your tensed muscles go limp, and you open your eyes to look up at Dieter, “Jesus Christ.” 

“Yeah?” 

He gives you a boyish grin that makes your chest swell with desire. You sit up and turn around to face him, straddling his lap with his cock pressed hard against your wet, throbbing pussy.

Tracing the curve of his lips, you purr, “I have another Christmas wish.”

“What’s that?”

You roll your hips, gasping at the pressure of him against you, “I want you to fuck me.”

He moans, eyelids fluttering and lips parting, head falling back against the sofa as he grabs your hips and silently urges you to keep going. You whimper and start to move to the rhythm of his suggestion, sliding up and down his length. 

“Wanna feel your cock inside me,” you breathe, brushing his cheek with your knuckles, meeting his dark, wanting eyes, “Want you to stretch me out and make me yours—”

“Holy fucking shit—”

“Do you want that?” you coo, searching his face. 

“God yes, please, baby.” 

You situate the tip of him at your entrance and hook your hands behind his head, then lower yourself down. 

The stretch of him is exquisite. He activates every nerve ending he touches with an aching, hungry need. Your mouth falls open with gasping breaths and pathetic little whimpers, and you hear Dieter groan, “So fucking tight, Jesus Christ—”

“Feels so goooood,” you croak, closing your fists in his hair. 

He sucks in air through clenched teeth, digging his fingers into the meat of your ass, and rocks you back and forth, each thrust rubbing along something absolutely devastating. You blink your eyes open to meet his, all lust-blown and wide with awe, searching your face. His hand slides up to your face, cupping your cheek, brushing his thumb against your heated, damp skin. 

“Kiss me,” he pants, reeling you in. 

You fold over on top of him, meeting his lips with desperate urgency, a frantic exchange of messy kisses marked with gasps and moans. As the heat in your belly grows, you roll your hips faster, and he thrusts up into you, parting from your lips to growl, “You take my dick so well, sweetheart—that sweet pussy feels so fucking good wrapped around me, oh my fucking god—”

“Feels so fucking good, Dieter, don’t fucking stop,” you whimper, pressing your forehead against his, nodding in approval as he grabs your hips and fucks up into you hard and fast, “Oh my god, just like that baby yes yes yes—”

He captures your lips in his and you both moan into the heated, needy kiss, static building and building, spreading hot from your center. It feels so fucking good your eyes start to tingle and swim with tears, and you cry, “I’m gonna fucking cum, don’t stop—”

“That’s it baby, just let go, let it go, let me feel you—”

“So fucking good—Ffffuck—”

The force of your climax steals your breath, ecstasy pulsing liquid static through you, then yanks you down from the clouds and sends you crashing into the earth. Your body convulses and you let out a choked sob. 

“Oh my god—oh my god, fuck,” his hips stutter and he pulls out, stroking his cock to completion, shooting hot ropes of cum onto your bodies with a moan. 

Both of you remain rigid for a few moments, chests heaving, silently reveling the sweet rush of release before going slack. You collapse on top of him, eyes closed, and release a content sigh as you play with the damp curls at the nape of his neck. 

He hums and wraps his arms around your middle, nuzzling into the crook of your neck, “How do you feel?”

“Amazing,” you chuckle, “Wow.” 

“Wow is right,” he snorts, then pets your hair and asks, “Any other Christmas wishes?” 

After thinking about it for a few seconds, your lips part with an answer, but you chicken out and close them. 

“Hmm?” 

“It’s dumb.” 

“Uh-huh,” he pulls back to meet your eyes, “Tell me anyway.” 

You chuckle a little, tracing his jawline, “It’s ok.” 

He just blinks at you, waiting, so you swallow and shrug, “I don’t want to sleep alone.” 

He hums, pressing a kiss into your forehead, then your cheek, “Do you wanna spend the night with me?” 

“Is that weird?” 

“I don’t think so. Do you?”

You shake your head. 

His gaze drops to your mouth, and you lean in to kiss him. It’s warm and soft and sparks hopeful optimism in your chest, like this is something and not nothing. 

When he pulls back, a sly smile spreads across his face, “Your place or mine?” 

—

MONDAY, DECEMBER 25TH, 8:00AM

When you wake in Suite 203, it takes a moment for the events of the previous night to catch up to you. 

The power going out, the candlelit dinner, the palm reading, the best fucking sex you’ve had in your life. 

Was it a dream? Did that actually fucking happen? 

But when you hear rustling from the other side of the bed, and feel an arm slip around your waist, pulling you back into his chest, reality punches you in the gut. 

You stay still and wait for Dieter’s breath to fall back into a pattern of soft snoring, then slip out of bed and take a shower. With the power still out and the blizzard still raging outside, it takes a bit of guesswork to navigate the process in the dim bathroom, but you emerge successful. 

When you tiptoe back into the bedroom, Dieter is still sleeping. You get dressed and go downstairs to make some coffee and think about your decisions. 

For an hour or so, you pace around the kitchen island, ruminating over the things he said to you, the things you said to him, the way he made you feel, and the reality of your position in life versus his. 

What felt good and right last night takes a different appearance in the harsh light of day. He could hurt you in so many ways if he wanted to. He could get you fired. He could be using you. He probably doesn’t actually care about you, he was just bored and horny and you were wrong this isn’t something, it’s nothing and you’re no one—

“Hey.” 

You freeze and look up at Dieter, standing by the fridge in a soft chartreuse bathrobe. 

“Hey,” you flash a nervous smile and wave, “How’d you sleep? Can I get you some coffee, anything to eat?” 

He frowns, squinting at you, “Why’re you doing that?” 

“Doing what?” 

For a few seconds, he just stares at you, letting tension twist your guts to shreds, then he drops his gaze to the floor and nods, “Ok. Ok sure.” 

Your whole body turns to cement. Cold and heavy and unmoving. 

He walks over to the French press and pours a cup of coffee, “So… you’re having some regrets, and you’re gonna go back to this now? Miss hospitality?” 

You swallow down a feeling like fire, avoiding eye contact as your vision blurs with tears, “I don’t know, I’m just… I’m just kind of freaking out, I guess?” 

“What’re you freaking out about?” 

“I guess it’s just that you were right,” you shrug, wiping at your eyes, “You know, with your palm reading. I get attached easily and, I don’t know… I don’t wanna scare you away because, umm… yeah.” 

When he doesn’t say anything, you glance up at him, finding a warm smile on his face. Surprised at the expression, you sniffle, “What?” 

He approaches you, still smiling, “Because you like me?” 

Heat rises to your face. You hold his gaze, watching him lean back on the counter beside you, and you mumble, “Maybe.” 

His smile grows wider, digging out dimples in his cheeks, “Yeah? Maybe a little bit?”

You shrug. 

“And you think that’s gonna freak me out?”

Again, you shrug. 

“Come here, sweetheart,” he murmurs, tugging on your hand. A fresh wave of tears floods your eyes when he wraps his arms around you, stroking your back as he assures you, “I like you too.” 

“You do?” 

“Cross my heart.” 

“You’re not gonna get me fired and ruin my life?” 

“What? No—I mean, I hope not. Unless your boss somehow finds out you got dicked down in the library—”

You laugh through the tears, “Oh my god, that would be a fucking nightmare.” 

He chuckles, pulling back to look at you. You hook your hands behind his head, and the two of you stare at each other for a few seconds, humor fading from your faces, then you whisper, “This is… this is something, though, right? I’m not crazy?” 

“I think it’s something,” his eyes flit around your face, and he shrugs, “You know, I’m a lot like you. I, umm… I tend to keep people at a distance, because I fall easy and hard and yeah… it’s scary. But, I don’t know. I have a good feeling about you.” 

You nod, glancing down at his mouth, “Intuition?” 

“Yeah,” he smirks, leaning in closer. His lips press against yours, giving you a slow, tender kiss that blossoms in your heart. 

When you pull back, he tells you, “I do have one immediate problem, though.” 

“What?” 

“I don’t know how to ask you to make me breakfast without sounding like an asshole.” 

“Like that’s ever stopped you before.” 

“Wow. That’s it, I’m docking a star from my review.”

“Uh-huh,” you grin, running your fingers through his messy hair, “I cannot imagine what your review of this place would be.”

He takes a deep breath, then puts on an infomercial voice and says, “Four out of five stars. Gorgeous building, the food is amazing. Truly unique place. One of the employees let me eat her pussy for breakfast—”

You snort with laughter. 

“—could not recommend enough. Deducted a star because she said I was an asshole.” 

“Lovely, but you did not eat my pussy for breakfast. I’m sure I would’ve remembered that.” 

“Not yet I didn’t,” he waggles his eyebrows at you, sneaking a few kisses as he herds you backwards onto the kitchen counter. 

—

MONDAY, DECEMBER 25TH, 6:00PM

After breakfast—real breakfast, not oral sex in the kitchen, which was a treat in itself—Dieter went up to Suite 302 to finish the painting he wasn’t able to finish yesterday. 

On paper, you had a very busy day. Your daily checklist gives you credit for every single item and some extras. 

In reality, you cleaned up the messes made yesterday, which mostly involved washing dishes and following a wiki-how on getting cum out of velvet, and put together a charcuterie board for whenever dinner would happen. 

With the remaining daylight hours, you laid on the chaise in the parlor, then the bed in Suite 203, and flipped through books of poems, and successfully resisted your many urges to disrupt Dieter’s work. 

The snow stopped overnight, but the blizzard continued to howl all day. Strong gusts whirled the freshly-fallen snow through the air like some kid shaking up a snow globe. But when sunlight started to fade, so did the wind. Everything settled in its place, and the thick blanket of white finally became distinguishable from the nighttime sky. 

Inside Blue Moon Manor, Dieter completed his painting, then crawled into bed with you. Apparently it had been just as difficult for him not to disrupt his own work. 

He said he thought about you all day. He said he wanted to say fuck it and put the painting on pause to spend time with you, but felt he needed to finish it. He wanted to show it to you after dinner. 

Naturally, your nerves have been buzzing since. 

You insisted on an earlier dinner, blaming the lack of a lunchtime meal, but the look on his face when you made the argument made it clear he could see right through you. He didn’t mind, though. He helped you pour out glasses of wine to pair with the charcuterie board, then the two of you set everything up beside the fireplace in the parlor and fucking demolished it. 

Afterwards, you washed the dishes while he smoked pot by the window. You didn’t even care if your boss smelled it anymore. It seemed trivial. 

As Dieter tucks away his onie-box in his pocket, you recount the thought to him. He hops down off the counter and scoffs, “I mean really, what would he do? Fire you?” 

“I don’t think he even can. There are three people that work here, and I am by far the most reliable.” 

“I believe it,” he takes your hand, leading you from the kitchen to the dining room, “Tell you what, if my smoking gets you fired, you get to stay here with me and make his life hell.” 

You laugh at this, shaking your head, “Yeah, ok.” 

He turns around, “What, you don’t believe me?”

“No, I believe you. I just think it’s the kind of bet someone knows they’ll win.” 

“And winning in this case would be, what? You keep working this dead-end job while I drive myself crazy thinking about you?”

“Hey—it’s a good job,” you release his hand and cross your arms in front of your body. 

“No, that’s not—” he sighs, glancing around as he shifts his weight from side-to-side, “It’s a fine job, I just mean… I don’t know what I mean. I mean I wouldn’t mind it, you staying with me. That’s all.” 

Searching his face, you deadpan, “That’s so romantic.” 

“God, I can’t wait for you to see this,” he chuckles, then takes your hand and pulls you along, “Come on.”

You follow him through the dining room into the dark hallway, where you pause to turn on your headlamps, then climb the service stairs to the third floor, coming to a stop in front of Suite 302. 

“Alright, lights out,” he clicks the off button on both your headlamps and leads you through the doorway, then the pitch black room. 

“Ok, it’s probably gonna look weird in the lighting, but,” he turns your headlamps on, and you gasp. 

The canvas shows a sunroom with windows of blinding white light. Suite 203. And there you are, staring out the window, shadows falling over your face. 

“Dieter—”

From behind you, he slips his hands around your waist and kisses your cheek, then tells you, “I was taking pictures, you know, on the tour you gave me. And… I don’t know, I saw you there and took a picture because you just looked so…”

“Sad? Lonely?”

“Kind of. More like a, uhh… a palpable kind of longing. Sorrow and isolation. Like you’re looking for something or someone, but you don’t know what.” 

You reach back and cup his cheek, brushing your thumb against his patchy facial hair. 

“I wanted to capture that because it is… exactly how I’ve been feeling for years. Just so fucking lost and alone.” 

Butterflies flutter around in your stomach, and you whisper, “You don’t have to be alone anymore.” 

“Neither do you,” he murmurs, “Better yet, people all over the country will see you and know they’re not alone, either.” 

You swallow the lump in your throat and nod, your light bouncing around the canvas, then say, “It’s fucking beautiful, Dieter. What’s it called?” 

“Once in a Blue Moon.”

[newstfionline]

Saturday, January 13, 2024

A Weekend Blizzard (NYT) A winter storm described by forecasters as “life threatening” delivered high winds and several inches of snow to much of the Midwest and the Great Plains on Friday. Schools were closed for millions of Americans, and major airports in the region came to a near standstill. Temperatures plunged to minus 20 degrees in Montana, Wyoming, the Dakotas, Minnesota and Nebraska. In the South, severe storms, with the possibility of tornadoes, are expected to continue into the night.

More young people around the world are getting cancer, and doctors are alarmed and baffled. (WSJ) U.S. diagnosis rates for people under 50 rose 12.8% between 2000 and 2019, federal data show. Doctors are racing to figure out what is making them sick and how to identify those at high risk. They suspect that lifestyle changes—less physical activity, more ultra-processed foods, new toxins—are to blame. Separately, more teens and young adults who use marijuana are experiencing psychosis. More potent cannabis, more frequent use and increased availability due to legalization efforts contribute to higher rates of delusions and paranoia, according to doctors and recent research.

Centenarians (Pew Research Center) Thanks to advances in medical science, more and more people are making it to age 100 and over in the United States. In 1950, the U.S. Census Bureau estimated that just 2,300 Americans were aged 100 and up, a figure that by 1990 had risen to 37,300 and by 2020 was all the way up to 80,100. This year, there are an estimated 101,500 people in the United States aged 100 and up—0.03 percent of the overall U.S. population—and over the next several decades that number is expected to jump steeply. In 2054, the U.S. Census Bureau estimates that there will be 421,700 people in the United States aged 100 or higher, and that they’ll then be 0.1 percent of the U.S. population.

Streets all but empty in Ecuador as gang attacks sow terror (AFP) Walking fast, with their eyes alert and voices low, a few Ecuadorans flitted about fearfully Wednesday on city streets all but deserted amid an escalating conflict between the armed forces and violent drug gangs. Since Monday, narco gunmen have kidnapped police and prison guards, opened fire in a TV studio during a live broadcast, set off explosions in public places in several cities, and threatened random executions. In the capital Quito, where a heavy military presence has been deployed, 54-year-old shopkeeper Rocio Guzman says the terrifying sounds of a shootout near her businesses and a hospital Tuesday still resonated in her head. “People closed their businesses and ran,” she told AFP. She, too, closed up shop. “Everything was closed, by 8 pm there was nothing: no cars, no business.” The few pedestrians around Wednesday were too afraid to talk to AFP, and in many areas of the city there were more police than merchants.

Argentina’s annual inflation soars to 211.4%, the highest in 32 years (AP) Argentina’s annual inflation soared to 211.4% in 2023, the highest rate in 32 years, according to figures released Thursday by the government’s INDEC statistics agency. The data reflects the strong impact of a series of shock measures, including a 50% devaluation of the nation’s currency, implemented by right-wing President Javier Milei in hopes of eventually bringing the country’s roaring inflation under control. The annual inflation compared with about 95% in 2022. The country’s monthly inflation stood at 25.5% in December, up from 12.8% in November, but slightly below the 30% the government had forecast.

A British postal scandal ruined hundreds of lives. The government plans to try to right those wrongs (AP) British Prime Minister Rishi Sunak has said he will introduce measures to reverse the convictions of more than 900 Post Office branch managers wrongly accused of theft or fraud because of a faulty computer system in what is considered one of the gravest injustices in the nation’s history. The announcement Wednesday follows a TV docudrama on the wrongdoing that created a huge surge of public support for the former postmasters who have spent years trying to reclaim lives ruined by the scandal.

Finland’s Not Finished With Its Border Closure (NYT) Last year, Finland closed its border with Russia after accusing Moscow of sending waves of migrants from Africa and the Middle East into its territory, something it referred to as a “hybrid attack.” The country said that Moscow’s attack was retaliation for Finland joining NATO and its support for Ukraine against Russia’s invasion. On Thursday, Finland announced that it would be extending that border closure for another month. Finland’s government had partially lifted the closure for a short period in December, but quickly closed it once again in the face of another influx of migrants. “It is very likely that Russia’s hybrid influence activities will resume and expand,” said Finnish  interior minister Mari Rantanen in an interview yesterday. “National security is a critical question for Finland,” she added. “It is necessary to continue the border closure.”

The US failed to track more than $1 billion in military gear given Ukraine, Pentagon watchdog says (AP) Shortfalls in required monitoring by American officials mean the U.S. cannot track more than $1 billion in weapons and military equipment provided to Ukraine to fight invading Russian forces, according to a Pentagon audit released Thursday. The findings mean that 59% of $1.7 billion in defense gear that the U.S. has provided Ukraine and was directed to guard against misuse or theft remained “delinquent,” the report by the Defense Department’s office of the inspector-general, the watchdog body for the Pentagon, said. While Biden administration officials stressed Thursday that there was no evidence the weapons had been stolen, the audit undermines two years of lavish assurances from the administration that rigorous monitoring would keep U.S. military aid given to Ukraine from being misused. That’s despite the country’s longstanding reputation for corruption.

Ukraine builds barricades, digs trenches as focus shifts to defence (Reuters) Rows of white concrete barricades and coils of razor wire stretch across an open field for more than a kilometre. Trenches with rudimentary living quarters are being dug under cover of darkness. Artillery rumbles not far away. New defensive lines visited by Reuters near the northeastern city of Kupiansk on Dec. 28 show how Ukraine has stepped up construction of fortifications in recent months as it shifts its military operations against Russia to a more defensive footing. The defences, which bear some similarities to those rolled out in the Russian-occupied south and east, aim to help Ukraine weather assaults while regenerating its forces as Moscow takes the battlefield initiative, military analysts said.

Exhausted Gaza medics struggle to help casualties from Israeli bombardment (Reuters) Injured Palestinians pour into al-Aqsa Hospital in Deir al-Balah in the central Gaza Strip as exhausted medics try to help casualties from Israel’s ground assault and bombardment. Doctor Khaled Abu Awaimer said the hospital was running out of medical supplies and that many of the remaining medics had themselves been displaced already and feared coming under attack again and having to flee once more. “We have cases we can’t do anything about. We have nothing to offer so we feel completely helpless. This is very sad and bad to be honest,” he said in a video obtained by Reuters. The assault on Gaza has killed more than 23,400 people according to health authorities in the tiny, crowded, Hamas-run enclave and driven most people from their homes. The fate of the strip’s hospitals and plight of its medics operating under bombardment, with flickering electricity and water supply and inadequate medical stocks, has prompted U.N. fears of a collapse in the health system.

Gazan prisoners describe abuse at secretive Israeli detention sites (Washington Post) Jihad Hammouda said he spent 17 days blindfolded and handcuffed in an Israeli detention facility, made to kneel on the ground for hours at a time. He did not know where he was or when he would be released. Israeli soldiers stormed his family home in Gaza City on Dec. 8, the 20-year-old told The Washington Post. He said they shot dead his 78-year-old grandfather, who suffered from dementia, and rounded up his sister, cousins, uncles and grandmother. Hammouda initially spent more than a day in confinement at a neighbor’s home in Gaza, where he said he was stripped to his underwear. Interrogators beat him when he denied being involved with Hamas, he recounted; one soldier held a knife to his hand, threatening to cut off a finger unless he admitted to possessing weapons. On the afternoon of Dec. 9, he said, soldiers drove him over the embattled border to what he assumed was an Israeli military site. From beneath his blindfold, he glimpsed a large barracks surrounded by barbed wire. Hundreds of Palestinians—both combatants and civilians—have been detained by Israeli forces in Gaza and incarcerated without charge inside Israel under a secretive legal framework that rights groups say has never been applied at this scale. Advocates say the system is intentionally opaque and open to abuse, allowing detainees to effectively disappear into a legal gray zone.

Houthis vow revenge (NYT) Yemen’s Houthis vowed to continue targeting ships in the Red Sea “whatever the cost” on Friday, mere hours after U.S. and U.K. forces launched a large-scale attack against the Iranian-backed militant group. “All American-British interests have become legitimate targets,” the Houthis’ Supreme Political Council said in a statement. On Thursday, the United States and United Kingdom launched more than 100 precision-guided munitions at the Houthis, hitting more than 60 targets at 16 different locations in Yemen, including military bases near airports in Sanaa, the capital, and the city of Taiz; a naval base at the Red Sea port of al-Hudaydah; and military sites in Hajjah region. At least five Houthi fighters were killed. The Houthis have launched at least 27 strikes in the Red Sea in recent months. However, it was a Houthi assault against Red Sea vessels on Tuesday that was the straw that broke Washington’s back, U.S. officials implied, with Navy forces intercepting 21 missiles and drones. Oil prices rose more than 1 percent (or more than $2) on Friday over fears that deliveries could be disrupted. At least five oil tankers diverted their paths from the Red Sea on Friday, with Danish crude group Torm saying it will pause all voyages through the southern Red Sea.

[tennesseetokers]

Consider the case of Minnesota

Fast forward to 2023

[cavenewstimes]

Minnesota Adult-Use Cannabis Sales Set for 2025

Read More The Latest Marijuana News Today | HighTimes Magazine  Minnesota is still trucking along with building up its cannabis team. Star Tribune recently interviewed Charlene Briner, who explained the current status and challenges of the Office of Cannabis Management (OCM). “I am here for a little longer than anybody had planned, at least through the early part of 2024,” Briner told Star…

[thepluralisphoenixii]

How to work at a weed dispensary

Understanding weed state requirements While pot is turning out to be more widespread in the U.S., with additional states legitimizing each year, there's still no general method for working in the business. Each state has its own remarkable arrangement of rules and necessities expected to work in the pot.

Around here at Vangst, we're determined to guarantee every individual who needs to break into pot ought to have the chance to do as such. That is the reason we made our Industry Necessities by State Device, giving you a simple to-involve asset to figure out the particular principles and prerequisites for working in marijuana for each state.

Each state has different weed regulations and prerequisites.

Like speed limits, alcohol store hours, and in any event, siphoning your own gas, regulations around a ton of things shift extraordinarily by state. The equivalent is valid with regard to weed. Realizing the particular guidelines in your state is a fundamental initial phase in your marijuana profession venture, and our Prerequisites by State Apparatus is your one-stop asset to seeing every one of the necessities. Furthermore, to advance more from experts right now working in the business in your state, make certain to look at our state guidelines gathering and go ahead and pose explicit inquiries about working in weed for your state.

Current marijuana sanctioning status in each state

In 2021, the accompanying states permit (or are currently managing) both grown-up use and clinical pot deals:

Alaska

Arizona

California

Colorado

Connecticut

Illinois

Maine

Massachusetts

Michigan

Nevada

New Jersey

New Mexico

New York

Oregon

Vermont

Virginia

Washington

Only the following states allow medical cannabis sales as of 2021:

Alabama

Arkansas

Delaware

District of Columbia

Florida

Georgia

Hawaii

Louisiana

Maryland

Minnesota

Missouri

Montana

New Hampshire

North Dakota

Ohio

Oklahoma

Pennsylvania

Rhode Island

South Dakota

Utah

West Virginia

The following states do not allow the sale of cannabis as of 2021:

Idaho

Indiana

Iowa

Kansas

Kentucky

Mississippi

Nebraska

North Carolina

South Carolina

Tennessee

Texas

Wisconsin

Wyoming

How to use our Industry Requirements by State Tool

STEP 1: SELECT YOUR STATE

On your work area or telephone, just select the state you're hoping to work in, starting from the drop menu. Each state will show the ongoing clinical and grown-up use of weed status. For lawful marijuana states with worker prerequisites, the base age for the section into the business and the application connection will show too.

Stage 2: VIEW THE Necessities

Investigate the particulars for your chosen state to find out about the licenses required, the application process, individual verification prerequisites, and extra connect to find out more.

Stage 3: Start THE APPLICATION Cycle

On the off chance that you meet your state's necessities and the state requires a permit or identification, open the application connect to begin the application interaction. Try to completely peruse the application, present every single required archive and twofold check the necessities recorded on the public authority's site prior to presenting the application. Peruse cautiously: a few states will not permit you to get a permit until you are effectively utilized by an authorized weed office.

What qualifications do you need to work at a dispensary?

There are multiple ways, including past client care/retail insight, clinical experience, drug store insight or marijuana affirmations/training.

The underneath is a modest quantity of data on the most proficient method to get some work in a Dispensary. For an entire 4-hour class on this, look at our Cross country Weed Dispensary Preparing, our Fundamental Dispensary Preparing, High-level Pot Preparing or our Hemp and Pot Employment opportunities.

The clinical maryjane industry is blasting, and that implies some serious work creation. There is, in any case, some significant rivalry among individuals who are looking at how to find a new line of work at a dispensary.

As indicated by quite a few people, the business is ready for unimaginable development.

There might be some serious contest. However, getting a new line of work at a dispensary isn't unimaginable. There are a few jobs you can fill, and like any position, you can move gradually up the stepping stool over the long run.

Things being what they are, you're biting the dust to know how to find a new line of work at a dispensary. Peruse on for a few common-sense tips and deceives to assist you with getting some work you'll cherish.

Conclude What You Believe Should Do

At the point when you initially started to look into how to find a new line of work in a dispensary, you probably won't have understood what precise job you needed to perform. All things considered, you may very well have an inclination that this is a climate you think you'll flourish. You may be a resource for the business, yet restricting the work down to your particular range of abilities is extraordinarily significant.

Assuming you, as of now, have insight into retail, you could end up moving gradually up from the base. Dispensaries are, all things considered, organizations. They need individuals to sell pot, yet in addition, they process exchanges. Clerk occupations are never hard to come by in many enterprises, the marijuana business included; however, the clerks are known as Dispensary Specialists or Budtenders.

You could likewise fill in as a senior dispensary supervisor, keeping everyday tasks running. This occupation is likewise great for somebody who deals with the executive's experience.

Different positions in the marijuana business incorporate functioning as an expert producer. The expert cultivator is additionally the individual answerable for talking with state investigators and keeping the appropriate desk work and records available. These are individuals who develop and develop pot in its different strains and structures. They can make upwards of $100,000 per year, so it is most certainly a profession to strive for.

You can likewise function as a bud trimmer, which is quite possibly the least-paid work in the business. In any case, you can in any case order compensation of $10-$12 for 60 minutes, which isn't terrible for a passage-level situation in another industry. As a bud trimmer, you'll manage the reaped marijuana plants to set them up for the dispensaries.

While being a bud trimmer isn't exactly marvellous, it is an extraordinary method for beginning gaining the pot exchange according to a viable viewpoint. You can do this while you more deeply study talented positions in the business, similar to an expert cultivator or an extraction specialist.

Functioning as an Extraction Specialist

This specialty work merits its own class basically because of its uniqueness. Extraction specialists are frequently exceptionally instructed (many have progressed to higher education) and are specialists with regard to separating cannabinoids and terpenes from marijuana.

Machines exist to do genuine extraction, yet a machine has a similar subtlety as a person. Somebody should know how to run these machines and the ability to fix them while they are not working as expected. The specialist can likewise guarantee that those buying weed are buying precisely the exact thing they have requested, which will give them the separate marijuana item they want.

These experts can order a really robust compensation for their administrations, some procuring up to $150,000 or more a year.

Research Dispensaries

Research a few dispensaries in your space before you begin searching for a task in the business. Find out about which dispensaries are in your space, in the event that they are at present open when the hope to open and assume they have an employment plan set up.

A few budtenders and cultivators presently have confirmations. This is an extraordinary method for getting your resume taken note of! It's straightforward, in the event that you have a similar encounter as another person yet have stepped up to the plate and searched out pot preparation; you will positively be evaluated first over the other individual who has no expert weed preparation. While certain projects give an abundance of information, for example, HempStaff's Dispensary Specialist Instructional class, others are not suggested just on the grounds that they are as well "simple." Ensure you realize who made the course, who is showing the course and how long's experience they have in the legitimate weed industry. Right now, there is no public budtender or cultivator course or administrative board since pot is a Timetable I Substance. Many seminars available don't give you enough data to appropriately prepare you to finish the work well, so ensure you do your exploration while choosing an instructional class.

Later on, the business trusts there will be a managed course or materials so all producers and dispensary labourers will come to interviews ready to work.

As expressed above, beginning as a clerk (budtender) or a bud trimmer could be an effective method for learning on your feet and assisting your profession with progressing. At some point, you could be telling more than $100,000 subsequent to acquiring your range of abilities.

Conclusion: 

Working in the legal marijuana industry can be both a rewarding and lucrative career path, but it is important to do your research beforehand. Make sure you are familiar with the dispensaries near you, as well as any training courses that may help give you an edge over other applicants. Start out as a bud trimmer or a budtender to gain valuable experience on-the-job, then progress towards more specialized positions such as extraction specialists, which can bring in even more salaries. With dedication and hard work, the possibilities are endless!

[old-fashionedgentlman]

2024 POSSIBLE ELECTION CANDIDATES (DEMOCRAT)

Potential Democratic Presidential Candidate, Current Job Graduated/Degree Education Location ####-####: Qualification *Voted in Support Of -Supports RED FLAG <~> -What They Did

Stacey Abrams, 2018 gubernatorial candidate Bachelor's Spelman College, 1995 Graduate University of Texas, Austin, 1998 Law Yale Law School, 1999 -High-Quality Day Care -Universal Pre-K -Excellent Public Schools -Affordable Higher Education -Strengthen Small Businesses -Workplace Equality -Help Poverty Stricken Americans -Affordable Healthcare -Criminal Justice Reform -Protect Environment -LGBTQ+ Ally -Support Veterans -Support Military -Keep Guns Out of Wrong Hands -Support Domestic Violence Survivors -Protect Voting Rights -Affordable Housing

Michael Bennet, U.S. senator from Colorado Bachelor's Wesleyan University Law Yale Law School 2009-Present: U.S. Senator from Colorado 2005-2009: Superintendent, Denver Public Schools 2003-2005: Chief of staff to mayor of Denver 1997-2003: Managing director, Anschutz Investment Co. 1997: Special assistant U.S. attorney, Conn. 1995-1997: Counsel to U.S. deputy attorney general *Block border wall *Renew PATRIOT Act *Convict Trump of abuse of office *Convict Trump of contempt of Congress *End military actions against Iran *Against banning abortion after 20 weeks *Provide federal aid for coronavirus *Renew FISA surveillance law -Pro Immigrant -Agriculture Plans -College Affordability -Job Creation -Pro Education for Minors

Andy Beshear, governor of Kentucky <1> High school Henry Clay High School Bachelor's Vanderbilt University Law University of Virginia School of Law -Strengthening Public Education -Affordable Healthcare -Wage Growth -Pensions -Against Corruption -College Affordability -Criminal Justice Reform -Pro Diversity -Equal Pay -Legalize Betting and Online Casinos -Job Training -Marriage Equality -Medical Marijuana -Reproductive Rights -Anti Opioid Distribution -Voting Rights -Heroin Treatment -Anti Child Abuse -Protect Seniors -Protect Jobs MULTIPLE LAWSUITS MADE AGAINST HIM <~> -Modifications to Education Board Memberships -Boards of Trustees Abolishments -Education Budget Cuts

Cory Booker, U.S. senator from New Jersey 2013-Present: U.S. Senator from New Jersey 2006-2013: Mayor of Newark, New Jersey 1998-2002: Newark City Council 1997: Graduated from Yale Law School with a J.D. 1994: Graduated from Oxford University as a Rhodes Scholar 1992: Graduated from Stanford University with an M.A. 1991: Graduated from Stanford University with a B.A. *Block border wall *Convict Trump of abuse of office *Convict Trump of contempt of Congress *End military action against Iran *Against banning abortion after 20 weeks *Provide federal aid for coronavirus *Renew FISA surveillance law

Pete Buttigieg, former mayor of South Bend Bachelor's Harvard University Graduate Pembroke College, Oxford 2021-Present: U.S. secretary of transportation 2019-2020: Democratic presidential candidate 2012-2020: Mayor of South Bend, Indiana 2009-2017: Lieutenant in the U.S. Navy Reserve 2007-2010: Consultant at McKinsey & Company -Support Black Communities

Andrew Cuomo, governor of New York <2> High school Archbishop Molloy High School, 1975 Bachelor's Fordham University, 1979 Law Albany Law School, 1982 -Civil Rights -Criminal Justice Reform -Gun Safety -Women's Equality -LGBTQ+ Community -Educational Opportunity for All -Expand Healthcare -Protect Environment -Repair/Rebuild Infrastructure -Stronger Middle Class -Against Income Inequality CALL FOR IMPEACHMENT MADE AGAINST HIM <~> -Five women claimed sexual assault <~>

Kamala Harris, U.S. senator from California Bachelor's Howard University, 1986 Law University of California, Hastings College of the Law, 1989 2021-Present: Vice president of the United States 2017-2021: U.S. senator from California 2011-2016: Attorney general of California 2004-2011: District attorney of San Francisco 1990-1998: Deputy district attorney, Alameda County, Calif. *Block border wall *Renew PATRIOT Act *Convict Trump of abuse of office *Convict Trump of contempt of Congress *End military action against Iran *Against banning abortion after 20 weeks *Provide federal aid for coronavirus *Renew FISA surveillance *Criminal justice reform -Civil Rights -Equality for All -Protect Environment -Expand Higher Education

Jay Inslee, governor of Washington High school Ingraham High School, Washington Bachelor's University of Washington Law Willamette University School of Law Other Stanford University 2013-present: Governor of Washington 1999-2012: U.S. House of Representatives, Washington's 1st Congressional District 1997-1998: Regional director, U.S. Department of Health and Human Services 1996: Unsuccessful run for Governor of Washington 1993-1995: U.S. House of Representatives, Washington's 4th Congressional District 1988-1992: Washington House of Representatives 1976-1984: City prosecutor, Selah, Washington -Better Paying Jobs -Expand Middle Class -Improve Education -Improve Transportation -Healthcare Expansion

Joe Kennedy, U.S. representative from Massachusetts Bachelor's Stanford University Law Harvard Law School 2013-Present: U.S. Representative from Massachusetts' 4th Congressional District 2011-2012: Assistant District Attorney, Middlesex County 2004-2006: U.S. Peace Corps *Terminate border wall *Re-impose federal net neutrality rules *Expand restrictions on online campaign ads *Regulate foreign involvement in campaigns *Federal approval before states can change voting practices *Impeach Trump for abuse of power *Impeach Trump for obstruction of justice *Direct Trump to end hostilities against Iran *Against renewing foreign surveillance authorization *Federal aid for coronavirus -Small Business Support -Job Creation -Balance Budget -Renewable Energy -Healthcare Reform -Improve Education -Social Justice -Women's Rights

Amy Klobuchar, U.S. senator from Minnesota Bachelor's Yale University Law University of Chicago Law School 2007-Present: U.S. Senator from Minnesota 1999-2006: Hennepin County Attorney Partner at Dorsey & Whitney and Gray Plant Mooty law firms *Block border wall *Against budget caps on federal spending *Convict Trump of abuse of office *Convict Trump of contempt of Congress *End military actions against Iran *Provide federal aid for coronavirus *Renew FISA surveillance

Michelle Lujan Grisham, governor of New Mexico High school St. Michael's High School Bachelor's University of New Mexico Law University of New Mexico 2019-present: Governor of New Mexico 2013-2019: U.S. Representative from New Mexico's 1st Congressional District 2010-2012: Member of the Bernalillo County board of commissioners 2004-2007: New Mexico secretary of health 2002-2004: New Mexico secretary of aging and long-term services 1991-2002: Director of the New Mexico state agency on aging -Improve Education -Improve Healthcare -Support Veterans -Support Seniors -Legal Medical Cannabis -LGBTQ+ -Improve Economy -Create Jobs -Increase Police -Public Safety -Anti Gun Legislation -Agriculture -Support Indigenous -Clean Energy -Improve Higher Education -Women's Rights -Fiscal Responsibilities -Improve Schools

Gavin Newsom, governor of California Bachelor's Santa Clara University, 1989 *LGBTQ+ *Healthcare access *Legalize marijuana *Background checks on ammunition purchases -Defend Immigrant Communities -Women's Rights -LGBTQ+ -Criminal Justice Reform -Gun Safety -Support Veterans -Support Military -Healthcare Access -Support Mental Health Treatment -Support Communities of Color -Protect Animals and Wildlife -Eliminate Child Poverty -Financial Foundation for College -Expanding Access to Higher Education -Increase Access to Affordable Housing -Universal Healthcare -Improve Education -Support Small Business -Grow Jobs Through Fiscal Responsibility -Economic Growth -Renewable Energy -Build Infrastructure -Improve Education -Improve Access to STEM Education -Attract and Retain Quality Teachers -Affordable Higher Education -Combat Climate Change -Improve Water Supply -Clean Air -Affordable Housing -Enhanced Infrastructure Financing Districts -Workforce Housing -Housing Production -Protect Tenants -Address Homelessness

Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, U.S. representative from New York Bachelor's Boston University College of Arts & Sciences, 2011 -Support Immigrants -Medicare For All -Housing As a Human Right -Federal Jobs Guarantee -Criminal Justice Reform -End Private Prisons -Immigration Justice -Abolish ICE -Renewable Fuel -Supports Climate Change Reform -Higher Education For All -Women's Rights -LGBTQ+ -Support Seniors

J.B. Pritzker, governor of Illinois Bachelor's Duke University Law Northwestern University -Protect Net Neutrality -Women's Rights -Economic Inclusion -Protect Seniors -Protect Immigrant Families -Protect Environment -Legalize Marijuana -Anti Gun Violence -LGBTQ+ -Raise Wages -Youth Mental Health -Mental Health -Treatment For Opioids Over Incarceration -Economic Stability -Support Veterans -Justice Reform -Expand Stable Housing -Expand Healthcare -Domestic Violence Prevention -Early Childhood Education -Increase Jobs

Gretchen Whitmer, governor of Michigan Bachelor's Michigan State University, 1993 Law Michigan State University, Detroit College of Law, 1998 -Fix Roads -Affordable Healthcare -Cleaner Drinking Water -Hold Government Accountable -Skill Training For Jobs -Improve Education -Decrease Poverty -Repeal Retirement Tax -Women's Rights -Support Veterans -Expand Treatment For Addiction

FEEL FREE TO ADD ON TO THIS POST! I’M ALWAYS LOOKING FOR NEW INFORMATION AND WILL TRY TO KEEP IT UPDATED!

[fatleafnews]

// How Playing In The NFL Led Me To Using Cannabis ... Retired Super Bowl Champ Cullen Jenkins talks about his playing days, and how he manages his pain with cannabis. Credits: https://ift.tt/2qorAe8 Check out more awesome videos at BuzzFeedVideo! https://bit.ly/YTbuzzfeedvideo GET MORE BUZZFEED: https://ift.tt/1BSoSxZ https://ift.tt/1OqiqRB https://www.youtube.com/buzzfeedvideo https://www.youtube.com/asis https://www.youtube.com/buzzfeedmultiplayer https://www.youtube.com/buzzfeedviolet https://www.youtube.com/perolike https://www.youtube.com/ladylike BuzzFeedVideo BuzzFeed’s flagship channel. Sometimes funny, sometimes serious, always shareable. New videos posted daily! To see behind-the-scenes & more, follow us on Instagram @buzzfeedvideo http://bit.ly/2JRRkKU Love BuzzFeed? Get the merch! BUY NOW: https://goo.gl/gQKF8m MUSIC Licensed via Audio Network Freedom Breaks Licensed via Warner Chappell Production Music Inc. Freedom Breaks_Undrscr Licensed via Warner Chappell Production Music Inc. D Town_Full Licensed via Warner Chappell Production Music Inc. Remembrance _Full Licensed via Warner Chappell Production Music Inc. Underground_Full Licensed via Warner Chappell Production Music Inc. Right Here_Full Licensed via Warner Chappell Production Music Inc. Inside Your Soul_30Sec Licensed via Warner Chappell Production Music Inc. STILLS Green Bay Packers vs Pittsburgh Steelers, Super Bowl XLV Robert Beck/Getty Images New York Giants Training Camp. East Rutherford, New Jersey Tim Clayton - Corbis/Getty Images Regulating medical marijuana Chicago Tribune/Getty Images 2011 NFC Championship: Green Bay Packers v Chicago Bears Doug Pensinger/Getty Images Mature man sleeping in bed, elevated view Sean Justice/Getty Images New York Giants v Buffalo Bills Tom Szczerbowski/Getty Images New York Giants v Carolina Panthers Ronald C. Modra/Sports Imagery/Getty Images Philadelphia Eagles, 2011 Training Camp Al Tielemans/Getty Images Philadelphia Eagles v Washington Redskins Drew Hallowell/Getty Images Green Bay Packers 2009 Headshots NFL Photos/Getty Images Green Bay Packers Training Camp Jonathan Daniel/Getty Images San Diego Chargers v Green Bay Packers Rob Tringali/Sportschrome/Getty Images Oakland Raiders v Green Bay Packers Jonathan Daniel/Getty Images San Francisco 49ers v Detroit Lions Michael Zagaris/Getty Images New Study Links Tylenol With Liver Damage Brendan Smialowski/Getty Images Green Bay Packers 2005 Headshots NFL Photos/Getty Images /Getty Images San Francisco 49ers v Indianapolis Colts Michael Zagaris/Getty Images COLLEGE FOOTBALL: SEP 01 Central Michigan at Kentucky Icon Sportswire/Getty Images NFL: AUG 20 Preseason - Ravens at Colts Icon Sportswire/Getty Images Marijuana oil cbd bottle Morrison1977/Getty Images Green Bay Packers Football Game Richard Hamilton Smith/Getty Images Vicodin Tablets. Ted Soqui/Getty Images Minnesota Vikings vs Green Bay Packers The Sporting News/Getty Images Minnesota Vikings vs Green Bay Packers Tom Dahlin/Getty Images Dallas Cowboys v Green Bay Packers John Biever/Getty Images San Francisco 49ers v Kansas City Chiefs Michael Zagaris/Getty Images 2006 NFL Draft Chris Trotman/Getty Images American Football: NFL Europe 2004, Rhein Fire-Centurions Lars Baron/Getty Images American Football: NFL Europe 2004, Rhein Fire-Centurions Lars Baron/Getty Images SWITZERLAND-CANNABIS-LAW FABRICE COFFRINI/Getty Images Ankle painful - skeleton x-ray. yodiyim/Getty Images NFL: NOV 03 Anti-Doping in Sports Hearing Icon Sports Wire/Getty Images VIDEO Chicago Bears Players at Training Camp Before the 2016 NFL Football Season Tribune Broadcasting - Anna Burkart/Getty Images Over the shoulder close up of young adult males toasting beers while watching sports on TV The Lighthouse Film Co, Inc./Getty Images NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell at Denver Broncos fan forum Steve Nehf/Getty Images Beers and cheers miodrag ignjatovic/Getty Images Prescription Medication (Higher Frame Rate) Darwin Brandis/Getty Images Human foot ankle and leg in x-ray, on gray background. vadimrysev/Getty Images Excited African american family with teenagers having fun at an amusement park andresr/Getty Images Machine Rams Into Test Football Helmet Tribune Broadcasting - Anna Burkart/Getty Images American football players against flashing lights Wavebreakmedia/Getty Images College football player waiting in doctor's office for bad news Rocketclips/Getty Images Lighting a marijuana blunt Gavin F/Getty Images Slow motion of man pouring pills on white paper payphoto/Getty Images Young neurosurgeon calculating degree of patients brain concussion on MRI scans Motortion/Getty Images Adult Male Taking Pills jhorrocks/Getty Images MS Professional football team coming to line of scrimmage and snapping ball during game Thomas Barwick/Getty Images EXTERNAL CREDITS Fresh Farms CBD https://ift.tt/2QbPGUt + Cullen Jenkins c_jenks77

[cannabisbusinessexecutive]

'We got this wrong': Gov. Tim Walz takes responsibility for cannabis director debacle

Erin DuPree stepped aside Friday, a day after Walz appointed her to lead the Office of Cannabis Management.  Gov. Tim Walz said Saturday that he takes responsibility for failing to properly vet his first pick for the state’s new Office of Cannabis Management, an embarrassing stumble as Minnesota readies its legal marijuana market. Erin DuPree, a self-described cannabis entrepreneur who owned a…

[janepwilliams87]

Marijuana Regulators From 19 States Form Group To Coordinate Legalization Implementation

Marijuana regulators from 19 states announced on Thursday that they have formed an independent organization aimed at coordinating efforts to implement cannabis policy changes.

The Cannabis Regulators Association (CANNRA) isn’t taking a position on legalization, but it said the group can help inform regulatory best practices, drawing from their collective experiences managing marijuana programs.

They note that as jurisdictions work to establish cannabis markets, one of the first steps is often to reach out to regulators in places where similar systems are already in effect. Until now, there hasn’t been an organization to formally facilitate those conversations.

“The Cannabis Regulators Association will provide a much needed forum for regulators to engage with each other to identify and develop best practices, create model policies that safeguard public health and safety, and promote regulatory certainty for industry participants,” Norman Birenbaum, CANNRA’s inaugural president, said in a press release.

It’s a timely announcement, as voters in five more states approved ballot measures to legalize marijuana for medical or recreational purposes on Election Day.

Again, CANNRA goes out of its way to emphasize that it is not advocating for or against cannabis reform. The association will simply provide “unbiased information to help make informed decisions when considering whether or how to legalize or expand regulated cannabis.”

Birenbaum, who currently serves as the director of cannabis programs for New York, said the group “will also work to ensure federal officials benefit from the vast experiences of states across the nation to ensure any changes to federal law adequately address states’ needs and priorities.”

As of now, CANNRA members include regulators from 19 states: Colorado, Delaware, Hawaii, Illinois, Iowa, Louisiana, Maine, Maryland, Massachusetts, Michigan, Minnesota, Nevada, New Jersey, New York, North Dakota, Oregon, Rhode Island, Utah and Washington state. More are expected to join soon.

.@MA_Cannabis' @shawnpcollins joined state cannabis regulators across the nation to announce the formation of the Cannabis Regulators Association (CANNRA), a nonpartisan organization intended to share institutional knowledge and regulatory best practices throughout the U.S.

— Massachusetts Cannabis Control Commission (@MA_Cannabis) November 12, 2020

“CANNRA provides a forum for Colorado to continue to share our pioneering experience creating an effective and credible regulated framework and market for cannabis. Colorado also benefits from learning about the cannabis policy work in other states across the country,” Jim Burack, director of Colorado’s Marijuana Enforcement Division and a founding member, said.

Erik Gundersen, director of Maine’s Office of Marijuana Policy, said the state “relied heavily on the expertise of the states that came before us” as it established a cannabis market, and now officials there “look forward to sharing our best practices, lessons learned, and high standards with other regulating jurisdictions.”

The Office of Marijuana Policy is pleased to join 18 other cannabis regulators in the United States as a founding member of the Cannabis Regulators Association.

More info: https://t.co/UxXPYb7Kgl pic.twitter.com/at2ZwdMDLU

— Maine Office of Marijuana Policy (@MaineOMP) November 12, 2020

Beyond helping to facilitate conversations between regulators, CANNRA, which was formally incorporated in Oregon last month, will also give members access to resources for staff training and provide the opportunity to “participate in the development of model standards and best practices for cannabis regulation.”

Those model policies will touch on areas such as “packaging, labeling, advertising, testing, licensing, social equity, seed to sale tracking, inspections, enforcement, pesticide use, product approval, tax structures, tax collection, patient qualification and enrollment, product processing and manufacturing, industrial hemp and CBD products, banking [and] payment processing,” the association said.

Additionally, members can join “Regulator Roundtable” conferences and receive “legislative analyses, policy tracking data and bulletins on current issues and events in the cannabis industry and regulatory arena.”

Nevada Gov. Steve Sisolak (D) said he is “proud to see” regulators in his state “taking the lead, collaborating with other states, and establishing Nevada as the Gold Standard in cannabis regulation.”

I am proud to see @NevadaCCB taking the lead, collaborating with other states, and establishing Nevada as the Gold Standard in cannabis regulation. https://t.co/kXnX90cgMU

— Governor Sisolak (@GovSisolak) November 12, 2020

  Birenbaum said that the intent in forming the new organization is to have it “serve as a resource for policy makers, elected officials, researchers, and other stakeholders to engage with regulators from across the country and receive unbiased information and recommendations regarding the impact and implementation of cannabis policies.”

Illinois is one of 19 states that have teamed up to start he "Cannabis Regulators Association."

See our press release here: https://t.co/9eN0JnPe1S

— IDFPR (@IDFPR) November 12, 2020

Danielle Perry, Illinois’s cannabis regulation and oversight officer, said that “as we continue to prioritize equity in forming Illinois’ legal cannabis industry, we look forward to sharing our learnings and benefitting from the experience of other states in the months and years ahead.”

Reform advocates and industry stakeholders are expressly prohibited from joining the association.

The formation of CANNRA comes weeks after another coalition of marijuana regulators sent a letter to leadership in the U.S. House of Representatives, demanding that they prioritize a cannabis legalization bill that’s expected to get a floor vote next month.

Several of those regulators were from California, which does not currently have a membership presence in CANNRA.

Last year, the governors of Connecticut, New Jersey, New York and Pennsylvania met to discuss how best to regionally coordinate the implementation cannabis legalization to promote public health and safety. The officials agreed to a set of principles for regulated marijuana markets.

Mexican Senators Will Vote On Revised Marijuana Legalization Bill This Week

The post Marijuana Regulators From 19 States Form Group To Coordinate Legalization Implementation appeared first on Marijuana Moment.

from Updates By Jane https://www.marijuanamoment.net/marijuana-regulators-from-19-states-form-group-to-coordinate-legalization-implementation/

[homedecoratingjournal426-blog]

The Definitive Guide for Furniture In A Small Room

What Does Penalty For Dui Mean?

Any second intoxicated or drugged driving infraction within 5 years of the very first, can have extremely serious charges if convicted. On a second-time violation sentence, an individual will certainly get a necessary chauffeur's permit suspension, high court-orderded penalties, and will certainly be called for to sign up in both DRUNK DRIVING courses and alcohol therapy therapy.

A vehicle driver's certificate suspension for a 2nd infraction is usually for at the very least 3 years upon a conviction. Often, a minimum prison sentence of thirty day is likewise needed for a repeat wrongdoer sentence. On an individual's 3rd crime sentence, an individual will generally face the majority of the exact same fines as the 2nd crime, with the exception of they may shed their vehicle driver's certificate forever, and encounter a jail sentence of a minimal period of 120 days.

If you or somebody that you care about has actually been apprehended for a DUI or DWI charge, please benefit from having apprehension details assessed by qualified DUI certificate suspension attorney with us as quickly as possible. Recognizing how to defeat a DUI prior to license is suspended, will certainly avoid a DMV abrogation and also serious pricey penalties of a sentence.

An Unbiased View of Getting An Dwi

Police officer errors that conserve a certificate from getting put on hold, most typically occur with authorities errors on ticket documentation or issues with the website traffic quit, and after that brought forth at the DMV hearing and also court as a lawful remedy to obtain back a withdrawed certificate early. An online review of an arrest additionally supplies help for just how to file documentation to obtain your permit when it is revoked/suspended after a DUI.

All driving under the influence costs are really technological. Cops need to comply with a number of procedures to abide by DUI apprehension protocol, and also to adhere to not going against a motorist's legal rights at the same time. They also have to guarantee that the Breath analyzer test, blood examination, or any kind of various other evidence was collected correctly, as well as was running properly according to the rigorous alcohol and also medicine testing procedures in place.

If after evaluating your apprehension details, it is discovered that the police did adhere to proper test procedures or an individual's civil liberties were gone against at the traffic stop, the evidence they obtain may not be admitted in court. If a person is billed with driving on a put on hold permit for this violation, that person will be encountering extremely major effects as well as a a lot longer size of a chauffeur's permit suspension.

The Facts About Getting A Dui Revealed

Remember if you have been apprehended for driving intoxicated of alcohol, Cannabis, unlawful medications, or prescription medicine, you still have a right to a solid defense as well as lawful rights that require to be safeguarded. Regardless of how complex of a scenario you may believe the situation might be, by taking the essential very first step in having an arrest professionally evaluated via us, you are not alone.

Once apprehend details are evaluated by a local permit suspension lawyer, they will answer any kind of concerns you have about just how to obtain it returned such as "how much time will my permit get put on hold for DRUNK DRIVING?" An attorney will review all feasible DUI put on hold license remedy choices of what to do for how to keep a permit as well as lawful means how to get my permit back after a DRUNK DRIVING in: Alabama, Alaska, Arizona, Arkansas, The Golden State, Colorado, Connecticut, Delaware, Florida, Georgia, Hawaii, Idaho, Illinois, Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Kentucky, Louisiana, Maine, Maryland, Massachusetts, Michigan, Minnesota, Mississippi, Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, Nevada, New Hampshire, New Jersey, New Mexico, New York City, North Carolina, North Dakota, Ohio, Oklahoma, Oregon, Pennsylvania, Rhode Island, South Carolina, South Dakota, Tennessee, Texas, Utah, Vermont, Virginia, Washington, West Virginia, Wisconsin, Wyoming.

There is a lot we can do if you shed your permit for DRUNK DRIVING, DRUNK DRIVING by blowing over the lawful limit on a breath analyzer test or if you have been charged with driving while high on Marijuana. Having our on-line DRUNK DRIVING attorney specialists evaluate your situation may be the difference between leaving as well as shedding your license to suspension.

Not known Details About Getting An Dwi

Determining case-specific suspension defenses early, is how to get out of a DUI before your license is revoked. The only method to get permit back without DRUNK DRIVING courses as an obligatory component of the repercussions today, is by a motorist utilizing their arrest details to their lawful protection advantage prior to court.

Some vehicle drivers sadly obtain convicted when they wait as well long getting legal help to fight a license suspension, or they slipped up and also employ a negative attorney for taking on a DUI or DWI situation. In particular circumstances, they can not afford to pay the penalty they owe to obtain their certificate back.

One such option when a motorist is having issues paying how a lot the certificate reinstatement costs are, is asking the court for social work instead of paying the rest of the permit costs. Given that each motorist's DRUNK DRIVING situation is different pertaining to obtaining a suspended back, there might be various other choices that get exactly how to obtain a permit back without paying the complete reinstatement price.

Penalty For Dwi - Questions

You will shed your certificate either: thirty day after your apprehension, if the DMV suspends it, or On the day of your sentencing, if you are founded guilty of DUI California's DRUNK DRIVING laws are complicated, since there are 2 various means to lose your certificate. Technically, all license suspensions are managed by the DMV, however they can go in advance as well as suspend your permit on their own (recognized as management suspension or in itself certificate suspension ), or they can wait until the courts convict you.

When you are jailed for DRUNK DRIVING, authorities will certainly eliminate your certificate and provide you a notepad that works as a temporary license. This momentary license will certainly run out after thirty days, and also during that time the DMV will certainly suspend your certificate unless you battle it. You must file a demand for a hearing within the 30-day deadline, or the license suspension stands.

[cannachiefsmedia-blog]

#34 Kyle Kingsley M.D., CEO & Chairman of the Board at Vireo

Corporate Bio

Dr. Kingsley is a board-certified emergency medicine physician and Chief Executive Officer of Vireo Health. Dr. Kingsley oversaw the implementation of the Vireo Health System in Minnesota with the construction of a state-of-the-art greenhouse facility, four dispensaries, and the pharmaceutical and patient care center models. Through Vireo Health of New York and other national startup companies, Dr. Kingsley has developed the leadership and healthcare management skills needed for a large-scale endeavors across disparate processes.

Dr. Kingsley is co-author of the book Medical Cannabis Primer for Healthcare Providers, written to elucidate objective medical cannabis knowledge in the medical community. Using comprehensive, state-wide programs that integrate healthcare providers, Dr. Kingsley’s solitary goal is to make Vireo Health the safest, most reliable, and compassionate choice for the patients in all of the States in which the company operates.

Social Media Links:     Twitter     Linked In     Instagram

How did you get involved with the Cannabis Industry?

What is your biggest accomplishment to date in the Cannabis Industry?

What are your future goals?

Who/what Inspires you?

Do you use Cannabis products? If yes, what are your favorite Cannabis products/brands?

[cavenewstimes]

Minnesota Marijuana Regulators Take First Step Toward Setting Rules For Legal Market

Read More Politics Archives – Marijuana Moment  Regulators in Minnesota are seeking public input as they begin the process of crafting rules for the state’s new marijuana industry, hoping to hear from “the widest possible range of community members, advocates, and partners who want to help shape how the rules are drafted.” To collect those views, the state’s Office of Cannabis Management (OCM) on…

[wausaupilot]

Is medical cannabis safe for pain? Advocates say yes, addiction experts demur

Is marijuana a dangerous, mind-altering substance, or valuable alternative to opioids for pain?

By Andy Steiner

Every once in a while, Tom Huynh, pharmacy manager for Minnesota Medical Solutions, one of the state’s two registered medical cannabis manufacturers, is recognized by a patient.

Many people with severe, chronic pain have tried nearly every medical option to make their lives easier, so they’ve spent plenty of time in doctors’ offices and pharmacies. Before he began working for…

[thisdaynews]

The budtender will see you now

New Post has been published on https://thebiafrastar.com/the-budtender-will-see-you-now/

The budtender will see you now

“There’s a lack of scientific evidence right now for anyone to be able to state exactly how much dosage an individual needs,” said Dominick Zurlo, who directs New Mexico’s Medical Cannabis Program. Given barriers to robust science, he said, it’s the people working in the medical marijuana field and acquiring experience who “are going to be the people who have the best information.”

Thirty-three states plus Washington, D.C., now allow medical marijuana. At least 2 million Americans are registered medical marijuana users, according to data from 26 states, meaning the nationwide number is likely higher. Millions more use hemp-derived CBD, which is now legal in some forms and omnipresent, and does not have the “high” of marijuana.

State dispensary rules vary enormously, according to numerous interviews with state medical marijuana programs,experts and advocates. More thanhalf the states with medical cannabis allow budtenders to help patients choose products to address anything from back pain to chemotherapy side effects. Other states require the dispensaries have pharmacists, doctors or a nurse practitioner on site, or on call — but those health professionals may not have a full picture of the patient’s medical history, medications and treatments.

And unless a patient brings it up, or their regular doctor asks, a patient’s care team may not know about their marijuana use, or whether a patient is using it in addition to, or as a substitute for, a prescribed treatment. The internet is full of unproven claims about marijuana being nature’s magical treatment for everything from cancer to diabetes.

All this is unfolding amid rapidly growing public acceptance of marijuana. Americans now view cannabis as much less harmful than alcohol, tobacco or e-cigarettes, according to a recent poll from POLITICO and Harvard’s T.H. Chan School of Public Health. That survey was done amid the outbreak of vaping-related illnesses, which has been linked to an additive in marijuana, mostly from the black market.

Even as public opinion shifts, states have adopted a variety of regulatory approaches. Some are strict. For instance, in Minnesota, only a licensed pharmacist can suggest products at retail locations; in Pennsylvania, it must be a pharmacist or other licensed medical professional at the dispensary. Maryland lets budtenders give general information about medical cannabis, but only physicians, pharmacists or nurse practitioners employed by the shops can provide more specific advice.

Louisiana’s program requires that specially registered physicians fax their recommendations directly to a marijuana pharmacy, which dispenses the products.

In many more states like Arkansas, New Jersey and Illinois, rules are laxer and budtenders can recommend products. That concerns some doctors, who worry their patients may be getting advice from someone behind the counter with limited knowledge of medicine — or the patient.

Yet many physicians, while wary of the dispensaries, steer clear of talking to their patients about a substance they believe is still inadequately tested and that they worry comes with political, legal and ethical landmines. Even physicians who are generally on board with cannabis are divided over how much advice they should be giving, at least until there are more widely accepted prescribing guidelines.

At the same time, some doctors are now focused heavily on certifying patients for state marijuana cards, or are incorporating marijuana more heavily into their practice.

For Dr. Matthew Mintz, primary care is still the core of his practice in Bethesda, Md. But now he spends about 20 percent to 25 percent of his time conducting 30-minute evaluations to determine if patients meet Maryland’s criteria for medical marijuana.

Mintz used to send those patients to dispensaries for advice on products and doses to try. But as a physician, he said, that bothered him. “I don’t say, ‘Hey, Mr. Jones, you have [high] cholesterol, go to CVS and ask the pharmacist what to take.’” So, he started learning more about medical marijuana and writing down his own recommendations for the patients to take to a dispensary.

But many physicians still see a bridge too far between their offices and the dispensaries.

“That’s what holds a lot of other doctors back because they are like, ‘you mean, I’m going to send my patient into a dispensary? And somebody with no medical background is going to guide them on what they should use or not use,’” said Dr. Patricia Frye, who operates Takoma Park Integrative Care in Maryland, where the services include teaching patients about cannabis and certification. She said federal restrictions have “really done a lot of damage in terms of keeping doctors or nurse practitioners or health care providers in the loop.”

“Many of these patients’ doctors and nurses and pharmacists are uncomfortable having these sorts of conversations with their patients,” said Paul Armentano, deputy director of the National Organization for the Reform of Marijuana Laws, a pro-legalization advocacy group. “The burden ends up being thrust upon those who work in the cannabis industry to respond to their patients’ questions.”

That’s left many budtenders learning what products, strains and doses to recommend through anecdotes from their patients to their own personal experiences and research they can find online. Some states require training for workers, anddispensaries can also set up their own programs, since they can’t turn to the federal government to regulate professional education about a product that’s still illegal.

“Our goal is education, so people can make informed decisions,” said Stephanie Kahn, the co-owner of the Takoma Wellness Center, a family-owned business which does employee training beyond the short course Washington, D.C., requires. She gives out her card to new patients, telling them they can email her at any time. She wants them to be comfortable — and she wants to know if they’re not.

It was a budtender who helped Tessa, of California, find relief from debilitating pain from severe endometriosis and a litany of other health problems. Nearly three years ago, she asked her doctors about trying medical cannabis. Their answer: Go for it, but we can’t help. (She asked that only her first name be used because she didn’t want her employer to know about her marijuana use.)

She found a doctor who spent about five minutes with her, at a cost of $45, and certified her for a card. At a dispensary, Tessa found a budtender who also suffered from endometriosis — and Tessa said her recommendations helped tremendously.

“I no longer worry about my work being impacted by my health, and I no longer worry about not being a responsible mom,” said Tessa, who responded to a POLITICO reader survey on medical marijuana. She’s kept her multiple doctors in the loop; they’ve watched her progress with interest.

Budtenders say they recognize they walk a fine line, delicately navigating the divide between traditional medicine and a federally illegal substance — and avoiding making blatant or irresponsible claims about marijuana.

Colorado has legalized marijuana for both recreational and medical use. So in Denver’s LoDo Wellness Center, recreational customers shop in one room of the store. A separate, nearly identical room provides a private space for medical patients to open up and seek advice. The staff is careful about talking about what might help — without overpromising, said Adam Segalis, a manager there.

“On the medical side, it’s never been like, ‘we’re going to cure what your issue is,’” said Segalis, Instead they talk about what might help, and what’s recommended.

“We’re not doctors,” he emphasized, as customers — mostly there for legal weed — flitted in and out of the busy shop on a bustling Denver strip.

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