#can i feed my parrot french fried

[the-fae-folk]

*Quoth* every bit of writing advice ive read talks about having a really good hook. but nothing actually explains what that means or how to do it.

(transcribed and translated from Quoth the Raven) Of course they don’t tell you how. Most people who tell you to do that have no idea how to write a good hook. They’re just parroting advice that they’ve heard. Lets start with what a hook is. A Narrative Hook is just a literary technique that “Hooks” the reader’s attention and keeps them interested enough in your writing to actually want to keep going. So many bits of advice emphasize that your hook has to be the very first sentence. In many cases they are correct. But not always. A hook can also be several paragraphs, or even the first few pages of a novel. Only academic writing needs to place so heavy an emphasis on your first sentence and paragraph because you have to make your point immediately and move on. There’s no time for dallying or dillying in Academia. But even though you have a bit more leeway in other types of writing you’ve still got to be careful. This isn’t just something you can scribble out and move on. A good narrative hook takes some planning. You have to think about WHO your audience is and WHY this particular bit of writing will hook them. What about it will intrigue or interest them enough that they’ll resist other plays for their attention in order to follow those thoughts. And of course not only does your hook need to be for your audience (or audiences if you insist on writing for more than one at a time), but it also needs to be relevant to your story or characters somehow. It should give us a reason to keep reading so that we can see more where that came from, to see how it connects and keeps giving. Even something that touches upon the themes of your book would be good if the writing is clever enough. Dialogue will give insight on the characters, setting, or even signs of the conflict. Let me give you an example. “The skies are always dark when I stop at the McDonald's on my way to work in the morning. Just a breakfast sandwich and a sprite is enough to keep me going. I always see the strangest people when I come out this early. But the strangest of all was when I saw Death herself feeding the starlings with french fries.” In this paragraph I’ve done several things. I purposefully did not put the hook at the beginning of the paragraph. Instead I’ve given you both a general setting for your story (Set in a contemporary world where such things as a McDonald’s exists and people actually want to eat there) and some insight into your character and their life (someone who is unfortunate enough to have to get up for an early morning shift and doesn’t have time for breakfast at home). It tells you about the sorts of things they’ll eat and what the general expectation for this part of their life is like (they see lots of weird people around this time of day because that’s just what happens at McDonald’s around 6am).

Then I drop the bombshell. Disguised as a casual statement that is merely continuing the previous thought I happen to mention that I saw Death doing something as ordinary as feeding starlings her french fries. This sentence, though seemingly tame is quite extraordinary for a number of reasons. It introduces the metaphysical concept of Death as a character who can move about and do person things like eat (or not eat) french fries. It tells us that Death is not just a person...but a HER! How many depictions of Death are female in our contemporary media? A few...but not that many. Even something as mundane seeming as Starlings might have significance. Besides being initially odd (Because usually one might say crows or pigeons when someone is feeding birds), you might have starlings have some greater significance later on, perhaps some kind of symbolism you hint at. Or you might just really like starlings and think that they themselves are odd enough to mention that it might help, either one works just as well. Even though Death is just feeding a bunch of birds some fries we already have so many questions that NEED answering. Why is Death there? What’s her story? Why starlings? And why McDonald’s french fries of all things? We’ve hooked the reader into wanting more. But did you know that you don’t have to begin things with a scene? A question could be a startling and interesting way to start out a piece of writing. Drop straight to the heart of the matter and question the reader themselves. “What is your third favorite reptile?” Is a fun one I’ve heard, especially since you can immediately elaborate on that with your own favorite reptile and why any of this is relevant to whatever your writing is supposed to be about. Really there are lots of ways you can start a story. A declaration that something is so! A significant quote that pulls your reader straight into the middle of a heated conversation. Perhaps an interesting fact or statistic might help you (it can even be entirely made up if your story is set in a fictional world. I once read a book that interspersed the entire story with encyclopedia style clips about places, people, things, and creatures that didn’t exist outside of the story’s world). Even just describing something in great detail is acceptable, whether an enchanted forest, a cold and empty moon, or an apartment filled with half filled cups that your protagonist keeps forgetting to finish and put in the dishwasher. You can even begin with a particularly unique or really well chosen metaphor (or simile) that will set a certain tone or idea for everything that comes after it. (I read a short story where they used a popular spiritual cliche as their first sentence and then spent the entire piece undermining the sentiment.) So many ways to make a hook, and even better, make a good hook. However... You don’t HAVE to use a hook. It’s a literary technique that has become rather popular, but it’s not set down in the rules that you must absolutely use one or your entire piece of writing will burst into flames and die. There are a lot of good stories, essays, and other pieces of writing that don’t use hooks. It does get a lot more difficult if you don’t  use one though. The point of a hook is that initial attention grab. If you decide not to use one you will run the risk of many people not reading past your first few pages. It’s not the end of the world, but its a dangerous game to play. The rest of your work will have to be truly worth the read for you to get away with that sort of thing in this day and age. Well, I hope that answers your question and gives you a good place to start writing hooks for your stories! (or essays). In thanks I request that you go feed some birds (not starlings because they’re so annoying. Always like “look at me! I’m so mateable and majestic even though I’m flying in a swarm of a thousand others who look exactly like me and none of us will shut up for five minutes about who can get it on the best or who can find the best fruit and insects.” Ugh. Stupid little things. They think they’re so pretty. I agree, they’re pretty irritating.) (Notes from the Author of the Blog: One unmentioned form of Narrative Hook is called “In Media Res”. It literally means “in the middle of things” which is fairly on point because the technique is about beginning your story in the middle of the action instead of slogging through all the boring exposition. It’s a little hard to pull off well because it demands that the writer find fluid and subtle ways to introduce all that worldbuilding and essential info to the reader without giving a pages long infodump later on when the reader needs to understand something for plot reasons. Also, a Hook can be found in other types of media besides writing. In music it is a musical phrase or idea that is used to catch the listener’s attention and make the music seem appealing. In film they have something similar that is used to try and grab the viewer’s attention in the first 5-10 minutes. It is a very good tool to know how to use and use well, though it may take a bit of practice to get right. Finally, the Author of the Blog does not share Quoth’s views on Starlings; though maybe still don’t feed them (or any bird) french fries.)

[tbeeillustrations]

“The Bird Watchers” - Birds are fascinating creatures. We envy them because of their freedom to go where they please… when they please. They keep our earth free from being over run by bugs and worms,… and road kill… and french fries in parking lots. Science estimates that there are between 9000 - 10,000 variety of birds that fill our earth and sky. (Only 60 species don’t fly. Flamingos can fly, incidentally.) They come in a multitude of colors that are often surreal and breathtaking. I am kind of a bird watcher. A couple of years ago my wife and I starting hanging a couple of hummingbird feeders outside our front window. Since we live in the city, I am sure we don’t get as many as we could, but about 7 (or so) of them regularly stop by to have dinner with us. They are amazing to watch. The colors are beautiful and their agility beyond belief. They stay around a few months, when the weather is hot and migrate south when it turns cold. They say that one of the noisiest pets you can have is a bird. It amazing to see them talk. The Africa Grey parrot is said to be able to learn up to 1000 word and can often put them into a context. One of the most comforting Biblical verses is about birds. In Matthew 6:26 is says (Jesus speaking), “See the birds of the sky, that they don’t sow, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns. Your heavenly Father feeds them. Aren’t you of much more value than they?” Each time we see a bird it can remind us of our great value. 

This is drawn in procreate on an iPad. 

#Illustration #bookillustration #childrensbookillustration #tbeeillustrations #editorialillustration #children_illustrations #childrensillustrators #childrensbookart #illustrationartists #childrensbooks #childrensillustration #editorialillustration #tbeeillustrationscom #childrensbookartist #childrensbookart  #youngchildrensart #bird #birds #birdwatching #bluebird #yellowbird #binoculars #ornithology #ornithologists #pet #cage #bluejay #finch #flock #birdintree

[sorenmarie87]

In The Middle of The Ride (6/?)

Word Count -  4,028

Warnings - Underage drinking.  I’ve Never.  This is one of my favorite chapters guys~   All grammar mistakes are my own - so if something seems off, please let me know.  Also if you read this and want to see where the story goes, send me an ask and I’ll tag you :)

Tagging - @lovetusk @dragongirl420 @mirajanefairytailmage

"Where are we going again?"

"We’re going to Agnes and Metz’s house remember?"

"Come on girls," Jack voice echoed through the silent house," It’ll take some time to get to their house "Ryuichi did you change yet?"

"Not yet Dad," Ryuichi said back and went straight upstairs.  She shuffled through her closet and found a pair of faded blue jeans and a lavender shirt, which said, 'Save a horse, ride a cowboy.' Lucy rushed upstairs after Ryuichi.

"Ryu have you seen my flip-flops?"  Lucy asked as she searched the upstairs.  She was wearing a light purple kiddy shirt with Dora the explorer and Boots the monkey on it and a jean miniskirt.

"Are you gonna wear that?"  Ryuichi asked incredulously, Lucy never wore skirts like that.

"Yeah, Lindsey's mom gave it to me, it was too small for her niece." She replied while digging through her stuff.

"Aha!"  She shouted triumphantly and ran past Ryuichi down the steps.

"She's so weird." Ryuichi muttered under her breath and smiled.

"Alright girls, it's time to go," Elizabeth said while waiting at the front door.

"Hold on mom, I can't find my shoes," Ryuichi replied looking around her room and ran down the stairs with her sandals in hand.  They had all their luggage in the car and left just enough space to sit.

"Dude..." Lucy suddenly said as they started to leave the city limits.

"What?"  Ryuichi put her book down for a second to look at her cousin.

"We should totally flash or moon!"  She said excitedly.

"Uh no thanks."  Ryuichi replied and gave her a weird look.

"Not today girls.  You need to behave Lucy, or your father will take you with us."  Jack called from the front seat.

"Ah man..." Lucy grumbled and pulled out her gameboy.

"You’re so funny Luce."  Elizabeth laughed and tossed them some water.

"Hey wanna play in the sprinkler later?" Lucy asked Ryuichi nonchalantly.

"Maybe..." she mumbled and started reading her book again.

"Oh hey! Can we have some friends over if Uncle Metz and Aunt Agnes say it’s okay?" Lucy asked you could say she was excited easily.

"Sure girls but keep it at most PG-13 okay?" Elizabeth replied before Jack could add his two cents.

"Yippee!" Lucy shouted jubilantly and Ryuichi laughed.

Jack and Elizabeth having a conversation, music from the radio, noises from Lucy’s GameBoy and Ryuichi turning the pages of her book were the only noises coming from the car.  Everybody was silently hoping they would arrive soon.  "We're here!" Jack called and rolled down the window to smell the fresh air.  They pulled into a gravel driveway that led to a large white home surrounded by a small field and lots of trees.  A few feet away from the house there was a two-car garage with a room above where the cars were parked. They had horses and a nice house even a pool and an old jungle gym.  It brought back good memories for everyone in the car; they had all visited this ranch at one time or another.

"Yes it's great." Lucy replied; she looked very calm.  Ryuichi sighed and breathed in the refreshing air.

"Well I thought I heard familiar voices," Agnes replied opening the screen door," Metz, the children are here!!"

"What children?? We never had any kids!"

"We did too have a kid... she was adopted because I couldn't have kids remember?"

"Yes dear I’m only pulling your leg."

"Come give your old uncle a hug girls."  Metz called from the porch a cheery smile on his face.

"Metz!"  They yelled and ran to the porch and hugged the old man.

"It's nice to see you girls, but we only have an hour to talk before we have to leave..."

"That's okay, I wanna tell you what happened at school!"  Lucy chirped and pulled him onto the wicker bench with her.

"Me and Ryu got into a fight this year with some snobby girls!" she informed, he only smile and shook his head.  Uncle Metz was always the wild one growing up and he enjoyed hearing that his great niece was keeping the tradition alive and bringing her cousin into it.

"I'm sure you didn't start it right?" he winked.

"No actually, this girl did and then her friend tried to double team Ryu!"

"Really?  Gave hell did you girls?" he looked to Ryuichi who blushed a little embarrassed.

"Yeah I guess you could say that..."

The conversation carried on to politics and other monotonous things until the hour had passed.

"Well it was nice to see you girls." Agnes said as Ryuichi and Lucy helped her clean.

"It's so nice of you girls to watch the house while we go to Vegas."  Lucy and Ryuichi's great aunt Agnes said she was a small older woman with greying red hair.

"Now you girls behave while we're gone and feed Geoffrey."  Great uncle Metz added, he was their grandfather’s twin he had the same white hair and glasses too.

"Uncle Metz, can we have some friends over please... we'll be good!"  Lucy pleaded to him as she loaded the elderly couple’s suitcases into the car.

"Sure, why not just make sure you clean up the place and remember Geoffrey."  He smiled and tugged her cheek.

"Who could forget that horrible old parrot?" Ryuichi mumbled under her breath as she hugged each of them.

"Oh sweetie have fun and be nice to Geoffrey." Agnes whispered into her ear and gave her a very grandmother-like kiss on the cheek.

"Whelp we better go, see ya kids we love you, and be safe."  Metz finally said as he got into the car, they drove off leaving a cloud of dust in the gravel driveway.

"He reminds me of Gramps..." Lucy smiled as she waved; Ryuichi shook her head 'yes' and waved with her.

"Alright let's get this house in party shape!" Lucy yelled and ran towards the house.

"Wait for me!"  Ryuichi yelled and gave chase.  They ran through the screen door into the kitchen and tripped over Geoffrey's cage causing him to squawk

"Damn bird..." Ryuichi hissed as she climbed off Lucy who was laughing hysterically,” weirdo..." she mumbled and walked back into the kitchen to get the snacks.

“Are you calling everyone or am I?” Lucy asked looking through the cupboards.

"You are," Ryuichi said while handing her the cell phone.

"When did you get a cell phone?"

"I got it for Christmas.   I brought it with me in case we needed it," Ryuichi replied," Everyone’s number is in there except for Jamie and Lindsey’s.  I’m not calling them, you can.”

"Wanker..." Lucy grumbled and took the phone.  While Lucy was calling everyone else, Ryuichi decided to explore the house.  Everyone room had a familiar smell to it and each room was unique in design.  ‘Agnes was a interior decorator before she retired these rooms still look great.’  After her escapade of the house, she walked near the front of the house and went back onto the porch.  She looked out to multitude of farmland that they had and then sat down on the porch swing.

"Alright," Lucy said opening the screen door and walking onto the porch," Everyone should be here in an hour or a time close to that Lindsey said he’d pick people up and Jamie is doing the same."

"That's cool..." Ryuichi replied from where she sat just staring and remembering.  She used to sit with her grandfather on this swing, him and Uncle Metz would tell stories about their youth and albums of pictures where the two were dressed alike.  She and Lucy could always tell them apart, Lucy was closer to Metz and Ryuichi to their grandfather... though it didn't often seem like it.

"Being here brings back so much." Lucy sighed and sat beside her.  Her favorite pastime was sitting on this swing drinking homemade lemonade, Agnes old family recipe.

"Yeah, I can't wait to share this with my kids." Ryuichi said in an airy voice.

"Me too..." Lucy said and smiled; it was a relaxed smile one that did not often grace her face.

"Whelp!  We better get some food out for when they come... you think they have any hamburger?"  Lucy jumped up and spoke.

"Yeah I think I remember Metz mentioning something about killing a cow and a freezer."  Ryuichi laughed Lucy was a spur of the moment person sometimes.

"Well I want to make hamburgers on the grill you in?" she asked and ran to the garage where the meat freezer was kept.

"Uh... is it safe to let you do that?"  Ryuichi joked outwardly, but on the inside she was a little nervous Lucy and fire were not to be mixed.

"Of course I only caught the deck on fire once, and that was because my stupid brother threw the football at me." Lucy chirped as she opened the freezer and grabbed a couple packages of meat that were wrapped in butcher's paper. "What else should we have?"

"How about potato salad?  And... fresh french-fries?"  Ryuichi inquired

"Yes! And lemonade and some iced tea!" Lucy spoke and gathered the necessary items. She had lemon, potatoes, meat and other things she and Ryuichi had to prepare within an hour.

"You wanna start peeling potatoes while I thaw the meat and start up the grill?" Lucy asked as she reached for the matches in a cupboard.

"Sure then we can cut them and boil them and while that is going we can start the drinks.”

"Alrighty this is going to be fun!" Lucy skipped onto the deck that was on the side of the house to start the grill while the meat thawed in the microwave.  Ryuichi put the potatoes in water and started to peel.  It reminded her of when her and her grandpa would peel them for Agnes and grandma for dinner and they would sing or hum old Frank Sinatra songs even though grandpa wasn't that old.

"Hey Luce?  Is that fire started yet?"  Ryuichi asked as she finished the last potato, Lucy probably shirked the potato peeling for fire again.

"Yeah I was just staring into space, did you finish already?"

"Yeah get in here and help with the lemonade!" Ryuichi called out gathering the lemons off the counter and putting them on the table.  Agnes had taught both of them to make her special lemonade and also taught Lucy how to make two different types of tea, green tea that tasted like blueberry muffins and southern sweet tea. The green tea was an accident that everybody liked.

"It's been like a year since I did this." Lucy said as she sat down to the table, Ryuichi handed her a knife to cut the lemons in half while she squeezed and added other ingredients.

"You get a lime?" Lucy asked when she finished the cutting and started on the tea.

"Duh, that's what makes it Aunt Agnes' family recipe." Ryuichi stated matter of factly while she shook the pitcher to mix the sugar in.

"That and the whole cup of rum..." Lucy mumbled, she was putting two kettles of water on the stove to boil and checking the potatoes.

"You think you should start on the burgers?" Ryuichi asked and motioned to the deck.

"Oh my gah! I almost forgot... tell Lindsey to meet me on the deck if he gets here early." Lucy yelled as she rushed to the deck with meat and grill kit in hand.

"Okay then... the potatoes are about done... all I need is to put the lemonade in the fridge to cool and wait for the gang." she told herself as the cell phone rang.

"Hello?" she asked into the phone.

"Hey Ryu!" Maddie said on the other line "Hey look out the window... we're at the end of the driveway.."

“Okay, I have to finish something so see you soon." she replied and hung up.

"Who was it!?” Lucy asked from the porch.

"Maddie!  They're at the end of the drive so come in here and help me!"

"Can't gotta watch these or they won’t be perfect!"

There was honking coming from the driveway and loud shouting.

"Ryu go take care of that,  I have to finish!"

Ryuichi made a face at the deck and walked to where her friends had congregated.

"Nice place you guys, now where is my woman?" Lindsey asked with a sly smile on his face, the others only laughed.

"She's grilling burgers.." Ryuichi informed and pointed to the deck while giving him a look, he was smiling way too well.. creepily.

"I love a sheila who grills!" He shouted and ran to the deck.

"Hey something smells good!"  Mark said from beside Jamie.

"Hi uh.. Mister..uh" Ryuichi started to stutter.

"Just Mark today Ryuichi okay?" he said and winked.

"Oi Ryu!  You make food just for plain ol' us?" Will teased.

Ryuichi was about to retort when they heard Lucy squeal and yell obscenities at her boyfriend, something about not touching her somewhere while she was working the grill.

"Let's head over to the deck before she hurts him."  Jamie laughed they walked to the side of the house where the deck was and saw Lucy and Lindsey in a somewhat passionate embrace.

"Goodness kids can't you wait?" Lucas asked feeling that brotherly instinct kicking in.

"Oh shove off!"  Lucy grumbled and separated from her partner.

"Yeah, will someone come in and help me with the drinks? I have to start up the fryer." Ryuichi walked into the house.

"I'll help!" Will and Mark volunteered and entered behind her.

"Hey what did you make?"  Gavin asked while trying to steal a hamburger from the platter that was set on the table.

"Hamburgers, potato salad, lemonade, tea and soon French fries." Lucy said and smacked his hand with the spatula.

"Careful she's got good aim." Lindsey warned but everyone laughed when Lucy stuck out her tongue. "I think I'm in love." he joked.

"Oh yes you're quite the catch." Jamie said sarcastically and rolled his eyes.  "What's taking you so long Ryu, you having an orgy in there?!"  He shouted which made Ryuichi shoot out of the house with fresh potato salad in hand and Mark and Will following with the fryer and pitchers.

"Don't embarrass the girl like that Jamie."  Mark said endearingly to Jamie and sat the stuff on the end of the table.

"Yeah yeah." he mumbled and pecked Mark on the lips.

"I would like to warn everybody about the small amount of rum in the lemonade... and not to allow Lucy around the fryer."  Ryuichi announced and received a death glare from Lucy in which she replied with a shrug.

"Then let's party!" Maddie shouted and grabbed for the tea, she didn't like rum no matter how little there was.

"It'll be about ten minutes till the fries are edible."  Lucy said and passed the hamburger platter to Mark.

"You guys this is great, food, drink and friends how much better could it get!"  Cordelia complimented and the others muttered their approval.

"Well... how about when this is over a game of 'Strip I've Never' and if Mark allows us.. a couple of drinks." Lucy said from Lindsey’s lap, she was feeding him while he kept his hands in the back pockets of her skirt.

"Fine with me as long as it doesn't get out of hand." Mark agreed before taking a sip of lemonade and slipping his hand into Jamie's.

"Cool! I love that game, and I know who's gonna lose already!" Maddie teased and everyone looked to Lucy.

"Hey that's my sister, no ogling!" he shouted the girls only laughed.

"Dude, half of us are girls and taken." Cordelia reminded him while Lucy threw a fork at him.

Lucas only grumbled and bit into his burger.  The meal progressed and they continued the friendly banter till the sun went down and they were all inside.

"The food was great sheila’s" Lindsey said as he put away the last dish.  All the guys had offered to wash the dishes after the meal while the girls got the living room rearranged for the game.

"Who wants to sit where!" Maddie asked when after they pushed the furniture into a semi-circle.

"Linds and I get the love seat!"  Lucy shouted and claimed the mini sofa.  Lindsey swaggered over to her and promptly sat upon her making her giggle.

"Me, Gavin, Jamie and Mark, Maddie and Lucas call sofas!" Cordelia shouted and they sat on the two sofas that were pushed together.

"That leaves Ryu and Will with the futon." Lucy smirked when she saw Ryuichi flush bright red.

"Who doesn't know the rules?"  Maddie asked, looking around at all of them no one objected so she continued. "Alright since Ryu and Lucy are the hosts they get first turn..er turns."

Lucy perked up and got a silly smile on her face.  "I have never... worn an old person's dentures." when Ryuichi heard this she moaned in discontent and took off her shoes.  Everyone turned to look at her silently asking 'What?'

"It was in kindergarten, Lucy dared me!" she huffed and thought of one.

"I have never... dated a teacher." Ryuichi said and smiled shooting a look at Lucy, it was obvious that Jamie had, little bit that Mark had, but Lucy bent over and took off her flip-flops, that was the shocker.

"What?" she asked many only rolled their eyes.

"Who was it!" Lucas yelled angry that some dirty old teacher dated his sister.

"You remember Miss Calvin's substitute for a month?" She asked Ryuichi, Maddie and Cordelia nodded their heads.

"Laird Smithers!  You dated him!" Mark yelled eyes wide.

"You too huh?" Lucy smiled and leaned into the couch. "That was so long ago though, next!"

"Okay" Lindsey started " I have never made out with the same sex." Of course Jamie and Mark removed a piece of clothing plus Cordy and Maddie.

"Nina Abbot, last year." she said before they could ask.

"No way!  That chick is totally hot!" Gavin yelled and got elbowed in the gut by Cordelia.

"Tina Abbot that same night..." Maddie mumbled blushing even though she had only taken off her shoes.

"No way! You both made out with the Abbot twins and didn’t tell till now!" Lucas gasped

"Next!" Maddie shouted too embarrassed to talk further.

"I've never been caught making out or having sex." Jamie said and smiled when he saw Mark take off his shirt but raise and inquisitive eyebrow at Cordelia and Gavin who had taken off their shoes. "I don't even want to know..." Ryuichi only coughed and then removed an article of clothing.

“Who exactly did you see Ryu?” Will asked then glanced around the room.

She only giggled slightly then pointed to Lucy and Lindsey, then Jamie and Mark,” Same day actually… “

"Alrighty, I've never dressed as the opposite sex."  Mark said and laughed when he saw Cordelia, Lucy and Jamie take off and article of clothing, but Lindsey, Lucas and Gavin.

"I bet it was Halloween right?" he teased and Jamie only pecked him on the lips and humphed.

"Actually it was a family reunion for me and Lucas, Ryuichi didn't want to play!"

"Yeah well, it was dare alright!"  Gavin said nervously, but Cordelia shook her head.

"No his older cousin did a full-on makeover on him when he was seven." she added and giggled slightly.

Will sat there silent and coughed.  "I've never done a strip tease," he heard Lucas say.  He looked over at Lucas then Will kicked off his shoes.

"I've never had a one night stand," Will said as Lindsey removed his shirt.

"Who did you have a one night stand with?" Ryuichi asked curiously.  Lucy only stared at the younger girl.

"I believe her name was Tonya," Lindsey replied

"Was she an ice skater?"

"Not cool.."

"I’ve never slept with the opposite sex," Ryuichi said while turning red.  At the same time Lindsey, Gavin, Lucy and Lucas all removed an article of clothing.

"Alrighty my turn again!" Lucy said with an evil smile on her face," I’ve never watched or looked at a porno in my life!" At the same time all the guys removed something.

"Umm let’s see.. I have never stalked my ex-boyfriend," Ryuichi said as Maddie and Cordy removed an article of clothing.  Ryuichi had taken a look around the room and noticed all but a few people still had some articles of clothing left.  "All right, those who are down to their skivvies, they’ll be helping out with those who are still in the game," Lucy said while taking a drink of Lindsey’s lemonade.

Ryuichi who was down to her bra and underwear walked over to her bag of clothes threw on a pair of black boxer shorts and a magenta t-shirt and then went out on the deck.  She sat down on one of the deck chairs and let the rain sprinkle down on her.  Even though Will was still in his boxers and muscle shirt, he excused himself for a few minutes and joined Ryuichi out on the deck.  He smiled to himself then shook his head as he watched her for a few seconds.  Before walking closer, he noticed she had been singing to herself.

"Hey there," Will said kissing her on her shoulder.  She looked up at him and he pulled up a deck chair next to her as they listened to the rest of the game as it winded down.

"I have never threatened to assault someone with a horseshoe pole," Lindsey said as Lucy removed her final piece of clothing.

"I was protecting my brother what can I say?" Lucy said in defense of herself.  

Everyone laughed while the game died down.  The view from the deck was very picturesque. The way the colors of the sky blended together it made it seem like the night sky would never fade out.  Will moved his chair closer to Ryuichi’s and he smiled at her.  They intertwined hands while the sky started turning dark blue and little flecks of lights soon filled the night sky.

The grandfather clock in the hallway started chiming midnight.  Ryuichi closed her eyes for a few seconds and instantly fell asleep.  Will admired the view from where he was sitting and listened to all the noises from the country.  He could hear crickets chirping and far off in the distance he heard an owl crying out in the deep forest.  He stood up moving the deck chair back to where it was and stretched before turning back to where Ryuichi was fast asleep.  He picked Ryuichi up with his free hand because she still had a firm grip on his other hand.  With his free hand he opened the deck door and walked in sideways.

"Did she fall asleep on you?" Lucy asked quietly while sitting her on the futon.  Ryuichi mumbled something before rolling on her side.

"Yeah but it’s all right," He replied sitting on the edge of the futon.

"I love you guys," Ryuichi mumbled," especially you Will."

He smiled and kissed her on the forehead," I love you too Ryu.."  He placed a blanket over the sleeping girl.  Will noticed everyone else was either fast asleep or wide-awake and talking.  The clock chimed 2 a.m. and Will had finally fallen asleep beside Ryuichi.  Ryuichi woke up for a few minutes to unfold the blanket that was on top of her and shared it with him.  She immediately fell back asleep afterwards.

By the time everyone had woken up from last night’s events, it was almost two in the afternoon.  Everyone else scrambled around the house cleaning up the odds and ends of the house that they dirtied up.

"Come on Ryu, we need your help cleaning up the rest of the house," Lucy said tugging on the younger girl's hand.  She yawned then several hands pulled her off of the futon.  After that, she sluggishly helped everyone straighten up the small country house.  Once everything had been cleaned, those who brought extra clothes got dressed.

[ecotone99]

[NF] Life At Sea, From The Kitchen

(WC 4,321, photography included in post https://slugpace.com/life-at-sea-in-a-kitchen/)

I cannot tell whether the crunch under my barefoot is granola or crusted salt. This dimly lit room would make a great prison cell, or better yet a coat closet, instead it is my home for the next 26 days. “All hands to the mainsail,” comes an echoing cry as a group of 14 to 17 year olds struggle to hoist up the billowing white sail.

I am struggling with my current mission too; several boxes of angle hair spaghetti and a Costco sized can of tomato sauce need to transform into dinner for thirty-four, as I contemplate how I got myself into the situation.

The answer is simple- Michoel.

He is the charismatic camp director with the gall to take a group of orthodox Jewish boys to the wildest places imaginable for one month every summer. From the peaks of the Great Rocky Mountains to the rain forest like trenches of coastal Washington. This year marks 11 years since he first embarked on this improbable mission.

During a jog in the morning of an early April day I saw his caller i.d. appear on my phone. There are few calls I would answer during a run but I knew Michoel would appreciate it. “Uh, doing real, uh, well,” I respond to his question while gasping for air. “That’s great Huds, how is your July 15 through August 13 looking? I need a cook.” His gung ho attitude is infections and while I never had aspirations to be a sailor, let alone a cook on a sailboat, I agree to a job I don’t fully understand.

The Exy Johnson is a tall ship, modeled after the Brigantine vessels once used to transport tea and tobacco across the Atlantic. Most of those boats have long since been replaced by liners, the sweat of sailors by gasoline. Boats like the Exy are left to enthusiasts.

With the tomato can opened and a pot of water boiling I deceive myself into thinking all I have left to do is dump in the pasta, let it simmer for half an hour, drain it, and mix in the sauce.

I step outside the galley for my first walk around the boat. I immediately notice three boys slumped against the railing, one of them is leaning over it, throwing up. I recognize Tzvi as the one who just threw up. He made an enthusiastic introduction early that day when we set sail, leaving me with the nugget that he was notoriously prone to motion sickness.

Moving past him and to the front of the boat, or the bow in sailor language, I find myself at the main deck. Its most strident feature is “the jacuzzi,” the main gathering area where we do morning prayers, all hands meetings, and hang out. The little tub is crammed with weary campers. One boy is talking animatedly to Captain Dan, “No, I don’t think we will make it all the way to San Francisco, but let’s see how we do getting out of the marina first,” he responds. San Pedro is still visible to the east of us. Sailing from this Southern California port to the San Francisco Bay was Michoel’s original plan when he called me months ago. It had more recently been swapped out with the far more attainable goal of circumnavigating the 5 Channel Islands off the coast of Southern California.

I amble back to the galley to check on the pasta. As I insert a beat up serving spoon I am met with resistance halfway down the pot. Clumped pasta. I drain and rinse the overcooked pot of goo in an attempt to improve the situation. It is 4pm and despite the quality of dinner it is ready. 2 hours early for dinner but too scared to step away from my “creation” I pull myself up to the only viable sitting space in the galley; a small linoleum topped counter. Two sentences into a collection of the best short stories from 1998 I am nauseous.

After dinner I make my way to the jacuzzi, focusing on my breath, trying to dispel myself of the nausea. I find a huddled mass of other sick boys, a dire difference to the group of boys I saw there several hours ago. I wedge myself between the two least nauseous looking boys I can see. Soon I start wondering, realizing how 26 days is a long time. Among the other sick on board I have some relief in knowing I am not alone. There are a handful of boys that are already unsettling at home on the Exy, none of them sit besides me. George, one of the crew members, tries to assure us matter-of-factly that, “Within a few days you’ll find your sea legs. Then you won’t feel a thing.” What started as slight dizziness is turning into the urge to purge myself of dinner, my trust in George is low.

With my approval half a pot of misshapen pasta is unceremoniously dumped overboard. As soon as the rotation of boys assigned to helping me with kitchen duties start scrubbing the dull grey pot my thoughts drift, breakfast. It is hard thinking about scrambled eggs while wanting to never eat again.

As I put away all the kitchen equipment, giving the pot a personal once over, I prepare the kitchen for tomorrow morning. The sun has long since set and although we are not more than two dozen miles away from the mainland the stream of stars above head is vivid. The boat is quiet now. The only noise is water gently lapping against the side of the boat.

I am tired but can’t force myself to go below deck. A trip to the stuffy and equally smelly main quarters is unappealing. I make my way back to the jacuzzi instead. There are only a few campers left out, the most ailed among us. Staring into the empty and dark horizon Captain Dan says, “You guys will have to go to sleep eventually, especially if you are in shift 3, you are on duty starting at 4 am.” “I am going to throw up if I go down there,” a short kid with a New York accent, whose night this may have been his first away from home in his life, says. “I know you feel bad right now but once you get into bed and close your eyes you will start feeling a lot better. And practically speaking you really can’t stay on deck all night.”

Among the haggard herd of unwilling sick people I eventually make my way down stairs. The main haul is essentially a very wide hallway. On both sides there are triple tiered bunk beds, each with a thin foam pad. I crawl into my new abodes and shut my eyes tight. Dan wasn’t lying. I fell asleep fast.

“Hey Yehudah, wake up, Fern sent me down to get you.” I peek at my phone, it says I have zero bars and it is 6am. My messenger, a tall boy with brown hair, looks like he would rather be sleeping. His shift has been up since 4am. When I get on deck there are only 3 campers and 2 crew members in sight, everybody else hiding in bed.

Aside from the slight residue of nausea left over from last night, like the stubborn pieces of burnt spaghetti left glued to the pot on the galley counter, I can feel another uncomfortable sensation. It is an ache in my chest, a rare feeling among the sensations of my life but a feeling I identified with quickly. It is the dull dread I get before public speaking or having a physical confrontation. Its cause is obvious- my responsibility to feed everyone. I soon decipher a consistent routine; As I am preparing a meal the dread builds until I am finished. It starts to dissipate as everyone lines up to get lunch, as I see people are actually willing to eat my cockamamie impersonations of honey dijon chicken wings, caesar salad supreme, or whatever I scramble together. The sensation completely leaves when and if I announce seconds and the food is finished off. An occurrence that would not happen until after a few days on the ship and I had developed some kitchen acumen.

After five days I feel like I am getting into the swing of things. The slight nausea persists but I have only thrown up once. Tzvi, my new constant companion in the kitchen, hasn’t been so lucky. His pale face greets me after breakfast, “I have just about the greatest idea for lunch,” Tzvi is funny, despite his nausea, and an appreciated help in the kitchen. But he is 16, I am dubious of his great idea when he excitedly reveals it, “Let’s make some french fries! Give everyone a taste of home. It’ll be much better than the baked potatoes you have planned.” “Common,” I say to him with pretend hurt, “Everyone loves my baked potatoes.” “No offense Yehudah, your potatoes are B-L-A-N-D. Your recipe is oil, potatoes and salt.” Tzvi says.

“I’d like to see you do better,” I respond. “I will. For lunch. French fries.” He is alive with the idea, for a moment it overshadows his sickness. “Alright you make these french fries, I am going to make egg salad. You have 5 hours until we serve. Please don’t mess this up, I only have so much food aboard.” I am becoming increasingly more aware of how the boats stock of food will not get us through another 22 days.

“Yes!” Tzvi goes in for an enthusiastic high five, “You are not going to regret this.” My egg salad will take less than half an hour to prepare. “If his plan flops I will just serve wraps with lunch”, I think silently to myself as I walk towards the jacuzzi.

I listen to Michoel give a pep talk to the usual crowd of jacuzzi residents. It is clear I am not the only one rethinking my decision to be a part of this voyage. By 12 o’clock I decide to go back to the galley, start working on that egg salad, and salvage whatever Tzvi and his gang didn’t ruin.

Tzvi is wearing the flamboyant floral kitchen apron, between his hands, an improvised tray made of a discarded cardboard box. In the box there are, to my amazement, french fries. I am pleasantly taken aback. I smile, “Wow those look good, can I have some?”

“No food until it is served,” he replies, parroting one of the lines I tout daily. Then his smile fades, “Uhh we are seriously going to have to limit everyone’s portions.” The tray he is holding is the only tray. One tray of fries for 34 hungry people. I serve lunch with tortillas after all. My usual dread leaves as I serve the last scoop of egg salad.

On the morning of the 8th day of the trip I wake up early to start preparing rations for the next five days. I visit the bow of the ship to greet whichever shift is on. When I get there all twelve of them, plus 4 crew members, are crowded around the railing. An odd sight for 5am. Then I see it- the back of a whale emerges 30 feet from the boat. My first reaction is panic. It is huge, bigger than the ship itself. But no one else seems irked. I quickly transition to awe, realizing we are in no danger. The whole ocean comes up to say hello that morning. Dolphins, schools of catfish, the whale even emerges a few more times. The closest experience I ever had to this was seeing Shamu at six flags, it isn’t comparable. As conservationist and ranger premier George Melendez Wright once observed, “Generations ago man was accustomed to wild animals, but that has all been buried in city life. Whenever he has seen wild animals at all, they have been presented in some way compatible with dense populations […] comes a day when his heart skips a beat. Walking along a deep forest trail he comes upon a single bear eagerly peeling the bark from a log in search of fat white grubs. This is a fresh thrill and it brings the realization that the unique charm of the animals in a national park lies in their wildness, not their tameness, in their primitive struggle to survive rather than their fat certainty of an easy living. The new concept involves an appreciation of the characteristics of a real wild animal, notably, that each wild animal is the embodied story of natural forces which have been operative for millions of years and is therefore a priceless creation, a living embodiment of the past, presentiment of the future. It teaches the new joy of seeking out the wild creatures where they are leading their own fascinating lives instead of having them pauperized in camp where each individual animal becomes a bull in a china shop.”

We are in the headwaters of a national park that also happens to be an island, Anacapa. It is the reason I am preparing rations. During the phone call I had with Michoel 4 months ago he told me we would be doing some camping this year, “Listen mate I have a couple Islands in mind. Santa Barbara, Santa Monica, or Anacapa. Let me know what you think, where we should bring camp.”

I gave the matter little thought and when he sent me an email the next week, asking which island I liked, I googled each one and choose the one that looked the nicest; Anacapa. I later found out we became the longest time residents since a hermit named French made this his home in the 1950’s.

“My break from Cooking” I think over and over again, smiling to myself as I distribute tortillas, salami, small packages of condiments, a bruised apple, an orange, and a few cheese sticks into 29 Hefty 40 liter garbage bags. Each camper will have all the food they need and I will only have to worry about feeding myself for the next few days. This was going to be the vacation I needed.

The small island is visible by midday. A crew member ferries groups of 4 to the small island. The boat and the crew members will leave us ashore while they go back to the mainland and do a resupply.

I am the last to leave the ship, doing a once over of my galley before I go. “Don’t worry, we will keep it safe for you, won’t mess anything up,” Fern, the first mate, says. As I step onto Anacapa I feel euphoric, free of all responsibility, of the daily dread of making food. The joy dissipates as I realize we are not the only ones on this island. In my “research” of the island I neglected to uncover that from May to August Anacapa is home to 10,000 pairs of mating western gulls. 20,000 adult seagulls and their countless bratty kids. They are our companions for the next four days on this tiny island. I stop noticing the non stop crowing and moaning of the birds during day two. But they don’t stop noticing us, stalking us overhead anytime we venture out of our tents. Anacapa is soon dubbed Ana-crap-a

Every day we swim, jumping from the jagged cliffs off the island. I get to read without getting nauseous, but most of all I appreciate not having to cook. The four days passed faster than any four days of my life. I achieved a kind of relaxation that can only be found after an immense buildup of pressure has been released.

“16 days left,” I think to myself as I start chopping wilted carrots back in galley only hours after returning to the ship. I am the first aboard and am ready to get back at it. Baked potatoes and romaine salad for lunch. I recommit myself to finding both literal and metaphorical balance in the kitchen for the days to come.

After lunch an all hands meeting is called. Every person aboard assembles around the jacuzzi. Captain Dan stands near Fern at the helm. She starts talking loudly, “I hope you guys all had a good time on Anacapa, we heard those birds where relentless,” she smirks but quickly gets serious, “We are headed into what may be the most intense stretch of this journey. This stretch of ocean is known to be treacherous. By the looks of it some of you are already feeling the swells increase, this will get worse by tomorrow. If your shift is on, or you are on deck for any other reason, you will need to be clipped into a harness at all times,” safety lines we usually only use at night, “ above all else be smart. If you follow our orders and use your common sense we will get through this fine.“ I look around, some of the faces seem to be saying, “bring it on”, most of the others look unenthusiastic, I feel both.

I fall asleep without issue but upon waking up feel the boat swaying more than usual. I step outside and almost lose my balance. In the galley I make a plan: I will serve the simplest meals I can think of to survive today. Cereal and milk for breakfast, peanut butter and jelly tortillas for lunch, hot dogs and broccoli for dinner.

After lunch the swells start approaching 8 feet, sending waves on deck, soaking any passersby, and returning me to a state of utter sickness. I decide I better get started on dinner before I am decapacitated. When 4pm rolls around Fern’s words from last night seem too tame. Anything that isn’t bolted down goes flying, inside the galley, on deck, or below. A lost book, an odd sock, even someone’s shoes, float past the galley window. The tossing to and fro is worse than any roller coaster I have ever been on. I go to the jacuzzi to seek refuge. Michoel is explaining how it is impossible for the boat to capsize, “The haul is just to darn heavy, we will all die long before this ship turns upside down. Just hold on tight. Isn’t that right Malley Gaster” he says, smiling in my direction.

I hear the thud of pots and realize things in the galley are out of control. I grab two people who look like they are doing okay, Carol and JJ. They both had a glint in their eyes last night when Fern was describing this. Together we hatch down all the windows and fasten the pot to the stove. If that gets out of place I am screwed. Inside the oven the hot dogs are bouncing like kids on a trampoline. At least it is contained. With the windows closed the galley becomes stuffy as hell, my nausea worsens. I leave Carol and JJ with instructions, “Listen guys, serving dinner on deck clearly ain’t gonna happen. We are going to open the port side window and serve dinner from there. Got it?” They both nod in affirmation, “Alright, great, feed anyone who is hungry and find me if you need anything, I will be throwing up near the jacuzzi.”

I bolt out of the galley in time to lean over the railing as I let my guts out into the raging ocean. It is cathartic but I still feel like crap as I sit in the jacuzzi. The waves are 12 feet tall at this point and there is no escaping the salt water raining down on us. “All hands strike the square sails,” Fern shouts, I make a weak attempt to help bring the sail down, “Heave, ho. Heave, ho.” I don’t have much juice but I yank the damp line like my life depends on it, “Heave, ho. Heave, ho.” The sail comes down all at once. We scuttle back to the jacuzzi. As I pass the galley I see Carol and JJ within, feasting on hot dogs, I afford a small smile to myself. At least someone on board is having fun.

People usually don’t talk about the calm after the storm but that describes the next day perfectly. In fact the rest of the week goes by without much event.

Dinner the next night, burgers, are cooking in the oven as I start sauteing some vegetables on the stove. It usually takes me 25 minutes to get the two large pans finished. Today an hour passes and the vegetables still don’t look ready. I peek inside the oven at the burgers, they look partially cooked. When I take one out for a taste I realize they are completely raw inside. I go behind the galley, where the gas canisters are stored, to make sure the valve is on. They are on but the pressure barometer tilts back and forth. I consult Fern. She figures out pretty quickly the propane is empty. “How the hell am I going to finish making dinner?!” I ask Fern. I know it is not her fault but I am frustrated. I trust the crew to make sure everything boat side is in order so I can do my job.

The stir fry becomes an avocado salad. I throw the burgers into the freezer, hoping it hasn’t already developed some god awful bacteria. Thankfully there are cheerios and almond milk left over from breakfast. Without an ounce of shame I serve it with the aforementioned salad.

The next morning land comes into sight again. This time it is the mainland, our last stop before sailing back to San Pedro. The Santa Barbara port looks childish compared to the vast sea I am used to. People dressed up in beach attire. Their only care if there will be traffic on the way back home later that day. It all seems so trivial compared to that hellish evening two days ago, or the horde of birds on Anacapa. I can still hear them caw if I close my eyes.

Today I will go into town with Captain Dan. He will pick up a replacement gas canister for the oven and stove. I will go to Safeway and stock up on produce. It has been a week since I had anything fresh left to serve. I find the two big carts and giddily set off down the aisles. Two hours later they are both overflowing with avocados, greens, corn, potatoes, chips, tomato sauce and their like. Having cooked for 3 weeks I knew exactly what I want. Dan easily locates me and my brimming carts in the Safeway parking lot. In one trip I am back to the galley. Now stocked with enough goods to keep everyone on board happy for the final week.

The next day we set sail again. This time back, south. When we are well out of sight of Santa Barbara the next day we take a break from sailing in favor of swimming. Before jumping from the edge of the boat I lather on layers of shampoo and soap, a desperate attempt at cleanliness. The feeling of being in the ocean, in the middle of nowhere, is sublime. I am completely consumed by the oceans vastness. Getting clean also felt pretty darn good.

Just as everyone makes it back on board a school of dolphins comes up to the spot we were swimming. I feel like life on the boat is actually becoming enjoyable in that moment, it does not last. I decide to go all out for lunch. Cheese fondue, toasted tortillas, and a fresh romaine salad with my yet to be famous sour dressing. As I zest lemon, mostly mayonnaise at this point, the boat tilts to its port side, my right. I am already used to the sporadic movements of the ship, even in calm seas, but the dressing is not secured. It falls off the counter. In a slow instant I am covered in it. Not only is this the last of my mayonnaise, I forgot to replenish in Safeway, I am no longer clean. My good mood is gone. I wipe of the viscus, white, concoction from the least likely and most obscure parts of the galley. I use a lame olive oil dressing in its place.

Today is our last day at sea, day 27. The wind starts to slow down during lunch, mashed potatoes. There is not much to do on the boat, the boys lazily strike all the sails as the port comes into view. After dinner Captain Dan breaks out his banjo, Fern her fiddle. They start belting out lively bluegrass tunes. Before long everyone aboard is dancing. For once the boats rocking has nothing to do with the swells, we are securely tied to the docks of Ports O’Call in San Pedro. It is uninhibited dancing, the made up jig full of uncoordinated movement, the happy dance of a sailor headed home. It has been a hard month. This celebration is as much a farewell to the good times had as much as it is a welcoming embrace of the land to come.

Everyone sleeps well that night, there is no “on shift.” The regularities of society we have been “lacking” seep in overnight. The boat gently caresses the wooden port with the occasional thud, as it comes into contact with a rubber mooring buoys hanging off of the boat.

Months later when I close my eyes I can feel the motions of the ocean, and for a panicked moment try to remember if I took the lunch meat out of the freezer to defrost, only to remember that responsibility has long been fulfilled. It was more demanding than any job I have ever had, yet I am better for it.

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