#healthy eating for truckers

[artisticdivasworld]

Staying Healthy as a Long-Haul Truck Driver: Straight Talk

Hitting the open road as a long-haul truck driver isn’t just a job; it’s a lifestyle. And let’s be real, it’s one that comes with its fair share of health challenges. With the long hours and endless miles, staying healthy might seem like a battle. But with a bit of know-how and discipline, you can keep yourself in top shape. We talked about this before here, but feel it bears repeating because…

[mylevisdontfitanymore]

I have all these incredible request prompts that want to turn into something but my jobs have got me exhausted! I'm having a hard time not just going asdfghjkl b-bellies

So, the best I can offer you for now is my latest brain worms about fat mechanic Steve Rogers and diner owner Bucky Barnes.

Steve starts out as this burly mechanic, always in his dusty, dirty dark blue coveralls and work boots with grease stains on his face and hands. His blond hair is fucking mess so often from running his fingers through it and getting it stained and rumbled. So, Steve is just this huge dude working on cars and trucks and even big rigs because-! His auto shop is next to the truckstop just off the interstate.

I can not stress this enough. He's a big, capable guy. Lifting heavy shit with teeth-gritted grunts, putting in the elbow grease to turn the most locked up lug nuts, sweating and swearing his way through jobs that look grim but always pulling the car or truck through. He's a damn good mechanic, so much so that he has clients that want to repay him. Truck drivers that come back through after he did them a solid with a damn good job on their rigs will bring tokens from other states, drop off homebaked food if their significant other happens to live around there, or some of them even bring gift cards. Gift cards like one to the newly opened diner just across the street in the heart of the actual truckstop.

It's an all-American diner, so at first, Steve passes it up. He can eat American food whenever he wants! He can at least make burgers on the grill. He isn't a totally helpless cook. C'mon. But when he has a gift card and works late for a client to get them back on the move... he doesn't have dinner with him, so... might as well try it.

The diner is seemingly run by this one guy, Bucky, despite how much foot traffic this place has to get with all these truckers and road trippers stopping in. Bucky's a damn fine cook, though, Steve finds that out quick. Everything he orders for dinner is moan out loud good.

The first night, he has a greasy, heavy American food feast. A bubbly coke with a thick bacon double cheeseburger and a side of heavy loaded fries. For dessert, he splurges on a wide slice of pie and a healthy scoop (scoops, really) of ice cream. Before he leaves, taking time to digest before he has to walk back, Bucky even sweet talks him into adding a milkshake to his dessert. Steve has to eat it with a spoon, the shake is that thick. It's so sweet that he can feel it in his teeth.

Bucky's food has to be enhanced somehow, though, 'cause he can't stop. It's too good. Steve's never lost control with food like that before. Woof. Steve waves it off that first night, though, he'll work off the calories easy. It's just one night.

It's not just one night.

Steve first goes back every once in a while, which turns into a few times a week to every day for lunch to... he has lunch there and then heads back to the diner for dinner, too, even if he's not staying late at the shop. Sometimes, he has dinner at the diner, and by the time he gets home, he's hungry again. So he makes himself dinner, too.

With all the greasy, stick to your ribs diner food Steve's coveralls change from baggy to fitted to tight.

His whole body gets wider. His thick, strong neck welcomes a friend in the form of a thickening double chin. His shoulders start to slope, soft and fat, not hard chistled stone. His big arms are bigger, muscle covered with this layer of pudge. His chest gets soft, so soft that his stretched nipples start to poke through his grease and sweat stained white undershirt when he rolls his coveralls down and ties them around his (fatter) waist on hot afternoons. His belly and waist are the real goners, though. His butt rounds out, and his thighs pack on enough to jiggle - something he's never experienced before - but nothing comes close to his gut. And it's a GUT. Round and firm and huge.

Even when he hasn't just stuffed himself to the point of groaning and sweating with excess, his fingers don't sink into that fat. It's hard fat that gets in the way. He presses himself harder and harder against the cars and trucks he works on, trying to get as close as he wants to be to work, but he can't get there. His belly doesn't squish nearly as much as he thought it would but... maybe he's just never empty. His stupid belly's in the way. It's in the way constantly! When he's zipping up his coveralls (and when they're already done up, his rounding stomach presses against the heavy fabric like it's trying to break free), when he's on a creeper under the chassis, he has to jack up the car more than normal now, just to make sure he fucking fits underneath the thing, when he's looking in a client's trunk for a spare tire or whatever and he has to bend over and there's his gut, oof, when he's taking the vehicle for a test drive and he has to suck in to attempt fitting behind the wheel... usually, he ends up having to adjust the whole seat, and still, his gut pushes up against the wheel. His gut can't stop being in the way but... Steve can't stop eating. He's weak for Bucky's cooking even if it's making him feel heavy duty himself, or like his body has gone from a regular truck to a big rig.

He feels it most after he's gorged himself on another unending diner meal, leaving the place bloated unbelievably, having had to unzip his coveralls or burst the zipper with all the pressure of his overfull belly. He waddles back across the street to his shop, stomach gurgling and churning audibly the whole way. Hell, as he goes, he's stifling burps behind his fist from jostling his gut too much, half-running across the road to get outta the way of traffic. He's not getting any work done like this. He can't. Too full.

He's gonna fucking lie on the floor and wait for his bloat to go down or something. His coveralls are unzipped to his big waist, and his undershirt has rolled up to expose his tight, shiny, stretch-marked gut where it sticks out between the open half's of his coveralls. Someday soon, he's not gonna be able to fit into those things. Too, soon, he's gonna get stuck in a car or underneath it or some shit, he swears. It's worth it for that food, though, God, he's addicted to it. The greasy, salty, fatty flavors. The aching fullness of too much. The way Bucky stares at him like he wants to have him for dinner as he sweats and groans and burps through his hearty meals. Lunch and dinner.

Suddenly, with an uncontrollable craving in the pit of his overgrown stomach, Steve wonders what the breakfast menu of the diner is - he's never had it. Maybe... if he heads home now, he'll get to bed early enough to digest in his sleep and wake up in time to make it here for breakfast? He can't drive with his belly in the way like this, though! What if... what if he sleeps in his shop and gets to the diner first thing? Then he can eat his heart out before work 🥵

[capnmachete]

Johnny Davis x plus-size fem!OC (Period piece -- mid-1960s, Bikeriders universe but canon-divergent) PART 2: Corinne, Corinna Just another truck jockey, just another rainy night. By-request tags: @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler; @zablife Link to Part 1 here ____

It ain’t the first time you’ve seen him.  He’s been in once or twice before. You ain’t really ever paid him much mind since he’s usually gettin’ there just as you’re clockin’ out.  And he don't seem especially noteworthy. Don't look any different than any of the other guys that roll in late at night, air-brakes squeakin’ and huffin’, big tires crunchin’ gravel in the parkin’ lot. 

Tonight you’re workin’ a few minutes over, waitin’ on always-late Sharlette to show up.  It’s startin’ to rain – one of those big boomers that rolls in all of a sudden, dark purple clouds pilin’ up, wind whippin’ the corn around on the other side of the highway.  A bolt of lightnin’ flashes outside, and the thunder cracks so loud it startles you.  You near-about drop a plate of scrambled eggs, catch it just in time and cuss under your breath a little. 

By the time you look up, on your way to deliver the eggs, there’s a big red Peterbilt in the lot.  The driver trots in, shoulders hunched up, hands in pockets and head down, bill of a tattered feed cap pulled down low against the heavy raindrops.  Just another truck jockey on another rainy night.

And about to be somebody else’s customer.  You’re already takin’ your little white apron off, ready to clock out and call it a day, when Gus hollers at you to come in the kitchen.  “Sharlette’s kid’s sick; she ain’t comin’ in tonight after all.  You up to workin’ a double?”

No.  Not just no but hell no.  Your feet are tired and it’s been a slow night. Tips have been lousy, and you really just wanna go home and unclip your damn nylons, unpin your hair and put on a robe and fuzzy slippers.  Eat ice cream.  Read one of those silly romance novels you get from the library until you fall asleep. 

But more hours means more pay, and Gus ain’t got nobody to cover anyway.  Stuck-up Tiffany won’t work the night shift, and Darlene quit a week ago.  “C’mon, Corinna, I’m beggin’ ya,” Gus implores, all big-eyed.

And you cave.  Because you got more heart than common sense – that’s what Momma always says, and you’re startin’ to reckon she’s right.

And later on you’re glad you did. Else it mighta been Sharlette – or God forbid, Tiffany and her snooty self -– that wound up sittin’ down and drinkin’ coffee with the just-another-truck-jockey that turned out to be a dreamboat in disguise.  Mighta been one of them that wound up out here in the bed of Johnny’s pickup truck tonight, instead of you, and wouldn’t that be a cryin’ shame?

That first night, you come trudgin’ back out of the kitchen, tyin’ your apron back on, mad as a wet hen.  Not Sharlette’s fault – kids get sick, and her husband took off, so it ain’t like she’s got anybody to help out.  Doesn’t improve your mood any though, and you probably ain’t at your perkiest when you slap a menu down in front of the man at the counter.  Certainly not in a flirtin’ mood.

It don’t matter, not really, because he ain’t the flirtin’ type anyway.  Not in the way you’re used to, anyhow – wolf whistles and big toothy grins, cheesy questions about what a fine healthy broad like you is doin’ in a place like this. 

He pulls his feed cap off – Eastern Freightways –  and sets it down on the counter.  Not a bad lookin’ guy underneath – thick dark hair slicked back neat, beard growin’ in.  Just tired lookin’, past thirty for sure.  Big grimy-knuckled trucker hands, heavy lines carved into his forehead.  Ears that poke out a little.  And a pretty, girlish mouth that sticks out in the middle of an otherwise all-man face. 

He orders a coffee, eyes flickin’ down to the laminated menu – Corinna’s Diner, Breakfast Served 24/7 – and back up again, at your nametag.  “This your place?”

That makes you laugh.  A snort, not exactly dainty and fetchin’, but it’s been a long night.  And it ain’t the first time you’ve heard the question.  “Heck, no.  Not the Corinna, just a Corinna.  Mama named me after an old-time country song.”

His eyes light up, when it clicks in his head.  “Yeah, hey, I know that one, right?"  Corinne, Corinna – where you been so long?  He hums a few bars. “That one?”

You’re a little surprised; you’ve never heard him say more than a word or two.  Always polite – yes ma’am, no ma’am, please and thank you – but not a whole lot more.  “Mm-hm, that’s the one,” you nod. 

He laughs – a low chuckle, cigarette-raspy.  “Prolly datin’ myself a little there, right?”  he asks you, and grins. 

Turns out Mr. Eastern Freightways has got a smile that lights his face up – peels the years and the weariness back.  Teeth a little crooked but it's endearin', in a boyish kinda way. And his eyes are kind, blue-gray and crinkled around the corners.  Maybe that’s the first time he steals a little sliver of your heart; you can see it now, lookin’ back, although you didn’t notice it then. 

It’s hard not to smile back, so you do, even though you’re tired as all getout.  “A little.  Maybe,” you admit, flashin’ him your pearly whites.  Everybody says you have a nice smile.  Pretty, for a big girl.

He says so too.  “You got a nice smile,” he tells you, soundin’ sincere.  “Pretty.”   He leaves off the last part - for a big girl.  You wonder if he’s thinkin’ it; if he is, he don’t say it. 

"Thank you," you tell him.  And then Gus hollers from behind the kitchen pass-through, slaps his hand down hard on the little silver bell.  “Order up!  Heart attack on a rack!” 

By the time you come back from droppin' the plate off at a booth and refillin' a coffee, Mr. Eastern Freightways is gone – out into the rain again, glass door swingin’ shut behind him, bell jinglin'.  Nothin’ left at the counter but a half-smoked Marlboro, stubbed out, and two singles pinned under an empty cup. Big tipper; coffee only costs sixty cents.

You turn to the cash register to ring it out, just in time to hear the needle drop on the jukebox.  Corinna, Corinna – where you been so long?  Some doo-wop version, not the old country-and-western one Momma likes – but still.  Ain't that somethin'?

Outside there’s the squeak and sigh of airbrakes; tires crunching gravel in the rain, a flash of red and chrome movin’ out onto the highway.  You catch yourself smiling – laugh to yourself, and tuck the extra buck-forty away in your apron.  Maybe not such a bad night after all. __ Song inspo: Corinne, Corinna by Bob Wills and the Texas Playboys (1942) Corinne, Corinna by Big Joe Turner (1956) heart attack on a rack: bacon sandwich on toast

[ohbo-ohno]

https://www.tumblr.com/ohbo-ohno/729173117571891200/omg-bo-obsessed-with-trucker-simon-theres

also found it very amusing and also sweet when he insisted you eat more of your food. Trucker ghost actually takes surprisingly good care of you, insists on keeping you well-fed bc he thinks you could use a little more meat on your bones. He wants a little more to hold onto at night and also just wants you healthy

firm believer in trucker ghost liking his partners to have a little meat on their bones. he likes how tiny you are compared to him, but most of the time he doesn't actually want to worry about like... snapping your wrist when he grabs it or smth. gotta keep you well-fed and energized so you can keep up with him <3

[canis-or-cannotis-lycaon]

A Bite To Eat || Gael and Jo

TIMING: Mid-May LOCATION: The Driftwood Diner PARTIES: Gael (@lithium-argon-wo-l-f and Jo (@underacrescentmoon SUMMARY: During his excursions to try new places, Gael visits a diner where a grumpy Jo has already claimed a spot. Of course he sits next to her. CONTENT WARNINGS: None!

Gael hadn’t ever visited the Driftwood Diner before. It was after work and he was doing some uncharacteristic wandering when his dark eyes befell the spectacle - old wood, open 24/7, the smell of the ocean breeze lending itself to the casual atmosphere. He tilted his head slightly, looking up at the sign for a long moment before dropping his gaze to the lights within and deciding to chance it. It wasn’t busy, which was what he preferred in a diner or other eatery - bars were for busybodying, restaurants were for fine dining, diners were for the overnight truckers to drink their coffee and sit in uncomfortable silence.  Suffice to say, Gael glanced around at the available spaces before his eyes befell the figure of a woman leaning against the counter. Curiously, she was the only one up there and Gael’s logic told him that normally people who were regulars sat up at the counter. He was feeling particularly adventurous and, with his usual air of confidence, he approached the bar and leaned over, searching for the woman’s gaze and placing a hand on the back of the stool next to hers. “Is this seat taken?” He asked. — Rootbeer floats and cheese fries were probably two of the greatest things ever invented. One, they were not healthy, which after months of people insisting she eat to heal, healthy was the last thing Jo wanted; two, one was savory, the other was sweet- there was no better combo in her opinion; three, she wasn’t wasting time dividing things into ‘courses’. Logic dictated that it was the best ‘my brain is sad and my body hurts’ meal that was ever invented. And after yet another fun game of ‘what are you going to do with your life now’ with her mother, she needed the sad-brain-body-hurt meal. 

The Driftwood was blissfully quiet for once. So when the bell on the door jingled merrily, Johanna didn’t think twice about being bothered. There were dozens of open tables and booths, and chairs further down the counter top. But her blissful solitude was interrupted when footsteps stopped just behind her. The man spoke as she sat, mid bite of a particularly cheesy cheese fry. The woman slowly turned her head to look up at the man who now stood behind her with all the confidence of the world. 

Well, fuck. 

“Er-” She swallowed as she glanced around at empty chairs and empty tables, all of which could have been occupied by this stranger. And yet he chose that chair. “No?” — She was either too concerned with not causing a fuss or she legitimately didn’t mind someone sitting next to her and regardless of how she felt, Gael noted her looking around as though to nonverbally say ‘please sit anywhere else’ and altered his behavior just a bit. “You’re very gracious,” He stared, softening his expression but not losing any of the appreciation in his face. Then Gael sat down carefully, moving his gaze from hers and now looking at her pile of fries covered in cheese. “I’ve never been here before and I’m new in town so I’m looking for a little bit of a seasoned traveler’s expertise when it comes to food around here.” He explained, being perhaps just a little dishonest - he’d been there for five months so he supposed time was relative to whoever was talking about it. “What are those? They look tasty as hell.” —

She couldn’t tell if the ‘gracious’ bit was sarcasm or genuine. Jo absentmindedly fidgeted with the sleeve of her flannel, pulling it further down around her hand before shifting over in her chair to give the stranger some space. It was terrible to be seen. It was even worse to be seen and not have a means of escape. There was no way in hell she was abandoning her fries or her float simply because some guy decided that the seat he needed was the one exactly next to her.  “‘S fine…” 

And then his eyes were off her. Thankfully. Less good, however, they were on her cheese fries. Something about that made her skin crawl- it was stupid, it wasn’t like he was going to take the plate and run… Jo snagged a fry up and tried to ignore the sensation. “Lucky for you I’m not a traveler. I’m local. And these are cheese fries. Best you’re gonna find in town.” — “Cheese fries, eh?” Gael could’ve guessed that; it seemed pretty obvious. It also seemed obvious that she didn’t want to be bothered and for a moment, he considered apologizing and going about his day. Nah. He’d just have to change his trajectory a little bit; Gael had dealt with a lot of kids like her and most of the time they didn’t want to be truly alone, they just wanted to exist in their own space. Most of the time. He couldn’t presume to know her but he did take his chair and scooted it away from her so that they weren’t quite so close. “Well, they look really good; I think I’m gonna have me some of those.” He looked at the menu absently. “Got any other recommendations?” He asked, looking in her direction but not AT her, indicating that he was interested in what she was going to say without pressuring her for a response. Change your trajectory. —

Well, at least he wasn’t gonna steal her fries. 

Jo’s shoulders slouched forward, making her appear smaller than she really was. A sip of her rootbeer float made her nose scrunch up at the strangely entertaining sensation of the bubbles hitting the roof of her mouth. Simple things had become her greatest source of enjoyment since the incident. There was no need to talk to food. Food you simply ate. And the guy who had plonked himself down beside her, as much as it did irk her, was looking for good food. Fuck… just be nice for five minutes… 

She sighed as she turned towards her new dining companion, glancing over his shoulder to see what page of the menu he had open. “Most people come for the cod burger… it’s pretty fucking good, but so are all their burgers. If you like spanakopita, ask for that. It’s good. Also, the French Dip sandwich. If they ask if you want fries, the answer is yes.”

After a moment, Jo leaned back in her chair, pulling up another incredibly cheesy fry up. “And, obviously, cheese fries. Also biscuits and gravy.” —

As she talked, Gael looked over each thing on the menu she pointed out. “Damn, sounds like you recommend the whole menu,” He chuckled, looking from delicious-looking picture to delicious-looking picture. So she was prickly but at least she seemed to open up when she talked about food. Even if it was just to maintain enough small talk to get him off her back. “So…” He glanced over the menu once more before casting a quick peek at her fries. They still seemed tasty but maybe Gael should try one of the other things she recommended. After all, he seemed to have a lot of options. He motioned for the waitress to come over. “The French Dip.” Sure enough, he was asked for fries, which he said yes to. As she departed to place the order, he laced his fingers together. “Like food, aye?” He asked lightly. He paused with an exhale before dropping his voice. “I do too. I looove chicken; if I could only eat one food for the rest of my life, I’d pick chicken.” —

She pulled up another fry, fighting to get the cheese that seemed determined to stretch on infinitely wrapped up around the little wedge of potato. “The menu is good.” Jo stared at the back wall, counting cups that were stacked in little rows. Out of her periphery, she could see Doreen, the waitress who had been there for almost as long as Jo had been alive, walk up and take her overly-friendly new neighbor’s order. Well, good. At least now that he knew what to eat she could be left- 

Not alone. His voice filled her ears once again, and she tried not to cringe. In an attempt to not have to reply, Jo quickly stuffed another bunch of fries in her mouth. Manners come in handy sometimes… Can’t reply if your mouth is full… The problem of it all was that he was so goddamned nice. She couldn’t be mad at him for trying to talk- or at least, she shouldn’t be mad at him. Besides, it wasn’t like he was responsible for what had happened to her. Fuck, if he was new in town, he didn’t know. He couldn’t know- unless Doreen started blabbing when Jo eventually left… But for now, he was just a guy. A guy who knew nothing. 

“Why chicken…?” — “Chicken is like the BEST meat,” Gael replied enthusiastically. “It’s so versatile and works as a centerpiece for a meal or an accessory and it never lets you down.” He leaned back in his seat slightly as he thought about it. “Where I’m from there was this dish called pepián de pollo that mamá used to make and it’s soooo good.” He paused as the memory washed over him and he looked sideways at his reluctant dining partner. “I really do appreciate you being willing to let me sit next to you. Maybe I can pay for your meal to make the exchange ‘worth it’ to you, would you let me do that, too?” Gael asked, quirking an eyebrow - he wasn’t an expert in psychology but he knew when he wasn’t wanted and while he wasn’t afraid or insulted by someone who wanted to be left alone, he arguably felt more bad if he was making someone else uncomfortable but he considered himself too far into this to just… leave. — Jo was very much aware that she had become, perhaps, the least pleasant stranger to be around in recent months. She hated it. Hated that she’d become so prickly and easily bothered. Hated that she felt more Hyde than Jekyll most days. And yet, the stranger beside her did not seem to care about that. If anything, he seemed more determined… as to why was absolutely beyond her. 

She had absolutely no idea what pepián de pollo was or what was in it, but the very words made her stomach growl with such ferocity…

Scarlet rose across her cheeks. She could pay. She didn’t need his help… An offer of kindness when all he’d been met by was whatever beast had taken over her mind from day to day. “Don’t- you don’t have to… it’s fine, not a big deal…” Perhaps, Jo thought, she could devour herself whole and disappear altogether… — “I don’t have to but I’d like to.” Gael finally saw some color in her face and he wondered how similar she was to the other younger people he had met around town, proud, wondering what to do with their lives, perhaps a bit lost in the shuffle of it all sometimes. He never felt like that, always having a clear goal for what he wanted. The confidence that carried him through life was something he wanted to share with others, build them up, make them happy. It was why he got on his soapbox with Monty, it was why he met Cass at the coffee shop to get to know more about her and why he went on sometimes arduous hikes to prepare himself for anything with his friends. Gael wanted to know more about this stand-offish stranger who seemed irritable because she was hiding something. Part of him wanted to know what was going on under the surface, of course, but before that, he had to know more about the surface. “What’s your name?” He asked gently but not somberly, his tone taking an inflection of curiosity and as though to really cement it, he tilted his head slightly. — Now, why in the world would he want to do that?

Jo would happily admit that she wasn’t the most amiable person in the world anymore. She hadn’t been in quite some time. Her start with this stranger had been just about as gruff as all her other starts, oozing with a desire to be left alone… but she didn’t really want that. Not deep down. But being left alone meant less questions. Being left alone meant less noise. Being left alone meant she couldn’t get hurt again- at least, not by people. 

The man really meant it, didn’t he? He would like to pay for… disrupting her, or whatever you wanted to call it. The sour taste of guilt mixed with pride crept up on her as her shoulders slouched forward, protecting herself from the unseen wolves that chased her everywhere she went. “It’s alright… appreciate it, though.” Her wallet wouldn’t appreciate her refusal, but that was another story entirely. “Jo… I’m Jo. What’s yours?” — Noting her body language, Gael leaned back but relaxed himself, not wanting to give her the impression that he was forcibly cracking her shell open. “It’s nice to meet you, Jo.” He said with his gentle smile, just in time for the waitress to bring him his french dip with the fries and of course, the au jus. He thanked her with a nod of his head and after a brief glance between his full plate and her cheese fries, he tore a third of the sandwich off and offered it out to the girl he now knew was named Jo. “I’m Gael!” He introduced enthusiastically. “Local terminal annoyance who radiates sunshine when I’m not at the university.” He paused. “Sure you don’t want me to pay? They really aren’t that expensive.” — A professor. 

Well, that explained a lot. Namely the upbeat personality and the friendliness. He reminded her a bit of a few professors she’d had in undergrad- so enthusiastic and engaging, like they could change the world if they could simply get the sleep-deprived, coffee-dependant twentyish year olds to pay attention. And now Gael had a captive audience in Jo. And a guilty one at that, if she let him pay. 

“Yeah, I’m sure… appreciate it though.” The Local Terminal Annoyance Radiating Sunshine would simply have to accept defeat on that front. Distraction came in the form of a french dip and fries. She took the moment to stuff the last of her fries in her mouth, manners being set aside for the sake of a quick escape. Using the barstool to push her up, Jo reached over the counter and grabbed a to-go cup and poured the remainder of a melty rootbeer float into it before popping back down into her seat. “Nice to meet you though… enjoy your food- also go to Pura Vida’s. That’s your next assignment for good food.”  — As she declined the offer, Gael made sure nonverbally that it was her choice and that neither one offended him; he understood that position, of wanting to be independent and moody without there being a reason why other than hormones and interpersonal issues. Or, in his case, wild parties that pulled him away from the things he really should’ve been focused on. She got up and he cast his dark eyes in her direction, noticing that the fries were gone and she was transferring her drink into a portable cup. “Yeah, it was nice to meet you too!” Gael replied lightly, giving her the brightest expression he could for someone who seemed to have permanent circles under his eyes. Now that he got a better look at her, as she stood and moved and looked back at him without it being sideways from a slouched position, she seemed similar. So young and so tired. His expression softened. He hadn’t noticed it before and he felt his heart hurting for her. No wonder she was so stand-offish, he wondered when the last time she got good sleep was. Gael recovered quickly though and he popped one of his own fries into his mouth. “Pura Vida, got it. I trust your opinion.” He nodded. “Don’t let an old man like me keep you… though I really do appreciate your patience with me.” He added with a small smile.

—

She tried not to snort. Old man like him. He wasn’t that old. Old was seventy-eighty something. But maybe the self deprecation was a part of that friendly odd-duck professor aesthetic that he maintained. The oldest part of him was his eyes. Tired, like hers. But whereas hers had gone dull, his seemed utterly determined to maintain some twinkle.  “You trust too easy.” A handful of very wrinkled dollars were produced from her wallet and wedged firmly under what had once been her plate. With that, Jo turned on her heels and started walking towards the door as quickly as her stiff leg would allow her, hand raised in a silent goodbye without taking another look back.

[regionalcinnabonmanager]

GWS Incorrect quotes (very light spoilers for chp20, 34, & 37)

The fic belongs to @xiaonesis, love your work Ren <3

MC, after their first attempt at trying to heal the rot (chp 20.) :Mother trucker dude,, that hurt like a butt cheek on a stick- *starts crying*

MC, upon seeing alt!Kenma: I've only known you for a day and a half, but if anything happens to you, I'd kill everyone in this room and then myself.

Alt!Bokuto: I shoulda left you on that street corner where you were standing. MC: but you DIDN'T.

Me, after reading ch34 & 37 (you know which part.) I eat cheerios because they're heart healthy, and my heart has been severely damaged. Me: So Ren if you're out there.

Alt!Akaashi, after finding out MC's means to travel worlds: How are you not dead? MC: I have no idea!

MC: English is a difficult language. It can be understood through tough thorough thought, though. Alt!Iwaizumi: You need to stop.

MC: Hey guys, I'm back. Alt!Miya Twins: How- you're gone, I saw you disappear. MC, on their bullshit and just going with it: Death is a social construct

MC, in ch5: Here's some advice Alt!Bokuto, stalking her: I didn't ask for any. MC: Too bad. I'm stuck here with my thoughts and you're the only one who talks to me.

[wack-ashimself]

Know what end of the world movies ALWAYS get wrong?

Work with me here.

They show that all humanity is saved/falls back to major/big cities.

Um, NO. Not at all. (As I have said for YEARS: Big cities are LEECHES and are ENTIRELY dependent on other cities, farms, truckers, etc...)

Think about it. End of the world they will have 3 of the worst scenarios, no matter the city.

1-Pollution. HOLY FUCK. Air (which WOULD improve eventually), water, even ground (for growing) pollution will make living in cities impossible. Think of garbage & feces ALONE. 2-WATER! Shit hits the fan, the water you are used to having imported & cleaned from elsewhere is no longer available, and there's almost NO CITY that can drink their local water sources. I have been told since I was BORN 'NEVER drink out of the saginaw river.' I know people who even refuse to eat the fish caught out of it... 3-Tied with #2: FOOD. Again, NO CITY ON THE PLANET (of mass size anyways) currently grows 100% enough food for their entire populations. Most of it is imported....SO WHAT ARE YOU GONNA DO? Skyscraper gardens? You don't even have enough healthy dirt to grow crops for more than a couple years, tops. And, again, still wouldn't be enough for everyone.

Honestly, shit hits the fan, cities are the best to rob blind, and run the fuck away.

How NO fucking movies (or books) seem to get this right is a mystery. I want an end of the world movie where everybody tries to take on a hardened farmer & their family (and they FUCK those city slickers up!)

[ptagtrucking]

🚛🥗 Hey Awesome Truckers! 🥗🚛

Just a friendly reminder to fuel up with some good and healthy eats today! 🌟 Keeping your body energized and nourished is key to conquering those long hauls and staying sharp on the road. Grab some fresh fruits, veggies, lean proteins, and whole grains whenever you can. Your body and mind will thank you!

Stay safe, stay healthy, and keep on truckin'!

#HealthyTrucker #EatWellDriveWell #TruckingLife #FuelYourBody #StayHealthy #RoadWarriors

Bon appétit and happy driving! 🚛🍏🌟

[stevenstrucking]

6 Truck Driver Health Tips To Stay Sharp On the Road For The Best Trucking Companies In Oklahoma

Truck drivers for the best trucking companies to work for, encounter several physical health risks while doing their jobs like Heart disease, diabetes, sleep disorders, and stress. They can also get depressed due to lengthy periods of seclusion.

Here are 6 truck driver health tips to help you deal with those typical difficulties.

1. Exercise

There are several exercise methods while driving if you are determined and creative. It can be as easy as taking a stroll anytime you get to a rest or truck stop. You may even buy a small set of gym equipment to keep in the cabin of your truck and use while you are at a stop.

2. Eat Light

While it can be tempting to get over to a large dinner by truck drivers of the top trucking companies in Oklahoma, eating lighter will benefit them more.

When you eat three large meals a day, your body needs to spend more time digesting them, which means it takes longer for the nutrients to get absorbed by the rest of your body.

3. Stay hydrated

It is critical to stay hydrated while battling infections. Dehydration can result in several ailments, and thirst is a common symptom of dehydration. To guarantee you are getting enough water, an average person should drink eight glasses of water every day. Keep a water bottle at your side and refill it during the day, so make sure it is always available.

4. Avoid Drugs and Alcohol

While it may seem apparent, drinking and driving are dangerous activities to be prevented at all costs. Drugs include anything affecting your judgment or physical faculties, like drowsy drugs. In addition to safety problems, being under the influence might cost you your job.

5. Find time to relax

Being away from home, traveling in congested areas, and delivering items on time are all demanding duties you will face regularly. Try relaxing by reading a book, spending time alone, chatting with other truckers at truck stops, and staying in touch with friends and family.

6. Additional advice

Use the following tips to understand how to live a healthy life as a truck driver:

● Begin slowly- Don't go all in all at once; you'll be more likely to fail. Instead, begin by altering one thing at a time, such as your workout regimen or the foods you eat.

● Never give up Whatever adjustments you make, commit to remain with them for at least a month. It becomes a habit by then, making quitting more difficult.

● Keep track of your progress- Keep note of your daily eating and workouts to hold yourself accountable. Seeing your writing progress motivates you to work harder.

Conclusion

A truck driver's task is to deliver the merchandise when and where it is needed. Not only should freight be transported safely and on schedule, but so should the truck driver.

The crucial instructions and advice for every truck driver are to avoid accidents and keep the roads safer for everyone driving from A to B.

Stevens Trucking, the best trucking company for new drivers, runs around 1500 trailers and 300 tractors between our oilfield-flatbed and dry freight sectors. We can help you! Visit stevenstrucking.com, to find out more about us and our services. 

[fazzapoems3]

To The Most Amazing Angel I Know

Sweetheart, you have always been the very best friend to me right from the day we met. I may lack the right words to let you know how much you mean to me, how important you are to me, and how dear I hold you to my heart. But, there are certain things I want you to know, that you are the only one I have always loved since we met, that your love is the best thing that has ever happened to me in life, that I will always love you from the very depth of my heart, and even if we have misunderstandings and quarrel at times, there’s nothing that can ever cause me to give up on our relationship. I want you to be mine forever, and I will always treat you like the best that you are. I love you beyond words, dear. Hangouts:- fazofficial308@gmail.com

[t-horn-n]

— scaredy cat

PAIRING: various x reader (gender-neutral) — anime

GENRE: fluff

WARNINGS: mentions of death, mentions of gore

SUMMARY: what they do when you’re scared during a movie.  ft. kuroo tetsurou, kenma kozume, toru oikawa, wakatoshi ushijima, yu nishinoya

NOTE: apologies if you don’t get scared at movies, please pretend you do for this fic :)

— tetsurou kuroo

     ↪︎ we all know that this man would be the smuggest mother trucker on this side of the underworld.  he would definitely make fun of you but let you hide your face in his chest and wrap his arm around you nonetheless. 

“I know something is going to jump out!”  You complained, fingers in your ears and your forearms covering your eyes.  You peaked out for a moment as the characters continued to walk down the suspiciously dark hallway.  “Why are they dragging it out so long?” 

You tactfully blocked the screen from your line of vision in favour of looking at your boyfriend.  “Tetsurou, is it over?” 

“I don’t know, Y/N, why don’t you take a look and find out,” he said with the same smile he used with Bokuto.  The smile that made you want to strangle him.  

You groaned and smashed your face in the pillow that was tucked between your legs and you.  “You’re a jerk, you know that?” 

He hummed.  “Who knew you were such a scaredy cat.” 

“Well I’m sorry I don’t want to see people get torn to shreds.” 

He laughed and you nearly jumped out of your skin when you felt something touch your arm.  “Jeez, Y/N, calm down.”  Kuroo murmured.  You tipped sideways onto him when he tugged.  “It’s not like you’re getting torn to shreds.”  You turned further so your face was buried in his shirt.  

“I hate you.” 

“Nevermind, something is going to chew on your toes.” 

— kenma kozume

      ↪︎ having watched way too many behind the scenes videos to be healthy, our resident pudding-head would turn the volume down and logic the whole scene out for you.  

It was Kenma’s turn to pick the film for movie night and it was classic of him to pick a horror.

“Ken,” you said, dragging out the n.  “Are they done being mauled?” 

“Why don’t you just look, Y/N?  It’s not that bad.” 

“If I look then those things are going to show up having a tea party in my dreams, but instead of eating finger sandwiches it’s going to be me they’re eating!” 

He sighed quietly before pulling you into his lap.  Your head was on his shoulder and he gently pried your arms away from your face.  With one hand he played with your fingers and with the other he turned down the volume of the tv until the words and screams were mere buzzing.  

Kenma’s voice was calm in your ear.  “The whole setting is just a stage, it’s either a ton of props or some fancy CGI.  That guy’s missing arm is a green sleeve and her missing eye is the work of a talented makeup artist.  The monster is definitely computer generated.  They probably used the dot things, like they did with Spiderman, remember when I showed you that video?” 

“Yeah.” 

“See, all fake.” 

“Ok, ok, but you still better join me at the tea party.” 

— toru oikawa

      ↪︎ let’s be honest, out of the two of you, he would be the most scared.  he would be the one to cower into your side and your fear would be forgotten just at the sight of your usually egocentric and overconfident lover reduced to a five-year-old boy.

“Why did we watch this again?”  Toru whined, while clinging onto your waist.  

“Iwaizumi said it was good!” 

“Why did you listen to him?”

You covered your ears, if this movie was to follow the cliché, a jump scare was inevitable and you didn’t want your poor ears to fall off..  Oikawa’s face was hidden among the folds of your hoodie and your stomach ticked every time he spoke.  

“Toru, get off, you’re freaking me out more!” 

“Cover my ears, Y/N!”  

“If I’m covering yours then who will cover mine?” 

“I will!” 

“Then why don’t you just cover your own?” 

When the jump scare finally came, Oikawa actually fell off the couch.  For a few moments Toru didn’t move, then he flipped over so he was flat on the ground with his face facing away from you, letting out fake cries.  You laughed so hard you weren’t sure if you were breathing, the jump scare long forgotten in your mind. 

“Y/N, it’s not nice to laugh!” 

“You’ve literally faced Ushiwaka’s spikes and this scares you?  Who knew my boyfriend was such a scaredy cat,” you said, shaking your head.

“You’re mean.”  

— wakatoshi ushijima

      ↪︎ nothing fazes this guy, i swear.  at first, he wouldn’t really understand why you’re afraid and offer to turn it off but when you refused, he would pull you into him and cover your eyes with his hands.  

“This is going to haunt me until the day I die,” you moaned into your hands.  You could feel your boyfriend looking over at you curiously.  

“What is?”

“Those things,” you said, referencing the monsters on screen.

“But they’re fake, aren’t they?” 

“I know, I know, but look at them!”  You waved your arms in front of you for emphasis. 

“I’m not sure I understand,” a small, adorable frown adorned Ushijima’s face.  He paused for a moment, thinking.  “Do you want to turn it off?” 

“No, no, no, it’s fine.  Satori is going to ask if we watched it.”  After all, he was the one who recommended it in the first place.  

“Ok,” he said simply and you returned to blocking the screen with your knees.  

A moment later, you felt yourself being pulled in closer to your boyfriend’s side.  His large hands came over your eyes as he hugged your waist.  “This is what you were doing, right?”

“You’re adorable, Wakatoshi.” 

— yu nishinoya

      ↪︎ ok, i’m not sure if this ball of energy would even let you watch the movie in the first place.  if we’re being real, he would be talking over every dramatic scene and every line of dialogue not even about the movie either, it could be about some random moment that popped into his head.  

“Yu, shut up I’m trying to watch,” you said and nudged Nishinoya’s side with your elbow.  

“But I’m going to forget what I was saying if you make me wait,” he whined.  

“Write it down.” 

“No!  It’s too important!”  He insisted.  

You sighed, you were only twenty minutes into the movie and you had no idea what was going on, Nishinoya’s voice drowning out most of the narration and dialogue.  

“Anyways, as I was saying, when I was at the store the other day this lady was walking in front of me--” 

“Can’t you tell me after the movie?”

“I’ll forget!  I have the memory of a fish.”  He said again.  “Besides, I thought you didn’t like scary movies.  I recall you saying, and I quote: ‘my weak heart can’t handle scary movies.’” 

“And I thought you have, and I quote: ‘the memory of a fish.’” 

He sank lower in his seat and pouted.  You laughed at his expression and turned your eyes back to the screen. 

“How’s he dead, I swear he was alive a second ago!”  You scrunched your nose up at Nishinoya.  “This is your fault.” 

— m. list

[weepingwillcw]

“Cream and sugar?” Willow asked the patron in front of them, holding up both in each hand. Most people would have hated the morning rush at the Diner but it was new for Willow. A rarity. They were so used to the truckers and travelers of the late night shift poppin’ in for a bite to eat as they made their way to who knows where that the breakfast club was a new thing for them. It should have been one of those days that they had all to themselves, just them and their textbooks, but they’d been contacted about picking up an extra shift and the forty-seven dollars in their bank account was aching for some support. So, here they were. Despite the stress, a smile on their face and a willingness to meet the people of the town they still felt they knew so little about.  “If you’re lookin’ for healthy substitutes or non-dairy options, we haven’t had those restocked for weeks. I keep tellin’ them that they need to help out the intolerant crowd but, well, I think its all about money or something. I don’t know. Between you and me, I like coffee black anyway so I don’t get the whole ‘war on milk’ or whatever it is.” They set the cream and sugar down and left it for the patron to decide on. 

[ink-stained-clouds]

read in february ↴

favorites: ★

articles

I Got Sober in the Pandemic. It Saved My Life

Police in this tiny Alabama town sucker drivers into a legal "black hole" ★

I Help People Recover From Disordered Eating. Don't Give Your Child This App

The hacked account and suspicious donations behind the Canadian trucker protests

Dividing Up the Autism Spectrum Will Not End the Way You Think

books

Kind of a Big Deal by Shannon Hale

You've Reached Sam by Dustin Thao

Oona Out of Order by Margarita Montimore ★

Media Madness: Public Images of Mental Illness by Otto Wahl

research papers

Is #cleaneating a healthy or harmful dietary strategy? Perceptions of clean eating and associations with disordered eating among young adults by Suman Ambwani and colleagues (doi: 10.1186/s40337-019-0246-2) ★

The mass marketing of disordered eating and Eating Disorders: the social psychology of women, thinness and culture by Sharlene Hesse-Biber and colleagues (doi: 10.1037/0278-7393.20.6.1420)

Pinterest or Thinterest?: Social Comparison and Body Image on Social Media by Jennifer Lewallen and Elizabeth Behm-Morawitz (doi: 10.1177/2056305116640559) ★

“I aspire to look and feel healthy like the posts convey”: engagement with fitness inspiration on social media and perceptions of its influence on health and wellbeing by Michelle Raggatt and colleagues (doi 10.1186/s12889-018-5930-7)

[this-is-a-podcast-fanblog]

hey so - this reply was written by me! I want to expand on this point a little past 280 characters

(when I say podcasts in this essay I’m specifically talking about fiction podcasts)

Podcasts are perhaps the only medium that has absolutely no gatekeeping. Writing books and stories requires help from big publishing houses - even if you self-publish, you’ll need a corporation like Amazon to provide the books for you. I actually have self-published before and I can *assure* you that gatekeeping is still present. TV shows and movies are also created by high-budget studios who re-hire the same famous actors to tell the same stories, except the white boy and girl who fall in love have slightly different lines. 

But podcasts? No barriers. No boundaries. You can get a $30 mic from Amazon, make a free podbean account, and start uploading episodes literally the same day. Sure, for a really high-quality production, you’ll need to invest more time and money, but it’s very doable. 

As such, almost anyone can get into podcasts. It doesn’t matter what you look like, because no one can even see your face. It doesn’t matter if you don’t have a fancy degree from a good school. It doesn’t matter if you don’t have a huge marketing budget, because if you’re smart with social media and create good content, you can get people to pay *you* for airtime on your show. 

Because the creator pool can be so diverse, it is. And the stories it tells are even more diverse! Want a Jewish gay man of unspecified race in a relationship with a Latinx scientist on the spectrum, who live in a town governed by two black women and populated by literally countless queer characters? You’ve got it! Want a story about a black nonbinary lady with depression who falls in love with an Asian man, who, bonus points, is also a well-written feminine gay man? You get that too! Want a crew of astronauts with women in leadership roles who are well rounded past being just a “strong female character”? Sure thing! A lesbian trucker searching for her wife, and actually having a healthy relationship that isn’t at all fetishized? Podcasts have that! You want shows that *actually* cast queer, trans, and non-white actors? Yes!!! Most popular podcasts do that!! Did you hear that - the *most popular* podcasts are created with diverse acting and creating bodies!!!!!!!

and here’s the part where I get personal. I’m a non-straight woman (I alternate between using the labels “bisexual” “queer” “homoflexible” and sometimes, because it’s quick and I’m mostly attracted to women and straight people don’t understand microlabels, “gay”) with several mental illnesses, including depression. The first podcast I ever listened to was Welcome to Night Vale. When Cecil and Carlos became a couple I almost wept. I had never, ever, had good queer representation in a show, much less two well-written characters I actually felt invested in. When they actually got married, I wept. I lay in my bed and cried for half an hour. I had never thought I would see a healthy gay couple in a show, ever. 

And then I found even more shows - shows like the ones I mentioned above. I found female characters. I found QUEER FEMALE CHARACTERS that I related to! And I found characters with depression written REALISTICALLY! I have never felt so seen!

I have so much love for podcast creators. One of my favorite things about this community is the allyship. People like Fink and Cranor, or the McElroy’s, who understand how important queer representation is, and provide it in abundance. People who validate, protect, and encourage their fans. Podcast fans keep podcast productions growing through Patreon or crowdfunding, and in return podcast creators... well, they rip our hearts out with emotions and eat them in front of us. But we love that!!!!

And this is why I’m so scared of podcasts becoming “mainstream”. Big corporations creating podcasts have nothing to gain from us except listenership. They’ll be sponsored by other large corporations, not fans or indie productions buying airspace. They can be “safe” when it comes to representation, and they probably will be. In short, they don’t have to create art. They can just create okay, nice enough stories. 

Podcasts are revolutionary. Do you know how many times I’ve seen a movie and said “that was a bad movie”? A shit ton of times! Do you know how many times I’ve listened to a podcast and thought “this is a bad podcast”? Never!! (Not fiction, at least - a bunch of “politics and current events” podcasts that I’ve tried turn my stomach). Even if the audio quality isn’t great, it’s always clear that the creators genuinely care about what they are making and the stories they’re telling and they’re not! Just! Adding! Representation! To be woke!

I genuinely might be dead right now if podcasts hadn’t come into my life. Welcome to Night Vale in particular - it has helped me fall asleep on nights when my intrusive thoughts felt like they were tearing me apart. It introduced me to this amazing medium and all the people who are a part of it. I don’t want to see this thing I love so much turned into a profit machine by capitalism. So I’m really, really nervous about podcasts becoming mainstream. 

TL;DR because the podcasting medium has essentially no gatekeeping, it can be very diverse, and it is. This has led to a great fan-creator dynamic of mutual support and created many positive examples of representation. If big studios and corporations are able to produce podcasts on large budgets with little consequence for a bad or boring story, they might drive the art form in a direction that makes it harder for smaller studios or indie creators to get into.

Please share your thoughts about this and also please follow my twitter. 

[redtrucking]

How Truck Drivers Can Combat Diabetes Risks

Long trips on the road coupled with high levels of stress can affect the health of truckers. A study shows that there’s a 50% higher occurrence of diabetes in truck drivers than the national average. According to the Centers for Disease Control (CDC), in the United States, approximately 9.4% of the population has diabetes, and for truckers, the number is 14%.

While figuring out the reason behind it, Physicians said truck drivers carry more risk factors like smoking, lack of exercise, and a high-calorie diet. Moreover, almost 70% of truck drivers are suffering from obesity, and surprisingly it is more than twice the nation’s average.

But why do these reasons occur?

The truth is that most truck drivers spend the majority of their time engaging in sedentary activities. For example, they spend hours at a time sitting in the same seat, which leaves little additional time for exercise and other health-conscious practices. Another major contributor to the risk of diabetes is a poor diet; with so much time spent on the road, most of the food that truck drivers consume is high in calories and low in nutritional value.  

Diabetes is progressive when the symptoms worsen; the disease causes more harm to the body, and not only this, for the drivers, it could lead to losing their jobs. Truck drivers could lose their ability to drive if they require insulin to manage their disease.

The great news is that there are many ways that truck drivers can combat the risks of their profession. All it takes is a fair amount of planning, a commitment to their health, and a motivation to stay as active as possible.

How Truck Drivers Can Stay Active

It is no secret that sitting for prolonged periods of time is detrimental to your health, just like poor sleeping habits and smoking. Although most truck drivers are at the mercy of the rules set by their employer regarding breaks and downtime, there are still many ways that they can incorporate more physical activity into their lives.

While long hours are spent sitting in traffic and driving down, highways leave little desire or time to do anything other than relaxing in front of the tv while on and off the job. A little physical activity goes a long way for your health! Take a look at the suggestions below to understand better how you can keep diabetes and other health-related problems at bay.

●   Aerobic exercise includes workouts and practices that put your body into motion. Stretching, Pilates, and yoga are not only great for working out tight muscles, but they also provide necessary mobility and physical activity.

●   Walking is another low-impact way to include more movement into your life. One of the greatest benefits associated with walking is that it helps to keep your circulation and blood-related health in good shape. This is especially important for those who spend a great deal of time sitting, as this is a contributing factor to blood clots.

●   Weight training is excellent for the bones and muscles! It is also easy to keep a few weights in the truck to sneak in a few sets on the road.

Choosing The Right Snack

Diet plays a significant role in our overall health; this is why it is so important to ensure that truck drivers are getting the proper nutrition while on the road. Fried and processed foods are not just contributors to obesity, but they also cause inflammation in the body. The next time you pack for a road trip or drop into a convenience store, consider picking up a few of these healthy options.

●   Fruit is easy, accessible, and provides a great deal of nutritional value, such as antioxidants.

●   Nuts help to keep you full while satisfying the craving for something crunchy. They are also very easy to eat while on the road.

●   Yogurt provides fat that is essential to keeping you feeling satisfied – just make sure to stay away from the ones with all of the artificial sweeteners.

●   Water is crucial! Soda and other soft drinks are loaded with sugar and other processed ingredients that jeopardize your health.

Other Solutions To Consider

Smoking leads to many health issues, including heart and lung disease, as well as COPD and emphysema. Quitting is no easy feat, but it is essential to maintaining your health. Sleep is another sneaky culprit of poor health and wellness. Unfortunately, proper sleep habits are very difficult for truck drivers to maintain. Ensuring that you are getting the proper amount of sleep and trying to adhere to a nightly routine will significantly positively impact your sleep.

The Bottom Line

Though the lifestyle of a truck driver makes it very challenging to stay on top of their health, there are many great options to consider when trying to minimize the risk. With a bit of planning, motivation, and know-how, truck drivers can significantly minimize the risks their profession contributes to their health.

Source: https://bit.ly/3yK9ZiB

[grccnearchive]

off the road to the lookout | tara, lilly, & rosita.

“score!” tara popped out of the gas station, slinging her rifle over her shoulder. “first of all, it’s all clear in there-- rosita and i took out the walkers inside.” she said rosita’s name like she was talking about a queen-- and as far as tara was concerned, she was. pointedly ignoring the look lilly gave her, she continued. “second of all, it’s a goldmine. snacks, water, clothes, games,” she said with a look especially for meghan, who pumped a fist in the air happily. “and...drumroll please...bathrooms and toilet paper!” she grinned. “c’mon, kiddo,” she held her hand out for meg as lilly helped their dad into his wheelchair and wheeled him in through the front door. winchester seemed amazingly vacant, but she still made sure the van was locked up and secured before joining everyone inside.

“there was even gas,” lilly said, amazed, as she gathered food into the canvas bag she was carrying. she wished there was something healthy for meghan and their dad, but any food was good food; being here with them, she was more than willing to let meg eat candy to her hearts desire, if it meant her baby was still with her. “small towns are a blessing. and i can’t believe it’s mostly clear out there.”

“i know,” tara said, putting on a pair of sunglasses and smiling; she had broken hers falling down a ditch, running from the first group of walkers they had encountered. “we’ll be able to get pretty far on that, but we could stick around here for a few days.”

“let’s look at some of the farmhouses,” lilly suggested, folding up the shirts that seemed to be in everyone’s sizes: shirts that read winchester, ga; shirts cheering on the local high school team ( go cougars! ); shirts emblazoned with the mert county crest. she tried not to think too hard about the people who had once lived here, who had gone to that school, cheered on those teams. “they’ll probably be a little safer, right?” she asked, looking over at rosita.

meghan put a hat on her  grandpa’s head-- a green trucker hat with a cougar on the front-- and he smiled and thanked her. lilly and tara exchanged smiles before going back to what they were doing; it looked like they would be able to have a pretty nice makeshift dinner that night.