#multipurpose crates

[swiftplasticpallets-blog]

Swift’s Plastic crate ensures durability and space-saving storage for everyday operations.

[birgittesilverbae]

Bro, you got me all the way fucked up about Subnautica AU. I'm lying on my couch thinking about how Ava would build her bases for ease of entry in and out of the water, and how she might try to rig a working chair together if she ever built a base big enough to need one. I'm in full architect mode right now, and I don't know shit about architecture

got me thinking about the fact the hatches shouldn't actually work if you place them on the side of a base piece again grumble grumble. hmm all her hatches on the bottoms of her bases so she can haul herself up into them

I'm seeing modifying multipurpose rooms so they function like the moonpool with the air pressure preventing water rushing in, and lockers at floor level so she just has to boost herself up onto the lip to be able to access them.

circling back to ransack the aurora again when she's got a more complete arsenal of tools, digging deeper this time, finding the shattered corpses of her drones trapped in service tunnels and crushed beneath crates. tucking one she'd painted a lurid yellow, so near the sun, into her pack before hitting the cave crawler that's been stalking her with another pulse from her stasis rifle

she's better equipped now to work her way through the flooded areas of the ship and gain access to the lower deck crew cabins. her manual chair is still tucked in the thin space between bed and shelves, a stopgap, an afterthought, all too used as she had been to using her neuralink chair whenever she was up in the wide corridors above

it's a brief moment of excitement, thinking of the possibilities the chair might open up for her, before she realizes that there's no way she can get it back out through the maze of busted pipes and still-flaming oil slick, not and keep herself safe

but she still carries her scanner, no matter how few new things she stumbles upon these days, after so long alone under this alien sky, and scanning equipment like this is just what it has been built for in the first place.

she works her way back out of the hull, already mentally planning the routes she'll need to run to search for the various components. her renewed excitement is so fierce in her chest that she doesn't even swear at the bleeder that takes hold of her arm in its fangs, just flicks it off and continues back towards the sun

[oyoturtle]

10 Budget-Friendly Tips for a Stunning Living Room Design.

Designing a stunning and stylish living room doesn’t always comes with burning a hole in one’s pocket. With right interior designer and great tip, you can create a classic yet pocket-friendly living room without spending thousands of pennies. Whether you’re revamping your space or designing a new room; these best interior designer budget friendly tips will help you in creating an elegant look.

Decluttering your space: One of the most affordable and painless way to give a refresh look to your space will always be going for decluttering. Remove the extra items, pieces that are unnecessarily occupying space, organize your cabinets and then wonder how your room will give you a fresh perspective. Sometimes, simply relocating your furniture or changing the layout and placement of sofas, coffee tables, centre tables can make a space look brand new. Many best interior designers believe that a well-arranged room feels more spacious and attractive.

Add a fresh coat of paint:Painting is another one of the most affordable ways to give a new look to any space. Choosing a color palette which consist of light and neutral shades can make your space feel larger and brighter. If you’re unsure about the right colors which go with your interiors, Oye Turtle Interiors, an interior designer company can offer expert guidance.

Get into right lighting:A right lighting can change the whole look and feel of your living room. Instead of going for expensive chandeliers, you can opt for stylish pendant lights, lamps or wall lanterns as an alternative. Many pocket friendly lighting options are available in the market to create a cozy and elegant living room interior design.

Go for DIY and Upcycling:A fun and creative way that is budget friendly to must be DIY. Instead of buying new décor items more often, try to upcycle your old furniture or create your own DIY art piece with leftover glass bottles, cardboard pieces. Paint an old picture frame or repurposing wooden crates into shelves can add a personal touch to your living room. Many interior designers integrate DIY elements to bring uniqueness to a space while cutting down the cost.

Opt for Budget friendly floorings:If you have bored of your same old flooring and want to give it a new look, replacing it is not the only option, consider other inexpensive alternatives like: peel and stick vinyl tiles or stylish rugs. They can instantly elevate the space, define seating areas and add warmth to your living room.

Upgrade your soft fabrics:All your home furnishing fabrics such as cushions, curtains, seat covers plays a big role in shaping the interior design of your living room. Always choose budget-friendly fabrics in the color and pattern which are trendy to give a new look to your space. Mixing textures and different textiles can make any room look more luxurious without spending much.

Include Greenery:Plants and greenery are one of the affordable and stylish way to bring life into your living room area. For example; indoor plants not only add freshness but also improves air quality index of the home. Plants such as; pothos, snake plant and succulents are some of the low-maintenance options that look great in any home interior.

Enhance wall décor:Empty walls can make any room look and feel incomplete. Instead of considering expensive artwork, pick affordable alternatives such as printed frames, a personal photo wall or a DIY wall hanging, this all can enhance the aesthetics of your space.

Smart storage solutions:As we earlier studied, a clutter-free space automatically looks more stylish and spacious. To incorporate this, use budget-friendly storages like wall-mounted shelves, storage baskets and multipurpose furniture to keep your living room organized. A good interior designer company recommend hidden storage options to maintain a clean and sleek look.

Mix and Match:A well steady living room doesn’t have to be alike. Spend on one or two statement pieces, like a stylish coffee table with storage or a designer lamp, mix them with some diy funky pieces. This approach often used by the best interior designers which ca help you create a refined and classy look.

Conclusion:

For designing a stylish and budget-friendly living room is all about creativity and smart choices. Whether it’s a fresh coat of paint, refurbishing old furniture or getting a smart lighting, there are plenty of ways to uplift your space without overspending. If you need professional guidance, hiring a best interior designer aka Oye Turtle interior can help bring your vision to life while staying within budget.

[projectfourteen]

The Ultimate Guide to Buying & Using Wood Crates | Project 14

Wood crates function as multipurpose storage tools that businesses and homeowners together with creative individuals find useful while also being both durable and environment-friendly. This comprehensive guide addresses all aspects related to wood crates including shipping containers as well as home décor and DIY project needs. Read the instructions to properly select wood crates which require considering their dimensions along with material qualities and intended purpose. Excellent ideas exist for transforming wood crates into furniture items and shelf structures as well as organizational fixtures. Our article gives you informative instructions about crate maintenance as well as stacking advice and aesthetic enhancement guidance with practical customization suggestions. Users of all backgrounds from homeowners to retailers as well as DIY enthusiasts will find the best solutions through Project 14’s Ultimate Guide. Start today to explore maximum wood crate advantages.

[grumpygreenwitch]

Machina Ex Machina 6-6.5

In case it isn't obvious, first-gen refers to programs that look like something out of the original Tron, while last-gens look like something out of Legacy. Mid-gens look like anything in between.

It's actually a little hard to do the Real World Intermissions, as it were, because I cannot format them as I did in AO3. I'm hoping the colors come through to convey the different people talking.

As always, if you enjoy the writing, please like and reblog. There's no algorithms here; my publicity is you. And if you'd like to buy me a Ko-fi, I certainly won't complain.

1+2 - 3+3.5 - 4+5 - 6+.6.5 - 7+8 - 8.5+9 - 10+11 - 12+13 - 13.5+14 - 15+16 - 17+17.5 - 18+18.5 - 19+20 - 21+22 - 22.5+23+24 - 25+26 - 27-28 - 29.29.5 - 30+31 - 32+33 - 34+35 - 36+37 - 38+39 - 40+41 - 42+ AO3 Link

SIX

Halcyon’s Spire came alive looking for destruction. This time, the elegant Queen of the Grid wrapped her arms around her children and defiantly braced herself.

“Go, go go!” GAM shouted at the rogue when she turned to look at him, and they both sprinted through the nearly empty warehouse, desperately trying to outrun the leading edge of the storm to the Sector’s central plaza. He considered the baton, but a crawler would never make it past all the junk and debris of time piled up everywhere.

They raced instead for the area where the Ilosians had been disembarking. One of the first buildings there had already been finished, a multipurpose central hub. It was a hexagon, one level aboveground and two below it, every beam and wall reinforced according to the data that had been recovered from Ilo.

Even more, aside from the Sector 42 buildings being structurally tough to begin with, they and a number of newly designated shelters across Halcyon had been hastily reinforced by following the structural equations for the city walls themselves, the most formidable defense any city in the Grid boasted, unbreached even by the heaviest assaults Pevir had ever been able to muster. There was a reason the Red City bowed its head to the Queen of the Grid where it knelt to no one else.

The storm struck the outermost wall; lightning arced out from the black clouds and stitched destruction against the immense protections that encircled the city, taking chunks out of them that flew up in the air, derezzed into primal, molten matter. But the damage was basically cosmetic, barely scratching the surface of the wall. The storm found its speed abruptly arrested.

It was the first time that onlookers realized there was an intelligence of some sort directing the behavior of the Spirestorm. It swirled into a vortex, the clouds spiraling faster and faster, the lightning inside it growing brighter, focused into much larger flashes of energy. Suddenly, rather than striking wherever alongside the wall, the storm launched all its energy at a single spot.

The blow was devastating, and Halcyon felt it even at its deepest level. The outermost wall was breached. It nearly took the feet out from under GAM and the rogue but they stayed upright, barely, and sprinted on. Looking up, the Sentry noticed that the storm seemed to have paused as if it, too, needed to catch its breath after that massive strike.

Then they were in the plaza, by the temporary Sailer station, and there was a familiar figure at the doors waving at them. “GAM!”

He put on a last burst of speed. The rogue and him flew through the doors. One of the other Sentries keyed them shut at once, and the other two rushed forward to brace them with piles of crates and boxes.

GAM spun around. “Adas, head count.”

“We’re all here,” she hurried to him.

“Down,” he told her, then pitched his voice to carry. “Bottom levels, now.” He fished the rogue up by the scruff of her neck.

“Hey!”

He didn’t seem to hear her, stalking forward to the broad stairwell leading down, even as the Ilosians scrambled to pick up their scarce belongings and flowed all around him, the other three Sentries bringing up the rear.

“I thought this building was reinforced!” Adas was trotting alongside GAM, trying to keep up.

“It is. The storm just took out the Outer Wall.” He paused and visibly gathered himself before turning, the black faceplate reflecting the GO4’s frightened face back at her. “The storm stopped, thought about it and then put a hole in the Outer Wall,” he informed her, then trotted down the stairs. “I want as much protection between it and all of you as possible.”

“I can walk!” The rogue writhed in his grip.

“That’s what worries me,” GAM replied, but he dropped her anyway.

“It’s sentient?” Adas was horrified. “What is it? A program? A virus?”

“It’s not a virus.” They passed the first sub-level, which was a combination habitat and infirmary, and rushed to the last set of stairs. GAM turned to one of the other Sentries. “Lock the partitions once everyone’s through.” He got a nod and started moving again. “It’s…”

He hesitated. He hadn’t known what it was until Adas had asked him, and then the knowledge had just been there, as if it had always been and he’d simply not known to look for it. “It’s a hack.”

“A what?”

“Someone’s trying to get in. Someone not from the Grid.”

“But… There’s nothing outside the Grid.”

“Ask Om about that,” the rogue muttered as she kept pace with them.

“That’s philosophical, this is real!” Adas declared, hating that she sounded squeaky with fright but unable to keep her emotions at bay.

Something immensely powerful hammered down on the building and everyone went stumbling, crying out. The lights faltered and in the momentary dark the collective wavelength went from fear to outright panic.

Adas and the rogue didn’t fall. The Sentry had caught them, one on each hand, and he steadied them against his unyielding presence. “Adas, calm them down. Rogue, I’m going to guess you can see decay lines. Find me the strongest point of this level. Is there an uplink console in here?”

“Yes,” Adas wheezed. “But it’s one of yours, it needs those bean things.”

“What luck, I have those,” GAM pointed out dryly. “Where?”

She pointed and the three of them split up. Half the lights came back on, the last of the evacuees raced in and the partition doors slammed shut. Another tremendous blow crashed into the building from above, but while most of the Ilosians crouched down in terror Adas remained upright, speaking calmly over their scattered, frightened noises, projecting a surprisingly powerful, soothing wavelength.

GAM moved up to the console. Like most such things it had dedicated power and data links; you couldn’t risk either faltering mid-upload and costing someone their beans. He drew the baton, pressed it against the screen, and leaned his hand against the reader.

The upload was nearly instantaneous; it was one of the simplest functions that could be uploaded in a baton. Which was just as well, because the next strike of the storm took the power out altogether, and made both the ETCs and the console flicker uncertainly.

“WallSec 42.” Janus’ voice startled GAM when it came through the dedicated line. “Can anyone hear me?”

GAM heard several replies, and waited to add his own. “WallSec 42, central plaza. Four Sentries. All evacuees accounted for.”

“GAM, are you all in the main building?”

“Yes.”

“Get out.”

“Get out how? Why?”

“Find a way. The Spirestorm’s on you. And it’s not dissipating.”

GAM froze.

“GAM, are you hearing me?” Janus’ tone was terse. “It’s after you. Something or someone in there has its attention -”

“Hey!”

GAM spun, as did most everyone in the area, to see the rogue waving frantically at him. “Hold on, Janus.”

He hurried to her, and she trotted hastily to meet him halfway, pointing. “The place’s solid over our heads, but there’s a hole leading to the city’s sublevels.”

“There’s a what?”

“Sump system. Old overflow. I don’t know, some sort of big pipe that’s not there anymore!”

GAM was glad for his faceplate, for so many reasons. “Is it safe for normal programs?”

“Uh…” She hesitated. “Well, it goes into the energy effusion system, so I guess if no one jumps into a channel they’d be fine?”

“I’d say something, but you strike me as the sort who would jump into an energy effusion channel. WallSec 42,” he called out into the channel. “We’re going into the energy sublevels.”

“How far down are you going?!” Janus asked in disbelief.

“I don’t know. We’re below ground and about to be a whole lot lower. If you can send reinforcements to find us, I’d appreciate it.”

“On our way.”

“Adas!” When she came running, he pointed. “The rogue’s -”

“My name’s Vidi.”

“Not a pleasure. Yet. Adas, Vidi’s found a way into the energy sublevels. Start moving your people in.” He turned to the other Sentries. “Support and crowd control. This has to happen -”

The sound of absolute destruction came from directly overhead and GAM understood what Janus had not said. The storm was digging after them, peeling the reinforced building above them apart, floor by floor. It was slowed down by the reinforced inner structure but, as with the city wall, it merely had to stop and focus. Eventually it would break through. “This has to happen quickly and calmly,” he gritted out. The Sentries nodded.

“GAM?” Adas asked in a tiny squeak.

“Do you trust me?”

She nodded

“Don’t let them jump in the channels.”

“Who even does that?!” she demanded, scandalized, and hurried away with the Sentries.

“Um.” Vidi shifted warily.

“Go,” he told her.

“I don’t know that there’s any further down I can find, WallSec,” she protested.

The black faceplate stared silently at her for a long moment, and she shuffled nervously from foot to foot. “I meant you’re free to go,” he clarified calmly. “But I would appreciate it if you stayed and helped. If there’s no further down, look up. Warn me when the storm’s close to breaking through.”

Vidi looked up. So did her hair. On the other side of the room, the Sentries were helping the Ilosians jump down. GAM could see Adas sorting out the line and sternly commanding the evacuees to leave their packs behind. For one thing, they wouldn’t fit through the hole with them and, for another, either they’d be there when the Ilosians came back, or there’d be nothing left and no one to come back to it. “Janus?”

“Four nanocycles, going on five, and it is not stopping this time, GAM.”

The Sentry blew out a sharp breath. No, of course not. The hack knew what it wanted; perhaps it had known all along, but now it also knew where it was.

It had never been about population density. It had been about one or more specific programs. Halcyon told him nothing. GAM suspected the real answer was hidden in a question no one had yet answered: which had the Spire targeted, Ilo or the Island?

“WallSec 42,” one of the other Sentries called out. “Evacuees are clear.”

“Let’s go,” GAM told Vidi, who was still looking up. He touched her shoulder when she didn’t move. “Vid- ”

The energy discharge that came off the first-gen blew him clear across the room, every command and subroutine gone to static. He slid across the floor and slammed into a wall so hard that even the static went quiet, his world nothing but a thin, high-pitched and steady tone.

Above him, the Spirestorm roared like a thing alive, hungry and entirely too close.

GAM rolled onto his hands and knees, head held low. What in the name of every dead pixel. He fought his code into order, his circuitry into an organized flow. He knelt back with a sharp exhale and felt dizzy. A quick scan told him his entire short-term memory was full of gibberish, flash-downloaded without a care for his built-in protections.

A virus? Was she a virus?

He isolated the time-stamp just before he’d touched Vidi and force-purged the entire mess. It disappeared instantaneously. Not a virus, then, too easily removed. He looked up and found out that she had, apparently, fared no better. She’d slammed into the uplink console hard enough to bend the mooring and render the device unusable, and she was limp on the floor. Even her hair was sprawled motionless all around her head. “Great,” he ground out, forcing himself up on his feet and rushing for her. “Vidi!”

“Help me.” It was a whisper, a croak. Her hands were curled into fists and her eyes were wide open, and she wasn’t moving so much as a fingertip. “Help me, help me, I don’t want to see it anymore.”

He slid to a kneeling position next to her, not knowing what to make of this new development but knowing that it couldn’t be good. “Close your eyes. Close all your eyes! Vidi, close your eyes!”

“It won’t let me,” she forced every word out through a mess of static.

He threw caution to the sea and picked her up. She was a wisp of nothing in his arms, barely there, her head lolling back. Her dreadlocks twitched helplessly and her eyes stayed firmly open. GAM had a suspicion that if he tried to close them himself they’d end up back on opposite sides of the room, trying to sort out code from gibberish yet again.

Instead, he ran for their escape.

The storm either sensed its prey was about to get away, or its timing was just that horribly good. The world turned into a wash of light and energy, power enough to fry a program, or black out an entire sector. The reinforced building above GAM simply disintegrated, turned back into primal matter and then volatilized into such tiny droplets that it seemed to have simply been erased from existence. A spiraling column of lighting arced down into the massive crater -

- and slammed down into the Sentry’s shield, the blueprint he’d downloaded while he’d been able to access the uplink console.

GAM cried out; it went unheard in the fury of the maelstrom above him. Power surged and crackled and crashed into his shield, beating him down until he was on his knees, Vidi crushed against his chest with one arm, the shield held up with the other. He felt as if the entire weight of the Grid were pressing down on him.

I am a Sentry.

He felt it then, an awareness, a sentience, alien and uncaring, focused only on its goal, battering against his shield, his presence, his very core.

I am a Wall.

It was not of the Grid, and that was all he needed to know. He would stand, to derezzing if need be. It would not get through.

The Spirestorm screamed, and all of Halcyon heard its frustration. It swirled, gathering itself, collecting its power as it had for the outermost Wall. There would be no further denying it -

The Spire went abruptly dark. With it went the power to nearly all of Halcyon, barring emergency supplies and a few scattered places where the surge protections had not been completely overwhelmed by a lightning strike. Surgically precise paths of destruction had been carved through the city, from the breach in the outermost wall, to six separate Sectors. Nothing else had been struck unless it had been on one of those explicit routes. Of every targeted Sector, the only one where programs remained online was Sector 42.

6.5

“Nononon-FUCK! Fuck you, Kane, what’d you -! Put it back!”

“Seriously?! Me?! You –! Again, Moll. We’re here again, with you going behind my back and pulling this shit! And you, Rob? Seriously?! This hot to get into my sister’s pants that you go along with this?”

“Hey!”

“Kane, I’m sorry, I didn’t think -”

“Yeah, that’s kind of the problem, no one’s fucking thinking! She fried everything in the cloud, she fried most of I/O, she nearly fried H1 and now here you are, helping her finish the job?”

“Fucking -! Plug it back in! I was there, I was almost there, you asshole!”

“Uh, actually, I/O’s dark.”

“I/O’s -”

“PLUG ME THE FUCK BACK IN!”

“You fried the entry server. Literally, other than watching, all we have is the ability to pop programs in the Grid. And you fried that.”

“There’s five other servers in the garage -”

“And we can put NOTHING in them.”

“Wait, what?”

“Oh, she didn’t tell you? Zero locked us out. We can’t crack it.”

“We can if we get insid-”

“Yeah, if she told you something else, she’s lying to you, man. We can’t spread the baseline anymore. The servers you see, that’s it. We can’t expand the Grid anymore. So now that’s she fried I/O, that’s lost, too.”

“Um, I didn’t say it was fried, I said it’s dark.”

“I – You know what, why don’t you give it to me in small words before I punch someone, Rob. Because, god, I fucking feel like punching someone right now.”

“It’s shut down. It’s there, we just – it’s not – Nothing’s responding, nothing’s reacting, that’s all.”

“… Oh my god. Oh my fucking god. Hah… Ahahahaha. Moll. You still – You want to look me in the face and tell me it’s not real anymore? What, do you think the little computer fairies came in at some point last week and miraculously moved every program out of I/O and – Where are they, Rob?

“H1.”

“So every program in I/O bypassed all the manual certifications, all the firewalls and the antiviruses and the scans we have in two separate places so nothing crappy or buggy gets through, and somehow, without our input, ended up in another server?”

“Give me the fucking relay, Kane!”

“No. Rob, you wanna leave.”

“But I – Oh, god.”

“Don’t you fucking dare, Kane.”

“Seems I told you that like, three times already. You didn’t listen to me, why should I listen to you?”

“Don’t you – You put the hammer down.”

“Rob, where was she trying to upload herself?”

“H1.”

“She burned H1.”

“No. I mean, yes, but. It’s back, Kane. Not all of it, but with the I/O program migration, it was nearly back to full population and, uh…”

“What.”

“Well, all those weird programs? The ones with no numbered tags? There’s like… a whole directory’s worth of them there now.”

“… That’s what you wanted, isn’t it. Because they’ve got the flexible memory thing going. That’s what you were doing, looking for them specifically.”

“Put. the hammer. down. Kane.”

“I’m good. I think we’re done with the laser fun times.”

“Don’t y- KANE! SHIT! FUCK! I’ll fucking kill you!”

“Y’know, I can’t help but think, when Flynn gave us the code, he was worried about other people. Isn’t that just hilarious.”

[anything-vegan-uae]

The Advantages of Reusable Pee Pads for Puppies: A Comprehensive Guide

Potty training a puppy can be a daunting task, but with the right tools and techniques, it becomes much more manageable. Reusable pee pads offer numerous advantages for both pets and their owners, making them an ideal choice for indoor potty training.

Unlike disposable pee pads, which need to be constantly replaced and contribute to environmental waste, reusable pads are designed to be washed and reused multiple times, making them a more sustainable option for pet owners. Made from durable materials such as cotton or bamboo, these pads offer superior absorbency and leak protection, ensuring that accidents are contained and cleanup is a breeze.

One of the key benefits of using reusable pee pads is their durability. Unlike disposable pads, which can tear or leak after just a few uses, reusable pads are built to last, providing long-lasting protection against accidents and spills. This durability not only saves pet owners money in the long run but also reduces the amount of waste generated by disposable pads, making them a more environmentally friendly choice for indoor potty training.

In addition to their durability, reusable pee pads are also easy to clean and maintain. Most pads are machine washable, allowing for quick and hassle-free cleanup whenever accidents occur. By regularly washing and sanitizing the pads, pet owners can ensure a hygienic environment for their pets while minimizing odors and stains in the home.

Furthermore, reusable pee pads are versatile and can be used for a variety of purposes beyond potty training. In addition to lining crates or carriers, these pads can also be used to protect floors and furniture from accidents, provide a comfortable surface for pets during travel, or even serve as a makeshift bed for your furry friend. This versatility makes reusable pads a practical investment for pet owners looking for multipurpose solutions to meet their pet care needs.

In conclusion, reusable pee pads offer a range of advantages that make them an effective and convenient solution for indoor potty training. From their durability and ease of cleaning to their versatility and eco-friendly design, these pads provide pet owners with a reliable option for managing accidents and keeping their home clean and odor-free. By investing in reusable pads, pet owners can simplify the potty training process and enjoy peace of mind knowing that they are providing their furry companions with the best care possible.

[yueyimold]

double shot stacking utility box mold

China 2 component mold maker, offer two color storage crate mold, double shot stacking utility box mold, bi mold multipurpose crate, multiple colour tote box mold

[gemfoodtech]

Maximising Freshness: How Processing Machinery Preserves Nutrients in Fruits and Vegetables

Fruits and vegetables are important components in many food products. But they may lose essential nutrients as they go through the processing stage—especially vitamins that dissolve in water. This is why it's crucial for manufacturers to selectfruit processing machinerythat not only prepares the produce but also keeps its nutritional content and freshness intact.

Optimal machinery for nutrient preservation

The right fruit processing machinery does more than just prepare fruits and vegetables; it also helps maintain their nutritional integrity. State-of-the-art industry-grade equipment balances versatility and efficiency, crafted from high-grade materials that ensure durability and reliable performance. This equipment includes specialised machinery like fruit and vegetable washers, food processing elevators, jelly makers, and steel mixing tanks. Additionally, brush rollers and crate washers are also accessible from leading manufacturers.

Understanding how processing impacts nutrients

Various factors (from growth and harvesting to storage and processing) can influence the nutrient content of fruits and vegetables. Elements like high levels of light, oxygen, and heat can also significantly reduce nutrient levels. Even some packaging methods can have an impact. The good news is that choosing fruit processing machinery with adjustable temperature controls can mitigate the loss of water-soluble vitamins. Equally important is investing in packaging machinery that maintains the quality of the processed items.

Tailored machinery for specific needs

Certain fruits and vegetables require specialised processing. This is why manufacturers offer specific types of fruit processing machinery, such as mango pulp machines, date processing plants, and tomato crushers, among others. Options like pea-peelers, podders, and pineapple processors are also available. Adding a fruit mill or crusher and various types of conveyors can create a comprehensive solution that streamlines the production process.

Customisable features for optimal performance

High-quality fruit processing machinery isn't one-size-fits-all; it's designed for optimal performance tailored to specific operational needs. These machines come with sturdy construction and customisable features to meet unique food processing requirements. Plus, they offer reliable controls to prevent the over-processing of fruits and vegetables, thereby preserving their nutritional value.

Discover the right machinery for your needs.

GEM specialises in an extensive range of food processing solutions, including various types of fruit processing machinery. Contact their team of experts to find out how their machinery can fulfil your specific food processing and budgetary needs.

About the Author:

The article is written by Shashank Garg from Gem Drytech Systems LLP. GEM is an industrial food processing equipment producer and exporter with headquarters in Kolkata. Our wide array of solutions meets the preparation and processing needs of various top food industry business organizations worldwide. We specialize in a wide range of uniquely built, purpose-specific, and multipurpose machinery for our customers as a famous exporter of food processing equipment.

[italiagifts]

Large Wooden Gift Crate: Perfect for Any Occasion

Italia100 is the place to look for exquisite wood crates for gift containers. Our crates, which are handcrafted and customizable, are ideal for use on special occasions. Enhance the quality of your gift-giving with our one-of-a-kind designs that are of the highest possible standard. Secure your exclusive wood crate today.

[jaigeye]

im here to be a pain in the ass and ask for no. 24: 'the protection of laughter' with the armourer and lil baby grogs please and thank u :)

30 multipurpose prompts. ( grogu & the armorer. ) read on AO3.

The last time Grogu sees The Man in Silver, he is on the ground. 

He smells like blood, and the feelings he is projecting are so scary that he can't bear to feel them any longer- turning away like one does from the terrible, painful brightness of the sun. He tried to protect him. He tried very hard.

Not so much later, when he is tired and his thoughts are foggy with exhaustion, he dimly acknowledges that he is being passed from hand to hand. The tunnels smell like moisture, and there is something tense and metallic and grief-sharp in the air. The hands that hold him tremble, depositing him in the arms of The Gold One.

She is like his guardian, and she is not. Her face is gold, and she looks like a bird, he thinks. She curls him into the bow of her elbow. She does not tremble when she takes in hand the silver talisman passed to her. She doesn't tremble, either, when the other people disappear and it is an axe she holds instead, swinging as she clutches him. 

Afterwards, once she's cut down the men in white, she holds him up so he can look at her eyes. They are long and slim and black and he can see himself in the astute sharp edges, just like he could before.

He puts his hands to her helmet and cries out, because everything hurts and he is alone. 

"All will be well," she says in a soothing tenor, and Grogu finds little peace in the placating statement. "I have you now."

And have him, she does. Like the Man in Silver before her she takes him everywhere, only strapped to her back where he can rest his face against the warm fur. He likes the view. It is good to be so high up, and to see the world as she does, like a great bird soaring through the sky.

She is very different than his other saviour. Man in Silver was not the first- far from it. He has been clutched in many arms, taken from star to star in crates and containers and wrapped up in blankets. He has been cold and isolated and he has survived things that devoured all his peers. But those memories are dark and far-away from here, and Grogu is too busy squinting against the light that reflects off Woman in Gold's radiant face.

One evening, she pulls Grogu's coat down around his neck and just as he is ready to throw her across the room with all the force he can fathom she procures a talisman. It has horns and teeth and it looks angry, shiny, silver. It is made of smooth, smooth Beskar, and he knows what that is because he's spent many a night sleeping against such cool surfaces.

When she binds the talisman around his neck, Woman in Gold cries. He can't see it but he can feel it, like hot waves of remorse, and Grogu is very young and perhaps naive but there are things he is familiar with and remorse- remorse is one of them.

She is not the Man in Silver, though, so she doesn't know to take off her hard shell when she tries to rock him to sleep, doesn't know he likes frogs best, doesn't chuff with humor when he presents her with shiny trinkets or let him sit on her lap when she flies the very ship the Silver One once flew. 

Where is he, he thinks sometimes, he must miss his ship, surely, surely, we are going to get him and put him back in it where he belongs. 

To protest his circumstances, he cries every night. Every time she sets him down to sleep or to wait or to watch as she works or talks or fights or tries to sleep, herself, he opens his mouth to scream.

There are few other ways to express oneself besides this, really. Grogu must resort to what he knows works.

And she is- well. She is the Woman in Gold, with the fur and the leathers and the big, soft gloves, with bird eyes, she who flies, who smells like iron (blood? blood?), whose hair hides in tight black coils at the base of her neck. She is all things and she is also nothing at all to him, because since the Man in Silver went away she has barely spoken a word. 

Perhaps silence is how she speaks. Grogu considers it. He saw the Man in Silver speak with his hands, sometimes. He tried once to teach him and being as he was a little thing, with little hands and fewer fingers, Grogu could manage only a subpar imitation. It frustrated him so terribly that he threw a fit and ate a stick, just to express his utter displeasure. 

He wishes now that he could speak with his hands, or that she could listen with her mind. Maybe she can- her golden face betrays nothing.

One day, when Woman in Gold is sitting in a cantina bar and thinking nasty thoughts at all the nasty people thinking nasty thoughts, too, the air foggy with exhaustion and bitterness and Grogu, well, Grogu is just trying to eat his soup in peace- that day she breaks her oath of silence. 

"Child," she says, holding out a hand towards him. "Don't play with your food."

He wasn't even playing with it. Grogu's ears fall back before they perk upwards at a thought, an idea, and in turn her golden face quirks to one side as she watches. 

He reaches into his soup and, with the confidence and determination of a seasoned fisherman, grasps the half-alive creature still swirling within it and plops it unceremoniously in her hand. 

He does this because the Silver One always made angry noises, but his feelings were light and bubbly, and he'd like to feel that from her too. He stares seriously at her, expectantly raising a wrinkled brow.

Woman in Gold stares at her hand for a second. Then she flexes her grip around the creatures weak, thrashing body, and it releases a pathetic ppffbbbhttt sort of sound and that's it! That's it! He's done it! Woman in Gold chuckles and then sets into fits, her echoing peal of laughter cutting through all the misery of the cantina and she shakes with it, so fiercely is she laughing. Grogu can't help it. He loves laughter, so he partakes gleefully, giggling and squealing and that's it. 

Even if they never exchange a single word, the laughter will be enough.

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[honey-dewey]

All For The Hunt

Pairing: Din Djarin/Jedi Reader

Word Count: 3,282

When gathering bounties, the Reader wonders how long it would take Mando to catch them. A bet ensues. Will the Reader last all 24 hours, or will Mando hunt them down before the time is up?

You sighed in the comforting silence of the Crest, carefully taking apart your lightsaber to examine the purple kyber crystal. You’d never had problems with your lightsaber, but you liked to be sure everything would continue to be in working order for any future events. Grogu was asleep, and would likely be that way for at least the next 24, if not 48, hours. The final member of your small clan was sitting on a crate, silently sorting through available bounties. He dismissed most of them on the basis of time, considering the three of you could only be in one place for a week or two. 

“How long does it take you to catch one?” You asked, breaking the silence as you clicked your saber pieces back together. 

Mando looked up, the T of his visor sending a shiver down your spine. “What?” 

You shrugged off the feeling of the shiver, putting your saber back on your belt. “How long does it take you to catch a bounty, on average?” 

“On average,” Mando repeated slowly, clearly thinking it over. “Two days, depending on the skill set the bounty has.” 

Nodding, you stretched. “What about me? How long would it take you to find me?”

Mando was quiet. He’d met you due to a bounty on your head, but had never once tried to turn you in or hunt you down. “Where?” 

“Here,” you said, gesturing to an open hatch that overlooked the bustling city.

Again, Mando considered it. “A day.” 

“A day?” You laughed, standing and moving to set up your sleeping area. “I bet I could last longer than that.” 

“Do you now,” Mando drawled, his voice a tone you’d decided long ago was amused. 

You smirked. “Yeah. I do. I think it would take you at least two to catch me and bring me back to the Crest.” 

Mando stood, holding a hand out. “Wanna bet?”

Immediately, your chest tightened with excitement. You and Mando made bets a lot, considering it was often the only thing to do in hyperspace. “Fine,” you said, shaking his hand. “Some rules. No going easy on me. I want this to feel legit.” 

Mando nodded. On bigger bets, you and him would alternate coming up with rules until you were both satisfied. “Second,” he said. “No intent to hurt or kill.” 

An obvious one, but you kept going. “I get a head start of half an hour.” 

“Okay. No using your weird power.” 

“It’s called the Force, and sometimes I can’t control it.” 

“Fine. No excessive intentional Force using.” 

“Then you can’t use any weapons beyond your blasters.” 

“My built in ones?” 

“I’ll make an exception. But no Z-6. It stays here. And don’t use those fancy ass settings on your HUD. That absolutely counts as cheating.”

Eventually, you and Mando reached a nice point of agreement on all fronts, and you began to get ready as Mando took the Child into the cockpit to wait out your half hour head start. 

Immediately, you dug up clothes Mando didn’t even know about, dressing quickly. They were your old Jedi robes, altered after you left to help you survive with a bounty on your head. You clipped your saber to your belt and tugged your old boots on, carefully tying away your hair and slipping on your hood. 

Walking silently out of the Crest, you checked your wrist, where a small multipurpose watch sat nestled between strips of leather to make makeshift vambraces. You set the watch to alert you when Mando left and raced off into the city. 

Even now, as the sun was setting, the city was busy. You slowed, checking your watch. Mando was still on the ship, and would continue to be for another ten minutes.

Taking a minute, you stopped to wander, making a plan. It had been almost 18 months since you’d hid from anyone this way, but as you imagined the Mandalorian hunting you down, it sharpened your instincts back to their razor-fine point. 

You smiled to a merchant you bought food off of, heart beating faster when your watch chimed and set a 24 hour timer. Mando was on the hunt. 

Scanning the skyline, you noticed a standout structure. A big wheel with baskets to hold people. It was in the more abandoned part of town, where only the desperate dwelled. 

But you weren’t desperate yet. Drawing your hood closer around your face, you continued about your way, acting as if you belonged. With your bag and your entirely innocent demeanor, you hoped Mando’s helmet would just glide right over the back of your head. 

You fought to keep yourself from tensing when you heard the telltale clinking of beskar behind you. But you managed to keep yourself composed as Mando passed right by you. The merchant you were talking to was relaxed, maybe a bit too relaxed, you realized as you used the Force to speed up the transaction. 

Stuffing the spare clothes into your bag, you bowed slightly to the merchant and began to walk off, towards the residential district. To anyone, it would look as if you were merely done shopping for the evening and were headed home. 

As you walked, you cursed your subconscious instincts. The Force had, upon remembering the feeling of being hunted down, heightened your hearing. You pulled your hood down, sliding a pair of pod racer goggles over your eyes. You couldn’t risk getting anything in your eyes now. 

Leaving your hood down, you shivered as a breeze blew through, carrying the sound of beskar. Was he already on your trail? 

Wondering if he’d remember if you used Force persuasion on him, or if it would even work at all, you continued to walk without a care in the world. Ducking down a narrower street, towards the abandoned district, you checked your watch once you were in a good enough alcove. An hour had passed since the hunt had begun. 

You continued to make your way towards the wheel, climbing up on people’s rooftops and racing across with silent footsteps. You caught sight of Mando at one point, checking his vambrace. Probably checking the time, just as you had been periodically doing.

You walked away, ducking behind a chimney when he turned to look in your direction. But his focus was on the ground. Had he seriously forgotten about the skillset that kept you alive for all those years? 

You continued towards the wheel structure, killing another hour with how you were twisting and turning to see if Mando was following you or if he was just looking. 

You scaled the wheel with ease upon reaching it, settling down in the highest basket. You could see Mando’s helmet glinting in the low night lights occasionally, but he didn’t seem to be on any kind of trail, so you scooted down, heightened your senses, and closed your eyes to sleep. 

You woke to the sun on your face, filtered through the protective lenses of your goggles. You were awake immediately, senses all hitting eleven as you felt someone scaling the wheel. 

Looking down, you blood ran cold. With nine hours gone and fifteen left, Mando had found you. 

You scooped your stuff up, tossing the cloak you’d purchased on to hide your Jedi clothes. In one smooth movement, you jumped, grabbing the old structural beams of the wheel and thanking the Force you’d picked up a pair of gloves as you swung from beam to beam with practiced ease. 

By the time you’d hit the ground, Mando was only halfway down, cursing loudly. So he had forgotten you were a self-taught acrobat. 

As soon as your boots made contact with the ground, you took off running, heading through the maze of scrap metal. You gave Mando a generous five minutes to get off the wheel, so you abandoned your cloak down one split at a fork in the road, backed up, and sprinted down the other one. 

You were aiming to hide away in the shadows of one of the warehouses, hoping they were filled with junk you could hide behind. Once you had proper shadow cover, no one would be able to find you. 

Of course, your entire plan was hinging on Mando not finding you before you reached the warehouse. The Force was active in your veins, reaching out and determining where he’d gone. He had followed the fork with your cloak, which would take him back to the market district. 

Slowing to a walk, you caught your breath, noting a pair of eyes on you. “Hello?” 

The person squeaked, hiding behind a crate. 

You smiled, trying to appear as nonthreatening as possible. “Hi. Did I scare you? I’m so sorry, me and my friend are just playing a game.” 

The person, who you could now see was a child, peered out. “You’re a Jedi.” 

You glanced down at the lightsaber on your belt. “I was,” you murmured. “But now, I’m just a person.” 

The child still seemed nervous. “Do you need help?” 

Crouching down so we’re the child’s height, you thought. Mando hadn’t said anything about receiving help, but you were fairly certain it was against the rules anyway. “No,” you said. “Like I said, it’s just a game. My friend isn’t actually trying to hurt me.” 

Of course, in that moment, a thick rope wrapped around your body, causing the child to cry out, scurrying away down a tunnel as you writhed. Truthfully, this would’ve been easy to escape, but you wanted to put on a show and make this interesting. You stood, hearing Mando’s footsteps clinking slowly as he wound the rope closer. 

“I can bring you in warm,” a low voice said from behind you, causing your entire body to shiver with an exhilarating mix of terror and excitement. “Or I can bring you in cold.” 

You waited, still and compliant, as Mando drew closer. Might as well use this time to test a previous theory. 

You turned, leaving a single coil of rope around your elbows and waist. “Mando. They sent you after me, hm? They’re fools, all of them.” 

Mando, to his credit, stayed silent. 

Sighing, you lifted your hands, opening your palms in the universal ‘I’m unarmed’ gesture. “I’m not your bounty,” you said firmly, dominant hand making a small arc as you prayed this would work. Mando’s mind was a steel trap, and Force persuasion rarely worked on those who were strong willed. “You need to let me go and head back to the market district. That’s where your bounty went.” 

Mando’s body shuddered, muscles tensing. “Shut up,” he growled, actually growled, at you. 

Instead, you repeated your phrase, putting as much Force behind it as possible. 

Mando didn’t falter, and when you saw that this wasn’t going anywhere, your dominant hand shot down, quick as a flash, and grabbed your lightsaber. Severing the rope in one smooth movement, you raced off while Mando caught his bearings, shaking his head and following after you. 

You were fast and you knew it, having been trained as a Jedi meant you were always in peak physical condition. But no amount of exercise or training could help the fact that Mando’s legs were longer than yours. 

“Shit!” You yelled, skidding around a corner and seeing a ten foot tall chain link fence between you and the warehouses. At the top of the fence sat coils of highly charged wire, meant to deter those who wanted to enter. But nothing could deter you now. 

You began to scale the fence, making it almost all the way up before Mando caught up to you. He called your name out, voice desperate. “Come back here!” 

“Like hell I will,” you replied, gripping the top chain and praying this would work. 

He called your name again, the fear in his voice making you pause. “You’ll get hurt! Let’s just go.” 

You screwed your eyes shut. In one calculated movement, you threw your body over the electric wire, arching your back and falling the ten feet down to the ground on the other side. 

Turning, you smiled at Mando, who was in apparent shock that that had actually worked. “Good luck,” you said with a mock salute. “You only have fourteen hours left.” 

Just like that, you ran off, heading down the row of warehouses. You picked one about five down, some old storage plant that made an excellent hiding place. Wedging yourself between two crates on the top floor, you settled in with an old book and a dim flashlight. 

At the three hour mark, you put your book down, wanting to save the rest for later, just in case you found somewhere else to hide. Instead of reading, you shuffled around until you found a semi-comfortable position and slipped into sleep. 

Your nap lasted longer than expected, clocking in at just over five hours. The exhaustion of being hunted wasn’t entirely foreign to you, but it had been a while since you’d experienced it, and you were fairly certain that you’d sleep for years upon reaching the Crest again. 

You checked your watch, standing and stretching to work the kinks out of your neck and back. Six hours left. This was shaping up to be the longest twenty four hours of your life. You’d always been cautious when you’d been hunted, but those were average bounty hunters. Being hunted by Mando was a totally different experience. 

Speaking of Mando, he wasn’t anywhere close to you, if your senses were accurate. You looked around, spotting a promising place to settle in the shadows. 

You carefully scaled thick chains and swung a few times to reach the hanging canvas cloth, held in the air by a length of chain. It took a few tries, but you were eventually cocooned safely in your makeshift hammock. Leaning back and letting the canvas cradle your body, you pulled your book out, entirely determined to finish it. 

You did manage to finish the book, killing another five hours. Only one left. 

At this point, you were worried about Mando. He hadn’t showed up for thirteen hours, which was concerning. Had he given up? No, he wouldn’t. He had to have a plan. 

You wiggled upright, wrapping a leg loosely in chain and sliding down to the ground. If Mando was waiting for you, then you’d give him what he wanted. There was only an hour left anyway. 

You found him in the market district square, talking to a merchant. He was waiting for you to come to him. 

“Smart bastard,” you grumbled, checking your watch. Half an hour. 

Mando turned, spotting you with your saber out but unlit. “You found me.” 

“You were baiting me,” you argued. “You’re still treating this like a game.” 

Everyone in the square hurried off, as if bounty hunts were normal out here. There was a clear ring for you and Mando. 

You lit your lightsaber, moving to a fighting stance. “Come get me, Mandalorian.” 

Mando’s hand twitched on his blaster, but before he could get a shot out, you were gone. 

You ducked and weaved down abandoned streets, lightsaber unlit in your hand. You were headed back to the Crest, Mando hot on your heels. 

You jumped, easily stepping up a stack of crates to the rooftops. Mando remained on the ground, racing beside you. He fired his blaster off a few times, and while his aim was true, you blocked them with ease, saber lit and whirring as you ran. 

Eventually, you reached the end of the roofs, jumping down and zig-zagging your way through the smaller houses on the outskirts of the city. The Crest was just up ahead, and you skidded behind it, where no one else could see you fight. 

Mando came up behind you with a flurry of dust, his blaster raised. You blocked the shots, hearing the click of the blaster emptying. Mando swore, coming at you with his fists. 

It wasn’t a horrible mistake, but his fighting style was entirely focused on physical force, whereas yours was more about the dance and balance of the fight. You matched Mando’s every move, whirling around him and occasionally striking his pauldron or backplate. Your lightsaber did nothing against the beskar, but it was more about the fact that you were slowly wearing him out. 

Eventually, you managed a high kick, accidentally aiming wrong. You’d meant to catch his collarbones, but your foot hit the lower lip of his helmet instead, sending it flying off and spiraling into the air.

You stopped, squeezing your eyes shut. “Fuck. Sorry. Go get that, okay? No cheap shots, I promise.” 

Mando shuffled, grabbing his helmet. When he softly signaled you, you opened your eyes. He was ready, fists raised. As you lit your saber and slid to a fighting stance, your watch beeped. You stared at it, confusion quickly melting to happiness. “I won!” 

Mando stood straight, a low chuckle coming from under his helmet. “So you did.” 

You two ended up back in the Crest, the same way you’d been the last time you’d been here. You had bathed, changing back into the soft sleep clothes you wore around the Crest. Mando, still in his armor, recharged his blaster, methodically taking apart his pulse rifle to examine the pieces. You did the same to your lightsaber, sitting opposite Mando in the cargo hold. 

“You never told me what you wanted.” 

“Hm?” You looked up, a bit confused. 

Mando shrugged. “You won. What do you want?” 

“I dunno,” you said softly, clicking your saber pieces back together. “Who are you?” 

“What?” 

“That’s what I want,” you decided. “Who are you Mando? I’ve known you for almost two years, and yet, I know nothing about you.” 

Mando was silent, so silent you figured he wouldn’t answer. But then, he looked up. 

“My name is Din Djarin.” 

You smiled. “It’s nice to meet you, Din Djarin.” 

After that, it was silent again. You finished with your saber, putting it with your day clothes and heading to the cockpit to entertain Grogu, who had just woken up. 

That night, after you’d laid down in your tiny sleeping area, you heard the door hiss open. Assuming it was just Din, you rolled over, rubbing your eyes against the harsh lights. “What?” 

Din looked as ashamed as someone wearing a face-covering helmet could. “I can’t sleep.” 

You were still confused. “Pardon?” 

“I can’t sleep.” 

“I heard you,” you grumbled. “But what does that mean?” 

Din took a breath. “Every time I close my eyes, I just see you, leaping that fence like an idiot. You scared me. I thought you were going to die.” 

“Huh.” You shuffled in your bed, balling the blanket up. “I guess, well. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s fine,” Din promised. “But can I?” 

He didn’t even need to finish. You scooted over, making as much room as you could. “C’mon. Yours probably has more room, but I know for a fact my mattress is softer than yours, and I’m sore as shit right now.” 

Din chucked, climbing into the bunk and lifting Grogu up with him. 

It took some finessing, but eventually, you and Din were comfortably snuggling together in your bed, Grogu in his tiny hammock above your feet. 

“Do you really sleep with it on?” You asked the pitch blackness in front of you. 

“Hm?” Din hummed, and his voice sounded clearer, more human. 

You smiled, curving into his chest and wrapping him up closer to you. “I guess not. Good night Din.” 

Din let out a soft breath, ruffling your hair and letting his chin rest on top of your head. “Good night.”

If you liked this, I do dialogue prompt requests as well! Go request something if you want! 

[osamapemberton]

8 Tips for Brewing your Own Beer

So you’re spending more time at home and have decided to start brewing your own beer and boast to your friends and family of your exceptional beer brewing skills. The wheat-based drink, often infused with alcohol, is a favourite of many for every occasion. From being sold by the crates in sports stadiums to being a friendly house warming six-pack gift for a friend, beer is always welcome.

Before you dive into brewing beer from your own beer brewing kit, with your fancy additives and supplies, read this article to make sure you have all the information to make a hearty drink!

Tip 1) Sanitation One of the most important and obvious requirements of brewing your own beer is to keep the sanitary requirements in top condition. The beer attracts rats and rodents, and other insects. Unless properly stored, you can have contaminated beer! The ingredient you use must also be checked. Is the wheat clean or ridden with pesticides? Is the location of your home brewery safe from intrusion by other adults and frolicking children? And, have you checked the expiration date on all your ingredients? Use a copper immersion chiller and pack the sink with bags of ice to prevent contamination during the chilling process. Also make sure that anything that comes in contact with your wort or beer after it has been boiled should be both washed and sanitised

Tip 2) When finding a home brewing kit from a home brewing supplies near me It is important to invest in a good home brewing kit instead of going commando. Browse your near-by store to find home brewing supplies as well as beer brewing additives. A good kit includes a fermenter, a CO2 venting system, recipe, ingredients, temperature gauge, cups, labels, bottles, flow spigot, and other essential items. To prevent any chances of your beer boiling over, invest in a large size stainless kettle from the get-go. Splurge a little on the auto-siphon as well. Instead of sticking to the default 5/16 inch siphon in your kit, buy a ½ inch racking cane. Since you have to shift your beer multiple times from the kettle to the fermenter to keg, the cane will save you loads of trouble and spills. Preparation is key!

Tip 3) Take care of your yeast Building a good yeast starter is the foundation of any good beer. Make sure you do not ferment the yeast too far ahead. Give it adequate time to oxygenate and use a good quality fermenter to help it with the process. A good yeast starter takes about twenty minutes to make, and ensure your homebrew has a healthy, active fermentation process. Healthy yeast also speeds up the conversion of sugars to alcohol and prevent contamination. Talk about multipurpose!

Tip 4) Chill your wort Chilling your wort as soon as you can will help keep the bacteria away. You can do so in the sink with loads of ice, or invest in a wort chiller. You simply hook it up with cold water, add the chiller to your kettle for the last 10 minutes of your boil to sanitise it, and then turn on the water after you’ve removed your kettle from the heat source. It does the rest. It is easy to clean as well.

Tip 5) Oxygenate your wort After the wort has chilled, oxygenate it by either running it underwater or in an oxygenation chamber. However, aeration stones used in aquariums can also do the trick.

Tip 6) Make use of your sleeping bag! After you have heated off your wart in the kettle, simply wrap it in a good-quality sleeping bag for an hour or so. Add hot water to adjust the temperature if needed. The bag does an awesome job at keeping the temperature stable.

Tip 7) Play with home brewing additives Most brewers would like to experiment with additives beyond the typical hops, water, yeast, and malt. These home brewing beer additives improve its clarity, taste, and fermentation. Some of these additives are added in the fermentation phase, and not boiled in the kettle. There are four basic categories of additives:

a) Clarifiers These additives help improve the clarity of the beer. Some of the most used are: - Irish Moss or Carrageenan, made from seaweed, which helps proteins form into clumps and settle out of suspension - Gelatin, made from animal collagen, attaches to negatively-charged particles in your beer and helps them settle out of suspension - Isinglass, made from fish bladders, used in the fermentation of beer and wine

b) Water treatment The minerals from your brewing water can adjust the mash pH or recreate a certain water body’s profile in your beer. - Calcium carbonate or chalk lowers your mash pH, increases acidity, and improves the bitterness of hops - Gypsum and magnesium sulphate are minerals that lower the mash pH

c) Preservatives Ascorbic acid or Vitamin C helps prevent stale oxidation in your bottled beer. It scavenges for oxygen and keeps your beer ‘alive’.

d) Flavour These additives enhance the flavour of your beer: - Cacao nibs from the cacao plant are sugar-free and add a deep chocolate-like flavour - Honey adds lightness to your beer. It is fermentable sugar that lengthens your beer’s ageing process as well. - Experiment with spices and herbs such as coriander seed, cinnamon, ginger, and lemongrass.

Tip 8) Bottling your beer Sanitise your bottles and bottle caps before bottling. Leave as much sediment in the fermenter as possible. Let your beer rest for two weeks at room temperature to carbonate.

Brewing your own beer at home takes bravado, but also skill and patience. Most beginners at home brewing skip on the technique and the equipment and jump to the results. Beer takes time and even slight mistakes can alter its flavour.

The tips given above can help you avoid many pitfalls during your home brewing adventure. The additives will allow you to enjoy a flavourful drink while the equipment information will make your next trip to the near-by supply store much easier. Brew your beer. Then sit back, and enjoy the delicious results. For a great range of home brewing supplies Gold Coast visit Oxenford and Nerang Brewing or give Graeme a call on (07) 5502 7700. Read more here: brewing additives | discount brewing supplies | home beer brewing kit | local beer brewing supplies

[gayfrasier]

Brothers in Flimflammery on a Continental Sojourn

It’s raining greenbacks in “Road Show,” the latest version of Stephen Sondheim and John Weidman’s long-aborning, ever-evolving and eternally slender musical about curdled American dreams, which opened on Tuesday night at the Public Theater. Throughout this short and sardonic production, directed by John Doyle and starring the marvelous team of Michael Cerveris and Alexander Gemignani, fistfuls of dollars are flung into the air with such enthusiastic frequency that by evening’s end they carpet the stage floor.

But if that falling money at first suggests confetti, the more appropriate image turns out to be that of autumn leaves, of the hopeful green of spring turned sere. And with those ominous rumbles of thunder punctuating the show, you don’t have to look hard to see a timely metaphor for an economic boom gone bust.

Murmur a world-weary greeting, if you will, to the trimmed-down, toughened-up and seriously darkened new edition of the musical formerly known as “Bounce” (in 2003) and “Wise Guys” (1999) and somewhere along the way, “Gold.” And, yes, its current version could be said to hold a mirror to a nation in a recessionary hangover after years of overindulgence.

But the show’s greatest interest for fans of Mr. Sondheim lies in seeing how what was once meant to be light and buoyant fare has been reshaped into something more somber. The great living master of the American musical has returned to the shadows where, artistically at least, he has always felt most at home.

This picaresque work clearly has a lot in common with its central characters, inspired by two real entrepreneurial brothers who demonstrated a tireless gift for reinventing themselves. Their names were Addison and Wilson Mizner, and they made and lost a bundle or two in a variety of fields in the late 19th and early 20th centuries.

Mr. Sondheim has said he wanted to write a show about them since the early 1950s, and you can see their attraction for a man who has always been fascinated by stories of breakdowns and flameouts on the road to fame and fortune. Many Sondheim works — particularly “Follies,” “Merrily We Roll Along,” “Assassins” and the second half of “Sunday in the Park With George” — have brooded over the penalties exacted by the American hunger for celebrity and success.

Working on his Mizner musical with Mr. Weidman (his collaborator on “Assassins” and “Pacific Overtures”), Mr. Sondheim seemed to regard the show as a welcome side trip to something breezier, saying he had in mind a latter-day variation on the Bob Hope and Bing Crosby “Road” movies.

I didn’t catch the workshop production in New York called “Wise Guys” in 1999, but I did see “Bounce” at the Kennedy Center in Washington five years ago. Staged by Harold Prince — Mr. Sondheim’s director of choice from 1970 into the early ’80s — “Bounce” had color, crispness and the panoramic sweep you associate with Mr. Prince. But it felt oddly remote, and the sourness of its story seemed at odds with the blitheness of its tone.

“Road Show” has decisively stepped over to the shadier side of the street. Mr. Doyle, a resourceful director out of Britain, has made a reputation for himself on Broadway with physically scaled-down, emotionally intensified productions of the Sondheim classics “Sweeney Todd” and “Company,” in which the performers doubled as musicians.

His “Road Show” has a separate and highly accomplished mini-orchestra of its own, which does full justice to melodies that often evoke Sondheim standards past. But otherwise, it bears the expected hallmarks of a Doyle production: a single, elegant, multipurpose set (designed by Mr. Doyle as a sepia-toned wall of trunks, crates and suitcases, with costumes to match) and a sense of people trapped claustrophobically within their own minds.

But the rethinking that has turned “Bounce” into “Road Show” has also involved condensation and rewriting. It is telling that while the first musical number in “Bounce” was “Bounce,” the opener in “Road Show” is “Waste.”

And in following the winding careers of Addison (Mr. Gemignani) and Wilson (Mr. Cerveris) — from their start as gold-prospecting partners in Alaska to their disastrous venture as land speculators in Florida — “Road Show” has pared away a major supporting character from “Bounce” (a lively, gold-digging girlfriend for Wilson) to tighten the focus on the brothers��� relationship with each other.

True, the Mizners’ mother (a very good Alma Cuervo, looking like a Walker Evans photograph), and father (William Parry), who haunts them as a disapproving ghost, are still around. So are Hollis Bessemer (Claybourne Elder), an aesthete and heir whom the gay Addison both adores and exploits, and an assortment of fleeting peripheral figures enjoyably embodied by a flexible supporting cast.

But ultimately “Road Show” is all about the brothers, who here come to seem like flip sides of the same personality. Addison, who became a designer of extravagant pleasure palaces in Florida, is the manipulable, wistful artist; Wilson, whose many ventures included backing prizefighters and plays, is the manipulative, hedonistic gambler. Try though they might to break away, they are hopelessly and destructively held together by elements that, in the production, daringly include incestuous tensions. By the show’s end, they are wrung-out, red-eyed, cocaine-snorting wrecks.

Mr. Cerveris (who was Sweeney Todd for Mr. Doyle) and Mr. Gemignani (who appeared in recent revivals of “Sweeney” and “Assassins”) are a pleasure to watch throughout. Mr. Cerveris brings a dangerous, feral charm to Wilson, who comes across as part weasel, part vaudevillian huckster, while Mr. Gemignani has a sweet transparency of mien and voice here that makes Addison as affecting as the show allows.

Unfortunately, that isn’t all that affecting. The bulk of “Road Show” continues to be extended expository musical numbers that trace the brothers’ travels, schemes and metamorphoses. These are often brisk, forward-moving songs — with unusually simple and straightforward lyrics by Sondheim standards — that essentially iterate “And then they did this.”

While they’re cleverly shaped and staged, they do grow repetitive, and they tend both to shrink and enlarge the brothers in ways that keep us from really knowing them. Despite the creepier Freudian accents provided in this version, the Mizners mostly come across as emblematic figures in a pageant of American ambition and folly.

In “Assassins” Mr. Sondheim and Mr. Weidman created a gallery of historical figures who existed as American archetypes and also as frustrated, lonely individuals of piercing emotional resonance. Clearly, the creators of “Road Show” are trying to realize that gleaming double edge once again. The problem is that this musical’s travelogue structure precludes its digging deep. It hints at dark and shimmering glories beneath the surface that it never fully mines. Like its leading characters, “Road Show” doesn’t quite know what to do with the riches at its disposal. 

Ben Brantley, Nov. 19 2008

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